Chapter 2
Colt
Mom would be over the moon right now. I stared down at the hot and soapy water my hands were currently submerged in, remembering how she always used to yell at the two of us for not helping out with the dishes.
The Iron Stallion was jam packed at the bar and in the dining room. We were running out of glassware fast, along with dinner utensils. The two high school girls that I’d hired to wait tables were darting around fluidly, taking orders, running out plates, and then taking the empty ones back. My dishwasher was slammed while my cook and bartender rushed through orders as quickly as possible.
If my blood pressure wasn’t so damn high, I’d feel proud to know that the Iron Stallion was a popular attraction for the locals and surrounding towns. My soft run turned into a hard one within a matter of days when word of mouth spread the news. Now my three-month-old ‘baby’ was quickly growing into a well-liked restaurant and popular bar.
That said a lot, given that Green Point had a reputation for chasing out businesses if the locals didn’t like the store or the owners. I had a foot up I guess because of my parents. Their ranch, located just a few miles outside of town on over two hundred acres of land, employed at least twenty people from town or nearby. ‘Hire locals’ was what my father had written in his will if I needed help to run and maintain the ranch.
Settling the now clean glasses on a towel, I drained the sink before drying my hands. A loud and happy sounding chatter filled my ears when I stepped out from the back room to check on everything. Cheerful grins greeted me as I passed through the maze of tables, nodding to anyone who smiled up at me. I took my position behind the bar where Joe Billings was wiping down the countertop.
“Busy night,” Joe said, nodding to the full bar. “Gotta say, boss. Looks like this place will be in business for a long time to come.”
I scanned the group of people waiting around the hostess stand. “I was thinking I might need to hire a few more employees to help us here. Busboy, bar back, hostess, that sort of thing. What do you think?”
“You’re right on with that. I think you’re going to get busier as the days go on.”
“Any recommendations on who to hire around here? Somebody that would be good about doing their jobs?
Joe stroked his jaw in contemplation. “You know, my two daughters just turned sixteen. They could use something to do.”
“Have them stop by if they are interested. I like the idea of hiring young people. Jobs can really help keep them out of trouble, you know?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Green Point is smack dab in the middle of nowhere.”
I chuckled, “That’s for sure. But now that I think of it, working my ass off never stopped me from finding trouble.”
Joe laughed out loud, “Never stopped me either, boss. Never stopped me either.”
Still chuckling, he walked down to his end of the bar to check on a few customers with empty glasses. I had just poured a few for customers on my end when I recognized a burly figure approaching the bar.
“Michael,” I said, nodding at him as he took a seat at one of the bar stools. “What can I get you tonight?”
“Whiskey. I’m in the mood for some good whiskey.”
I slid a glass full of the amber liquid across the bar top. I had only talked to Michael a handful of times since he had moved here after buying a ranch next to ours. The last time we had spoken was over mending the fence between the property lines after his cows had wandered onto the back part of the ranch.
Age and weather had left their mark on him already, like many of the ranchers around Green Point. I was no different either, with calloused hands and weather-beaten skin.
Michael picked up the glass with an appreciative nod.
“A great place you have here, and a good way to provide jobs for a few folks from what I’ve seen.”
“Happy to help keep Green Point on the map in whatever way I can.”
“The ranch must help keep Green Point employed as well. Everything going okay over there?”
“We were doing fine the last time I checked the books. Were you appointed to ask if Smith Ranch was going out of business since my parents passed away?”
The Staffer ranch in the next town over had offered their sympathies when word spread about the truck accident. Jim Staffer had even paid our ranch a personal visit with flowers and a pan of lasagna from his wife. There was no doubt in my mind that, despite their kindness, they were eager to take over the contracts my ranch still held.
And the Staffer ranch still held doubts in my abilities, it seemed, including Michael who worked with them for a year to learn the ropes of running a ranch alone.
“They were shocked and saddened about your parents,” Michael said. His gaze met mine then. “All of us were. An accident out of the blue like that makes you think about your own mortality, you know? I think we were all just a little surprised about your business move.”
I shrugged my shoulders. When it came to opening the Iron Stallion, I’d never explained it to anyone besides Tiffany. I didn’t want word to get out that my parents’ ranch was more of a burden and headache for me at times. It was a ball and chain in a way, too. It seemed like I couldn’t go anywhere without being called to the ranch for some sort of problem.
“I always had other interests besides just ranching. Like you, I suppose. Ranching wasn’t your first path either, right? You were a lawyer before coming here.”
“Yeah, a damn good one, unfortunately. I had A-list clients from big-time corporations that constantly needed me to get them out of some stupid trouble. You know how much more peaceful it is out here than in a big city courtroom representing some dumbass with more money than brains?”
Green Point was definitely peaceful compared to the hustle and bustle of New York where I had spent the past five years. Dad had never agreed with my choice to live in the city to study business. “You have all the experience right here,” he had said. “What is so alluring about all those buildings around you? It’s a God-forsaken prison there.”
“I gave up the city just like you did,” Michael continued on, sipping at his whiskey again with a sigh, but my face must have betrayed me. “No? You didn’t come back willingly to the ranch?”
A stark coldness washed over me when I thought of Tiffany’s frantic phone call from the hospital in Portland a few months ago. I had boarded that plane from New York with the naive belief that everything would be settled, and I’d be back in the city after a few days. My parents were buried in the hard ground within two days, and the ranches were left for Tiffany and me to maintain.
Green Point was the only one that needed our supervision. The other two had been supervised from afar already, and had trusted ranch hands in place, plus they didn’t have competition breathing down their neck the way Green Point did.
“The sudden death of my parents was not something I had anticipated.”
“I’m sorry, Colt,” Michael held up his hands. “That was insensitive of me. I know that we are only neighbors, but I did care about your parents. They were really good people and were kind to me and offered help, even knowing of my association with the enemy, so to speak. They were good folks, and I don’t want to see that beautiful ranch of yours go to waste with your head occupied over here.”
“That’s why Tiffany is in charge of the daily operations.”
“She spends a lot of time over at Cheyenne’s ranch, too,” Michael said. He took a long sip of whiskey again. “I guess I can’t call it a ranch… The horse sanctuary.”
I turned away to hide the reaction I felt deep in my stomach when Michael mentioned Cheyenne. She and her horse sanctuary were also new to Green Point, and she had already caused a stir among the men in town.
Including myself. The woman was downright beautiful in my eyes. Her tall and slender body always looked so nice in those skin-tight jeans she wore tucked into her boots. I liked the soft flannel shirts she wore and thought a lot about the buttons. Her hair was dark, like midnight in the middle of the forest, and I was always tempted to run my fingers down the long braid she kept it in.
Tiffany promised to try and get a good word in for me, but Cheyenne was already notorious for turning down every single man who asked her out. The only advantage I had was Tiffany, but Cheyenne had kept her distance. The few times she had come into the Iron Stallion had been a little awkward, with Tiffany filling in with chatter as she always did whenever there were gaps in the conversation or someone was otherwise uncomfortable.
“She just doesn’t want a bunch of drama,” Tiffany had told me. “A bunch of guys posturing around would be a distraction, and she is working on her dream, just like you.”
She never asked for help either. Not from the men in Green Point at least. She fixed her own fences and appeared to do the repairs that needed to be done herself. She didn’t leave room for anybody to have a chance to help her. As frustrating as it was, I found it really attractive. She ran the sanctuary on a tight budget with grants and donations. There was nothing fancy about the small two-story cabin she lived in either. The whole operation was simple and modest—like Cheyenne herself.
Maybe it was a good thing that she kept her distance. There was no doubt in my mind that being alone with Cheyenne would spell trouble for me. Lust flared in me at the thought of having an opportunity to kiss those pink lips that smiled warmly in my direction whenever I drove by. I considered myself a good guy, but it only took one look from those forest-colored eyes before I felt that impulse.
That was what landed me in trouble most of the time. It had been too long since I’d enjoyed the touch of a woman if I was now fantasizing about a woman I’d only spoken to a handful of times. I needed to do something to get that fantasy out of my head.
I looked up through the front windows just in time to see Cheyenne drive by towing her trailer. The influx of horses never seemed to stop, no matter what time of day it was. I had to give Cheyenne the respect she was due for her dedication to helping out with abused animals, but it seemed to be the only thing in her life that she paid attention to or cared about. Everything else was a disaster—according to Tiffany, at least, including her previous love life.
“This is good whiskey,” Michael commented, interrupting my thoughts of Cheyenne. “Have a drink, neighbor. A toast to new opportunities.”
I gladly poured myself a glass to toast with Michael. The alcohol burned the back of my throat, distracting me from the other fire brewing in my gut as I watched Cheyenne’s truck turn right in the direction of the vet clinic. If only those new opportunities Michael spoke of included Cheyenne. I shook my head free of that thought and clinked my glass against Michael’s.
We both took a long and hearty drink. “Amen to that, buddy. Amen to that. Toast to your parents too. I’m sure they are proud of you.”
I didn’t bother correcting that. But I knew they weren’t proud of me. I couldn’t tell Michael that the last time I had talked to my father on the phone was over a year ago and that it had ended in an argument that put cracks in our very foundation.