Chapter Eight
Hailey
Mid-July, Several Days Later
I was sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed, pillows wedged between my back and the headboard to prop me up while I typed up my most recent notes. I had been filling up my notebook faster than I could keep the notes organized and typed up. This place was a treasure trove of information and details, even if it was so squeaky clean it nearly gave me anxiety attacks. I’d been wandering the property, just snapping pictures on my cell and noting down interesting tidbits that I thought would work in my novel. I wasn’t sure if I was going to start writing here or wait until I returned to New York, so I wanted to make sure to get pictures of everything I wanted to include, in case I ended up writing this thing in my apartment 3,000 miles away from this ranch. Cash didn’t seem like the type who’d be willing to snap a few pics for me if I asked. Eric might, however. He at least had a cell phone and access to a computer. It didn’t look like Cash had either one of those things. I wasn’t sure how he lived so cut off from the rest of the world like this. I was getting itchy just at how quiet it was out here. I was used to the sounds of a bustling city—lots of traffic, people on the street, and constant activity. Things out here moved a lot slower. And, damn, was it silent. But you couldn’t beat the view of the stars at night. I’d gone out to watch the sunset colors drain from the sky as the dark set in and the stars came out to play, shining in a deep blue blanket over my head. I’d never seen such a lovely night view in my life. There were just too many lights in Manhattan. The city literally never went to sleep. Out here, you could see every star in the sky as though it were shining up there just for you. It was breathtaking.
I glanced around the room as I gathered my thoughts. Cash would flip if he saw the state of this place, especially considering how bent out of shape he’d gotten over that plate I left in the sink. I’d only been here a few days, but that was all I needed for the mess of my apartment in the city to start spreading its tentacles all over my new space. Looking around, this could be my bedroom back at my apartment, with my suitcases regurgitating piles of clothes all over the floor, papers strewn about everywhere, the desk nearly swallowed by the clutter and mess, crumbled up wrappers all over from the snacks I’d brought to consume until I had no choice but to visit the store—toaster pastries, granola bars, candy, and crackers, all the good stuff I lived on when I couldn’t just order whatever kind of takeout struck my fancy. It was hard to believe this place had ever been clean or that all of this crap had actually fit somewhat neatly in my suitcases. I was careful to close the door to the guest room anytime I wandered outside. Cash would probably have a heart attack if he glimpsed even a corner of this mess. But I worked better in the eye of this hurricane and always had. This was controlled chaos. My mind was neatly organized, but everything else was all over the place. I’d rather that than to have a disorganized mind and tidy apartment. Or, at least, that was what I told myself when I purposely avoided cleaning up my own messes.
It was hard to shake off the heebie jeebies at how isolated things felt out here on this quiet ranch tucked back in the middle of nowhere. And I was pretty much stuck in my room if I wasn’t out wandering the property. Luckily, there was a lot to wander, but it was awfully lonely. I was used to being surrounded by people whenever I stepped outside of my apartment. Here, it was just Cash and me. I hadn’t seen Eric since the day I arrived. He’d emailed—I had to use my phone as a mobile hotspot in order to get online using my computer; Cash definitely did not have cable or internet—but that was about it. And, to be perfectly honest, it felt a little like Cash was avoiding me. I knew he had plenty of work to do on the ranch—he didn’t seem to have employees—but he got up well before the butt crack of dawn and was already outside toiling when I was just leaving my bedroom for the first time, and then he ate alone at night. I didn’t feel comfortable hanging out in the house, lest I make some kind of mess without realizing it. I’d wandered into the library room before just to take stock of the books he had on local history, but that was about it.
If I happened to pass by Cash, it was super awkward. He was wound tight enough to snap. It was really weird. I could understand wanting to keep things clean, but he had to have some kind of complex about germs or something. He spent at least an hour a day scrubbing surfaces and bleaching out the kitchen in complete silence besides the sound of the scrub brush. There’d been another incident with him getting snippy with me. Apparently, I’d put a fork away incorrectly. It was in the right drawer, but not in the right slot or something. I just nodded and made a mental note to keep eating the snacks I’d brought along for as long as I could. Cash cooked every night for himself and never invited me to sit with him. Not that I knew what we’d talk about if we did eat together. He went through his day without making a peep. I didn’t know how he did it. I had words stacking up inside of me and ready to burst free. I couldn’t live out here by myself for my whole life. Just this next couple of months were going to be a challenge, but I really believed it was going to set me on the right track to write this novel, and that was all that mattered.
Maybe Cash would start to warm up the longer I was here. He pretty much did his own thing most days, but he was at least willing to answer questions about the ranch when I caught him in between tasks. He worked from morning until night every day, but he didn’t mind me watching him, as long as I didn’t get in the way of his work. I’d gone on a walk around the rear of his property just before sunset the other day after fixing a quick snack of ramen noodles and had stumbled upon one of the best things I’d seen since I arrived in Wyoming. Cash was out behind the barn where he kept his equipment, dousing himself with a bucket of water after a long, sweaty day of working outdoors. I happened to catch him just as he was stripping off his shirt, and got the full view of his muscled chest and trim, cut abs, a tasty little V formed from those toned muscles leading right into the waist of his jeans. I’d felt like a creeper standing there watching him shake the water off his soaked hair and running his hand over the solid front of his chest, but I just couldn’t turn my eyes away. I’d finally run off before he turned and was pretty sure he hadn’t noticed me. Goddamn, was he in great shape. I’d gone straight back to my room to write down every detail of that scene to include in my future novel. I was getting a little breathless just thinking about it, but I could hardly breathe watching him that evening. It was impossible to meet his eyes the next few times I saw him, now that I had intimate knowledge of just how fit he was under his clothes. If he’d taken his pants off too, I might have actually melted into a steamy puddle.
My phone started ringing, busting up my reverie of a shirtless Cash, his tanned skin gleaming in the diminishing light. It was my sister.
“Hey, Paige.”
“Hey, yourself. How’s life on the farm?”
“Weird as hell. Nothing like the city, not that I expected it to be the same. But there was just no way to prepare yourself for this kind of isolation. It’s so damned quiet out here.”
Paige laughed a little. “I bet the hardest adjustment is not being able to order a bunch of fancy takeout at all hours of the day and night.”
I laughed too, because Paige knew me too well. The kitchen was the cleanest part of my apartment, and that was only because I never used it. I was either eating out or ordering in. The only cleanup necessary with takeout was to throw the containers in the trash.
“I don’t even think I could get a pizza delivered out here,” I said, and we both exploded into giggles. “But it’s a good thing. I can’t write a realistic story about cowboys and living out West holed up in my apartment in Manhattan, not without being fully immersed in the culture first. It’s so pretty out here. It almost makes me forget about all the conveniences of living in an urban metropolis. Almost.”
“Speaking of cowboys,” Paige started, and I could picture the impish smile spreading across her face at the sound of her voice. “Have you met any tall, hot, Clint Eastwood types out there?” She knew all about my lingering crush on the young Mr. Eastwood. I’d been the only girl growing up with posters of him all over my bedroom walls. Dad had to look high and low for those things. I still had them folded away in some box in one of my closets back home.
“Oh my God, Paige, the guy who owns the ranch looks just like a young Eastwood, only with dark green eyes. I swear he stepped right out of one of my posters.”
“Goddamn, girl, are you going to do something about it?”
My high mood fell a little. “Well, he’s not exactly excited to have me hanging around here. He’s a grumpy neat freak, if you want to know the truth.”
Paige had another good laugh at that, probably because she was a neat freak herself and knew that I was just the opposite. “Are you leaving messes around the poor guy’s house?”
“No!” I said, laughing too. “I left one dish the first morning I was here, and you should’ve seen the disappointment on his face. He bitched me out over putting a fork away in the wrong slot too, but mostly he just keeps to himself. He’s pretty boring. All he does is work, clean, and sleep.”
“He sounds like the classic cowboy if you ask me—reserved, quiet, prefers to keep to himself, enjoys the silence of the range. That’s every movie you and Dad used to watch.”
I typed that up in the character sketch portion of my notes. She had a point. And maybe a love interest could soften the taciturn but smoking hot cowboy right up. It was my story, after all. I could make the characters do whatever I wanted them to do. Too bad those powers didn’t cross over into real life.
“Maybe he’ll come around as long as you don’t let your characteristic disaster bleed all over his house,” Paige said.
“I’m keeping it trapped in my guest room,” I assured her, then remembered one other place I was solely responsible for. “I have to remember to clean up the bathroom, too. I’d hate for him to see the state it’s in now!”
Paige tittered. “You are a mess, Hale. I feel sorry for the poor guy.”
I shook my head, deciding to just let that one slide. “How’re things down in Cali?” Paige had moved out to the West Coast to go to college and had never come back East again for anything longer than a visit.
“The same. The new job’s going great, and I’m making killer money. I can afford to live on my own for the first time since I graduated. So, if you get lonely, I have a guest room here that you can dirty up.”
“I might take you up on that, Paige. I have a feeling I’ll start to get a little stir crazy spending so much time by myself in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, make sure to take a few pictures of the young Mr. Eastwood to bring with you. I like hot cowboys too, you know.”
I laughed at that, my mind wandering back to Cash pouring that water all over his shirtless self. Damn, I wish I’d thought to take video of that to keep me occupied on some of these lonely nights…