“What do you do if you run out of gas out here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen any service stations.”
He scratched his chin. “Yeah, that’s why we make sure we have a full tank when we leave home. You’d have to walk a long way to find a gas station. Or hope someone comes along and gives you a ride.” He looked over at me and saw where my mind was going. “Don’t worry. I have flares, blankets, and other supplies in case of car trouble. When you live out here, you come prepared or suffer the consequences.”
There was something incredibly sexy about a man with survival skills who could take care of a flat tire or keep me warm in a snowstorm. Maybe that appeal dated back to our prehistoric ancestors, embedded somewhere in our genetic code? It reminded me of Paul, my college boyfriend, during my years at Middlebury College in Vermont. He introduced me to hiking and cross-country skiing, and he never went anywhere without his trusty Swiss army knife.
I still thought about Paul sometimes and wondered how different my life would have been if we’d stayed together. Then again, if I hadn’t married Freddy, I wouldn’t have had Julien and Serge, my sweet boys, and I might not have built Ms. Match with Tori. According to his social media, Paul was happily married with two kids up in Vermont. Things turned out the way they were supposed to, but sometimes I still couldn’t help but wonder…what if?
An hour and a half after leaving the airport, we finally arrived at the gate for Silver Sage Ranch. After being on a plane for so long, my body was looking forward to a long bath, a hot meal, and maybe a walk around the property. I’d expected a fancy entrance, something like stone pillars or a fountain surrounded by a professionally manicured flower bed; instead, we drove up to a red gate, slightly rusted, with a humble sign hanging over it, the name of the ranch burned into the wood. That was a surprise. Maybe the resort was going for the earthy, minimalist vibe?
Matthew hopped out of the truck and swung open the gate like someone who had done it a million times. Then he climbed back inside the SUV.
“Welcome to Silver Sage Ranch, Mrs. Wagonblast. I sure hope you enjoy your time here.”
CHAPTER3
MATTHEW
It was an understatement to say that our ranch’s new guest wasn’t our typical visitor. When I spotted her outside the airport terminal with her sleek hairdo and head-to-toe black outfit and designer shades, I assumed she wasn’t waiting for me. She was absolutely gorgeous in a classy, expensive kind of way, and we didn’t get many people dressing like her out here. From the diamond studs in her ears to the designer labels on her luggage, nothing about her said “wilderness lover” except the awe in her eyes as we drove through southeastern Wyoming, the place I called home. She clearly found the scenery beautiful, but her choice of our ranch bewildered me. There were so many guest ranches in the state, not to mention neighboring states, that offered more of a high-end experience. Why stay with us at Silver Sage?
Eventually, she mentioned her sister found our ranch, which offered an explanation. Perhaps she believed Lauren needed a more rugged experience, away from her pampered lifestyle? If that was the case, she was in for a surprise, and I needed to prepare myself for complaints, which was irritating to say the least. The ranch couldn’t afford a poor review from someone who didn’t do their research before taking a trip out west.
As we drove to Silver Sage, I reminded myself that I was jumping to judgment. I didn’t know this woman at all and probably shouldn’t be creating a personality for her based on her jewelry and luggage. That was something I had a tendency to do—size people up and try to predict who they were and how to handle them. It helped me make sure guests had a good ranch experience, but I wasn’t always right. As we drove together, I discovered she had a sense of humor and wasn’t raised in the lap of luxury. Maybe my initial assumptions about her were wrong.
The four-mile ride from the gate of the ranch to the main buildings was a bumpy one, and I mean that literally. Rocks and ruts pitted the dirt road, resulting in a jerky ride that tested a vehicle’s shocks. As we bounced along in our seats, I glanced over at my new guest.
“You doing okay?”
She’d hidden her eyes behind dark sunglasses, but it was clear from the tension in her jawline that she was gritting her perfectly straight white teeth. “I’m glad I’m not the one driving this road. You’re clearly an expert.”
She was flattering me, and to be honest, it was working on me. Internally, I smacked myself for driving one-handed, showing off my dirt road navigational skills when she was probably only being kind. Was a woman like Lauren really impressed by a guy who arrived to pick her up in a filthy vehicle and an equally dirty shirt? I needed to get a grip and go take a cold shower. It wasn’t professional to be thinking about a guest in that kind of way.
“I can’t wait to settle in,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take a long walk. I hear there’s some lovely hiking out here.”
I tried to ignore the lines of her long legs as she stretched them out in the seat next to me. “There are lots of beautiful views. All joking aside, how do you really feel about cows?”
“Why?” She didn’t sound pleased.
“We let our neighbor’s cattle graze on our land so you might meet some of the herd when you’re hiking. They’re truly harmless, I promise.”
“Oh. Good to know.”
It didn’t sound good with her. Was she a staunch vegetarian or allergic to cattle? The last thing I needed was a high maintenance visitor right now.
“We offer guided hikes, so if that would be more appealing, I can arrange one for you.” Guided hikes. Ha! No one on staff had time for that kind of thing, but I’d have to take time out of someone’s schedule if she wanted a guide. I couldn’t have her running into wayward cows, then suing me for emotional trauma. “Are you a vegetarian?”
Damn, I hoped not. If I didn’t tell Chef Damon ahead of time that we had a guest with special dietary needs, he had a hissy fit.
“No,” she said. “I’m an omnivore.”
Thank God. Also, who used words like omnivore in casual conversation?
“Speaking of food, dinner will be in the dining room at six, and you can sit wherever you’d like.” I tried to think of a way to explain our current guest situation. “The ranch is a bit under-booked currently. We have a larger party coming in a few weeks, but right now there are two families here, the Jernigans and the Shahs. And you, of course.”
“Wow, that’s it?”
Her surprise concerned me. Our lack of bookings probably signaled to her we were a subpar establishment, and I hurried to set her straight.
“Don’t worry.” I smiled at her confidently. “That just means you’ll get personalized service from us.”
