My hoof pick caught on a pebble wedged between her shoe and the wall, and I wiggled it out. "I think I got it."
"Like, your plane leaves in what… two hours?" Jay went on, scratching his mop of messy chestnut hair. He had on his usual flannel jacket and worn baseball cap with a 4-H logo on the front, and he had completely stopped mucking stalls to glare at me. "What if you don't make it?"
I heard the silent question between his words:"Am I going to get fired if you lose this place?"I sighed, putting Jellybean's miniature hoof down. I'd replaced her shoes after she'd come here in November, but with her not doing shows anymore and me short on time, I was considering letting her go au naturel for a little bit. She snuffed, looking for food on the clean barn floor. This was our smaller sick barn just off the veterinary clinic, so I didn't have a dedicated stall with food for her. Thankfully, she didn't need to stay, so she could go back to her stall. "I'll make it," I promised Jay.
The kid gave me an uncertain glance, rolling his shoulders and tapping his hand against his thigh. I'd noticed his little nervous tics when he'd applied for the job of stable hand here a year ago—he didn't believe me. But he just shrugged, hung up his rake, and untied Jellybean's rope halter so he could lead her out of the small barn. "Whatever you say, Miss Rook."
"Walk her around the circle pen," I suggested, gathering my tools with a little more hurry than before. "If she's still limping, tell me." Jay gave me a side glance with a clear message—there was no way he was going to do that and delay me further. Cheeky kid.
I finished up in the sick barn, double-checking that the calf I'd treated for respiratory illness was still doing well in her stall. Anita would come by later today to pick her up and take her back to their ranch, and she looked good. I scrubbed her wiry little head and then left the heated barn.
Cold descended on me with needle pricks of discomfort, and I squinted against the garish sunlight that reflected off bright white snow. My ranch sprawled out with tidy organization, and the Wasatch Mountains loomed over the space in the background, dusted with snow and dark blue with wintry glory. My house sat in the middle of the copse of trees half an acre back.
I hopped on my four-wheeler, adjusting my work gloves and tucking my face into the sherpa lining of my jacket. Snow had seeped through the holes in my boots already, even though Jay had plowed the roads after the last snowstorm. Ireallyneeded to find some money for new boots. And a coat that had an extra layer because a hoodie and my jacket weren't cutting it against ten-degree mornings.
I made my way down the snowy drive, checking my watch again and noting that I now had one hour and forty-five minutes until my plane left. It was a twenty-minute drive to the airport, and I wasn't checking luggage, so I could totally make it.
As I trundled down the long driveway, I glanced at the mature pine trees that lined the dirt road, taking in the thick dusting of snow that had crystalized over each needle. In the distance, cows mooed and a couple of sheep bleated, and I smiled to myself a little. Even in the dead of winter, this place sparkled. Every tidy outbuilding, every sweep of its one hundred acres, and every sanctuary for the weary animals made it a paradise to me. I'd felt that when I'd first visited it, sent on a call to help the former owner and he'd confided in me about the dire straits the ranch had been facing. I'd looked around and felt, for the first timeeverin my life, that it could be a home. A haven.
I knew, now, that selling my soul to have it had been a dangerous decision. But now that it was mine and my soul well and truly bought, I might as well make the best of my paradise… for however long I could. I didn't know if marrying Spencerwould truly free me or bind me more, but I supposed I had to try. Not that I'd had any contact with him in the last couple months.Supposedly, we were getting married today.
He had called me a few times at first, wanting to make sure I was alright, and then later, closer to Christmas, asking if I wanted to sign a prenup. I couldn't bring myself to answer. The fact that Spencer was helping me at all made me want to dive under a pile of blankets and never emerge again. It was too humiliating. I just wanted to get this farce over with and possibly move on with my life.
My house came into view, and I realized I'd left the porch light on this morning. It wasn't anything spectacular—one story, stone and vinyl exterior, and a small porch tucked into the L shape, leading to the front door. I had renovated it fairly nicely with an open-concept kitchen and a decent office, and I kept it as well-maintained as I could on my own.
As I parked my four-wheeler at the garage entrance, my phone rang. I checked the time. One and a half hours until take-off. It was Jay, so I answered while I hurried inside. "What's up?"
"Water is out again."
I cursed fluidly as I went inside to the small, chilly foyer. "I don't understand. I fixed the last water line."
"I can go out and check it," Jay said. "If not, I'll do it the hard way from the house. Just wanted you to know." My house had a well, but it wasn't enough to provide water for an entire ranch of fifty-plus animals. We relied on the water lines that fed water from shared reservoirs. I was a little fuzzy on the particulars, but there were water rights in Utah, and certain ranches had first dibs on the mountain runoff water. I had no idea where ours fell, but I knew we were constantly running out or getting broken water lines.
"Sorry, Jay. I'll be back as soon as I can." I rushed through the humble living room with its worn couch that had been herewhen I'd bought the place, and then through the open kitchen area toward my bedroom. The interior of the house was a mix of modern and old ranch house, with wood accents here and there and stainless steel finishes in other places. It was also oddly long, which was a product of having been an older home with separate rooms in a long ranch style before I'd renovated it.
My bedroom on the far side of the house was—probably disconcertingly—untouched. It still had weird fabric blinds from who knew when, a gold-yellow armchair in one corner, and an old farm-style headboard on the full bed. I hadn't done much to this room but buy a new mattress after I'd moved in. Objectively, it looked like a sixty-five-year-old rancher slept in here.
I'd already packed my bag last night, thankfully. I didn't bother changing. I grabbed last-minute toiletries, my phone charger, and my makeup bag, and then I manhandled my old gym bag and high-tailed it out of there. As I threw open the door to my truck in the garage, I got another call. This time, it was Spencer.
"What?" I bit out, launching myself into the seat.
"You going to show up today, or am I getting jilted at the altar?" He sounded maddeningly relaxed. Amused, even.
"That depends on how unbearable you're going to be about this whole thing." I turned the key, and the engine chugged to life. The garage door was already open because it had broken months ago.
"Baby, out of the two of us, I'm not sure I'm the unbearable one here."
I slapped the truck into reverse. "That is exactly what I'm talking about."
"Hey, you didn't want to negotiate terms ahead of time. You get what you get, Dr. Rook."
No one called me Dr. Rook. Iwasa Dr. Rook, but no one said it. "If I'm getting anything but mute compliance and congenialassistance, then you can count me out. Should I cancel my flight?" I was already pulling onto the snow-packed dirt road. We both knew I was all talk.
He chuckled. "I guess I’ll have to wait and see if you ever show up. See you at two, wifey."
"Donotcall me—" He hung up. Growling, I tossed the phone onto the bench seat. This was going to be absolute hell. I could already feel it.
Chapter seven
