I force myself to take it all in, my eyes sweep across the pasture, trying to get a feel for this place.
The fence line is old, with white paint chipped and wood weathered from too many seasons. It zigzags through rolling pastures like it’s holding the entire ranch together out of habit. In the distance, cows graze without a care in the world, their lazy moos drifting through the warm breeze. Horses are scattered throughout the fields, their coats glossy in the sun. They move calmly, their tails swishing like they don’t have a single damn worry.
A few stand under towering oak trees, soaking up the shade, looking regal as hell for animals that shit standing up.
The sun casts everything in orange hues, draping the fields in light that’s almost too pretty to be real. Wild pansies and coneflowers bloom along the edge of the fence—soft purple petals swaying in the breeze like a fucking dream sequence.
For one weird second, my chest flutters.
Not in a bad way or the panic attack, screaming into my pillow way. It’s subtle. Gentle. Like a memory of something I lost but forgot I needed.
I fucking hate it. I shake it off, quickly, before it can root itself too deep.
Grabbing the handles of my bags, I start toward the house, my slides crunching across the gravel. Of course, there’s no one waiting. No, “Hey, are you emotionally stable enough to carry your own damn luggage?”
I scoff under my breath as I drag my life behind me, already sweating and cranky. I guess it’s easier to dump the fucked-up daughter at the front gate and hope she figures it out.
Seriously, why the fuck is his house so far from the road? I let out a dramatic groan, dragging my overpricedluggage through the dirt. The wheels aren’t even turning anymore—just grinding over rocks, flinging up dust like they’ve given up too.
An invasive smell comes across me.
Oh myGod.
The scent of manure smacks me in the face so hard I nearly lose consciousness. It’s sharp, earthy, and offensive. My nose wrinkles as I quickly pinch my nostrils, gagging like my life is about to end on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by cow shit.
There’s no way in hell I can do this.
I stumble forward, my legs barely lifting as I drag my one hundred pound bags. I packed for a three-year exile, which, let’s be honest, this is. There was no way in fuck I was going to be stranded without every serum, shoe, and outfit I’ve ever loved.
This is actual bullshit.
Nope. I’m done. I’m doneeeee.
I drop onto my suitcase, letting out a dramatic groan as I rub my thighs, which are already screaming at me for daring to walk more than a hundred feet. I’m not built for this. My stomach growls loud enough to startle a bird in a nearby tree.
Perfect. I’m starving, sweating, and stranded in the middle of a ranch that smells like death.
Leaning back against the wooden fence, I inhale slowly—regretting it instantly—and grab my phone from my purse. I need a fucking lifeline, or at least to bitch for a little bit. My thumbs fly over the screen as I open the group chat.
Catalina
It smells like cow shitout here.
Amelia
Duh, you’re on a farm.
Catalina
No SHIT Amelia, come pick me up PLEASE. I beg of you.
Amelia
Bitch, you just got there. Suck it up.
Layla
Is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.
