She put the cup of coffee and a sticky bun, still dripping with caramel, in front of me. “Thank you.” My mouth watered. I took a sip of the coffee and groaned. The rich flavor was exactly what I needed.
“I should have asked you if you wanted some pastry,” she said.
“Honestly? I’ll eat most of everything, and this sticky bun looks delicious.” I patted my stomach. “You can probably tell.”
She chuckled. “So you like to eat. Life’s short. Take your pleasures where you get ’em, love. Now tell me what you think of my sticky bun. That caramel is homemade.”
“I was trying to save face by pretending I don’t want to inhale the entire thing in one bite.”
“Now that would make my day. Nothing’s better than seeing someone enjoying my food.”
I took a bite out of the sticky bun and couldn’t help my moan. It was still warm, and the cinnamon was rich on my tongue. The sugar and caramel stuck to my fingers and the corner of my mouth, but I didn’t care. It was the best sticky bun I’d had in ages, maybe ever.
“Sweet mercy, Gertie. You have to teach me how to make these.”
“All right, then. It’ll be my wedding gift to ya.”
“Just what I need. I do a little of baking myself.”
“Yes? Tell me more.”
Gertie and I chatted as the bustling sounds of the ranch echoed in from the open window. The conversation flowed asfreely as the coffee, and her easygoing personality was just what I needed after my unpleasant run-in with Matty. The urge to ask Gertie about him was strong, but I refrained.
When I was finished eating, I washed up the utensils. Gertie explained she wasn’t a personal cook for Gray and his son but worked on the ranch five days a week to prepare meals for the workers. Given the town was so far away, food and shelter were perks of working at Bristle M Ranch.
With every new detail she told me, the ranch felt more like a self-contained community rather than just Gray’s home. My respect and admiration for the man grew. He cared for his people, ensuring they were well taken care of.
Gertie shooed me out of the kitchen, but I was hesitant to go out and bump into the ranch hands, so I helped her with preparing lunch. Those who worked around the ranch would eat together in the barn, and one of the ranch hands would deliver meals to those who worked in the pastures.
When lunch was finally ready, I was simultaneously excited to join the ranch hands and nervous about seeing Gray again. He was supposed to take me into the town to meet with the wedding planner, so I expected him to return to eat with the others.
Gertie had prepared beef stew and homemade rolls dusted with rosemary. I helped bring everything to the barn, where the ranch hands were already chatting and laughing. Gertie introduced me to them as Gray’s son-in-law. A flash of panic shot through me, but they greeted me politely, then ignored me while talking over each other.
Rows of long tables were spread out in the spacious barn. Among the men were also a few women. Their faces were weathered but warm, their bodies strong and roped with muscles. They weren’t treated any differently from their counterparts, and the whole camaraderie of the place was infectious. They laughed loudly, teased Gertie, and sharedstories of their day with an ease that made me feel like one of them.
One lone figure sat in the corner, a hulking shadow that kept his head bent, shoveling food into his mouth at record speed, ignoring the animated chatter around him. His quietness stood out in the otherwise jovial atmosphere.
As I watched him, he looked up as if sensing my gaze. On the left side of his face, a rough scar stretched from his hairline to his chin. I smiled tentatively at him, but he didn’t return it. Instead, he gave me a guarded nod and returned to his silent eating.
A prickling sensation crawled down the back of my neck, and I turned, searching the faces. Matty. He sat across from me, frowning as he glanced from me to the man I’d been watching.
What the hell was going through his mind?
I shrugged and returned to helping Gertie serve the ranch hands seconds. Where was Gray? Why wasn’t he back yet? I glanced at my phone. If we didn’t head out soon, we would be late to meet the wedding planner. Although I wasn’t convinced I needed a planner, I at least wanted to give her due consideration.
Footsteps approached, and the man with the scar dropped his plate off. “Do you want some more?” I asked. Up close, he seemed younger than I’d thought. In his late twenties.
“I’m good.”
But he lingered as though he wanted to say something.
“Gertie.” Matty walked up to us, and I stiffened. I wasn’t the only one. The brooding man clenched his hands into fists. Interesting. Matty didn’t acknowledge him, though he’d been watching our nonverbal interaction earlier. “Dad won’t make it back until tonight.”
“What?” I put down the ladle I’d been holding. “He’s supposed to take me into town.”
“He has more important things to do than run around for a wedding that has a missing fiancé.”
I gasped. Gertie whacked him with a spoon. “Matthias Jacob Magnuson, what a horrible thing to say! Your daddy taught you better than that boy. Apologize.”
