Page 14 of Swift and Saddled

Oh god.

I made out with my boss.

Which was bad enough on the surface, but it got a hell of a lot worse when I realized that I had unknowingly placed myself on the wrong side of an unfair power dynamic with a man.

Again.

Stupid decisions have consequences.

And now I was going to be forced to spend the next four months working for him, and in the closest of quarters. Even now, I was closer to him than I wanted to be—in the passenger seat of a side-by-side and wearing one of his big Carhartt jackets.

It was a lot colder in Wyoming in April than I’d thought it would be, but I was just planning to grin and bear it until I could grab some more layers. However, Weston the kind cowboy grabbed this jacket out of the coat closet as we walked out the door because he didn’t want me to be cold.

Now not only was I warm, I was enveloped in a masculine cedar scent that I wanted to bottle. Weston—who told me several times he preferred Wes, but that felt too familiar—was taking me to the job site and giving me a tour of Rebel Blue along the way.

It was even more striking now than it was on the drive in.

“So, the job site is what used to be the Big House,” he was saying. “It’s the one that my dad grew up in. He built the one we live in shortly after he married my mom.” I appreciated the history lesson—I liked knowing about the places I was working on. It helped me create something that the owners or residents would love. “This part of the ranch is where most of the original structures are. Toward the east we have our family stables, and toward the west is where you’ll find the ranch hand cabins and the larger stables.”

“How many people work here?” I asked, genuinely curious about the workings of something as massive as Rebel Blue Ranch.

“Give or take forty—depending on the time of year—but we’re having another growth spurt, so that number will probably be higher this time next year. Especially with the guest ranch. We’ll need wranglers and another cook, at least.”

“And does your whole family work on the ranch?” The family photos in the house gave me the impression that the Ryders were a close bunch.

“Yeah. My brother Gus is the oldest, and he’s my dad’s second in command. He’ll inherit the ranch someday.” I tried to place the shift in his voice. It wasn’t envy or jealousy—maybe it was just respect? “And my little sister, Emmy, does the riding lessons, horse training, and ranch hand work—tending to cattle, maintenance on the grounds—that sort of thing. And Brooks is here a few times a week and fills in where we need him, usually odd jobs.”

Brooks. I knew that name—the bartender. I knew there was something familial between them, but he didn’t say “brother.” “He’s the bartender, right? How does he fit in?”

“I forgot you’d met him already.” A blush was creeping up Wes’s neck. “He’s…Well, he’s my brother’s best friend, and he and Emmy are together.” I wonder how that all went down. I never really saw myself living in a small town. I’d never even been to one before now, but I bet the gossip was fun.

“So they’re dating?” I asked.

“That feels like too normal a word for them,” he said. I waited for him to continue. “When you meet them, you’ll get it. It’s easy to see that they’re a forever type of thing.” I looked over at Wes, who had his eyes on the dirt path ahead of us. One of his dimples had appeared. It was obvious he held alot of love for the people in his life. “So to describe them as just ‘dating’ feels weird. They’re not anything I can really describe—they just sort ofare.You know?”

I didn’t know, but I’d take his word for it.

“And where does Teddy fit in?” I asked, because she had to have some sort of pull with this family to convince them to hire a no-name designer from San Francisco.

“Teddy is Emmy’s best friend—they’ve been inseparable since birth, basically. And they roomed together at college.” Why didn’t Emmy’s name sound familiar to me, then? I’d never met Teddy’s best friend, but I’d heard about her off-handedly.

“I feel like I remember Teddy’s roommate in college having a weird name,” I said, mostly without thinking. Wes laughed, a big, loud laugh. The type of laugh that would cause me to wonder how the hell a person could be that happy.

“Emmy’s full name is Clementine,” he said, still laughing a little. “But she usually goes by Emmy. My dad is the only one who uses our full names regularly.” Clementine. That was the name—I knew it was fruit-related.

“Clementine like the song?”

Wes’s smile got bigger. “Yeah, but don’t say that to her. Sore subject.”

Luckily, the side-by-side came to a stop before I had to attempt to cover the fact that I’d just inadvertently insulted Wes’s sister, who he was obviously extremely fond of.

I didn’t have any siblings, so I’d never really understood the bond.

Honestly, I didn’t really understand a lot of bonds. I lovedand respected my parents a normal amount, but I don’t think I would live on a ranch in Wyoming with them.

As far as friends went, I didn’t really have any—not because I didn’t want them, but because making friends as an adult is hard. Honestly, I enjoyed solitude, but there’s a difference between that and being lonely.

For a long time, I’ve mostly been lonely.

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