Page 120 of Grit
A hammer was pounding on wood, and Melissa could hear Cary shouting at Ox to bring him more screws.
The young man’s face lit up. “Real cowboys lived here?”
“You bet. This is a working cattle ranch. If either of you two ride, we can put you up on a horse and give you a tour of the place if you like.”
Both of them laughed.
“Oh no!” the woman said. “We are hikers only, but we will walk around if that is okay.”
“Just keep to the roads and you’ll be fine,” Melissa said. “And my daughter will try to show you her goats. All the soap in the bathroom and kitchen she makes from goat milk, and you’re welcome to take that with you.”
The woman looked around the tidy guest cottage. “This is very nice.”
Melissa, Joan, and Emmie had spent two months making everything in the old bunkhouse feel fresh and clean, with just a hint of California ranch. They’d painted the walls and trim, hung some of Cary’s best pictures of the Sierra Nevadas and the foothills on the walls, along with some original touches to make the bunkhouse feel like an updated, down-home hideaway. A line of old horseshoes hung over the door. They’d turned a vintage water pump into a lamp. And warm Pendleton blankets hung on a rack near the freshly blacked wood-burning stove.
It was March at the ranch, and the winter had been a wet one. From the bunkhouse, guests could hear the rushing creek flowing down from the mountains as the snow melted in the warming temperatures. Wildflowers were beginning to peek out in the meadows, and the orange trees spread the heavenly scent of their blossoms on the wind.
Traffic to the park had been steady, even through the winter, and once Melissa earned her first three reviews, the bunkhouse had stayed busy through much of January and February. If occupancy kept up, it was set to bring in as much as Melissa paid Stu, which meant Melissa could give him a raise or hire Leigh on the ranch permanently. Since Leigh was doing a lot of the guest welcome and cleaning, she was leaning toward the latter.
“Your nightly rate comes with dinner included,” Melissa said. “We serve that up on the porch about six thirty this time of year. And no food allergies for either of you?”
“No,” the man said. “We eat everything. We travel a lot.”
“Make yourself at home. My number is on the wall there, and make sure you put a pin in the map.” Melissa pointed to the hanging map on the wall where dozens of pins had already been added. “We love keeping track of where our guests are visiting from.”
Gold pins had already been stuck in the East Coast, the Pacific Northwest, Southern California, Australia, a few scattered across Europe, and even two in India! It was fun and Abby always asked a million questions if guests were up for a visit.
She handed over the keys and walked back into the trees where Ox and Cary were muttering back and forth about screws versus nails.
Once they were finished, a raised wooden deck would run along the creek, weaving through the trees, with a wide dance floor stretching into the small meadow near the bunkhouse and a pavilion near the creek. Ox and Cary were facing the creek, arms braced on a table where materials and plans were laid out along with Coke cans, a couple of beer bottles, and a stack of old paper plates.
“You guys good?” She glanced at the table. “You need a trash bag?”
“I’ll grab one in a bit.” Cary glanced at the bunkhouse. “They gonna complain about the noise?”
She shook her head. “Don’t think so. Dinner tonight, Ox?”
“Can’t. I’m heading back to Metlin in another hour. Emmie’s hosting book club tonight.”
“Tell her to bring more cards the next time she’s up. And those coupons. I’m out of them for the welcome baskets.”
“Sure thing.” He wiped his forehead. “Back to work. I want to get the rest of these brackets screwed in so we can put the last boards down tomorrow.”
She squinted up at Cary, who was wearing a loose tank top that showed off his arms. “Things are looking good.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You talking about the deck?”
“That too.”
Ox said, “Walking away now.” He disappeared around the corner, leaving Melissa and Cary alone at the creek bank.
Cary sat on the edge of the raised deck and spread his legs. Melissa stepped between them, and he immediately put his arms around her, sliding his big hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“Hey, Missy.”
“Hey, Cary.”
He leaned forward and took her mouth in a long, lingering kiss. “You taste good.”
