Page 94 of When We Were Us
“Nah.” I clasp my hands behind my head and lean back, looking over at her again. “Why?”
“I dunno.” She shrugs. “Just a vibe I get.”
I tilt my head, thinking for a minute. “I mean, they’ve been close for years. Even while both of them were married. They didn’t see each other as much, with her being in Texas and Hudson in New York. But I know they talked pretty often over the phone. Her ex actually thought there may have been something going on between them at one time, but Hudson would never do something like that.”
She nods quickly. “No, I know he wouldn’t. And neither would she. I just get the feeling there is more to their relationship.”
I consider this. “He has always been kind of obsessed with her, hasn’t he?” I recall what it had done to him to see her get married and move to Texas. I just figured he’d been sad because the only time they really saw each other was when he came back to visit Timber Forge. But then, Tristen had gotten pregnant, and they’d been married shortly after.
“I don’t think it’s like that for them. And Hudson’s never been shy about his sex life. So, if anything had ever happened between them, Hutch and I would know about it. In great detail, I’m sure.”
“Gross.” She makes a face and I chuckle. “Ok. So, tell me about the ranch.”
From there, we fall into an easy conversation about daily operations, how many head of cattle we have, vaccinations, and all things ranching.
“Norah handles most of the admin stuff. I do some of that, too, but she’s great with numbers. She also works well with people, so she’s great with our buyers.”
“Who are your buyers?”
“Mostly grocery stores. We have contracts from Helena to Billings, but we also work with a co-op in the area who organizes resources that could be daunting to smaller ranches. It really helps with networking.”
“So, if Norah handles the office stuff, that just leaves you and Jack to do all the other stuff?” She looks around and lifts a finger, indicating this place. “Plus, you helped my granddad. And now you’re helping me?” she asks, wide-eyed. “When do you sleep?”
I chuckle at that. “It’s me and Jack full-time, yes. But I have a handful of part-timers and a few other guys who come to help when we need it. Mostly when we get ready for winter and spring, and then harvest. That’s also another way the co-op helps.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you do so much. You must be exhausted.”
“Some days, sure,” I say with a shrug because it’s the truth. But I really do love it. Even the hard days.
“So, what’s a typical day look like for you?” She turns to fully face me, propping her elbow on the back of the couch, and then resting her head against a closed fist.
I’m taken aback by the surge of pride in my chest at her question. Her concern for my sleep schedule aside, I feel hopeful, knowing that she is interested in the ranch and my day-to-day life. Our position on the couch feels intimate and comfortable. Wren knows horses, but I love the fact that she also seems genuinely interested in learning more about ranching.
I puff out my cheeks and blow out a breath, thinking about it. “There really isn’t a typical day on the ranch. That’s kind of what I love about it.” I turn to face her and mirror her posture. “And it really depends on the time of year.”
She seems content to listen, so I go on.
“A really good day entails Jack and I working together without any major problems, like equipment breaking down. But whether I’m sitting on a tractor, working the cattle, or building a fence, the most rewarding part for me is at the end of a really productive day, when I can look out and see how much progress we’re making. Seeing the calves practically growing right before my eyes; watching them mature and grow, knowing you had a hand in it. There’s just something really cool about that.”
As she listens, she shifts and leans back on the arm of the couch. She stretches out her legs, with her toes tucked into the blanket so they’re just touching my outer thigh. Without thinking too much about it, I drop my palm to the top of her blanketed foot. Her eyes track the movement. She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t miss the subtle movement of her foot as she nudges it further under my hand.
“You really do love it.” It’s not a question but a statement of fact.
I nod. “I really do.”
Whenshe’s silent, it’s my turn to nudge her foot with my thigh. I lightly rub my thumb back and forth against the side of her arch. “Tell me about what you love. What’s your typical day like?” I want to know everything.
She takes a deep breath and blows it out before opening her mouth to speak.
An insistent buzzing breaks through the conversation. She leans across the space between the couch and coffee table, lifting her phone from where it rests facedown. Frowning down at the screen, she tucks her arms under the blanket, her phone going with it.
A few seconds later, the buzzing sounds again.
“You can get that if you need to.”
She glances at me and smiles. “Wrong number.”
“How do you know?”
