Page 42 of Ember Meadow
Not today.
With a groan, I fall face first onto the bed in my cabin. If I give up now, I won’t have to pick a stupid outfit. Or see stupid, confusing Miles. Or come up with stupid conversations at a dinner table. I could just lay here all night, pretending I lost track of time.
I breathe out a sigh, taking my phone out of my pocket. Dinner starts in twenty minutes, and I have literally nothing else to do. Nowhere to go. No escape.
You’re being overdramatic,I tell myself.Stop it. You’re not getting too close to him, you just had one conversation that didn’t end in a fight. Pull yourself together.
My cabin looks like a war zone. Clothes are strewn everywhere. My curling iron and straightener are both plugged in, unused. The corner of the rug is overturned, revealing the original stain of the floor, a deep, rich mahogany.
I refuse to have my personal life reflect the mess that is my cabin. I decide on a head-to-toe denim jumpsuit partly because it’s cute and I wear it more often than anything else I own, and partly because that way I don’t have to pick a shirtandpants.
Throwing my hair up into a clip and my all pink cowgirl boots on my feet, I head out the door before I lose the nerve.
You wouldn’t think that I, confirmed Social Sally, would ever have days filled with social anxiety. But, I do. Not often, but enough I’ve had to force myself out of my house enough times. I’m pretty good at it now.
Usually, days like these can be tied back to boys, and end in some sort of break up around the second or third date. This is a rare occasion that has nothing to do with my dating life at all, and everything to do with my grumpy neighbor.
I take another deep breath as I start my car, blasting a 90’s country station with the windows down as I roll towards the main house on the gravel road. Overstimulating my senses with noise strangely calms me down a bit.
Once I get to the door, smoothing my jumpsuit a bit with my hands, I’m thirty percent less jittery. Almost there.
This time, my knuckles don’t even meet the surface of the door before I’m pulled in and whisked into the living room again by Isabella, coming face to face with Miles. I brace for the stomach flips, the spike of anxiousness that usually comes on days like these. But nothing happens.
Well, something happens. He says, “Mac,” in that deep voice of his that vibrates low in his chest, nodding in greeting, giving me his full attention. And, my anxiety melts away like a popsicle on a summer day.
Okay, then.
“Autry,” I reply, sounding a little more breathless than I’d like. My racing heart calms down as I walk over to the small table in the back of the room and grab a can of soda.
“Parker couldn’t make it today so it’s just us.” Miles sounds a lot better today than last time I saw him. More himself.
“Next time, let me know if Parker’s not coming, I’ll make sure to stay home,” I wink at him and I swear I almost catch a smile in his eyes.
He scoffs. “We’re grilling tonight. And by we, I mean me.” He cocks his head towards the back porch.
I’ve always wanted to see the view from their porch, its sprawling fields filled with cattle, mountains glowing above it all with the sun just behind their peaks. I follow Miles out back, and it’s even better than what I could see from indoors.
Although we were on the main level of the house, it’s built into a hill so while you walk into the main floor from the front door thinking it’s the ground floor, out back you’re two stories up. Looking down at the sagebrush and golden grass fields.
I can imagine how green they’d be at the beginning of spring. Now, in mid-June, the tall grass has started to turn gold in the summer heat. My feet carry me to the edge of the balcony as I take in one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Miles’s voice from behind startles me out of my daydreaming.
His attention is focused on me, the slightest smile on just one side of his lips. “Better than nice. This is amazing. I can’t believe you grew up with all ofthis.” I gesture to the majestic display behind me.
“It’s kind of cheating to show it to you right now,” he shrugs. “The ranch is by far the best looking at sunset. In the midday heat of July, I’m not sure you’d feel the same.”
“I don’t believe you,” I tease. “This looks amazing at any time of day, I just know it. Don’t worry, I won’t get too used to it. I’ll leave you alone once the cabin is done.” I meant it as a joke, but something passes over Miles’s face that looks a little like anger.
Desperate to bring back Slightly-Less-Grumpy Miles, I change the subject. “Do you guys do anything special for the Fourth of July out here?”
It’s one of my favorite holidays back in Juniper Ridge. The whole town fills up with vacationers from all over, spending their days out on the lake and nights at all of the local shake shops. We have a parade in the morning, folk singers all day, and a barn dance at night.
“There’s lots going on in Jackson Hole. Out here the guys usually light off some fireworks in one of the less-dry fields. Walt isn’t a huge fan of fireworks after they set the field on fire once,” he laughs. “It didn’t spread, but it was threat enough for him to ban fireworks ever since. Not that it has ever stopped them.”
“Sounds like chaos. And very dangerous.” I smile.
“Let’s just say it’s not my idea of a good time. But if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em or however the saying goes. If I’m there to encourage better decisions, there’s less trouble in the end.”
