Page 7 of Ember Meadow
I’ve got this,I think to myself. Angry cowboy or no, I’m going to rock this renovation.
Chapter 3
New Miles
The Cascade Inn indowntown Jackson Hole looks more like a motel from the outside. It’s adorable. Marigold yellow paint peels off the corners of the wood siding. A white metal railing runs across both floors, rows of light brown doors lined up all in a row. I drag my suitcase up to the second floor, and into room thirty-three. The room is quaint, but cozy. The first thing I notice is the balcony on the other end. I walk past the bed, parking my suitcase near a chair.
The balcony overlooks a street that connects to town square. I have a straight-on view of Snow King Resort, a ski resort overlooking the city. Large ski paths covered in lush summer grass cut through the pine trees and I can just make out a gondola heading on a steep path up the mountainside. The sun shines from the west, almost to the horizon. The buildings surrounding the Inn have just started to turn their lights on for the night. I can’t believe this place is real.
I take a photo with my phone of the scene and send it to my Aunt Millie, letting her know I got to my hotel okay. She immediately responds with a heart-eyes emoji. I can picture her laugh like waves crashing onto a shore, standing in her brightly colored living room in New Mexico wearing a bright pink, flowy sundress, red hair wild like it always is.
Working on one of her short-lived projects, painting murals with a mop or crocheting rainbow colored gloves and scarves. Laughing to myself, I put my phone back into my pocket and lean against the balcony railing.
I don’t bother letting my parents know where I am. They likely already do. Callum and Florence MacPherson own MacPherson Enterprises, the company I work for. Their true favorite child. It’s definitely not me. My parents sent me to live with my aunt when I was ten years old to ‘better focus on their empire.’
Apparently I was too much of a wild child for them to handle. Ever since then, everything between us has been a business transaction. In the end, living with Aunt Millie was probably the best thing that happened to me.
I loved moving to Juniper Ridge, and I made lots of lifelong friends. Though, Juniper Ridge has never been quite the same since Aunt Millie moved away.
I head back into my hotel room and plop down on the bed next to my laptop. Might as well go through my checklist. Since I started managing my parents’ rental properties back when I was nineteen years old, I’ve grown from one cabin on the lake in Juniper Ridge to twelve total. I climbed my way up in the company until I was in charge of all properties in Idaho, Utah, Colorado and now Wyoming.
At first, it took a couple of years to gain my footing as a host, but now it’s just like clockwork. I may be disorganized in my personal life, but I know what is happening at all times with all MacPherson properties I’m in charge of.
Aunt Millie was skeptical at first of me working for my parents’ company, but honestly, I probably talk to them less now. There are plenty of people in between my parents and I, including my manager. Plus, just like I’ve always known, my relationship with them is much better as business anyway.
Just as I’m about to set my phone down, a text comes through from an unknown number.
Unknown
Hello, Katie. This is Walter from Lone Pine. I’m glad to hear you made it to Wyoming safe and sound. My wife, Isabella, and I would like to invite you to breakfast at our home on the ranch tomorrow morning. Please let me know if you’ll be able to make it.
I can’t help but smile at the text that reads more like a written letter. At least one person in this town is kind. I type back a response (yes of course I’ll have breakfast at the ranch) and breathe a sigh of relief. A big weight is lifted off of my shoulders as my chest deflates. Hopefully, Walter explained everything to Miles and I won’t have to deal with him again. I can be polite and cordial from a distance, even if we do have somewhat of a past.
There’s no reason for Miles and I to interact much all summer.
Standing up, I look at myself in the mirror on the wall. My hair is already practically standing straight up from my head in a mess of big barrel curls, fly-aways fanning around my head like a messy halo. I kick off my favorite pair of cowgirl boots with the pink stitching and head into the bathroom to clean up.
As the scalding shower water runs down my face, a vivid, four year old memory pops up in my head. Strong hands in my hair pulling me closer. Lips crashing into mine, heat tingling all the way through my body.
The blur of twinkling city lights around me as I fall deep into a vortex. Waking up in a tangle of limbs, a sinking feeling in my gut.Beautiful,he whispers in my memories, so clearly it’s like he’s right in front of me.
I reach for the shower knob, turning it to cold, jolting myself out of the memory. This is probably the worst time to be remembering my one night with Miles. We were two different people back then. I can’t have old memories seeping into my interactions with him now. It’s time to do what I do best and compartmentalize.
Old Miles is a distant memory, fading from view. New Miles is my grumpy neighbor who does not want me here.
I nod to myself, repeatingNew Milesin my head until I can shake the feeling off. I can totally get my shit together before work starts on the new cabin. I’ll go to breakfast at the ranch tomorrow and make sure Walter and Isabella love me, finish my plans for the cabin decor, and by then, my renovation crews will have arrived in Jackson to start work. Miles will get used to the idea of me owning the cabin and all will be right with the world.
The main house at Lone Pine Ranch is breathtaking. As much as I love my best friend’s ranch back in Idaho, Connor Ranch, this takes the cake. The house is made of gray rocks that look like they were sourced from the surrounding mountain ridge, held together by a bone white grout.
Steep peaks jut out of the roof, covered in deep red tin. The front door is a deep red as well, bordered by two large logs as posts for the porch. I think they might just be whole trees, stained with a cherry finish.
It’s a little intimidating, if I’m being honest. I was expecting an older, ranch style home similar to Connor Ranch. This is a western mansion. I can already imagine a wall of tall windows on the back of the house facing the Teton Range. Stepping out of my car in the gravel drive, I take a few deep breaths before walking up to the door.
My long, tan, floral skirt ruffles in the wind as I step up to the door. I went with my trusty cowgirl boots again, paired with a cropped pink shirt and black jean jacket. My hair is pulled up into a thick bun on the top of my head. As I was leaving the hotel this morning, I felt a little overdressed. Now, I feel the exact opposite.
Before I have a chance to knock, the door opens revealing an adorable older woman dressed in head to toe denim, dark hair peppered with gray pulled up into an updo, eyes crinkled with joy. I’m immediately pulled into a tight hug.
“You must be Katie,” she exclaims, pulling away but still holding onto my arms. “You’re adorable! I’m Isabella. We are so excited to have you here.” Her accent is so slight I almost miss it.
