You Shouldn't Have Come Here(13)

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head.

Grace was clearly confused by my answer and my body language. I was fine, but I was pissed at myself for making such a careless mistake. What if this had happened to one of my more valuable animals? It could have cost me everything.

“I forgot to put the chickens and the ducks in their coop, which is the equivalent of ringing a dinner bell out here for predators.” The birds were much quieter now that the animal was gone.

“I can’t believe a raccoon did this,” she said as her eyes scanned over the bloody carcasses.

I looked over at Grace, drawing my brows together.

“They may look cute and cuddly but don’t let them fool you. They’re vicious killers.”

Her eyes met mine. “What do you do now?”

“I’ve gotta get rid of the dead chickens. They’ll just draw in more predators, and there’s no shortage of those around here. Then, I gotta get the rest of them secured in the coop.”

“I can help.” She didn’t even hesitate to offer.

“I’ve got it. You go in and eat.” I waved a hand dismissively.

“No, I want to help, and then we can have that proper dinner together,” she said. Grace didn’t smile, but it was like her eyes did.

I nodded and returned the smile she hadn’t given me. Most women couldn’t stomach the harsh reality of ranch life. But Grace clearly wasn’t most women.



I showered after we took care of everything outside. Grace got the chickens and ducks back in the coop while I disposed of the dead ones. She had surprised me again by staying out and helping me with the worst part of ranching. Walking down the hallway dressed in a clean tee and sweatpants, I could smell that sweet, acidic, earthy scent again. It was late, and I had told her she didn’t have to wait up for me while I showered, but she insisted on sitting down for dinner.

In the kitchen I found Grace taking her seat at the table. She set two glasses of red wine beside two plates that were already served.

“It smells amazing,” I said.

She looked up and smiled. “It tastes even better. Take a seat.” Grace gestured to the chair across from her.

“What do we have here?” I asked while I sat down.

Grace pointed to the plate. “These are balsamic-and-honey-glazed brussels sprouts with bacon. I picked them myself.”

“You know how to pick brussels sprouts?” I raised an eyebrow in a teasing way.

“Of course. They sell them by the stalk at the farmers markets in the city.”

I let on a grin and nodded.

“This right here,” she pointed, “is honey-glazed salmon with a spicy soy sauce.”

I laid a napkin in my lap, never taking my eyes off of her. “You are an impressive woman.”

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” I held out my glass.

She picked hers up and tilted her head. “What are we cheers-ing to?”

“To proper meals and good company.” I wanted to add that lasts forever but I left it out. Coming on too strong was a quick way to get shot down. I knew from experience.

Grace smiled and clinked hers against mine. “Cheers.”

I watched her bottom lip press against the glass as she swallowed the liquid, and then I took my drink. I wanted that bottom lip. It was plump and begged to be bitten or sucked on. I ran my tongue against my teeth and imagined sinking them into her.

“Almost forgot. Shall we say grace first, Grace,” I said, extending my hand out to hers.

She shook her head and looked awkwardly at me and then at her plate. “I’m not religious.”

I retracted my hand. “Yeah, me neither. I just like tradition. My mistake.” I grabbed my fork and dove into the brussels sprouts first, just to get them out of the way. If I still had my dog, I’d have “accidentally” tossed these things on the ground for him to eat. But he passed last spring. Most things didn’t survive this ranch. I was the exception.

Grace watched me, waiting for my reaction.

“These are fantastic,” I lied through a mouth full of food. “Hands down, best sprouts I’ve ever had.” The second part wasn’t a lie. I had eaten a single one when I was a child and immediately spit it out. I gulped red wine, forcing those fart-smelling, poor excuse of a vegetable down my throat.

She smiled wide. I’d lie to Grace every day to keep her happy. “Okay, now the salmon . . .” she pointed at my plate.

I sliced through the corner of it and scooped it onto my fork. The refreshing taste of the fish mixed with the sweetness of the honey, the saltiness of the soy, and the spiciness of the hot sauce melded together perfectly. “Incredible,” I said in between bites, and I meant it.

Grace beamed and then proceeded to finally start eating. She was pleased that I was pleased. I liked that about her.

“You feeling all right after the chicken incident?” I asked. I hoped that hadn’t scared her away but she seemed to have already put it behind her.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head. “I’ll admit, it was quite jarring, but I understand things like that happen out here.”

“I lost the whole flock when I first took over the ranch. Coop wasn’t secured enough and a weasel got in there.” I shook my head and sipped my wine.

“A weasel? Aren’t those tiny little things?”