It was after seven, and the sun was cascading its final stretch of light for the day.
“In one thousand feet, your destination will be on the right,” Siri announced.
I clicked End Route on the car’s GPS as just over the hill I could start to see the ranch. Tucked in the woods, right on the Wind River, the property was something out of a storybook. The ranch was large and rustic with a wraparound porch and big bay windows. There was a shed and a barn. Ducks, chickens, sheep, cows, and horses roamed freely in a fenced-in pasture with a large pond in the center of it. The gravel driveway was long, and I took it slow.
Just as I was about to step out of the car, I spotted him. He threw open the front screen door and placed his hand just above his eyes to cover them from the little bit of sun that was left. He was dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a white T-shirt, exactly what I had expected. Crossing the porch with a few large steps, he casually jogged toward me. He was tall, at least six feet, tan, and had a muscular build that was clearly from working with his hands and not in a gym like so many of the meatheads in the city.
Before stepping out of the car, I quickly slid my heels back on. They reeked of gasoline, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice or ask. Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I stood tall and pushed my sunglasses on top of my head. As he got closer, I noticed smaller details about him like the pink scar above his left eyebrow. It was an inch in length, and the color revealed it was new. We all had scars and each one had a story. I wondered what story his would tell. His facial hair was short and scruffy—not intentionally, but more like he hadn’t found the time to shave in recent days. His jawline was sharp and defined, and his eyes were green like the pasture the cows and sheep were grazing from. I closed my mouth, pressing my lips firmly together to ensure it wasn’t hanging open like some dog salivating over a nice piece of meat.
“You must be Grace Evans,” he said, extending his hand out for mine. His voice was deep, and his handshake was strong.
“I am. Nice to meet you.” My voice came out a little meeker than usual, not commanding and authoritative like my peers were used to hearing in the office. My handshake was a bit weaker, coming only from the daintiness of my wrist rather than the strength of my full arm. Was I flirting? Or was I still shaken up from the creepy gas station attendant? I wasn’t sure but instinctively, I pulled my hand back toward me.
“I’m Calvin Wells, and the pleasure is all mine.” His smile revealed white teeth that lined up perfectly and a dimple on only the right side.
“How was your trip in?” Calvin asked, slipping his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. Several thin, long scratches marred the inside of his right forearm.
“It was good up until Gunslinger 66.” I let out a sigh as I looked him up and down. He was like a piece of artwork, fitting for the landscape around him. He begged to be examined, observed closely. I knew then he would be a distraction.
The pink scar bounced as Calvin raised his eyebrow.
“This creepy old gas station attendant a ways back . . . kind of chased after me. I didn’t even get to finish filling my tank because of him.” I twisted up my lips.
“Well, shit. I’m sorry about that. You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Just caught me by surprise.”
“You don’t have to worry about any of that here. I’ll keep you safe, Grace,” Calvin said with a smile.
I let out a small laugh and shook my head.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, never letting his smile falter.
“Oh, nothing. I just realized how I sounded, like some damsel in distress.”
“I didn’t think that at all.” Calvin chuckled. “But let me help you with your bags and get you settled in.” He walked toward the back of the vehicle.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I didn’t really like people touching my stuff.
“Nonsense.” He pressed the button below the license plate, popping the trunk.
“Is this because of the whole damsel thing?” I teased.
“No, Grace. I specialize in hospitality.”
Hoisting both bags out of the car, he threw one over his shoulder and carried the other. “I’ll treat you so good, you won’t want to leave. That’s my motto,” Calvin said, widening his smile.
“Follow me,” he added in a cheerful voice as he walked across the driveway toward the ranch.
I glanced at the old beat-up car I drove here in and then back at him, hesitating for a moment. A sinking feeling hit me in my gut, and it felt like I was free-falling for a moment. It passed quickly, before I even had a chance to react to it, to consider it, to wonder what it was. I swallowed hard and pushed myself to follow him. One foot in front of the other.
2.
Calvin
I set Grace’s bags down beside the queen bed. “This is your room,” I said, gesturing with my hand.
Grace walked in behind me carrying a tote and her purse. She looked around the room, her face expressionless as she studied every corner and square foot. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not. I thought about redecorating when I started renting rooms out on Airbnb, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My mother had put it together, a mix of things she made and things she found. It was last decorated in the seventies but was back on trend again, or so my neighbor lady had told me.
Grace put her items on the bed and hesitated for a moment before turning back toward me. Her eyes started at my waist and moved up to my face. She smelled like a mix of daisies and gasoline, which was odd, but I didn’t say anything. That would be rude. Her hair was golden blond and went right to the middle of her back. Her eyes were the bluest blue I had ever seen, so blue, they almost didn’t look real. She was wearing a tight black skirt, heels, and a blouse with some sort of bunched-up fabric. I’m sure where she was from, it was fashionable, but girls ’round here didn’t wear stuff like that. Her soft face was in direct contrast to her all-black attire, and I couldn’t help but stare at her pouty lips, waiting for her to say something.
“It’s perfect.” She smiled, but I caught a hint of apprehension in her voice.
I let out a deep breath, and she laughed.
Grace raised an eyebrow. “Were you nervous I wouldn’t like it?”
“Well.” I shifted my stance from one leg to the other. “I don’t really get any female guests, and I wasn’t sure a city girl like yourself would be comfortable in a place like this.”
“If I can find comfort in New York City amongst the rats and cockroaches, I can find it anywhere.” Grace swung her suitcase onto the bed in one fell swoop. She most certainly was strong because that thing had to have weighed at least fifty pounds.
“Need any help?” I offered.
This was the awkward part of hosting guests. I never knew if they wanted me to stay and chat or leave them alone. I was sure Grace was the latter but I was already drawn to her like a moth to a flame or them damn coyotes to my chickens, so anything I could do to buy some more time with her, I would.
She shook her head. “No, I got it,” Grace said matter-of-factly. She grabbed her black leather bag, bent down beside the bed, and slid it all the way under.