Page 28 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

EMELIA

I woke up the next morning with a headache from hell.

Whether it was from a crappy night of sleep or the nerves from what today would bring, I was less than thrilled to roll out of bed.

After getting back from shopping yesterday, Garth refused to leave without making sure I was fully settled in.

He carried in all the bags himself and meticulously checked every corner of the small cabin for anything out of the ordinary.

Only after thoroughly inspecting everything did he and Grace finally decide to leave, but not before telling me to be ready at seven tomorrow.

Stretching my arms above my head, I peered over at the clock mounted above the fireplace.

It was quarter to seven. My hair needed detangling, my teeth needed brushing, and my fatigue called for coffee.

I quickly checked each one off, and when it was finally time to put on my new boots, my gaze mistakenly connected with the opulent silver band I left on top of the dresser beside the bed.

A flood of emotions and questions surged within me. Overwhelming me to the point I was unable to move from the spot. A painful reminder of seven long, wasted years. A reflection of the woman I had become and a desperate yearning to be someone new.

Someone that’s unapologetically me without the influence of anyone else.

Was Nathaniel searching for me? Was he going out of his mind wondering where I was?

I should feel guilty, or at least something other than relief, but I didn’t.

I didn’t feel much of anything other than anger.

And even now, gazing down at the ring, all I could think about was how desperately I wanted to get rid of it.

Maybe I should have sent it with Clarke when she took my phone with her, at least then it wouldn’t be scattering my mind. It served no purpose here except as a painful reminder. Finally fed up, I grabbed it and hurled it into the drawer where it was hidden away.

I resumed slipping into my boots when right on time, there was a firm knock on the door.

“Coming!” I shouted.

Walking in boots I’d never worn, just a short distance to the front door felt like a damn mile. Stiff and unbelievably snug, I hoped I’d be able to break them in soon.

Once at the door, I gradually pulled it open, revealing a less-than-chipper Garth with one hand rested on the doorframe and the other toying with his beard.

“You’re awake.” His stare trailed down the entire length of me before slinking their way back up to my face.

How is it possible for this man to get even better-looking each and every day?

“Did you think I wasn’t going to be?” I asked, a trace of annoyance lingering in my tone.

With a dangerous smirk, he lowered his arm, giving me his full height.

“If I’m bein’ straight with you, I had no clue what I was going to walk into,” he answered with a playful honesty that had me rolling my eyes.

I wanted to be annoyed. I really, truly did, but I found it nearly impossible. He tried to come off as grumpy and brooding, probably a way to keep himself guarded. But for some odd, infuriating reason, I was able to make him smile anyway.

“You said seven, so here I am.” I stretched my arms out wide. “Ready to work.”

He eyed me peculiarly.

“Ready to work, huh?” He laughed with the shake of his head. “Not sure you’ll be thinkin’ that once you see what were doin’ today.”

I sighed, closing my eyes briefly to stop myself from visibly gagging.

“Just—just at least tell me that these clothes will be enough to keep me somewhat clean today.”

It was more than evident that he wanted to laugh again.

Eyebrow raised, mustache twitching in tangent with his mouth, he fought hard to contain his composure.

I’m sure I sounded ridiculous, clinging to the hope of staying clean on a ranch, in a world that was undoubtedly a man’s domain.

But what else was there for me to do other than hope he’d take it easy on me?

If his expression was any indicator, then I could tell I’d be in for it.

“Clean? Sorry to burst your fancy little bubble, Outlaw, but clean’s damn sure not in a ranch hand’s talk.”

There he went again, calling me a ranch hand. I was the furthest thing from the title and I had a feeling Garth knew that too. He was only using the term to tease me.

“I’m not a ranch hand, Garth. So, yes, clean is definitely in this city girl's vocabulary,” I argued, folding my arms over my chest.

“It won’t be for long.” He gave me one last appraisal before clearing the path out the door. “Not when you’re workin’ with me, that is.”

His words sent a blast of heat down my spine. I doubted they carried any real intention, or were meant to be taken in a different light, but unfortunately for me, that’s the only way my twisted mind had taken it.

“You plan on running me ragged out there?”

He chuckled.

“You think I got that kinda cruelty in me?” he teased with a firm nod for me to follow him.

I narrowed my eyes before tossing them over my shoulder and into the cabin for one last look. Realizing the lights were off and everything else was in order, I stepped out onto the porch with Garth and a reluctance to get the day started.

“No, not exactly, but I mean… I’m not sure how you treat your workers,” I replied as he stepped around me and began messing with the door.

He opened it, then reached his hand around as if trying to set the lock.

After a moment, he finished and closed the door again then tossed me something.

I caught it instinctively, a small, cold, metal key, but not before almost letting it slip through my fingers.

“Make sure you keep this door locked whenever you leave, yeah?” He sauntered past me, leaving a blend of leather and earthy notes in his wake. Instead of stopping, he bounced down the steps, sending my gaze downward to his flexing ass.

Damn, he looks good in jeans.

“You comin’?” he said over his shoulder, drawing my attention back to his upper half that looked just about as good as his lower. A navy blue button-up flannel with the sleeves rolled at the forearms and a worn tan cowboy hat placed effortlessly on his head.

He looked too polished to get dirty, but maybe he looked even better with a little mud and sweat mingling on him.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m coming.” I scrambled down the steps, nearly tripping over my boots as I settled into the passenger seat of the ATV. When he saw that I was comfortably positioned, he swiftly punched the gear into drive and sped off in the opposite direction of the cabin.

“Oh, almost forgot to give you this,” he announced, slipping his arm behind my headrest and reaching behind him. He pulled out a brown, weathered ball cap, its brim faded and frayed from years of use. “Here.” He handed it to me with a rough smile. “It’ll help with the sun.”

Twisting it around, I studied the front of the hat.

“Pbr?” I read out loud, glancing at Garth for some clarification. “What does that mean?”

At first, his mouth was set into a harsh line until my words had registered and he arched a brow.

“Never heard of it?” he asked, as my gaze fell back down to the hat.

“Uh, I don’t believe so. Should I have?” It didn’t ring a bell despite how hard I tried to make sense of it.

He shot another glance in my direction.

“Maybe, but it’s no shock you haven’t.” He shrugged. “I’ll let you figure out what it means on your own.” His mouth curled slightly at the side before he shifted his focus back to driving.

The rest of the ride was quiet and somewhat peaceful as I peered out the window, taking in the new surroundings. I definitely wasn’t in New York anymore.

Not even close.

And despite the twisted, contorted knot in my stomach, I knew this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

Never setting foot inside of a horse stable, I had no idea what to expect.

The smell? Certainly not the greatest. Yet, what truly blew me away was the sight of at least five horses poking their heads out in curiosity.

They must have been alerted by the sound of our boots as each one of them shifted their attention to us.

“Which one is Ella?” I asked, searching for a dark brown mane and white splotches down her muzzle.

“I moved her out already.” Garth walked over to what appeared to be an empty stall and swung open the door. “This is where you’ll be startin’ today, in Ella’s stall.”

With hesitant steps, I took the spot beside Garth and peered inside the spacious little area, immediately being hit with a strong smell of ammonia.

Instinctively, the back of my flannel sleeve connected with my nose in hopes of neutralizing the smell any way that I could.

And Garth, of course, stood beside me without a flinch of his nose, as if it were just another day in the office for him.

“You’re in luck, it don’t look too bad in there today.”

My wide, shocked eyes flew to his and for a second, my hand faltered over my nose, causing a tiny burst of the putrid smell to infiltrate my nostrils. I nearly keeled over.

“I’m—I’m in luck!?” I coughed, trying my hardest to keep myself from gagging. “Nothing about that smell tells me I’m in luck.”

I took a much-needed step away from the stall, if only to try breathe in some fresh oxygen.

“Trust me, we deal with a hell of a lot worse here, this ain’t nothin,” he grunted, moving somewhere behind the stall and reappearing with a shovel, pitchfork, and wheelbarrow.

“Yeah, this ain’t nothin’ for you, but what about me?” I used his slang against him, not caring how bratty I was coming off. “Do I look like I know how to use one of those?”

“A shovel?” He stared at me like I was certifiably insane. “You ain’t ever used a shovel?”

My throat went dry from the amount of humiliation that bombarded me.

“I mean, not… not recently have I used one.” I stumbled through my words, finding it even more impossible to maintain eye contact with him.

“Recently? Like when, a year ago? Two?” he questioned.

A long, winded exhale fell past my mouth.

“No…” I admitted, my cheeks flaming at the thought of disclosing the truth. “Does it really even matter? You want me to use the stupid shovel? I’ll figure it out. But that… pointy one.” I used my hand and gestured to the pitchfork. “You can use that one.”

He must be rendered speechless or seconds away from bursting out into laughter, having stayed quiet for far too long. Moments later, he finally responded.

“You’ll figure it out?” He chuckled in disbelief, shifting his gaze elsewhere before quickly bringing them back to me.

“It’s a fuckin’ shovel, Outlaw. Not rocket science.

If you’re really that worried about not knowin’ how to use one, then I’ll be happy to give you a pair of gloves and you can use those hands to clean. ”

My mouth fell open. If he wasn’t technically my boss or the reason I had a place to call “home” right now, I’d give him a piece of my mind.

But I didn’t do that, as much as I wanted to.

I took a deep breath, cleared my head, and mustered up my courage before storming toward him and snagging the shovel and pitchfork from his hands.

It’s just cleaning horse pee and manure, right? If twelve-year-old Grace can do it, why can’t I? I’ve cleaned… mud from the floor? That’s essentially the same, right?

I marched off in the direction of the stall, not bothering with covering my nose or paying any mind to the low grumbles coming from Garth.

“I’ll be even happier to let you use the gloves yourself, cowboy,” I tossed the words over my shoulder, mentally giving myself a pat on the back as I crossed the doorway.

“Jesus, watch where you’re steppin’,” he grumbled when moments later, I set my foot down and a mushy, gross feeling spread beneath it, making me wince. I didn’t want to look, I couldn’t, but I knew I’d just stepped in horse shit.

Ella’s horse shit.

Great… Just what I needed to start my day.