Chapter 5: Chapter 5

WREN

The ride to town is mainly silent.

We take a company vehicle since mine clearly wasn’t in driving shape. It’s a three-quarter ton Ford F250, all brand new and clean with a “Teller Farm and Ranch” on the side featuring a yellow logo of a barn on a pasture.

“Stop,” Lance says. It takes me a moment to register what he says. “STOP!”

I panic and hit the brake. We go skidding to a halt on the gravel.

“What the hell?” I yell, but Lance is halfway out the door and heading into the pasture. I follow his movement and see what he’s heading toward.

A young deer is caught in the fence. Thankfully it’s not razor wire, but the young buck’s back legs are tangled in the loose wire.

Lance looks back at me and I hop into the bed of the truck and open the tool box. Just as I predicted, a pair of wire cutters are right on top.

Wordlessly, we go about freeing the buck. Lance slowly approaches him from the side, holding his hands out in surrender. He offers gentle reassurances but the poor creature continues to thrash wildly.

If he kicks too hard, he could get tangled more—or worse, injure himself. I don’t want to think about what we’ll have to do if that happens.

I hop to the other side of the fence and quietly approach the buck from the back. I am careful not to startle him as I look at the tangled mess his feet are stuck in.

If I can make the correct cut then move away, I won’t catch a hoof in the face. I see the cut I need to make and look up at Lance. He looks back at me and gives me a small nod, then turns to the buck.

“All right, buddy, we’re gonna get you out of there. Then you’re free to go, okay?”

I can hear the buck blowing air out his nose in panic. I crouch down, place the wire cutters in the spot I think will do the trick, and cut. The buck thrashes wildly, falling on his side. He’s not free.

“Again!” Lance yells as he launches forward and puts a knee on the deer’s neck while he’s on the ground.

I make another cut and pull at the wire gently yet quickly. That should do it.

“Move!” I yell.

Lance and I move away quickly just as the deer bounces up and goes sprinting away. We watch him for a few seconds, not even seeing a limp. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome!” Lance yells at the deer.

Suddenly I start laughing. Lance looks at me, startled, then offers me a wide smile.

The knot in my stomach loosens for the first time since arriving at the Teller Farm and Ranch, and I can’t help but notice that Lance Teller has a gorgeous smile.

***

“How’d you know what to do?”

I look over at Lance after he asks the question. His arm is resting on the open window of the truck, Montana scenery passing by behind him as he looks at me.

I can tell by his body language that he’s more comfortable with me, a cautious trust settling between us after the deer rescue.

I look back at the road and shrug. “I mean, not that hard to figure out, right?”

His eyes glance back at the road before turning to me once again.

“You said you and Puck were on a farm last year?”

I smile. “Awww, did you just say his name? He’ll be so pleased,” I tease as I picture Puck back at the farm, snoozing in the shop, waiting for us to return.

“Still looks like a mutt to me,” he says.

“Mutts are the best,” I say. “But actually, he came from a breeder. Well, a friend, but she breeds dogs for farm work.”

He nods. “Why do you have him? Did you have a farm?”

“No,” I say. “She just thought...that I needed a friend.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence, but for the first time since I met Lance, it’s a comfortable silence.

The Teller Farm and Ranch is so large, it takes thirty minutes to get into town and back out again, each way. And most of what we pass is Teller land.

I don’t mind though. The scenery is absolutely breathtaking and the air is fresh and crisp.

I wonder how long they’ve owned this land, what their history is on it, but I’m enjoying the silence too much to break it with more questions. Especially since I prefer not to answer a lot of questions myself.

The town of Bryxton is both quaint and developed. As rich Americans grew tired of their suburban homes, they began flocking to the largely undisturbed terrain of Montana.

They built their amenities here, their spas and boutiques and ski chalets and high-end resorts literally rising up out of the ground at the foot of giant, snow-covered mountains.

At the same time, they underestimated Montana’s ruggedness and more than a few would be trampled by moose or attacked by bears.

Local Montanans loved their money but hated everything else about these outsiders. I had seen this play out in several towns across the state.

I personally don’t feel any certain way about this change as I’m not from Montana. I’ve spent a lot of time here simply because I love the outdoor spaces, but I don’t feel it’s my place to love or hate these new residents.

Heck, I’m an outsider too.

After we step out of the auto parts store, I spy a nice-looking, albeit chic, coffee shop across the street.

“I could use another cup of coffee, how about you?” I ask Lance.

He looks like he’s about to agree, but I see his eyes widen as he looks at the coffee shop. His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head.

“Um, I’ll meet you at the truck.”

“Uh, okay,” I say.

As I approach the coffee shop, I notice two young women sitting at a table in the front. One has chestnut brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the other is a pretty blonde who is staring right at me.

“One house coffee, please,” I say to the guy behind the counter.

“We only do drip coffee, that okay?”

I give a small snicker. “Sure.”

As I’m waiting for my drip coffee at the end of the counter, I hear a small voice behind me.

“Excuse me?”

I turn to see the pretty blonde looking at me. She has big hazel eyes and dewy skin. Her small frame is wrapped in tight yoga pants and matching sports bra with a loose tank top over it.

She looks like every popular girl I went to school with.

“Me?” I ask.

“Are you here with Lance Teller?” she asks, ignoring my question.

“Oh, uh, yes? We work together,” I say.

She looks confused. “At the farm?”

“Yes, I’m a mechanic.”

The crease in her eyebrow deepens as her eyes scan my body and land back on my face.

“Okay, well, can you give him this for me?” She hands me a folded-up piece of paper.

“Uh, what?”

She waves her manicured hand at me. “Just tell him it’s from Emma. Thanks, darling,” she says, and walks away with a little too much swing in her hips.

I finally grab my expensive coffee and head back to the truck.

After getting in and putting my coffee in a cupholder, I offer the paper to Lance.

“Some girl asked me to give this to you,” I say.

To my surprise, Lance snorts and takes the paper. He opens it briefly before balling it up and tossing it on the floor of the truck.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly.

I shrug and start the truck. The drive back to the farm is completely silent.