Chapter 6: Chapter 6

WREN

We spend the rest of the day working to get the new parts installed in the tractor. Most of our work is done in silence except for necessary communication.

I can’t help but feel like any progress Lance and I made has been undone by the blonde and her small piece of paper.

But then I remember how little he let me do this morning. At least now he’s allowing me to participate and actually treating me like an equal instead of an assistant.

By four p.m., Lance insists we call it quits.

I shrug. “Okay, I have to work on my own truck anyway,” I say.

Lance opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. I find myself hoping he’ll offer to help, but I literally shake the thoughts from my head. Lance raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t respond.

“Well, goodnight.”

I grab my truck key from the apartment upstairs then head out to where my truck is parked, parts still strewn about the front end.

The sun is lower now, and I sit for a moment watching all the bodies around the farm move a little slower in the golden light.

I see Lance nod at random people on his way to the guest house tucked to the side of the main house. Beyond that, farmhands move toward the bunkhouse out by the horse barn at least five hundred yards away.

“Still need an assistant?”

I jump involuntarily at Grant’s voice.

“You scared me!” I say.

Grant shrugs. “I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I was spacing out, I guess. Yes, I’d love a hand getting this timing belt back on,” I say.

Our work pace is easier than this morning. Maybe because I’m not pissed at Lance or especially wary of Grant. Before I know it, I’m adjusting the torque on the timing belt.

“Want me to start it?” Grant asks.

“No, she can be a little finicky, I’ll do it,” I say.

Grant stands near the front end as the truck sputters to life. He looks down into the engine block before giving me a thumbs up.

Of course, I already know I did it correctly based on what it sounds like, but I return his thumbs up and then turn the engine off again.

“That was almost too easy,” Grant says as my truck door creaks to a close.

“Hey! Don’t jinx it!” I say playfully.

Grant holds his hands up. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Eh, no worries, I really appreciate the help. I planned on bribing a farmhand.”

“Well then, how about a celebratory drink?”

I feel myself tense up. I take in Grant’s stance, how much we have interacted recently.

As I’m wondering if it’s wise to drink with the manager of the ranch I’m working on—and where I’m currently living—he interrupts my thoughts.

“Just one drink. I won’t ask a ton of questions about you, okay?”

I let out the breath I’m holding.

“Um, I don’t have any beer unfortunately,” I say. “I do have some whiskey if you’re okay with that?”

“Even better,” Grant says with a smile.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. I just need to feed Puck real quick,” I say. Grant nods his understanding as I whistle for Puck, who leaps down from the cab of the truck where he was napping.

Ten or so minutes later, I am back downstairs with a half-filled bottle of middle-shelf whiskey and two small glasses I found in the cabinet of the apartment.

Wordlessly, I pour two glasses and hand one to Grant. We sip in silence for a few minutes while the light dips lower in the sky.

“So how long have you worked for the Tellers?” I ask, realizing if I don’t want to answer a bunch of questions, I should probably ask a few.

“Officially, about twelve years,” he says.

“And unofficially?” I ask.

“I’ve known the Tellers a long time. Lance and I...were good friends.”

“Oh,” I say, not sure whether I should apologize or not. My curiosity begins to gnaw at the edges. “Did you just grow apart or...?”

Grant smirks and sighs at the same time. “I think that story should be told on the second or third glass,” he says as he sips his whiskey.

I laugh despite myself. “Fair enough,” I say.

After another minute or two of silence, I finally cave.

“I do have a question... Um, we, as in Lance and I, saw a, uh, woman today in town?” I feel my cheeks flush as I realize how ridiculous I sound.

“And so, she came up to me and gave me a note for Lance. It was weird. Does that, er, happen a lot?”

Grant’s eyebrows go up as he looks out over the pasture. “Lemme guess, bottle blonde, big doe eyes, surrounded by shopping bags?” Grant asks.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” I say.

“That’s his girlfriend—well, ex now, I guess. They were together for quite a while, so it’s still strange for me to say they are separated.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What’d the note say?” Grant asks.

“I didn’t read it. Lance didn’t either actually. And he was pretty frosty afterward.”

“Makes sense.”

“Why’s that?”

Grant sighs. “Not really my place to say, but she broke up with him while he was recovering from the accident.”

“Accident?”

Grant looks at me. His eyes are serious and tinged with sadness.

“Yeah, Lance was in a pretty serious car accident early last year. Spent several weeks in the hospital then months in recovery. This is his first summer back on the job.”

I suck in a breath. “Wow, that’s terrible,” is all I can manage to say.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure what their relationship was like prior to the accident, but Emma clearly couldn’t handle the stresses of Lance’s recovery,” Grant said. He pauses to take a sip.

“She was handling the PR for the ranch until he came back to work. Then she stepped away.”

“Oof, lots of conflicts of interest,” I say.

Grant turns his head to look at me. “There’s a lot of that here. It’s a small community, and with a large ranch family like the Tellers, the world gets even smaller. Everybody knows everybody,” he says.

“So just...be cautious about who you trust and who you speak to. Everything gets back to Meredith.”

“She’s shown me a lot of kindness, I’m not interested in digging up dirt on anyone.”

Grant nods. “That’s good,” Grant says as he throws the rest of his whiskey back. “There’s a lot of dirt on a ranch.”