1.
1455 Words
The sun had only just begun to climb over the hills when Sierra Callahan stepped out onto the porch.
Morning on the ranch always arrived softly. A thin layer of mist hovered over the pastures, and the tall grass shimmered with dew as the first light stretched across the land. The air smelled faintly of hay, damp earth, and the distant sweetness of wildflowers along the fence lines.
Sierra rested her forearms on the porch railing and squinted toward the barn.
A horse snorted somewhere in the distance.
The quiet wrapped around the property like a blanket. It had always been her favorite part of the day—those few peaceful minutes before the ranch woke up.
She gathered her dark hair and twisted it into a loose braid over one shoulder, absently watching the fields.
The screen door creaked open behind her.
“You’re up early.”
Sierra glanced over her shoulder.
Her father stepped onto the porch holding a ceramic mug, steam curling into the cool morning air. The years had carved deep lines into his face, and gray had begun creeping into his dark hair at the temples, but he still carried himself with the same solid steadiness he always had.
Broad shoulders. Calloused hands. The kind of man the ranch seemed built around.
Sierra turned back toward the fields, leaning forward against the railing.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Her father hummed quietly and took a slow sip of coffee, joining her at the railing.
They stood there in comfortable silence for a moment. The kind that didn’t need filling when you’d spent your entire life around someone.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
Sierra immediately straightened, suspicion settling into her shoulders.
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It’s practical.”
She groaned under her breath.
“That’s worse.”
Her father leaned one hip against the railing, clearly bracing himself.
“You know the ranch has been busier this season,” he began. “More livestock. More land to manage.”
Sierra already didn’t like where this was going.
“I’m going to hire some help.”
She turned so quickly her braid swung across her arm.
“You’re what?”
“A ranch hand,” he said calmly. “Just one.”
“We don’t need that.”
The response came instantly.
Her father sighed.
“Sierra—”
“No.” She pushed away from the railing and began pacing across the porch. “We’ve been running this place just fine.”
“Barely.”
The word landed heavier than he probably intended.
Sierra stopped mid-step.
“I can handle more work.”
“I know you can,” he said gently.
“Then why are you hiring someone?”
Her father set his mug down on the railing and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Because you shouldn’t have to.”
That made her pause.
“You’ve been carrying half this ranch since you were a teenager,” he continued quietly. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Sierra looked away toward the barn, jaw tightening.
“Well it did.”
The wind rolled across the pastures, stirring the tall grass.
“He starts this week,” her father added.
Sierra spun around.
“You already hired him?”
“I interviewed people in town.”
“You didn’t even ask me.”
Her father met her gaze evenly.
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
That was exactly the problem.
Trust meant change.
And Sierra hated change.
“This is stupid,” she muttered, shoving open the porch door.
“Sierra—”
But she was already striding across the yard.
She didn’t realize where she was going until the oak tree came into view.
The path to the creek curved through tall grass behind the barn, weaving past old fence posts and patches of wildflowers. Sierra had walked it so many times she barely needed to think about it.
The clearing appeared suddenly between the trees.
Sunlight filtered through the massive branches of the oak tree, scattering gold across the grass and the quiet water of the creek.
Wyatt was already there.
He sat on the large rock beside the water, leaning forward as he flicked a pebble across the surface.
One.
Two.
Three.
“Four would’ve been impressive,” Sierra called as she stepped into the clearing.
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder, and his face broke into an easy grin the moment he saw her.
“Morning, Si.”
He looked exactly like he always did—relaxed and steady, like nothing in the world ever rattled him.
Wyatt Harper had grown into the kind of guy people in town called the golden boy without even realizing it.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Sun-tanned from years outdoors.
His sandy blond hair stuck out from beneath a faded baseball cap, and his gray t-shirt was already dusted with dirt from whatever he’d been doing that morning.
Sierra dropped into the grass beside the rock with a dramatic sigh.
Wyatt studied her for a moment before tossing another pebble into the creek.
“That bad, huh?”
“My dad is losing his mind.”
Wyatt huffed a quiet laugh.
“That’s a bold claim.”
“He’s hiring help for the ranch.”
Wyatt paused, pebble still in his fingers.
“Oh.”
Sierra ripped a blade of grass from the ground and snapped it in half.
“We don’t need help.”
Wyatt tossed the pebble into the water.
“You hate new people.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s a little bit the point.”
Sierra shot him a glare.
Wyatt raised both hands in surrender, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth.
“Just saying.”
She flopped back into the grass and stared up through the oak branches swaying above them.
“This place is supposed to stay the same,” she muttered.
Wyatt didn’t answer right away.
Instead he flicked another pebble across the water.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Sierra pushed herself up onto her elbows.
“Show-off.”
Wyatt grinned.
“Maybe the new guy won’t be so bad.”
“Oh, I already hate him.”
Wyatt laughed outright.
“You don’t even know his name.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She dropped back into the grass again.
“Anyone my dad hires is automatically suspicious.”
Wyatt shook his head, still smiling.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Three days later, Sierra was proven right.
The truck rolled into the driveway just after noon.
She spotted it from the barn, leaning against a wooden stall door as dust kicked up along the dirt road.
“Well,” she muttered under her breath.
“Here we go.”
The truck was old and dark blue, the paint scratched in places like it had spent years hauling tools and equipment.
It rolled to a stop in front of the porch.
Her father stepped outside.
Sierra stayed exactly where she was.
If he expected her to run out and greet the stranger, he was dreaming.
The driver’s door opened.
A guy stepped out.
He was taller than Sierra expected—easily over six feet—with broad shoulders and a lean build that suggested he was used to hard work. Dark hair fell across his forehead as he looked out across the ranch, taking everything in quietly.
For some reason, the calm way he stood there immediately irritated her.
Her father shook his hand and said something Sierra couldn’t hear.
Then he pointed toward the barn.
Which meant they were coming this way.
Great.
Sierra crossed her arms and leaned back against the stall door.
Her father looked relieved when he spotted her.
“Sierra,” he called. “Perfect timing.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Is it?”
He ignored the tone.
“This is Asher Cole,” he said, gesturing toward the guy beside him. “He’ll be helping us around the ranch.”
Asher looked at her.
His eyes were dark—almost black—and steady in a way that made it hard to read what he was thinking.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
Sierra didn’t smile.
“Is it?”
Her father sighed immediately.
“Sierra—”
“What?” She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I’m being honest.”
For a moment, Asher simply watched her.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Like he found her attitude amusing.
Sierra instantly disliked him even more.
Her father rubbed his temple.
“This is going to be a long summer.”
Sierra held Asher’s gaze.
“You have no idea.”
- Writer
