Depressed Cowgirl in Pink

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hope

The sun’s shining cocky through the tan drapes like it owns the damn place—punching me straight in the face with a message: Wake up, stupid girl. You just took a job. Time to pull your weight.

I groan, roll out of bed, Rhett put me in a guest bedroom upstairs yesterday, to have some more privacy, I brush my teeth so I don’t scare off the chickens or make Rhett regret giving me shelter. The smell of coffee and eggs hits me halfway down the stairs, and suddenly, I’ve got a reason to live again.

Rhett’s by the stove, grinning like a fool with a mug in hand. “Morning, princess. Coffee?”

“You know me so well already. Are you sure we only just met?” I giggle, accepting the mug he pours and slipping onto a stool at the kitchen island.

He turns back to the stove, flipping the eggs. I watch him—shamelessly. This is not a boy. This is a man. Tall, solid, broad shoulders under a fitted shirt that doesn’t even try to hide how built he is. I’m barely 5'1", so just about everyone’s taller than me, but Rhett? He’s massive in that quiet, cowboy way. The kind that doesn’t need to show off.

His muscles aren’t gym-earned. No protein shakes or selfie mirrors. He’s strong from lifting hay bales, not dumbbells. Built from real work, not from trying to win some locker room pissing contest.

“I’m afraid breakfast is pretty simple,” he says. “Just what the animals give us. Eggs, jerky. We can head into town later if you’re craving something else.”

“No, this is perfect,” I say honestly. “Smells divine. Thank you.”

When he slides a plate in front of me—perfectly cooked eggs, jerky—I almost moan. Food and kindness in one move? Be still, my heart. He sits beside me with his own plate, flashes me a wink, and I swear I feel it in places I shouldn’t this early in the morning.

“Did you let the dogs out?” I ask, trying to sound normal.

“Yeah,” he says, taking a bite. “Daisy started getting fussy, so I figured I’d let you sleep. They're both outside now, watered and fed.”

My heart twists, just a little. No one’s ever helped me take care of Daisy. Not once. I smile like an i***t and can’t even hide it.

“That’s really sweet of you. Thank you.”

I don’t know why I suddenly can’t meet his eyes. Probably because every time he looks at me like that—soft, curious, intense—I feel like I might melt right out of my skin. It’s ridiculous. I’ve been through a lot, seen worse, dealt with men who thought charm was a weapon. But Rhett?

He watches me like I’m something worth slowing down for.

And it’s doing things to me I didn’t think I’d feel again.

Hell, I feel like a damn virgin around him.

“Let me know how I can help today—with the ranch chores, I mean,” I said, finishing the last of my coffee. “I’ve never worked on a place like this, so I’ll probably slow you down at first... but I promise I’m a quick learner.”

Rhett nodded, picking up our empty plates and taking them to the sink. As he turned to rinse them, I found myself getting up, trailing behind him.

“Let me wash those,” I said, reaching around him. “It’s the least I can do after you cooked.”

Honestly, I just couldn’t stand the sight of dirty dishes sitting there. But also... maybe I just wanted an excuse to stand close.

Unfortunately, I didn’t account for just how close. As he stepped back, I bumped right into him—my forehead hitting his solid chest, and my belly pressing awkwardly into his... well, middle region.

I froze, face flushing deep red.

He steadied me with a warm grip on my shoulders. When I looked up, his hazel eyes were lit with quiet amusement. His lips—parted slightly, still damp from his coffee—were a little too close for comfort.

“Excuse my clumsiness, cowboy,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to wash the dishes. Least I can do.”

I tore my eyes away, ridiculously flustered. Since when did I turn into a bashful teenager who couldn’t look a man in the eyes?

We headed outside a few minutes later. I greeted the dogs, who were now best friends, then followed Rhett as he walked me through the morning routine.

The sun was bright but not hot, the edge of summer already softening into fall. I made a mental note to find myself a decent cowboy hat—my city-girl scalp was not cut out for this much sunshine.

We fed the animals, gave meds to a few cows and sheep that needed it, and before I knew it, a few hours had passed. I was sweaty, slightly sore, and weirdly satisfied.

Then Rhett turned to me with a sudden glint in his eye.

“Let’s get you on a horse.”

“I’m sorry—what now?”

He was already grabbing my hand and leading me toward the stables before I could protest.

“This here’s Zoe,” he said, nodding toward a beautiful gray mare. “She’s gentle. Good for beginners. Judging by your face, I’m guessing you don’t know your way around horses.”

I just shook my head, eyes fixed on Zoe, trying not to flinch when she shifted.

I reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away. My hand hung there, awkward and unsure.

“She can feel your nerves,” Rhett said gently. “Horses are like kids that way—they feed off your energy. Try breathing deep. Just be calm with her.”

“Never been around horses, really,” I admitted. “Big animals kind of scare me. Funny story—my oldest brother thought it’d be hilarious to put me on a calf when I was two. According to my mom, I screamed so loud I scared the neighbor’s chickens away. Every summer, our parents dumped all five of us at Grandma’s farm, along with a few cousins. Big, chaotic family. Some of my happiest memories came from that place—like sleeping in the hay barn with one of my brothers under a full moon, crickets chirping, wrapped in old quilts on a pile of hay. It’s silly, but... I think about that night a lot in the last while, like one of my favourite memories that made me who I am. What about you?”

Rhett blinked at me, stunned.

Crap. I’d just emotionally overshared all over the place. He must be one of those good-listener types that pulls stuff out of people without even trying.

“Born and raised right here,” he said finally, patting Zoe’s side as she munched on a carrot. “I’m sorry your intro to livestock involved trauma. Maybe we can rewrite that memory with something better.”

He chuckled, and I laughed with him, the tension easing.

“My mom passed three years ago,” he added after a moment, voice quiet. “Brain aneurysm. Dad... he never really recovered. I guess I stay busy. Work with my hands. Watch the sun go down from the porch. It’s simple, but it keeps me going.”

He looked away, shoulders stiffening like he hadn’t meant to say so much.

I reached out, gently.

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard. Thank you for sharing that with me. If you ever want to talk—”

He waved a hand and smiled, eyes crinkling just enough to soften the moment.

“Nah, I’m good. All good under the sun. I’m a big boy—I can handle it.”

Then he winked, and the lighthearted Rhett was back—pulling a saddle off the wall like it weighed nothing and grinning like I hadn’t just dumped a childhood memoir on him.