Depressed Cowgirl in Pink

Chapter 1-part 2

Hope

I blinked at the man behind the wheel of the old pickup truck. Standing up in the driver’s seat like that? Definitely not something I saw where I came from. But then again, not much about this day had gone the usual way.

It was Rhett—the guy from the diner. The one who’d tried to offer help before Brenda cut him off like she owned the county.

I hesitated, heart thudding a little too fast. My gut didn’t flash any red flags. Just weariness and that strange calm I’d felt the first time I looked at him.

“We’re, uh… looking for a motel or something,” I said, half-laughing at how pathetic that sounded out loud. “But the nice lady at the diner made it clear no one’s letting me and my dog stay anywhere nearby. My car broke down a few miles back, so I figured we’d just head back and bunk up in the back seat. You know… ride out the storm.”

Wow. Good job, Hope. Just tell a complete stranger you're planning to sleep in your car in the middle of nowhere with no protection. Brilliant.

Rhett frowned. “You’re serious?”

I gave a weak shrug.

“Sleep in your car in the rain?” he said, like it was personally offensive. “Hell no. I was raised better than to let someone do that. Hop in—I’ll get you someplace warm and dry.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him I’d be fine. But the truth was, I wasn’t. I was soaked, exhausted, and fresh out of pride.

What were my options, really?

I glanced at Daisy, who looked up at me like she knew this was the best shot we had. So I climbed in.

At least he was easy on the eyes—black hair, a gray cowboy hat that looked like it had real stories, a short beard, that lean ranch-built body in a weathered shirt and jeans, and a smile that could melt asphalt.

“Nice girl you’ve got there,” he said a few minutes later, glancing over at Daisy as he pulled onto the gravel road. He reached over to scratch her ears, leaning across my seat. His fingers brushed my thigh for about three seconds too long to be a total accident.

Not that I minded. He was handsome. And I was only human.

By the time we reached the house, the sky opened up in full-blown fury. A flash of lightning split the horizon, followed by a thunderclap that made Daisy whimper at my feet.

We ran to the porch as Rhett threw open the door and all but shoved us inside. The barking came next—quick, excited, and followed by a blur of fur.

A gorgeous tri-colored border collie came barreling at us like a living bottle rocket, tail wagging wildly as he practically tackled Daisy in a swirl of sniffing and circling.

“Down, boy! Let the girls breathe!” Rhett laughed. “Sorry—he gets a little overexcited. We don’t get much female company around here.”

He pulled me up gently by the wrists from the hardwood floor, and sparks shot straight down to my toes. Was that static? Or did I just get mildly electrocuted by this man? Maybe it was the storm. Or maybe there was something else in the air entirely.

“It’s okay,” I said, catching my breath. “Daisy’s friendly. She’s fixed, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Once I was steady on my feet—maybe standing a little too close—he still hadn’t let go. He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, fingers still wrapped loosely around my wrists, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. I looked up, and there they were: the most gorgeous hazel eyes peeking out from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, rain-damp hair curling across his forehead.

“Yeah, Bolt’s fixed too,” he said, his voice low. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this excited over another dog. Guess they’ll get along just fine.”

He kept looking at me. Then his fingers drifted gently over the backs of my hands, slow and featherlight, as if testing the edges of a thought.

“I’m Hope,” I offered, clearing my throat. “Don’t think I introduced myself back at the diner. And this is Daisy—she’s five, going a little blind, scared of everything except squirrels and peanut butter. But she’s a good girl.”

Is he ever going to let go of my hands?

“I’m Rhett,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “And that’s Bolt—though I guess I already said his name, didn’t I?”

He chuckled again, a little sheepish, like he couldn’t quite stop smiling at me. Finally, he let go, and I took a moment to look around the house.

It was definitely a man’s place—simple and functional, no decorative pillows or scented candles in sight. Still, it had a kind of rugged comfort. A big fireplace dominated one wall, dark brick stretching up to the ceiling. Three hunting rifles hung above it like they belonged in a museum exhibit titled “Local Bachelor Habits.”

Two worn but inviting couches faced the fire. I could already picture cold December nights, curled up under a thick blanket—or doing other things on the faux bearskin rug near the hearth. At least, I hoped it was faux.

The kitchen sat at the other end of the open room. The appliances looked ancient, and the cabinets were begging for a fresh coat of paint. A big island with three mismatched chairs, a small dinner table that was full of boxes and looked like no one had ever had any dinner over there, ever. Definitely a house where meals were grabbed between work shifts, not lingered over.

“Bathroom’s down the hall to the right,” Rhett said, his voice breaking the quiet. “I’ll grab you some towels and dry clothes for both of you.”

A hot shower was all it took to make me question my life choices. Again. Was this safe? Was I completely out of my mind?

Probably.

But what were my options? It wasn’t like I had a better plan.

When I stepped out, wrapped in a towel and one of Rhett’s oversized t-shirts that hung down to mid-thigh, he was just... standing there. Staring. Like he’d forgotten how words worked.

For a second, I wasn’t sure if he regretted lending me the shirt or if he was trying to decide whether he should’ve just let me walk around naked.

“Thanks for the shirt,” I said, trying to cut the tension. “Fits like a glove. Or... well, a very casual cotton dress.”

“Yeah... yeah, it does,” he said, still blinking. “Looks good on you.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve got your wet clothes on the heater. Your bag was soaked too. Figured I’d let everything dry out.”

“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’ll grab the rest of my stuff from the car tomorrow. And so things aren’t weird—well, more weird—maybe you could tell me a little about the ranch?”

He nodded, finally pulling himself back to earth.

“We’re small,” he said. “Just me, my dad, and my brother. But they’ve been out helping our uncle build a barn, so right now, it’s just me holding the fort. Cattle, sheep, horses, chickens, beehives... a little bit of everything.”

He paused, watching me like he was measuring my reaction.

“Honestly, it’s becoming a bit much on my own. I was actually looking for help—feeding animals, milking, collecting eggs, that kind of thing.”

I raised a brow. A job and a place to stay? Maybe the universe hadn’t completely given up on me after all.

I raised an eyebrow, arms still folded across my chest as I leaned against the kitchen island.

“You’re offering me a job now?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Was this too good to be true, or just plain weird?

Rhett didn’t flinch. “You need a place to stay. I need help. Seems like a fair trade.”

I looked at Daisy, curled up on the rug with Bolt snuggled beside her like they’d known each other for years. My girl wasn’t worried. She was finally relaxed — breathing deep, tail twitching in sleep.

And me? I was tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind that came from months of driving and running and pretending I wasn’t lost.

“I don’t know the first thing about cows or chickens or bees,” I said.

“You learn fast,” he replied with a half-smile. “I can teach you.”

That smile was dangerous — not cocky, not pushy. Just warm. Steady. Like he knew how to handle wild things without breaking them.

I ran a hand through my damp hair and sighed. “Alright, cowboy. I’ll help out while I’m here. But if your dog turns out to be the normal one in this house, I’m out.”

He laughed, deep and quiet. “Deal.”