Done and Dusted: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel

After my last lesson group of the day, I started my walk back to the Big House. Today was a good late summer day. The kind that brought a little breeze to the ranch.

Rebel Blue Ranch was the best place on this green earth, and I never got tired of the path that led along the stream, through a cropping of aspen trees, and up to where the Big House was situated. It sat just a little higher than everything else, keeping an eye on everyone and everything—just like Amos Ryder.

My walks to and from my truck were usually my favorite parts of the day, but not today. Today, I saw the only thing in my life I ever thought was prettier than Rebel Blue, and that was Emmy.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Emmy had always been pretty, but I’d never seen her as anything more than my best friend’s little sister. The woman who walked into my bar last night walked taller than I’d ever seen Emmy walk. She was never that confident around anyone, let alone a guy. I might have hated that Wyatt had been the focus of that side of her, but I did like seeing her like that.

Amos said Emmy was too small for her britches, but from where I stood, those britches now fit her just right.

It was almost like Meadowlark was a low ceiling, and when she left, she could grow past its barrier.

So why the hell was she back here?

That was the question on my mind when the path rounded the corner to the small cabin. Emmy’s truck—a baby-blue 1991 GMC Syclone—was out front. I remember when she bought it. Her dad had bought Gus and Wes their first cars, but not Emmy. She’d told him not to. Who the hell turned down a free car?

She did her ranch work and waited tables at the Main Street Diner to save up for it. She loved that ugly truck at first sight. I liked that she still had it, but I was surprised it was still running.

The cabin door was open and Cheap Trick drifted out. I got closer as Emmy came out. She had traded her jeans for a pair of tight black athletic shorts. Fuck me. Her tan legs looked a mile long.

She went to grab a box out of the back of the truck. It looked heavy. Gus would kill me if he knew how I was looking at his sister, but he would also kill me if I didn’t offer to help.

Either way, I was going to end up dead, so I might as well try to get this whole thing with Emmy out of my system.

“Emmy, I got it,” I said as I jogged up to the side of her truck.

She didn’t even look at me as she said, “I don’t need help from a big strong man to move a box.” She let out a huff of air to move a piece of hair that had fallen over her face.

“You think I’m big and strong?” I asked.

“Shut up, Brooks.” Got her. Now that I was closer to her truck, I could see it was packed full. She wouldn’t have brought all of this if she was only going to be here for a week or two.

“Are you—” I started, unsure of how to phrase my question, “moving back here?”

Emmy stopped wrestling with the box I offered to carry. It stayed on the truck seat. Something had changed in her at my question. She let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. Then she shut her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, eyes still closed. “I am.”

“What about racing?” I asked, equal parts curious and concerned. Emmy went rigid. It was like I could see the walls going up around her.

“What about it?” she said defensively.

“Are you done with it?” I asked. That was the only explanation. She couldn’t ride competitively, the way she had for the past decade, from Meadowlark.

Emmy sighed again. It was the type of sigh that could only come from a weight pushing down on you, hard enough that you had no choice but to let out a breath.

I knew all about those.

“I don’t know.” She still had her eyes closed and her nose toward the sky.

“Okay…” I didn’t know what to say to that. It’s none of your business, Luke.

The silence stretched between us for a few beats. “I’ll help you unpack. Twice the people, half the work.” I tried to make my offer sound transactional and not like I wanted to spend more time with her or anything. She looked at me, and after a few seconds, gave me a nod. “I’ll start with the heavy box,” I said, grabbing the box that started this whole thing.

Holy shit. It was heavy as hell. I thought about her packing up her life in Denver. Did she do it by herself? Or did someone help her? A boyfriend, maybe? My fingers tightened their hold on the box at that thought.

Even though I knew Emmy, I didn’t know Emmy or what her life was like now.

But I wanted to.

Emmy grabbed a smaller box and led the way up to the cabin.

Inside the cabin hadn’t changed since the last time I was in here. Gus, Wes, and I used to hang out here, usually with Coors and a joint. It was far enough away from the Big House that Amos wouldn’t catch us, but close enough that we wouldn’t be tripping through the ranch.

I’m pretty sure Gus lost his virginity in this cabin. I made a mental note to keep that to myself.

Emmy bent to set her box on the floor by the bed, and I couldn’t help but look at her heart-shaped ass in her tiny fucking shorts.

I was going straight to hell.

“You can just set that anywhere,” Emmy said, unaware of the fact that I was checking out her ass half a second ago.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

“What the hell is in here?” I asked, setting the box on the ground inside the doorway. “Rocks?” Emmy let the slightest hint of a smile slip, and I felt like I’d won the lottery.

What the hell was happening to me?

“Close,” she said. “Books. Have you ever read one?”

“Funny.”

“Sorry, I know not knowing how to read is a tough subject for you.” Her smile was growing. If giving me shit made her smile like that, I’d have no choice but to let her do it as often as she wanted.

“The Wyoming public school system failed me and countless others,” I responded.

“You can’t blame the school if you never actually went to school.”

“I went to school,” I protested, even though I really hadn’t.

“Playing football and drinking in the parking lot don’t count.” God, that smile. Take that, Kenny, I thought to myself, remembering how Emmy had smiled at him last night. Look who she’s smiling at now, asshole.

“Damn. You got me,” I conceded. She wasn’t wrong. I did graduate, though.

“Thanks for ratting me out to Gus, by the way,” she said. Her tone was still light, so I figured she couldn’t be too mad about that, even though I did feel bad about it.

I knew what she looked like when she was mad, and it wasn’t how she looked right now. She looked calm. Comfortable.

I liked that she looked that way while she was with me.

“You could’ve left out the Kenny detail, though,” she continued. “Me being home without him knowing was probably enough to make that notorious forehead vein of his make an appearance.”

Fuck Kenny.

“Did you”—again, I didn’t know how to phrase my question correctly; Emmy had me all tied up—“have a good time after you left the bar last night?” Smooth.

Emmy laughed. “I can’t believe Gus is trying to use you to interrogate me.” Yeah, it was Gus who wanted to know. “Kenny gave Teddy and me a ride to Teddy’s because, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we were blitzed.”

Just a ride to Teddy’s? She didn’t go home with Kenny? Nothing happened?

Relief washed over me. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to see my best friend’s little sister get hurt again, which was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

“Your very loud and very passionate rendition of Islands in the Stream might have given you away,” I responded. The memory of Teddy pushing the lead singer of the house band out of the way and pulling Emmy onto the stage ran through my mind.

It was a little blurry, though, thanks to the shots I’d had behind the bar.

“Oh god.” Emmy ran a hand over her face. “I blacked that out until now.”

“You were honestly pretty good. Take a couple singing lessons, and I’ll give you and Teddy a set,” I joked.

Emmy started walking back out to her truck to grab more of her stuff, so I followed.

“So it’s true, then?” she called over her shoulder.

“What’s true?” I asked.

“That you own The Devil’s Boot.”

“I do, yeah.”

“How did that happen?”

It was impossible to bring up how The Devil’s Boot fell into my lap without bringing up Jimmy. I stayed quiet for a second, preparing myself for the familiar ache that settled in my chest every time he got brought up.

“Do you remember drunk Jimmy?”

“Your dad? Yeah, I remember Jimmy.” Emmy looked confused, and I couldn’t blame her.

“Turns out he owned it the whole time. He left it to me when he died.” I didn’t really like talking about my dad. It wasn’t that I thought he was a bad guy, but I knew he was a bad dad. The way I felt about Jimmy wasn’t an open wound anymore, though. It was covered in scar tissue. That didn’t mean there wasn’t any lingering pain under the surface.

No matter how many years passed, I could never entirely shake the fact that my dad didn’t want me.

He lived in the same town as me my entire life, and I saw him maybe once a year until I was old enough to pull off a fake ID and get into The Devil’s Boot. Then, I only ever saw him in his regular spot at the bar. Sometimes he talked to me, sometimes he didn’t.

I don’t even know why he left me the bar and everything that came with it.

“I honestly didn’t think anyone actually owned The Devil’s Boot,” Emmy said as she turned to grab another box. I was right behind her. “I mean, I guess I knew someone had to own it at some point, but I figured it was around so long that it just, like, transcended ownership.”

“Honestly, the books made it look look like there wasn’t an owner when I took over. It was a disaster.” Jimmy had run the bar into the ground. I hated to admit it, but when I saw how much damage he’d done over the years, I found it kind of comforting to know I wasn’t the only thing my dad hadn’t looked after. Still, I think he cared about the bar more than he ever cared about me.

Emmy and I set our boxes on the floor of the cabin. It was starting to fill up with her things.

“I don’t think I ever said this to you,” Emmy started. “I’m sorry your dad died. Grieving someone you never really knew is hard and confusing.” My chest got that weird feeling again. I knew Emmy’s words were genuine. Her mom had died before she was a year old. Riding accident.

“I appreciate that, Emmy.” And I did. “Jimmy left me the only things that ever meant anything to him, and I guess that’s worth something.” I never talked about my dad like this. I didn’t know why I was.

I just wanted Emmy to know me, I guess. And I wanted to know her, too.

We continued back and forth from Emmy’s truck until Cheap Trick turned into Bruce Springsteen and all of Emmy’s boxes made it into the cabin. After our conversation, we worked mostly in comfortable silence except for when Emmy told me where to put something or when she started absentmindedly singing the lyrics to the songs that were playing.

“I think that’s it,” She said as I brought in the last box, which had to be more books considering how goddamn heavy it was. What was this woman reading? I set it down next to the others. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime,” I said. And I meant it. As of yesterday, I would do anything, anywhere, anytime for Emmy Ryder. “You need anything else before I head out?”

I might as well have gotten on my knees and begged for her to let me stay a little bit longer. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me.

She was trying to get out of where she was stuck in the middle of a pile of boxes. Before she could answer me, her foot snagged on the corner of a box and she went down hard. I instinctively reached for her, but I couldn’t get to her before she hit the ground.

Goddamn boxes.

“Emmy!” I got around the boxes in my way as fast as I could and crouched down next to where Emmy was on the ground. She had blood on her arm. Shit. “Emmy, are you okay?”

The panic in my voice took me by surprise.

“Yeah, I’m good. I stuck my arm out to stop the fall, and it went in a box. It’s fine.”

“Let me look at it, please.”

“It’s fine,” she grumbled. Stubborn woman. Her head had always been harder than a horse’s.

“Emmy, you’re bleeding all over your box of shoes.” She looked down at her arm. I didn’t think she knew she was bleeding. She looked dazed.

“Shit,” she breathed.

“Come here.” I placed one of my hands on her waist and one under her elbow on the arm that wasn’t bleeding to help her stand up. “There’s a first-aid kit under the sink. Gus and I just refreshed them a few months ago.”

“God, I hate blood,” Emmy said.

“Then don’t look at it, Clementine.”

“Wow. That’s really good advice, Luke. You should be a doctor. Thank you.” Luke. She called me Luke. She was bleeding out before my eyes and being a smart ass when she said it, but I liked the way it sounded on her lips.

“I’m serious, don’t look at it,” I said. “Here, sit down.” There was a small kitchen table with two chairs near the back window. I led her to it, sat her down, and grabbed the first-aid kit before kneeling in front of her.

“I can’t do blood, Brooks. I really can’t,” Emmy said. Her voice sounded hollow now. I looked up at her. She looked that way, too. She had her eyes the blood coming out of her arm.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. “Emmy, look at me.” She kept her eyes on the cut, a vacant expression on her face. She looked like she was about to pass out. I didn’t remember Emmy having this sort of aversion to blood. Cuts and blood weren’t unusual on a ranch. Plus, I’d shown up at the Ryder’s more than once looking worse for wear after a fight, so I felt like I would remember if Emmy’s reaction to blood growing up had been this visceral.

I brought my hands up to either side of her face and tilted it up. This forced her to take her eyes off her arm. “Look at me,” I demanded.

Emmy’s green eyes met mine. She could listen–who knew?

“Keep your eyes on me, okay? I’m going to take care of you, Emmy.” She didn’t respond, but she gave me a small nod. I kept my hands on her face longer than I should’ve, soaking up what it felt like to be close to her.

Jesus Christ. You are pathetic, I thought to myself. She is literally bleeding, dipshit.

I moved my hands from her face and went to work on her arm. I had her set her hand on my bicep so I could see what I was doing. After cleaning the cut up, I was happy to see that it wasn’t deep at all. It was just one of those “just right” cuts that bled like a motherfucker until you got it under control.

I grabbed the rubbing alcohol from the first-aid kit. “This might sting,” I said as I brought the soaked cotton pad to her forearm. She sucked in a breath, and the hand on my bicep squeezed. Hard.

“Shit. That did hurt,” she said.

“Almost done,” I said. I patted her skin dry with some gauze and put the biggest band-aid in the over the cut. “There,” I said.

I brought my arms to either side of her legs and let them rest there, against my better judgment. I looked up at her. She didn’t look like she was going to pass out anymore—we were out of the woods.

Emmy had her eyes on me, and I instinctively brought my hands to the bare skin on the sides of her thighs, right below the hem of her tight shorts. I watched her swallow. The way her throat worked made me want to grab her by it and pull her lips to mine.

I tried to remember the last time I’d felt this sort of pull toward anyone. I wasn’t sure I ever had.

“Thank you,” she said. Did she sound out of breath? Or was I making that up?

I slid my hands up a little higher and then brought them back to where they’d been, rubbing the sides of her legs. I told myself it was just to comfort her after the cut. Her breath caught, but she didn’t stop me.

Her eyes darted to my mouth and then back up.

Fuck. I wanted to kiss her.

And from the way she was looking at me, I think she wanted to kiss me back. I knew what it looked like when a woman wanted that, but god damn, this wasn’t just any woman.

This was Emmy.

Neither of us said anything–we just stayed where we were.

I looked at her mouth.

One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right? Both of us were adults.

I was going to do it. I was going to kiss my best friend’s little sist—

“Emmy!” Wes’s voice shattered the trance Emmy and I were in. “I’ve got your bedding.” I quickly snapped to my feet, and Emmy was right behind me as Wes came through the front door. “Oh, hey, Brooks,” he said. “I wondered why your truck was still outside of the Big House.”

“Hey, man.” I tried to keep my voice level so I didn’t give away the fact that I was just about to plant one on his little sister.

“He was just helping me with boxes,” Emmy said quickly. She sounded like a kid who just got caught sneaking a cookie.

Wes raised one of his eyebrows at her, and then at me.“That was nice of him,” he finally said.

This was weird.

Emmy and I were being weird.

We had to stop being weird.

Nothing happened.

But it would’ve.

“Yeah,” I said. “I saw her truck when I was walking back from the stables. Figured I’d lend a hand.”

Wes stared at me for a second longer before he turned to Emmy and spoke. “Dinner is going to be ready in thirty. Riley wanted barbecue chicken. Brooks, are you staying tonight?”

“Thanks, but I gotta get to the bar. They’re probably wondering where I am.” That was true. The sun was starting to set, which meant people would start rolling into The Devil’s Boot any minute, but Joe had it covered.

“Are you sure?” It was Emmy who asked. Did she…want me to stay for dinner? There was a first time for everything, I guess.

“Yeah,” I said. “Welcome home, Emmy. Wes, I’ll be back tomorrow for the game.” I always did Sunday football at the Ryders’.

I started making my way to the door and both Ryders gave me a wave. I waved back and hoped I didn’t look as sheepish as I felt.

I basically ran to my truck. I couldn’t believe I almost kissed her. If Wes hadn’t come in, I would’ve.

If he hadn’t yelled so we knew he was there, he would’ve walked in on me kissing his sister, and I would be dead right now. I rested my head on my steering wheel.

That couldn’t happen again.