Page 2 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

Change was something I did not want or need, so I didn’t understand why anyone would. Nor why Lucas would describe Snow Creek Ranch as wild. It had been around for years, its roots extending deep beneath the valley floor, and was bound by Snow Creek and the ridge. Acres and acres that had been used a good long time for cattle and horses, long enough to establish the ranch’s own rhythm. Long enough that, upon my arrival, the valley had wrapped me in its arms and considered me its own.

“I’ll look after them,” I said. My struggles weren’t Lucas’ problem. I played it close to the vest, like I always did, and patted the pocket where I kept the keys to my truck. “As soon as they get here, I’ll show them their bunkhouse and take them into town.”

Lucas shook my hand and went back to the main building, where the dining hall and office were. I watched him go, then scanned the yard, the barn, the storage building, and the paddock. Everything was being done up, made fancy like a young girl preparing for her first school dance.

Malcolm, one of my fellow wranglers at the ranch, was a genius handyman, and that was the truth of it. He’d managedto update the buildings while keeping their look and feel. As if they’d been there always.

Rusticandrealhad been Lucas’ direction, and other than that, he’d let Malcolm do as he pleased. Which was the right call, because if anything needed to be fixed, Malcolm knew how to do it. All I knew was horses and carpentry, which, it seemed, kept me useful enough.

For now, there was plenty of work to be done, so I’d be around to see it through. And after summer’s end? My mental road dropped off into fog-covered nothingness. All I could do was take one day, one step, at a time.

I took lunch in the dining hall, then went out front to wait for the newcomers. I ended up pacing back and forth, my boots kicking up dust and gravel, my straw cowboy hat keeping the sun off even as it let in a cooling breeze.

By and by, the dirt road that led from the paved road into town roiled up with dust, signaling that a car was coming. Moments later, that car pulled into the open area in front of the barn, a blue sedan that looked new and well cared for.

Two teenagers piled out from the back seat, gangly youths, trim with a city air, boisterous and laughing as they tugged their worn, dark-colored backpacks onto one shoulder almost in unison with each other. One was dark-haired and tall. He looked at me with wary eyes. The other was slender, almost bouncing on his toes, his fair hair flopping over his forehead.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” I said somberly, like I imagined myself to be the doorman at some fancy city hotel. “I’m Jake Colter, and I’m here to show you to your bunkhouse. You can leave your backpacks there, and then I’ll take you into town to get you hats and boots.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Colter. I’m Dillon,” the dark-haired one said. “And this is Cameron.”

“Jake is fine,” I said, appreciating their polite manners that seemed at odds with their ratty sneakers and the faded hems of their t-shirts and jeans.

Before we could shake hands and proceed to the cabin, the car’s engine turned off with a sigh, and a man got out. I readied myself to greet the driver, because this was Lucas’ friend, Dalton Gayle, and I might as well start out on the right foot.

Dalton looked serious and focused, but before I could say hello, Lucas emerged from the barn and pulled Dalton into a big hug. Now flushed and smiling, Dalton hugged Lucas right back. Then he turned to look at me, and I blinked.

Dalton was golden-haired, with pink cheeks, blue eyes, and a mouth made out of raspberry candy. Angled features. A straight nose that gave him a serious air. Slender hips. Strong shoulders. He was as pretty as a sunrise on a summer morning. I’d not been looking for sunrises.

I focused on the clothes he was wearing. Cotton trousers. Shoes with tassels on them. A button-down shirt marked with sweat stains beneath his arms. There was a slash of grease across the small beige-on-white pattern that announced a small fracas with a pump at a gas station somewhere along the way.

He was dressed all wrong for being on a ranch, though perhaps he’d not meant to stay long. Just long enough to drop Dillon and Cameron off. Then he’d be on his way.

“How much PTO did you end up taking?” Lucas asked, pulling Dalton’s focus back to him and clapping Dalton on the shoulder before releasing him.

“A couple of days.” Dalton spoke loudly and clearly, as though he was defying the normal order of things.

I still didn’t know what PTO was.

“Excellent,” Lucas said. “And here’s Jake Colter to take care of you.”

Once again, Dalton’s attention turned to me, and I was gawping and drawing air like a fish at the bottom of a boat, hooked and landed.

Mentally, I took a step back. I caught my breath and steadied myself, because the last thing I needed was to be affected by someone who would be gone in a few days.

“It’s nice to meet you at last, Mr. Colter,” Dalton said. He looked up at me with the biggest damn eyes. If I didn’t hold on, I might fall in.

I focused on shaking his hand. He had a good, strong grip, though his skin was soft from office work. I couldn’t blame him for that. After all, he’d chosen his path, an indoor life, like I had chosen mine. An outdoor one.

“Call me Jake.” If the words came out like I was holding back a shout, nobody remarked on it.

“Is that short for Jacob?” he asked. Being amiable, because of course he would be, given that he was Lucas’ friend and all.

“No, sir,” I said, again short. Terse. Nobody had cared enough to give me a full name, like I wasn’t worth the time to fill out a birth certificate all the way. But Dalton didn’t need to know that. Nobody did. My past was my past, and it stayed there, for the most part. “Just Jake.”

“Hello, then, just Jake,” he said, making a joke of it, though in those eyes, those summer-sky-blue eyes, I imagined I saw a hint of something. Maybe dislike. Or distrust.

Right up front, he didn’t seem to care for me or the ranch, because his glance around him drew sparks in the air. Well, he was a city boy after all, and this couldn’t be helped. The ranch was the most beautiful place in the whole wide world, and if he couldn’t see that, it was his loss. And if he didn’t think much of me, perhaps the feeling was mutual.