Depressed Cowgirl in pink

Chapter 1

Rhett

There’s somethin’ about early morning light hittin’ a pasture that should feel peaceful. It’s soft, golden. The kinda light poets write about. But to me, lately, it just looks like a long damn day waitin’ to be worked.

I stood at the edge of the north pasture, boot planted on the lowest fence rail, a warm coffee mug in my hands and sleep still hangin’ off my bones. Seventeen cattle, two calves, one sick ewe, a leaky water line in the lower field, and a busted latch on the chicken coop—all before noon if I moved quick.

And no one around to help.

Dad and Lance—my brother—had taken off for Idaho two weeks ago. Uncle Bob’s barn caught fire in a freak lightning storm, at least that’s what they said. Needed help rebuilding. Said they’d be gone a week. But out here, “a week or two” means “we’ll be back when we can.”

And I get it. I do. Family helps family.

But damn, this place don’t run itself. Not when you’ve got livestock to feed and fences to mend and no one but a stubborn border collie named Bolt for backup.

I drained the last of my coffee and rubbed the back of my neck. My muscles ached in that dull, settled-in way. I hadn’t had a full day off since… hell, maybe last spring.

The truth was, I didn’t mind the work. I was raised into it. Dirt and sweat and hard-earned sleep. I could carry it all.

What got to me was the quiet.

You work a place like this long enough alone, and the silence starts to echo. Gets loud in your head. Long days. Longer nights. And not a damn soul to share ’em with.

I wasn’t lookin’ for a girl who wanted fancy dinners and city lights. Just someone who wouldn’t flinch at the sight of cow manure and wouldn’t bolt the first time a calf was born breech in the mud. But girls like that? They don’t stick around towns like mine.

I’d dated, sure. Couple nice ones. A few wild ones. But none of them wanted this life. Not really. They liked the idea of a cowboy. Not the early mornings, the broken fingernails, or the smell of feed on your clothes.

I wanted someone who’d stay.

But that was askin’ a lot these days.

It was just after the rain when I walked into Brenda’s Diner for lunch. The place smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions—comfort, in a way only a greasy spoon can offer.

Brenda was behind the counter with her usual scowl, slappin’ down menus like they’d done somethin’ personal to her. I nodded at her and found my usual seat by the window, boots tracking water across the floor.

I was halfway through my coffee when the door opened, bell jangling.

And that’s when I saw her.

She looked like trouble. Or maybe salvation. Hard to say.

Soaked through, hair clinging to her cheeks, little red dog trailing beside her like a shadow. She paused just inside the door, unsure, like she didn’t quite belong. But the moment she stepped in, the whole diner felt different. Like someone cracked a window open in a dusty room.

She had that city-girl look—but worn thin, like she’d been on the road too long. Jeans clingin’ to her like they were stitched onto her skin, oversized hoodie hidin’ curves, and eyes... Lord, those eyes. Big, tired, cautious, but sharp. Real sharp.

Brenda was on her fast with that signature charm of hers.

“Don’t you dare bring that mutt in here,” she snapped before the girl even got one boot inside.

The dog—little red thing, part lab maybe—whimpered and tucked against her leg. The girl crouched, whispered to her dog, then stood straight with her chin high and fire in her eyes.

She left the dog outside and came in alone.

That’s when I stood.

I didn’t think about it. Didn’t plan it.

Just got up and walked toward her like gravity had a say in the matter.

“You alright?” I asked, real quiet.

She looked up at me, surprised. Then wary. Then... maybe a little less guarded.

“Car broke down about three miles back,” she said. “I was looking for a motel, but I was told there’s no place around that takes people with dogs.”

Her voice was a little raspy. Like she hadn’t used it in a while. It hit me somewhere low in the gut.

“You’ll have better luck with a mechanic than a motel,” I said. “And if your car’s sittin’ dead out there, I can give you a ride. Or at least get you out of the rain for a while.”

Brenda cut in with a snort. “Earl’s shop is ten minutes up the road. She can walk.”

I ignored her. Looked back at the girl.

She hesitated. Took me in. Me, in my worn jeans, damp flannel, old hat. A man she’d never met.

Hope

“Oh no! No, no, no, no!” I moaned, smacking the steering wheel with both hands.

A soft whimper pulled me out of my spiral. I looked up and met the big brown eyes of Daisy—my soul in dog form, her coat a soft, foxy red-brown. My Labrador angel.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” I whispered, reaching out to stroke her fur. “Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... this shitty, cheap piece-of-trash car decided to die in the middle of nowhere and leave us stranded.”

I let out a groan and dropped my head back against the wheel. After a long moment, I sat up. Well—guess we’d be walking the rest of the way. Maybe we’d stumble on a house, a ranch, someone.

I grabbed what I could: a half-empty bottle of water, some of Daisy’s food—what was left of it—a few clothes, and whatever scraps of hope I had left. Then I prayed, not for a miracle, just for a little sign of civilization.

At least the road isn’t too bad. The mountain air is fresh, and the scenery isn’t the worst place to be stranded.

I hadn’t been walking long with my sweet girl at my side when a rundown diner and a house came into view down the road. Maybe my luck wasn’t as terrible as I thought.

I stepped onto the front steps of the diner—then froze at the sound of someone yelling.

“Don’t you dare walk in here with that mutt of yours!”

I hadn’t even made it through the door.

“Daisy, down. Stay, baby. Wait for me,” I said gently, giving her a quick pat before leaving her on the porch.

As I stepped inside, a tall woman with over-bleached blonde hair gave me a look like I’d just walked in to steal her husband.

“Hi,” I said, keeping my tone polite. “The dog’s staying outside. Sorry—my car broke down on the road. I was hoping to find a mechanic, or maybe someone who could point me in the right direction.”

This doesn’t look like the worst place on earth tho, the clouds and cold breeze, there is a silence to this place that pulled me. I just need to keep away from this diner.

The blonde didn’t answer right away. She just narrowed her eyes like she was deciding whether I was trouble—or just too tired to be worth the effort.

Then a voice, low and calm, cut through the tension like a warm knife through cold butter.

“She botherin’ you, Brenda?”

I turned, and there he was—leaning casually against the frame that led to the kitchen, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his worn jeans. Tall, broad-shouldered, dust on his boots like it belonged there. His hair was dark beneath a beat-up Stetson, and his eyes—God, his eyes—were the kind that didn’t flinch, like they’d seen more than most and still chose to stay soft.

Brenda—apparently the blonde—rolled her eyes.

“Girl walks in dragging a mutt and attitude. You tell me.”

He looked at me then. Really looked. And suddenly I wasn’t standing in some greasy spoon with aching feet and road dust on my skin. I was seen. Steady, brown-eyed seen.

“You said your car broke down?” he asked, his voice gentler now, directed at me.

I nodded. “About a mile back. Just died on me.”

He gave a small nod, like that made perfect sense.

“I’m Rhett. I work out on the Riverbend Ranch just over the ridge. I can take a look at it if you want. Or at least get you out of the sun for a bit.”

I hesitated, but Daisy gave a short, hopeful yip from outside, like she approved.

“Hope,” I said, offering my name like a lifeline. “And that’s Daisy.”

His lips tugged into the kind of smile that didn’t rush. “Nice to meet you both.”

“The mechanic’s Earl. Ten minutes up the road,” Brenda cut in, her voice sharp as she stepped between me and Rhett, stopping him from offering anything more.

Well, that was rude.

Maybe Rhett was her boyfriend and she didn’t want him helping some dusty stranger. Or maybe she was just like that. Either way, fine.

“Thank you both,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “I’ll go find the mechanic then. Sorry if I interrupted anything.”

I turned on my heel and made a quiet, awkward escape from the diner.

The mechanic’s place looked like a junkyard in denial—Earl’s Auto barely clung to its last letters, and the CLOSED sign hanging crooked in the window told me everything I needed to know.

I rolled my eyes. Of course.

What I needed was a job. A place to stay. A fresh start. But not tonight. First, I’d come back tomorrow to deal with the car. Then maybe I’d swallow my pride and beg Brenda for work. One step at a time. A new beginning, tucked somewhere in these pretty mountain roads.

Easy.

As I looked around at the quiet—just birdsong, the hum of insects, and two houses nestled halfway up a hill—I let out a shaky sigh.

Maybe not so easy, actually.

The sun dipped low behind a curtain of gray clouds. Late August. Dusk creeping in. At least the heat was finally fading, replaced by a breeze that hinted at rain. The gravel road stretched ahead, cornfields to the right, fenced-in cattle to the left. I adjusted my backpack, trying not to complain as my sneakers crunched over the stones.

The place was beautiful. Honest. An old forest stood beyond the pasture, backed by the hazy silhouettes of mountains. The scent of rain grew stronger by the minute, it seems the earlier downpour will not be the last, and it wasn’t long before the first cool drops kissed my cheeks.

“So much for a fresh start, huh baby?” I murmured, glancing at Daisy, who was already shaking off the beginnings of a soggy dog smell.

Then I saw the headlights behind us.

I moved Daisy off the road, stepping into the grass just in time for the truck to pull up beside me. The engine idled, the passenger door swung open.

“Hi there,” a familiar voice called. “Need a ride somewhere?”

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.”

The Next Morning

I woke to the smell of coffee and something frying in a pan. For one blissful second, I forgot I was in a stranger’s house, wearing a borrowed t-shirt, with a dog beside me who had no complaints about the accommodations.

The blanket was soft. The couch was warm. I sat up slowly, trying not to disturb Daisy, and glanced at the clock above the fireplace. Just past six.

Rhett was in the kitchen, flipping eggs with one hand, holding a chipped mug in the other. He wore a fresh flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair still damp from the shower. Morning light spilled through the window, catching dust in golden streaks. He looked like he belonged in a movie.

“You’re up,” he said, glancing over. “Didn’t want to wake you. Figured you’d need the rest.”

“This is early?” I muttered, stretching my arms with a groan. “I thought cowboys were up before the sun.”

“Some of us are polite,” he said, grinning. “You want coffee?”

“I might love you just for that.”

He poured me a cup without comment, setting it on the island. I shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes.

“So what’s the plan, boss?” I asked, nodding toward the back door. Beyond it, I could already hear distant lowing and the soft cluck of hens waking up.

“Breakfast first. Then we’ll feed the animals. I’ll show you where everything is. After that, we’ll see if we can tow your car.”

“Fair warning,” I said, sipping the coffee. “I’m not great at mornings. Or manual labor. Or, you know, functioning like a proper adult.”

“Perfect,” Rhett said, sliding a plate toward me. “You’ll fit right in.”