“Thank you.” Celia said, as politely as she could, even though she didn’t exactly want to be polite to him, when he had been nothing other than rude to her.
The man said nothing, but simply started the engine and the truck roared and came to life.
Despite the fact that she was a little offended by this man’s coldness, she still couldn’t stop herself from admiring him. She couldn’t help but imagine what a big hit this man might be in the fashion industry; with his muscular physique and sharp jaw lines, he would look good in anything, and especially delicious in nothing.
“So, you know my grandfather?” She said, trying to make conversation. He had been driving in silence for a few moments now and she was beginning to grow uncomfortable in his presence. She didn’t want to simply stare at him the whole way.
“Yes.” He replied, keeping his eyes on the road. Celia realized that he had barely even looked at her. The hat remained on his head as he drove, and she noticed the clenching of the muscles on his long arms as he clutched the steering wheel.
“I’ve never been to Texas before. I grew up in Chicago and recently moved to New York.” She continued, looking over at him, hoping for a reaction, for something.
“I can see that.” He said in the same heavy emotionless voice he used to say everything else. Celia blushed again.
“I’m sure I’ll get used to this, won’t I?” She added with a smile, but he wasn’t looking at her to notice that she was trying her best to be friendly, to please him.
“No, you won’t.” He said, keeping his eyes on the road. Celia’s brows crossed. How dare he form opinions of her when he hadn’t even looked at her properly, when he barely knew her or anything about her life. She turned her face away from him, trying to control her displeasure as best as she could.
Everywhere she looked, it was dusty and covered in sand. The trees were sparse and they had crossed very few houses. She couldn’t even imagine this much open space in the cities. It was unheard of. The warm sandy air lashed against her face when she turned her face to the windows. She shielded her eyes against it and allowed the harsh rays of the sun to warm her face some more. She’d show him. She’d show this man, what she was really made of.
“What is your name?” She asked him, turning to him again.
“Wilder.” He replied, without skipping a beat. Just when she was least expecting it, he turned to look at her. Their eyes met. His blue eyes looking straight into hers, deep into her soul, studying her face. He held her gaze for several seconds before he looked away and Celia licked her lips nervously. She wanted him. As much as she wanted to dislike this man, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that she wanted him. She wanted his rough hands on her skin, his blue eyes to look into her face, his shoulders to engulf her tightly…
“Why are you here?” He asked, interrupting her fantasies about him. Celia braved a look in his direction, although she was aware that her cheeks had turned red again. It was almost like he had caught her fantasizing about him, like he knew what she was thinking.
“My grandfather.” She said, fumbling with her words a little. “He needs me. He’s sick.”
Wilder looked away from her, and back to the road again.
“Why now? I don’t remember you ever visiting him before.” He said.
Celia’s brows crossed again. This man was relentless! He was passing one judgment after the other, with no reason. What on Earth did he have against her?
“Because my parents never brought me here. Then I was busy with college and finding a job and…” The words came tumbling out of her, even though she knew that she owed this man no explanation whatsoever.
“We’re here.” He said, cutting her off. He stopped the truck just as suddenly as he had started driving it. Celia’s body yanked against the seatbelt with a sudden pull from the motion of the truck. She n
early screamed from the fright. She decided right then that she wasn’t ever going to get into a car with this rude unkempt cowboy ever again. She couldn’t wait to get out.
She hadn’t noticed where they had stopped till right now. Till she pushed hard against the passenger door to get it open. They were parked at the gate of what could only have been an enormous ranch.
Wilder wasn’t helping her to get the door open. She struggled against it, panting now from the exertion and the anger she was feeling towards him.
“How do you know my grandfather?” She asked, whipping around in her seat to look at him. Grateful that the journey was over and if luck would have it, she would never have to see this man ever again.
“He works for me.” He said, with the first smirk forming on the side of his mouth, a smile that Celia knew could only mean disaster for her. “Welcome to my home.”
Celia followed Wilder in silence, looking around her in awe. He was carrying both her bags with ease in front of her. None of this was making any sense. Why had he brought her to his home? Why did he drive an old rusty truck when he lived on a ranch like this?
It was enormous, with a mansion that stood in the center of it, and even though Celia couldn’t see them, she could hear the cattle and the horses in the distance. This ranch had to be worth billions. And this man, Wilder, did not look or dress like a billionaire.
They had reached the front steps of the mansion and Wilder lifted the suitcases as he led her into the house. He pushed the screen door open with his foot and then held it open, indicating to her to walk in. Celia did as she was told, entering the mansion with thoughtful steps. She didn’t know what to expect any more.
The inside of the house looked impeccably decorated. It was big, open and airy and had beautiful lace curtains on the windows, bottle green carpeted floors and expensive looking art hanging from the walls. Wilder had followed her in, placing her bags by the front door where he stood.
“Celia?” She heard her grandfather’s voice from somewhere inside the house. Then she saw him, on a wheelchair, sliding into the foyer from one of the rooms near the foot of the long winding staircase. When he came towards her, she didn’t initially recognize him, he looked so different. He was much more frail than she remembered, all his hair had turned white and his eyes looked watery and weak.
“Grandpa!” She cried out and rushed towards him, falling to her knees in front of him. He used to visit her family home in Chicago once a year, every year for the first sixteen years of her life. She had a strong connection with him, waiting for him to visit month after month as a child. He used to take her camping, had taught her to fish and told her made-up stories every night when he tucked her into bed. In the past three years, she hadn’t had a chance to see him. Ever since her own parents passed away in a car accident, and his health started failing, he couldn’t visit her. Then she was caught up with college…and now this.