His huge arm shooting out to cover me, holding me safely in my seat.
The truck lurches forward, and my head jerks and twists forward in time to see the wide eyes of a deer. Startled for a moment before it springs unhurt into the forest.
Mack’s huge forearm is pressed hard against my chest from his quick-thinking instinct to hold me in my seat with his arm.
Saving a deer and saving me too.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “The deer don’t see so well in the fog,” he says, creasing the edge of his mouth once he realizes where his arm still is.
I feel him tense up to move his arm but feel my hands hugging it closer to me for just a second before my mom ruins another moment for us.
“Jesus Christ Bananas! Are you trying to kill us all?” she shrieks, re-emerging from the footwell of the back seat, her hair all over the place and her phone between my feet.
Mack swifts to bring his arm back over to his side, and I reach down for mom’s phone, handing it back to her.
I feel her snatch it from my hand and know better than to make matters worse with a smart comment.
“I’ll be having a word with the manager if and when we finally do get to this god damned ranch,” Mom mutters, busying herself with the phone once we’re moving again.
And I just know she’s already trying to get a hold of the rental car company to complain as well.
Mom’s great at driving a hard bargain and getting things for free, but she can take things a little too far when it comes to showing some gratitude.
I shoot Mack an apologetic look, but he seems to be trying hard not to smile or even laugh for some reason.
Not bothered in the slightest by my mom’s over-tired and hungry traveler antics.
“Is it far?” I ask in a near whisper. And Mack shakes his head.
“Just over the next big rise, and we’re there,” he says confidently, driving a little slower now and making sure his eyes are front and center.
Even through the dense fog, which seems to lift a little once the ranch gates loom into view, I can see how much bigger and more impressive the ranch is in real life over the brochure photos.
The soft, uneven dirt road from the forest side meets smooth bitumen and then a circular white gravel driveway that arcs around the front of the main homestead.
It’s a massive stone building with a dark pitched roof. Arch-shaped windows light up the front, glowing yellow in the fog like sets of sleepy eyes suddenly jolted awake by our arrival.
I even hear mom gasp and hum to herself as the ranch pulls into view.
Hopefully easing her nerves as well as her attitude.
There’s just something about the place that tells me I’m going to love it here.
Suddenly it feels like anything to do with Mack or wherever he goes is the place to be, for me anyhow.
“I’ll have your bags sent up,” he assures mom, holding both doors open once he pulls up and gets out.
Mom shoots me a quizzing look like maybe we’ve missed something. But the huge double wooden doors open, and the warm light from inside spills out like a welcome carpet.
“The other guests are at the bar. Mrs. Corbett will show you around,” Mack says in a low tone, almost sounding annoyed until his eyes meet mine.
I can feel my mouth curving downward into a frown. Already hating it if Mack’s not going to be with us. With me.
I mean, he’s not even going to show us around?
But there’s no time to sulk, and even less time to try and find out when I’m going to see him again.
The heavy Irish accent of an older woman who appears in the doorway welcomes us both to Silver Fox Ranch.
Mrs. Corbett, I presume.
She’s wiping her spotless hands on a spotless apron. Her withered features softening as soon as she spots us, and she calls out, waving us over to come on inside.
And turning from her to try and catch Mack again, he’s already gone.
Like he might have never even been there.
A shower of heavy rain starts. It’s warm, big drops getting bigger and faster the longer I stand there.
I stand stunned for a moment, but mom hooks her arm in mine and tugs me forward.
“C’mon sweetie. Let’s go have a nice weekend, huh? And never mind that Mack ranch hand guy. I’m sure we won’t have to see too much of him,” she murmurs, leaning into me before hurrying me up some more.
“C’mon, honey. You’ll get soaking wet.”
Oops.
Too late for that.
Apart from the fresh memory, even the scent of the man is still in the air.
I don’t think I’ll ever be anything but wet whenever I think about Mack from now on.