Page 9 of Cherry Tree Ranch

“Yep. Did all sorts of trespassing today. Not my normal M.O., but it felt good to ride again, and I had to come up and see what my parents have always…”

I push away from the car as he looks to his horse. “What your parents have always…? Go on.”

“No, it’s ridiculous.” He tugs at his hat.

“Ridiculous or not, I want to hear what they say.”

Cash sighs. “It’s not only them. It’s legend around here. Don’t you know it? They say a heartbroken girl rode off the cliffs, and the ranch has been cursed ever since. My parents say I should stay away. It’s silly.”

I scratch my forehead. “Well, it’s all true. You should listen to your parents.” I laugh a little, hoping to hide my confusion. No one’s ever told me that story – only that it’s cursed. I’m not about to admit that, though.

“So, I should stay away from here? From you?” He meets my eye, and my heart stops for a split second.

“You probably should,” I tell him, remembering his girlfriend.

He points at the car’s trunk. “Looks like you’re struggling, though.”

“That damn box won’t budge,” I admit.

Cash steps towards Mom’s car and sets his hat on the roof. His skin is beautiful, dark against the white T-shirt that’s snug round his broad shoulders, and as he leans over I can’t help but notice the elastic on his boxers peeking up above his jeans. He yanks at the box in the trunk – and, freeing it, hits his head on the trunk door.

“Oh, shoot!” I gasp. “Are you OK?”

I reach out and graze his hair with my fingertips before thinking better of it. “Sorry.” I step back. “My mom used to scour my head for bumps when I fell. She said it happened a lot when I was little.”

“All good. Not supposed to hit my head while recovering from a concussion, though.”

I wince. “Yeah, I wouldn’t think so.” My eyes flick to a thin scar round his neck. I avert my gaze. “You’re not going to sue me or anything, right? Because that’s all I need.”

“Oh yeah?”

“That old man you were talking about was my grandpa. The ranch is my problem now, and let’s just say it needs a lot of work.”

Cash hands me the box, his hand grazing mine. The touch of his skin makes my chest swell, butterflies fluttering up to my throat. I look up and he takes me in, staring intensely. The gold flecks in his chocolate eyes glow like tiny drops of honey.

“I’m sorry about your grandpa,” he says softly. His mouth opens as if to say something else, but he licks his bottom lip before biting it closed. He looks away abruptly, and I hug the box to my chest like a security blanket.

He steps further from me, putting his hat back on. He squints at the field, up towards the orchard, then back to me. “So, what does your family do up here?”

“Cherries and honey.” My eyes find his, and then stare at the word bedroom on the box in my arms. “Nothing else will grow, and we have hardly any water.”

“Huh.” He jolts then and reaches in his pocket for his phone. “Oh no, I forgot. My grandma needs me,” he says, turning to his horse. He slips his phone in the tattered back pocket of his jeans, giving me an excuse to check out his butt.

“Your grandma needs you, huh?” I say, feeling like he might be bluffing. It’s probably his girlfriend.

“Yeah, she does,” he says with a rough edge to his voice. “She and I make tortillas every Sunday after she gets home from church.”

“Really? From scratch?” I’ve only ever seen tortillas in the grocery store.

“It’s the only way to have them. There’s nothing like a warm tortilla home-made by my abuela,” he says, softening.

“I can imagine,” I say.

Before he unties his horse, he strokes her face and whispers something. She has a white crescent-shaped marking between her eyes, but otherwise she’s a pure, glossy black. Cash smiles as she rubs her head against his chest. I try to catch sight of Blue, but he’s over the hill.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

“Luna,” he calls back, swinging a slow leg over her back and petting her neck. Then he tips the brim of his hat in farewell.