Chapter 7: Chapter 7

WREN

“So what are you having for dinner tonight?” Grant asks.

I raise an eyebrow. He laughs. “I’m heading down to the bunkhouse. I believe they’re making chili tonight. It might be a good opportunity for you to meet some of the others.”

Grant jerks his head toward the large bunkhouse on the other side of the pasture and waits for my response. In the otherwise quiet evening, loud voices and music float over the land from the building.

“Um, okay?” I say and shrug.

“Great!”

I whistle for Puck who comes running as Grant and I walk down the driveway.

As we near the bunkhouse, the smell of chili and cornbread reaches my nose and suddenly my stomach growls as I realize how hungry I am.

Upon opening the door, the lights and sounds of the bunkhouse are suddenly amplified.

It’s a huge space with a makeshift kitchen on one side, several dusty couches and chairs on the other, and a large set of wooden tables sit in the center.

A door at the back leads to the second half of the building which I assume is where the bathrooms and beds are located.

At least twenty people are spread out over the space. About half of them look up as we enter and shout their greeting to Grant.

“Hi all, I wanted to introduce you to Wren. She’s the mechanic staying up in the barndominium.”

Polite hellos follow before everyone turns back to whatever they were doing.

Five men and a woman are playing poker at one of the tables. A man and a woman stir the chili and cut the still-steaming cornbread on the old electric stove.

Several people are sitting on the couches as they strum guitars on their knees. Finally, my eyes land on Lance leaning against a post on the other side of the room.

A farmhand with their back to us is talking to him but he’s staring at me. I raise an eyebrow and he gives a small nod before turning his attention back to the man.

“Hey Grant,” a tall man in his mid-thirties says as he approaches us.

“Hi Logan, what’s good?”

Logan shakes his head and hands Grant a beer, then he turns to me.

“You here for beer and chili?” Logan asks me.

“Uhh,” I pause as I’m not sure how to answer.

“She is, I’ll cover her tonight,” Grant says as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Oh no, no, I can contribute. How much?”

Logan grabs a large mason jar off the table by the door.

“Whatever you can contribute. Roy and Taylor use the money for provisions and whatnot for everyone.” He gestures to the two people getting ready to serve.

“Awesome, beats the canned meat I was going to eat tonight,” I say as I drop my last $10 into the jar.

Logan nods and smiles then asks if he can have a word with Grant. As they head back outside where Puck is, I take the beer Logan handed me and lean into a corner by the music circle.

I can’t help but marvel at the diversity in the room. There’s more men than women, but there’s more women than I thought there’d be.

I also notice a wide variety of ages and ethnic backgrounds, something I was used to on the fire crew in California or the lumber yard in Louisiana, not something I expected in rural Montana.

“You can get an advance on your first paycheck if you need it,” Lance says as he settles in against the wall next to me.

I look at him. “What?”

“You know, if you need it.”

“And what makes you think I need it?”

Lance barely shrugs. “A hunch, I guess.”

I look around to make sure no one is paying attention to us, then turn back to Lance.

“You don’t know me, okay? You don’t know anything about me,” I say quietly through gritted teeth. I consider poking his chest with my finger, but something tells me that would be a bad idea.

Then I hold my breath as I wait for a reaction.

Surprisingly, he smirks down at me and my insides flutter a little.

“Don’t be so defensive. Isn’t that what you expect of me? Trust is a two-way street, Wren.”

I furrow my brow and his smirk widens.

“You’re really something, you know that? First you hate on my dog for no reason, then you treat me like an apprentice who’s never worked on an engine in her life, and now what?

“We’re supposed to be buddies because you think you know my financial status?”

His eyebrows shoot up. He’s clearly not used to being spoken to this way, but the last few days have been a roller coaster for me and I’m finally fed up.

“Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours, even when it comes up to me in a coffee shop, got it?”

I instantly regret that last line, but it’s too late. I see Lance’s jaw tighten just as Roy calls out for dinner.

I fall into line with the others. Lance is somewhere behind me, but I don’t look at him the rest of the night as I can feel myself being watched.

LANCE

Wren walks away from me at a measured pace—not too fast, not too slow.

God, that woman is both infuriating and mesmerizing. Perhaps it’s because I relate to so many of her traits: protective, cautious, damaged.

My injuries are physical (and emotional), but hers are all inside. I’m curious, but I don’t want to push too hard...yet.

And push for what? I don’t even know. And why am I so abrasive with her? I don’t know that either. Maybe it’s because everyone has been walking on eggshells around me for months.

I’m tired of the softness. I’m not a soft person. Neither is Wren.

Or maybe she is, but she’s built a carefully constructed wall around herself. One I find myself wanting to destroy for no other reason than to see what’s underneath.