They both burst out laughing at the thought, because Erin was always watching her weight and rarely indulged in bakery items.

Chapter Two

The next afternoon, Erin drove out to her uncle’s ranch. As she parked near the main house in a county truck the sheriff had allowed her to borrow for two weeks, she searched for Wyatt, saw no sign of him, and was glad of it. From now on, she planned to avoid him just as he did her. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her, and she needed to respect that. It still bothered her that he didn’t at least want to be friends. But, oh, well. When they bumped into each other, they’d both be polite. Nothing more was required.

She rolled down the window for a breath of fresh air, delightfully laced with scents she’d come to associate with only the ranch. As was the case everywhere in Mystic Creek, the predominant scent was of ponderosa pines, but on her uncle’s land, the piney sharpness competed with the perfume of new-growth alfalfa and grass, manzanita, wildflowers, the mist that rose from the creek, and the slight but ever-present hint of livestock manure, which, oddly enough, wasn’t unpleasant.

After exiting the truck, she paused to let the sunlight warm her face and shoulders. She likened the sensation to having melted butter drizzled over her skin. After a harsh winter, the arrival of spring, no matter how fickle the weather, felt absolutely divine. She panned her gaze over the yard, taking in Slade’s late-model pickup, so layered with mud that she could see only patches of red paint. Then she widened her focus on the outbuildings that composed the ranch proper and the fenced pastureland behind them that stretched in seemingly endless folds of green to the tree-studded foothills of the Cascades.

Raised by a mother who detested every aspect of country living, Erin had been slow to appreciate the simple pleasures that came with it, but now she was finally starting to understand why her uncle and Vickie loved this place so much. Out here, time seemed to slow down. The sound of a mountain breeze whispering through the pine boughs soothed her. In the distance, she could hear cattle lowing. Occasionally the soft drone of their cries was interrupted by the whinnying of a horse. If she listened closely, she could hear men’s voices drifting on the air, not loud enough to disrupt the peacefulness, but only a reminder that this was an industrious place despite the slow, lazy beat of its pulse. It was like a sanctuary to Erin now, much like the inside of a church, where she felt compelled to breathe deeply, exhale fully, and let go of her problems. If she returned to school and was fortunate enough to call this home for a couple of years, she would have all the quiet she needed to study and pull good grades.

The thought made her stomach muscles bunch with anxiety again. It felt all wrong to be here to ask for help when she already had a good education and a wonderful job. Slade and Vickie might think she was nuts for even considering a career change. And maybe she was. She only knew she wasn’t happy, and whether anyone else could understand that or not, it was her reality.