torched// kayce dutton

1

The butterflies weren't exactly new to me as I had seen Kayce Dutton on a handful of occasions. Each interaction exhibited a similar reaction. Granted, stolen glances across a dive bar counting as an interaction was debatable; but sometimes unspoken words were all there was. I couldn't tell you what exactly it was about him, maybe it was the long hair, or the beard, most likely the promise of unattainability. As our paths only crossed when Kayce was trying to drown his inadequacies he had seen from Monica's eyes. Monica being his beautiful, brilliant wife who had what appeared to be a concrete set of morals and a hell of a lot of judgment on others.

Him being present in Bozeman at this time of night at all could only mean that she had another righteous streak and called it quits. Though this time, when Kayce and I's gaze met there was no glint of guilt in his eyes brought on by the fierce loyalty he had towards his wife, no, this time there was nothing but anger hidden by a thinly veiled layer of calmness within him. Telltale signs of a man scorned, maybe this time was different and Monica pushed Kayce farther than even he could be pushed.

Maybe this time would have been different if I hadn't already had the shit knocked out of me a few miles back after I made a 'slick' comment to James, my newly ex-boyfriend. As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had already made my choice to leave. He got one good hit in and I grabbed for my bag and made a run for it. Which is how I ended up back in Bozeman, sitting at the bar top nursing a beer that I spent the last of my money on and using it as a makeshift ice pack for my new shinner.

"Gabby" The commanding voice of Rip Wheeler echoed through the air forcing my attention away from Kayce. As I looked in his direction I was met with a gaze that told me to torch those butterflies long before they could take flight.

"Rip, fancy buying a lady a drink tonight?" I asked with a bit of humor in my tone. Rip and I had known each other for years, definitely not friends but he knew too much about me to be an acquaintance. We had spent too many drunken nights sitting side by side at the bar, sharing stories and speaking around truths.

"You run into a car door again? Or is it the stairs that got you this time?" Rip asked as he motioned to the barkeep to bring me another.

"Actually it was a bus with stairs, double whammy tonight." I joked with a bit of self-pity laced underneath. Rip was no stranger to seeing bruises or cuts on my body, he never asked who it was and I felt that speaking any of their names would taint the salvation I had found within the bar.

"Sounds like you had a big night then, how long are you thinking you're gonna stick around here?" Rip asked as he fiddled with the label on his own beer. He always kept an eye out for the other Wranglers, making sure no one was causing trouble. The sense of comradery that seemed to be at Yellowstone was unmatched, and didn't appear to be like any of the ranches I had worked at.

"Here at the bar? I'm staying as long as you're buying" I said while smirking at Rip.

"Lord knows I know that, I think you're one of the few who can actually outdrink me, I mean in Bozeman, Gabby."

"Oh, ah, you know me Rip. I go where the work and the wind goes!" I replied to Rip, unsure of where he was going with this. I had grown up on a ranch not too far from Bozeman, but left home when I was 16 and had bounced around ranches, boyfriends, and states ever since.

"You know we're looking for a few wranglers to help out at Yellowstone." Rip stated bluntly.

"Are you asking me if I want to come work for you?" I asked, slightly confused. My employment had never been brought up further than I was a wrangler and he worked on a ranch, never to the extent of me possibly working there.

"Not for me, with me. We all work for Mr. Dutton. I just thought since you didn't have anywhere else to go and can rope your ass off, you would be a good addition."

"Ah"

"You can think about it, if you need to. No pressure or anything, we just need wranglers. That's it." Rip added, seeming to know exactly what I was thinking. While working there was a dream, I also knew from whispers around town that it came with a price and included far dirtier deeds than just roping cattle. Though I didn't really have much to lose, it only came down to two choices. Either go work at the Yellowstone and maybe find a place I could call home, or go and find James to move on to the next rodeo or ranch together until he grew tired of me or I grew tired of him and then most likely find a new James, cycle repeat.

"I'll try it out." I say noncommittally to Rip, though my mind was already made up. Yellowstone Dutton Ranch was going to be my home, come hell or high water.

"Alright then" Rip replied before turning and making his way back to Lloyd.

With Rip's looming presence gone, I went to return my gaze back to the youngest Dutton, only to find his presence missing too. I tried to casually look around the bar in hopes of catching another glimpse of the beautiful man, only to turn to find him already walking towards me.

"Howdy, I don't believe we've had a proper introduction yet. I'm Kayce Dutton." Kayce stated so simply as if we hadn't been having annual staring contests for almost a decade. He moved to take the seat next to me while motioning to the bartender for a round of whiskey shots.

"I know who you are. I'm Gabby Fletcher, but I'm guessing you already knew that too." I replied, feeling the alcohol in my system starting to kick in, making me bolder.

"And how should I already know you?" Kayce asked, tipping his head to the side slightly while furrowing his brow.

"I think we both know how," I replied coolly.

Kayce's features switched to a look of guilt, almost childlike in nature, like he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He quickly covered his slip up with a look of apathy.

"Is Gabby short for something?" He asked while sliding over my shot of whiskey.

"Gabrielle," I said.

"Well, Gabrielle. Here's to you joining the Yellowstone" Kayce said with a smile as he tapped our glasses and the table before throwing back the shot.