Chapter 1

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John Dutton was one of the most stubborn men God had ever created. You knew that for a fact as you'd been close friends with his late wife, Evelyn. You'd grown up with Evelyn and stayed in touch, often visiting the ranch after she had married John. You'd spent nights in their living room with Evelyn, studying for your exams while you were going through nursing school, John sitting silently and patiently reading while Evelyn helped you study. Evelyn had been your closest friend and one of your biggest supporters. The last time you'd seen John was at Evelyn's funeral and your heart had broken at how absolutely shattered the man was, but you understood. The love those two had for each other was the kind of love that poets wrote about, that they made movies about, built monuments to. You had tried to comfort him and the children the best you could, but he had shut everyone out. You'd called a few times to try and check on him, but he never answered your calls, so you let it drop. And after several years, you just quit trying. 

You'd heard about the attack on John Dutton, of course you had. Anyone within the state of Montana had heard about it. You'd thought about reaching out, but decided better of it. It'd been over 20 years without any contact, so you decided to let sleeping dogs lie. That was, until Beth called you one day asking for your help. It was a call you never expected to receive. Apparently John was in rare form, even crankier than ever before and had refused the hospital mandated at home nurse. Beth had told you he'd fired or scared off every nurse the hospital had sent. Six nurses. Beth didn't ask for help. She was too proud, too much like her father and her mother in that aspect. So when she did, you couldn't say no. That's what brought you to the Dutton's front door today, dressed in plain clothes, here in an unofficial capacity in hopes of simply "guiding" his rehabilitation instead of having an ever present nurse hovering over him. Beth had convinced you to stay in one of the guest rooms for a few weeks just to keep an eye on him, as a friend. You knew it wasn't going to go over well with John. He wasn't a stupid man. He'd know what his daughter was trying, but you knew what John meant to Beth and what he'd meant to Evelyn. In honor of your late friend, you was going to do everything she could to get the cantankerous old son of a bitch back on his feet. You smile as Beth comes to the door and opens it. "I'm glad you came, (Y/N). He's being a stubborn bastard. He actually went riding yesterday." She huffs and turns on her heel, simply pointing down the hall to the John's bedroom. You smile and shake your head. "He's always been a stubborn bastard. It's why your mother and him got along so well." You immediately regret your words as Beth tenses and waves you off. You set your bag on the couch and head toward John's room, knocking softly on the door. "If it's another God damn nurse with a fucking pill or protein shake, you can kiss my ass and get the fuck off of my ranch." He growls out through the closed door. You chuckle and slowly open the door, stepping in with your hands up, palms out as though in surrender. "How about an old friend who happens to be a nurse, just coming to check on the cranky bastard she used to know?" You tease and step over to him, smiling softly and raising an eyebrow at the beard covering his face. "The woodsman look doesn't suit you, John. Why don't you let me help you shave?" You ask as you pull up a chair and sit next to him, watching the different emotions play over his face before he speaks. "20 years. It's been a damn long time (Y/N) girl." He sighs and looks at you, all those memories coming back to the times you, Evelyn and he had spent together. "You can save the act. I already know Beth called you. I don't need a damn babysitter. I'm 66 fucking years old. I think I can wipe my own ass." He growls and turns away from you, looking out the window instead. 

Yep, just as stubborn as always. You stand up and go to the bathroom, ignoring his protests as you fill a bowl with warm water and grab his shaving cream and razor. A familiar piece of grey cloth catches your eye and you look over, seeing Evelyn's robe hanging on the hook there in the bathroom, still. You'd bought them both matching robes for their first wedding anniversary. You couldn't believe he still had it, hanging there where it'd always been, untouched, undisturbed. Your heart aches as you run your fingers over the soft material, your eyes closing briefly as your own grief comes back, but also the guilt for not making more of an effort to be with him when he was hurting so badly. You take the water and shaving cream and razor back out to the bedroom and set the bowl on the bedside table. "Well, instead of a baby sitter, how about a friend coming to stay a few weeks and get caught up?" You ask as you help him sit up a little, laughing as he quickly pulls the blanket back up as it begins to slip, making sure to keep his lap covered. "Oh, come on, John. You don't have a thing I haven't seen before. Now, at least let me help you shave and see if we can find the real John Dutton under that scruff." You smile as he huffs but slowly nods. You knew he hated being unkempt. He'd never had more than a neatly trimmed mustache as long as you'd known him. You sit on the edge of the bed and gently wet his face them lather him up, laughing softy as he grunts at the feeling of your fingers on his skin. "Quit playing with the damn beard and just shave it off, damnit. Damn woman." He says with a growl, but a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The soft tug at the corners of his lips let you know that he was at least partially willing to work with you, to let you help him. You slowly shave him, and then wipe away the shaving cream that was left, smiling as you pat his now clean shaven cheek. "Would you look at that. Back to normal." You chuckle as he huffs again and carefully swings his legs over the bed and looks at you. "I want to go for a damn walk. I need to get the hell out of this room." He says firmly, looking up at you. "Not a damn soul can bitch if I've got my "unofficial" nurse with me. Now, hand me those clothes over there and turn away. Don't want to ruin you for any other man, Menace." He chuckles and you feel a smile come to your face. It was good to see a grin on his face and hear his deep chuckle again. You pick up the clothes and set them on the edge of the bed and then wrap your arm around him under his arms and help him stand up. "Don't worry, John, I'll be sure to keep my raging lust in check." You say dryly, rolling your eyes as he laughs and begins to get dressed. No matter what you'd said, your eyes find themselves roaming over his chest, his stomach, quickly forcing yourself to look away before going any further. You couldn't deny he was a handsome man, always had been. You'd told Evelyn on many occasions that she was a lucky woman. You remember how she'd laugh and slap your arm playfully as she'd say, "Luck has nothing to do with it. It's the ass." Evelyn had always been blunt and to the point, never mincing words or sugar coating a thing. That's why her and John had been perfect together. 

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see John fully dressed now, his hair brushed and a hat in his hand. John nods toward the door and then looks down at you. "You just going to stand there, or can I go stretch my damn legs? They're going to waste away if I stay in that bed any longer." He smirks and watches as you move ahead of him out the bedroom door and wait for him. He found his eyes travelling down to your ass with a groan. He shouldn't be noticing how sexy your ass looked in those jeans. You were Evelyn's (Y/N), the woman he'd been forced to forge a friendship with. He didn't mind after a while though. You'd always been good for Evelyn. That's why the guilt ate at him for even just looking at your ass, not to mention the way his hand itched to reach out and cup it in his hand. He sighs and steps into the hall, placing his hat on his head as you both walk downstairs, your hand on his arm for support. "Damnit, (Y/N). I told you I don't need help." He stumbles a bit and hisses as the still healing wounds in his side and stomach pull. "Alright. Fine, damnit." He admits defeat and lets you help him until you've reached the front door. He steps onto the porch and makes it as far as the chair before sitting down and patting the other next to him. "Sit down, (Y/N). Give this old man a rest a minute."  You do as he asks and sit in the empty chair next to him, reaching over and patting his arm. "You did good, old man." You smirk and dodge as he swats your hand. "I've missed giving you hell, John. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to come around and check on you." You finally say what had plagued you since the moment you drove onto the property. John sighs and reaches over, taking your hand and giving it a brief squeeze before letting it drop, his eyes moving to look off into the distance where Evelyn was buried. "I wasn't exactly welcoming, (Y/N). You tried. I was too buried in my own grief. I should have been more understanding. You were hurting too." He says softly, clearing his throat before turning back to you. "For her, I'm going to go along with Beth's plan. At least it's you and not some damn know it all straight out of school." He groans as he remembers the last few nurses they'd sent. "Half of them were young enough to be my grandkids and the other two were too set on trying to become the next Mrs. Dutton." The last bit was said with a snarl of distaste. You laugh and shake your head. "Don't you worry, John. Mrs. Dutton is the Last thing I want to be. I was friends with your wife. I know all your weird quirks and little flaws." You tease and bump his shoulder softly with yours. "You're in good hands, John. I won't push, I won't become a nuisance. I'll be here if you need me and out of sight when you don't.  Just think of me as an old friend here for a visit." You stand up and hold out your hand to him, trying to ignore how beautiful his eyes looked in the morning sun. Oh, this man was going to be trouble, but then he always was in one way or another. "Let's take a slow walk out to the round pen and see what your men are doing? I've heard the women in town talk about a few handsome cowboys out here. Thought I'd do a little shopping around." You joke, laughing as John curses and shakes his head. "You stay outta the damn bunkhouse. Those boys ain't ready for you, Menace." He'd teased you with that nickname for years while Evelyn was alive. It'd become his own little affectionate term for you, just like honey or sweetheart might be. He lets you help him out to the round pen, your small hand on his arm as you walk. He leans against the wooden fence and watches Rip and Lloyd direct the men, working some of the unbroken horses. He turns and glances over at you, watching you smile as you watch the horses, the sun shining off of your hair. You sure were more beautiful than he remembered. He clears his throat and points to Rip. "That one there, that's Rip. He's the foreman and my right hand. He's the only man brave enough to put up with Beth. They're engaged if you'll believe it." He laughs and points over to Lloyd. "And that's Lloyd. He came to the ranch right after Evelyn passed. If you're looking for trouble, chances are he'll already know where it is. I suggest you Don't look for trouble on my ranch (Y/N)." He warns sternly, causing you to look up at him with a defiant look. "Well, he's a handsome fella. Maybe I've got a taste for trouble." You tease and pat his arm softly, noticing the way John glared a little longer at Lloyd after than then inched just a bit closer to you. Well, that was subtle, but interesting. Looked like the next few weeks on the ranch were definitely going be unpredictable at best. 

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