Page 11 of Since Day One

No one noticed when I climbed onto the lower bunk in silent protest and curled under the rather soft sheets.

No one noticed—except for Marissa who glared at me until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

Not a soul moved, nor did a single cricket break the early morning silence, as my eyes opened, ready to go for the day. Quietly, so as to not disturb the slumbering girls around me, I wriggled into another pair of men’s Wranglers that paired well with thick, fleece leggings beneath to keep me extra warm. Layering a thermal underneath my black long-sleeve T-shirt, I pulled a big, baggy sweatshirt over my head. As my feet padded silently over the beige wooden floors, my fingers worked a buckaroo knot into the wild rag that rested around my neck. Slipping outside as silent as a mouse with my hands carrying my boots, relief filled me as I left the burden of women behind.

Frost coated the grass and clung to the tips of every tree. Even the animals were barely awake as I tugged on my boots and slowly began braiding my hair. Strands twisted between my fingers as I breathed in the fresh, dewy oxygen. It was a serene sight of pale greens, browns, and yellows, all covered in a dusting of frost. My breath clung heavily to the air as I unrolled the ball cap from my waistband and pulled it over my head.

Tossing my sweatshirt’s hood over my ears, I slowly made my way down toward the pasture’s fence line. Maybe I hadn’t made a large outward show of being impressed last night, but this place was incredibly beautiful. Especially as a soft, pink hue began to glow across the frozen canvas—the sun finally making its entrance.

There was a serenity about this place, one that I’d only felt in one other place before. Here, I wasn’t a burden. Here, I found myself at one with everything that was going on. This was the calm before the storm, a moment to cherish every day, knowing that none of my family ever made it out of bed before the sun was fully in the sky.

Hoofbeats crunched over the frozen ground beside me, pulling my gaze to my left to watch a cowboy and his blue roan horse trot my way. Chaps wrapped around his legs, spurs shining against his leather cowboy boots. Gloves coated thick fingers with veins that I knew pulsed every time he clenched a fist. Finishing off the look with a gray Carhartt zipped around the purple wild rag, Gunnar made his grand entrance.

A real cowboy, with his felt cowboy hat and that life of adventure everyone craved, headed my way, riding out of the mist that quieted the world. “You’re up early,” he called out as he drew nearer and then stopped beside me. I ran a hand over the horse’s face, its lips nuzzling my palm before I stuffed my frozen fingers in my pocket.

“Habit,” I answered with a smile, walking around to his side.

“Well, there’s some hot coffee and the not-so-fancy breakfast that’s prepared for the hands in the lodge if you want some.” His hazel eyes scanned my figure, the outline hidden away by the bundles of layers I wore. His piercing gaze shot shivers down my spine as if he could see the buckle my sweatshirt was concealing.

“I’ll have to head that way,” I answered with a soft smile. “What are you doing up?”

“Gotta get in my training before Ruger wrangles me to take some of your family out on a ride.” He gave me a soft smile, faint dimples dancing behind the puff of smoke his breath cast in front of him with every exhale.

“Oooh, can I watch?” I asked in excitement, and he furrowed his brows.

“You want to watch me train?”

I nodded vigorously. “Obviously.”

“Why? It’s boring unless you’re the one riding.” He ran a hand over his scruff.

“Well, then are you going to let me ride?”

“Again, no.”

“Then that’s why,” I answered with a grin, and he shook his head, yet his lips twitched upwards with amusement.

“Get on.” He leaned down and offered me an arm. I wrapped my hand around it and swung myself over the back of his horse with ease. Immediately, his body stiffened as I settled gently upon his horse’s back. Shifting closer toward the back of his saddle, the cold leather bit through my jeans. Fumbling with where to place my fingers, I debated whether to tuck them between his body and myself or just rest them on my legs.

“Well? Are we just going to stand here?” I asked, leaning forward, and he slowly turned his head. One more brief scrunch of his brows and then he breathed deeply and looked to the front again.

“Hold on, Princess,” he commanded, giving me the permission needed to wrap my arms around his waist. To prevent the bitter cold from freezing my fingers, I slipped my hands into his coat pockets. He remained still for another half of a second, his hat dipping down toward where my hands were tucked away. Between my arms, I felt his broad chest expand, a heavy-weighted breath filling his lungs, and then he clucked at his horse, asking the creature to move onward.

Within ten minutes, there was a muffin stuffed between my teeth and a coffee cup in my hands as I wrapped my arms around Gunnar’s waist—once again, we were on the back of his horse.

“If you spill that, so help me,” he warned, and I giggled.

“You’ll really have to get that surgery on your dick if that happens,” I teased, spewing a few crumbs from the baked goods in my mouth. His chest hummed with a vocalized growl. “It has a lid dummy, so as long as your horse doesn’t try to buck us off, your penis will be fine.”

A chuckle escaped from his lips into the early morning air, and he patted the neck of his animal. “Ol’ Luke here hasn’t tried to buck in at least three weeks. So I think we are fine.”

“Your loss if he does,” I bantered in reply and he slapped my thigh. My body roared with warmth, flames licking deep within my core.

“Shut up and hold on.” He bumped his heels against his horse and off we went. Laughing, burying my face into his back, I found myself swallowed up in an odd sense of freedom. This lighthearted banter was not something I’d expected to find in a place that had held so much anxiety and anticipation. Honestly, it was beginning to seem like he was more of the main character than anyone in my family—something I didn’t mind at all.

Gunnar turned his horse toward the farthest barn from the lodge and asked him to stop in front of the garage door. I slid off with ease and paused as he typed in a code and the brown door rattled open.

An audible gasp fled from my lungs. It was beautiful. Bleachers rose on both long sides of the arena, a coffee-colored pen with steers sat at the far side, while nearest to me rose a round pen and beige hitching rail. Tack sat along the edge of the arena, and a tan hot walker whirred in the opposite corner from the round pen. Several of the horses that I’d seen in the barn last night were already here.

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