Page 45 of Burn the Wild

A hand slides up my back, and I scrunch my eyes shut at the foreign groping sensation.

You’re okay. Be brave, Reese. Be brave.

Tottering on my stool, I shoot back my shot, spin around, and grab the man’s collar. “Let’s dance.”

“She made it?”

“Oh, she made it all right.” Grunting, I tighten the battery cables on the tractor. “She’s a piece of work.”

“She is.” Over the line, Grady chuckles, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds affectionate.

A screw twists in my chest. I slam the hood of the tractor down. I’m pissed at myself. Pissed at the way I treated Reese. I’ve never acted like more of an asshole. Savannah’s text triggered emotions I thought I worked through.

But it’s no excuse. I fucked up today.

Ever since she stormed away this afternoon, I’ve had a head full of steam. I can’t get the sight of her tears out of my damn mind. I’m working my way up to an apology, working my way up to telling her she did a great job today.

Bar fights. Little brothers. I thought I knew trouble until Reese landed on the ranch.

“How’s she doin’ on the ranch?” Grady asks.

“I, uh, might have taught her a lesson.”

“What kind of lesson?” He sounds suspicious.

I tug a hand through my hair. “A ranch lesson.”

Grady swears when I finish telling him about today. “Ford, you dickhead. I told you she needs help. Not some asshole screaming at her. She already gets that from her manager.”

My gut twists. I remember the dark circles beneath her eyes the day she first got here. The relief that blanketed her when she saw her chalet.

I should have given that girl some grace, and I didn’t.

There’s a long pause before I ask, “Is that why she’s running?”

Fuck me. I want to know.

“I think so,” Grady admits. “I think she needs a lot of rest. I don’t think she’d be okay if she came back. I think she’d do something…unhealthy.”

I go cold all over. I had pegged Reese Austin as a spoiled brat, but now I’m not so sure.

“She needs a safe place to stay. Maybe a hug.”

“A hug, huh?” My eyes drift to the open garage doors, then beyond them, to the ranch.

Reese.

Grady chuckles. “Just be nice to her. I think she needs it.”

Before I know it, my boots are carrying me across the ranch. “Just say you’re sorry, you asshole,” I grumble to myself. “It ain’t hard. You’re a cowboy. Own it when you’re fucking wrong.”

It’s what my dad told me. What I strived to be. A cowboy. Honest. Loyal. Courageous. Someone who never takes advantage of others or goes back on their word. Something I’ve forgotten these last few years. Losing Savannah, then losing myself, watching my brothers fall in love, it all wore me down.

Mid-internal-pep talk, I see Sam headed toward the staff cabins. He slows his truck to a crawl, and I come to a stop beside his driver’s side window.

“You headed to the chalets?” he asks, one denim-clad arm hanging out the window.

Impatience rattles beneath my skin. “Yeah. I am.”

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