Page 36 of Live for Me

It was gone as quick as it came, but as I climbed into the driver’s seat, I felt something ignite in my chest for the first time in years.

Hope.

Chapter Nine

Abbie

No one could deny the beauty of Hallow Ranch. Generations ago, when Great-great-great Grandpa Langston bought this land, he knew what he was doing. He knew he’d come acrossa piece of heaven on this Earth, a piece of heaven that would be passed down from son to son for the next hundred years, becoming a pillar of Hayden, Colorado, and at one point in time, a safe haven for me.

However, when I left Hallow Ranch six years ago, I left the beauty of this place behind, fully prepared to never see it again. No matter how much it killed me inside. No matter how much it dimmed the light of my soul.

So one could understand my frustration as my eyes landed on the bright red barn with the giant signature “H” painted on the front, the beautiful two story white farmhouse sitting on the hill with the wraparound porch, and the building to the left of the barn known as the bunkhouse while I tried to get my hands free of the handcuffs a fucking cowboy put on me three hours ago.

“I told you to stop fucking yanking,” Beau clipped from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on top of the steering wheel, his cowboy hat in the seat between us. “I’ll get those off you soon enough.”

“The second I get out of this truck, I’m going to your father,” I spat, knowing Jigs wouldn’t stand for this.

As we drove by the main house, my eyes landed on the kid reading a book on the front porch, his hair the color of midnight. He looked up from the book in his hands, his gray eyes landing on me. My lips parted as my chest deflated.

Holy shit, that was Caleb.

Beau’s words cut through my shock, leaving an empty feeling in my chest. “Pop ain’t here, Abbie.”

My head whirled back to face him, finding him rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, elbow propped up on the window as he turned the wheel with an open palm, going down the hill to the barn and the bunkhouse. Desire curled—once again—in my stomach, licking my insides in the most delicious way.

Damn Beau Marks for making driving a truck look like porn.

Clearing my throat, I focused on the question burning inside my mind. “Where is Jigs?” I demanded, my words coming out harsher than I intended.

Beau’s eyes slid over to me, threatening to drown me in his addicting sea of blue. “He’s with my mom.”

I blinked, my chest tightening. “With your mom?” I whispered.

He looked away from me, driving his truck around the backside of the barn and parking behind the bunkhouse next to two other trucks I didn’t recognize. He put it in park and looked over to me as silence filled the cab. “We doing this the easy way or are you planning to continue to be a pain in my ass?” he asked simply, grabbing his cowboy hat.

I looked out the windshield, my spine snapping straight. “I’m not leaving this truck until you take me back home, Beau. I do believe I said this multiple times in the last three hours.”

“One hundred and forty-three times, actually.”

I bit the inside of my lip, refusing to look at him.

“And one hundred and forty-three times, I believe I told you weren’t going home until this fucking stalker was handled,” he said, growling at the end, the sound sending goosebumps across my arms.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes before shooting him a look. “Oh yeah? And what the hell are you going to do, Beau? Hunt him down and turn him into the cops yourself?”

A shadow fell over his features. “Who said anything about going to the cops?”

My eyes widened, one of the darkest memories of our past rising to the surface, bringing our secret to light. “You couldn’t possibly—”

“—killed a man with my bare fucking hands for touching you once,” he cut me off, his voice filled with malice. “I have no issues doing it again.”

“Murderisn’t the answer,” I stressed.

He held my eyes. “It is if someone hurts you.”

Before I could respond, he pushed his door open, folding himself out of the cab, and slamming it behind him. Three seconds later—yes, I counted—my door was wrenched open and he loomed over me, his shadow covering my bare legs. I dared to look at him, my lips parting at the sight of his silhouette. The morning sun was behind him, its rays creating a halo effect around his cream cowboy hat, causing his tanned neck to glow, highlighting the few stray golden, blond hairs poking out from underneath it.

“The guys should be coming back from pasture four any minute, and I’ll be damned if they see you in nothing but a t-shirt,” he grumbled, shifting and reaching over the side of the tailgate. I twisted my neck to see him digging in my bag, pulling out a pair of cut off shorts, the ends frayed slightly. The lump in my throat swelled as he brought them to me, praying to God he wouldn’t notice the paint stains on the sides.

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