Page 3 of Wrangle Me

I hesitate for half a second, then take it… And the whole world quiets around me.

The second our skin touches, a jolt of something hot rushes through me. It isn’t just a tingle of heat, it’s more like awareness. It’s like every nerve in my body just stood at attention, even though I’m dying of embarrassment. Callum pulls me gently to my feet. One corner of his mouth tugs into the smallest and most aggravatingly attractive smirk I’ve ever seen.

“You okay?” His deep voice is low and steady.

“I’m fine, and I’m so sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. He looks like a regular guy, and she was so irregular. I’m… I didn’t think?—”

He lets out a low chuckle that I feel in every part of my body. “Don’t worry about it. I just feel bad for the horse that had to endure the photo shoot. Come here, you’re all tangled up.”

Callum’s fingers reach for the chain at my neck. Before I can react, he’s gently brushing a long strand of hair away from my skin. The pads of his fingers graze the curve just below my ear, trailing down to my collarbone as he works the necklace free.

The brush of his touch sends a spark straight through me. It’s hot and electric. My breath catches. I’m frozen for a whole new reason. Callum has me somewhere between surprise and something that feels dangerously close to want.

He doesn’t rush. His movements are slow and careful, like he’s done this a hundred times. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I wonder whether he notices the way goose bumps ripple across my skin in the wake of his touch. By the time he’s done, I can barely breathe.

“There, you look perfect,” he says quietly, finally loosening the knot and letting the pendant fall back into place. “Cat or dog?”

“What?” His question catches me off guard and jolts me back to the present. I can hardly think over the warmth blooming low in my stomach.

“Your paw print necklace. Is it meant to be a cat or a dog?”

I smile up at him. “Oh, don’t be crazy. Of course, it’s a cat.”

“Hmm… Just when I thought we could work well together.” He smiles, and it reveals deep-set dimples hidden in the chisel of his jawline. “You haven’t met Hunkleberry yet. He’s our ranch dog, and he’ll win you over. I’ll bring him when I come to check on you this afternoon.”

“Sounds good.”

Callum walks away, but I can still feel the heat of his hand on my skin. I still feel him in the butterflies flapping wildly in my stomach. And Icannot waitto head back to my apartment across the property and call Rosalie with a full report.

CHAPTER 3

CALLUM

Two WeeksLater

I’ve spent the past two weeks coming up with every ass-backward excuse I can think of to see Maisie. I’ve been checking her schedule, asking about feed orders I already know the answer to, pretending I needed help with a horse I trained myself, and bringing Hunkleberry by to watch her swoon.

I’m not proud of it, but I’m not exactly ashamed either… This is my best attempt at taking things slow, and I hate it. But today is a new low. I take a deep breath before I knock on the door to Maisie’s apartment.

Showing up at an employee’s place isn’t exactly standard protocol at Kingridge Ranch. If my brothers find out, they’ll roast me alive, especially Bowen and Alex. Ever since those two settled down with Cassidy and Priya, they’ve gone straight-laced all of a sudden.

It wasn’t a huge shock with Alex, I guess. But I would’ve never thought that my twin would be by-the-book. It’s like Bowen forgot about how we used to sneak out to chase girls and trouble. Rules never meant much to us back then, and they sure as hell don’t now. Not when I can’t go a day without thinking about Maisie.

It isn’t just my brothers, there are about a million other reasons I should stay away from her. She’s too sweet for me. Too kind and innocent. Hell, she’s probably too young. Not young enough to keep me from knocking on her door.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I’ve got a bad habit of chasing women who’ll never want me the way I want them, and Maisie has my full attention.

But when the door to the apartment swings open, it’s her sister Rosalie who greets me, and she looks like hell. Her eyes are sunken, her skin pale, and her hair is piled up in a messy bun that looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. She’s wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe and holding a mug with something steaming inside. Rosalie works for me too, but she’s been out for a few days, and now I can see why.

“Hey,” I say, lifting a hand. “Feeling any better?”

Her eyes narrow. Then she glances down at her robe and makes a dramatic sweeping gesture like she’s about to take the stage.

“Oh yeah. Living my best life,” she deadpans.

I blink. “Right. Cool… Good luck with that. Is, uh… is Maisie around?”

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