Page 10 of Wrangle Me

Callum moves with casual ease and lifts a heavy bale like it weighs nothing. In one smooth motion, he scoops the kitten intohis big, calloused hands. The kitten flails weakly, but there’s an odd pattern to his movement.

Callum holds the kitten up. I get a good look at him. He’s as gray as a storm cloud but with a stark white lightning-bolt shaped patch slashing across his forehead. He’s adorable despite being filthy and too skinny. His fur is matted with dust and straw. But that mark… It’s uncanny.

Then Callum shifts the kitten in his hands, and something catches my eye. Tears prick the corners of mine almost instantly.

“Callum…” My voice is barely a whisper. “His leg. He’s hurt. What’s wrong with it?”

The kitten’s back leg is twisted at an unnatural angle. His paw is bent wrong. My stomach flips. Callum’s expression tightens. But he doesn’t waste time with panic. Instead, he kicks into action.

“It’s broken. Poor little guy’s probably been stuck back here a while.” He pulls a bandana from his back pocket and wraps it gently around the kitten like a sling. “We’ll need to splint it. Then I’ll get the vet out here as soon as possible.”

I blink at him, stunned at how quickly he moves, how sure he is. “Yes, of course.”

He holds the wrapped kitten out to me. I take him carefully and bundle him close to my chest like something precious. Callum is already gathering things. I turn to find him holding a saddle strap and a piece of kindling from the firewood pile. I look down at the tiny creature in my arms, already so fiercely attached I can feel it like a knot in my throat.

Callum glances up at me, eyes meeting mine. “You okay?”

I nod, cradling the kitten. “Yes, let’s get him taken care of.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Lord Pawldemort,” I whisper, stroking his little head. “You’re safe now.”

Callum pulls out his phone and puts in a call to Patty June. His voice is low and efficient as he explains the situation. Shearranges for the vet to meet us back at the main house. There isn’t any fuss or questions; it's just small-town magic in action.

We get the horses untied, and before I can offer to carry him, Callum gently tucks the kitten into his shirt. Lord Pawldemort disappears against the warmth of his chest. He’s a soft gray lump beneath the buttons.

I glance over as we start the slow ride back. My heart tugs at the sight of him cradling the injured kitten like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A ridiculous flash of Callum as a parent crosses my mind, and I shake the thought away. Today has been a whirlwind, but I can’t let myself lose touch with reality completely.

I ride beside him in silence for a while and watch the way his hand stays close to the kitten the entire time. His touch is protective and tender. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it… It’s just who Callum is. It is impossible not to swoon over him.

“You’re gonna make it, little guy,” Callum murmurs as he adjusts the fabric around the kitten. “But you gotta earn your keep now once we get you fixed up. You’re officially on barn duty,” he tells the kitten. “Think you’re up for it? Chasing mice? Judging the cows? Hissing at trespassers?”

Lord Pawldemort lets out a weak but audible meow, which Callum takes as a yes.

“Good answer,” he says, patting his shirt gently.

I take in every quiet kindness and every steady movement. My heart melts, pooling into something warm and unsteady in my chest.

Maybe Callum is the kind of guy who makes you trade in all your plans. Maybe I can trust him with my future… Or maybe I’m delusional because I’ve just slept with this kitten-slinging, rescue-mission, horse-riding, rancher in a scene straight off the pages of a Western romance.

CHAPTER 9

CALLUM

I losemyself in the weeks that follow. We nurse Lord Pawldemort back to health. He becomes my shadow… Not that I mind. The little guy is growing on me. That checks out because everything in my life looks better these days with Maisie by my side.

Each moment with her is better than the last. I’m all in with this woman. Nothing else matters. I’m caught in a haze where pressing Maisie’s curvy body against every surface of this ranch becomes my favorite pastime.

We violated the tack room and the hayloft. Then we take over the kitchen counter at her apartment when we can get rid of Rosalie for a few minutes. If there’s a flat surface, the chances are we’ve already tested its weight limit.

Every time I touch her, the world falls away. The noise. The pressure. The past. It all quiets the second my hands find her skin. There’s something about the way she gives herself to me, with so much trust, that leaves me drunk with want.

She doesn’t demand anything from me, but she’s got this way of pulling out the best in me. I want to be the man she thinks I am. I’m putting it all on the line to make it happen. But tonight is a test of just how far I’ve come.

Maisie’s getting a true Kingridge indoctrination. Game night at Pa’s house is nothing short of legendary. Beer pong is basically a full-contact sport for us… and my dumbass brothers are pushing every button I have.

Alex assigns her a team, but Maisie opts out of the madness. Instead of playing, she chooses the safety of the porch swing, where she sits between Priya and Cassidy.

It’s getting late. Maisie has lasted this long despite the fact that she wasn’t feeling well earlier. I take that as a good sign. Then I hope to God she doesn’t have whatever it is her sister’s got.

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