Page 11 of Untamed

“Hey, wait,” she calls out.

I ignore her, not stopping until I grab my guitar and drop down on the hay.

Mila comes to a stop in front of me, her eyes filled with unease as she watches me. I meet her gaze. The silence thickens, increasing the tension between us. Still, I remain quiet, waiting for her to speak.

She shifts on her feet, the usual warmth in her expression completely gone. Her gaze drops down to my guitar, and her face lights up. “You play?” she blurts out.

I can’t help but snort, my voice dry and deadpan. “I thought that would be obvious.”

She rolls her eyes, a melodic laugh leaving her pillowy lips. My gaze narrows in on them. It would be so easy to pin her down, to shove my cock in her mouth. At first, she would struggle with the size of me but she would soon get used to it. Then I would teach her just how I like my cock sucked, mold her to exactly what I want. My perfect little fuck toy…

“I guess,” she says, cutting off my dirty thoughts. “Did I offend you in some way?” she blurts, her eyes bugging as if she can’t believe she just said that.

“Why would you have?” I ask, side eyeing her.

Her shoulders lift in a shrug. “I don’t know. I just get the feeling I have. You don’t really talk to me.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“In case you haven’t noticed. I don’t really talk to anyone.” I reply with a sharp huff of a sardonic laugh. The little sunshine princess should feel honored. I doubt I’ve said this many words to anyone in my entire life.

She frowns and the cute way her nose scrunches up makes me want to kiss the look away. I quickly shake my head, banishing the thought before it can take hold.

What the fuck is wrong with me when it comes to this girl?

“Okayyy,” she draws the word out, then motions toward my guitar. “Can I hear you play?”

I planned for some quiet time tonight, but for some reason, Mila’s company doesn’t bother me. Though I should probably tell her to leave or better yet, get the hell away from her, I can’t bring myself to do either.

Instead, I bring my fingers to my guitar and mutter, “Sure.”

Chapter Nine

MILA

Sifting through the straw, I fork up the horse manure, tossing it in the wheelbarrow and repeating the process until the stall is clean. Most people hate this part of horse care, but I savor every moment–even the gritty work of mucking out. There's something grounding and humbling about it. And if you truly want to have animals around then no task should be beneath you.

Once satisfied the stall is clean, I spread a fresh layer of straw, creating a soft bed for Clover. The faint aroma of grass hits my nostrils, and I breathe it in deeply, a smile tugging at my lips. It feels good to be back.

Gripping the wheelbarrow handles, I push it forward down the barn’s center aisle. The wheels creak as I make my way to the muck heap, ready to tip out the soiled straw.

My thoughts drift to last night. To Colter, and the intensity etched on his face as he played his guitar. His eyes never left mine, holding me captive as he strummed an instrumental version of Johnny Cash’s “Hurt”. The raw emotion in every note was palpable, and when he murmured various lyrics, his pain seemed to bleed into the air. In that moment, he simultaneously gave something away without giving me anything at all.

For the first time since I met him, I glimpsed the real Colter. And all it did was make me crave more. There’s something lurking beneath the surface, dark and harrowing. A ghost he wants to forget, but that clings to him, relentlessly. I can see it, feel it, and it draws me in.

I want to peel back the layers of the handsome brooding man, with the gruff, rough and ready exterior. Discover the truth of what–or who–haunts him. I could find out with a simpleGooglesearch, but for some reason that feels wrong. It’s not about knowing facts. It’s about hearing his story from his lips. Like a flower coaxed into bloom, I want him to open up to me willingly, to trust me with his secrets.

It’s clear from everything I’ve seen of him, that Colter prefers to keep his distance. Stoic, closed off, a loner. He seems content to shoulder his burdens alone. But I see the weight he carries, and though every instinct tells me to stay far away, I can’t help but want to be the person he confides in. It’s presumptuous of me and I’m most likely inserting myself where I’m not wanted. But I’ve always been a little… tenacious. So why stop now?

“So, the little ranch sunshine does know how to shovel shit?” A deep voice rumbles behind me, dripping with condescension and snapping me out of my thoughts.

I whip my head around, eyes landing on Colter. A toothpick hangs lazily from his mouth, but it doesn’t quite hide the faint curve of his lips, a rare smile peeking out from beneath his dark stubble. The rest of his face though, remains unreadable, that same infuriating cold mask of indifference he always wears.

Straightening, I let a grin spread across my face before catching my bottom lip between my teeth. His gaze drops to the movement before he quickly looks away.

“She sure does,” I reply, meeting his eyes. “You might think otherwise and have most likely already made your mind up about me, but I’ve got no problem in getting my hands dirty.”

Those emerald eyes of his narrow, locking onto me with an unnerving focus. He studies my face, searching for.... something. What, I’m not sure. With a slow, deliberate move, Colter shoves a hand into the pocket of his jeans, his expression inscrutable as he continues to watch me. Is he impressed that I’m mucking out stalls? He shouldn’t be. I’m not doing this to impress anyone. I do it because I love every part of working on a ranch. It’s who I am. It’s who I want to be. And if I had it my way, I’d forget college. To compromise with my father, I’d finish my studies through long distance learning, while staying here in Montana, fully immersed in ranch life.

But my parents don’t see it that way. My brother was allowed to stay and work the ranch right after high school. I’ve never understood why it’s different for me. Why are they so adamant about me going to college, when they didn’t hold Maverick to the same standard. No matter how much I argue, they insist I have to go. It’s frustrating because staying here is what I want. I'm not one hundred percent sure what I want to do in the future, but I know I want to work with animals.

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