Page 14 of Untamed

My gaze snaps to Colter, finding his intense stare already on me. I shake my head, my lips tipping up into a small smile. “I just remembered something from my childhood.”

His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing. When he speaks, the rasp in his voice sends a shiver through me, settling somewhere deep inside. “Care to elaborate?”

Dropping my gaze to my feet, I feel heat rise high on my cheeks. “It’s silly really. Nova and I used to get up to all kinds of mischief on the ranch. One time, we played hide and seek. I hid up here and she couldn’t find me. It took my brother helping her to finally track me down. She was so angry…” I trail off, suddenly feeling silly for sharing that story.

“Sounds fun,” Colter replies, with no judgment.

“It was,” I murmur, softly.

He nods then shifts his attention to the guitar on his lap. I watch as his fingers curl around the neck, lifting it gently and settling it against his body. He plucks at the strings, a soft sound floating around the room with every thrum. My breath lodges in my throat, when his eyes lock onto mine. The low hum of the guitar fades into the background as my stomach clenches with need.

“What music do you like, Mila?” The deep rumble of his voice, the way my name rolls off his tongue, slow and deliberate, as if he is savoring it, sends excitement coursing through my veins. My blood heats, and a pulse sparks between my thighs.

Jesus. I’ve never felt aroused just from someone saying my name. It’s a revelation, a deep craving to see what else he can pull from me. Not just with his voice but with… his fingers, his mouth, his cock.

My cheeks heat, my chest rising and falling with every breath. Focus, Mila. I need to get a grip, before I do something I can’t come back from. I shake my head, pushing away allthoughts of what pleasure Colter could bring to my body. What was the question again? Oh right. What music do I like?

Clearing my throat, and pulling myself from my lustful thoughts, I give him an answer. “My taste in music is pretty eclectic. Anything from Johnny Cash and Tina Turner to Kenny Rogers to Whiskey Myers to Lil Nas and Jessie Murph. I love Chris Stapleton, Eminem and The Jonas Brothers. Ed Sheeran, Kane Brown, Morgan Wade, The Castellows… Lionel Richie, Aerosmith. I don’t just like one type of music. You name it, I most likely like it. Country. Pop. Soul. Hip Hop. Reggae. Blues. Rock.” I shrug.

His eyes light up, a faint smile curving his lips as if he likes my answer. I can’t help the flicker of excitement that surges through me, the satisfaction that I made him happy. A lot of the music I mentioned is old school, but I love it. I’ve got a whole playlist dedicated to it on my phone. Years ago, when I was a little girl, my father introduced me to the likes of Johnny Cash and Lionel Richie. I’ve been hooked ever since.

“So, when I played Johnny Cash for you the other night, it wasn’t the first time you’d heard it?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “No. My father is a huge fan. Before my parents…” I trail off then clear my throat. “Before the divorce, when I was still living in Montana, my dad would play it almost every night in his office. He’d pour himself a glass of whiskey, light a cigar and play Johnny Cash on a loop. It drove my mom crazy, “Hurt”, “Folsom Prison Blues”, “I Walk the Line” or “Ring of Fire”, blaring through the house. But I loved it. And when my dad saw me enjoying it, he’d take me into his office, and we’d listen together. It sparked a love for his music, one that none of my school friends back in Georgia ever understood.”

“What’s your favorite Kenny Rogers song?” I can tell he is testing me, like he doesn’t believe my taste in music is real.

“The Gambler,” I shoot back without hesitation.

Colter smirks, still strumming away on his guitar. “Mine too. Whiskey Myers?”

“Stone,” I say with certainty.

“Good song.” He drawls, glancing down at the guitar. His fingers pluck the strings, and an acoustic melody fills the space. I frown, my mind trying to place the song.

“Highwayman,” Colter says, answering my silent question. I automatically say, “Willie Nelson.” He confirms with a faint smile.

I nod, settling in my chair. I listen intently as he plays, the melody seeping deep into my soul with each strum. Then he starts singing. And oh my God. The sound of his voice? I was mesmerized as his raspy tone murmured the lyrics. If I wasn’t already attracted to Colter there’s no question I would be now. As if his looks aren’t enough, he can sing too. He really is the whole package.

An off-limits package, an annoying voice reminds me. I straighten in my seat, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip, chewing nervously. It’s so unfair. The fact that I can look but not touch. Well Icouldtouch, but that would guarantee a one-way ticket out of this place for Colter, and I am not selfish enough to do that to him. Not when it has been made clear that he needs this job.

Like a bucket of cold water being thrown over me, the thought shocks me out of my Colter haze. I will not be the reason this man loses his job. Rising to my feet, I see the confusion in his furrowed brows. I’ve enjoyed every minute here with him, but it’s time to leave. Colter stops strumming, his green eyes questioning.

I pull my cell phone from my pocket, pretending to read something on my screen. Jerking my finger in the direction of the main house, I mutter. “It’s my dad. I better get back.”

And without looking at him, I rush out of the room like the coward I am.

Chapter Twelve

COLTER

My brows furrow, confusion snaking through my body as I stare at the doorway Mila just rushed through.

What the fuck was that about?

I thought we were getting along, having a nice conversation while I played my guitar.

Maybe I misread the situation.

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