Page 5 of Untamed

COLTER

The sun beats down on me, hot and uncomfortable, its heat soaking through the thin fabric of my button-up shirt as I stack bales of hay. It’s a rhythm I’ve come to rely on, just me and the work with nothing but the sound of my boots hitting the dry ground. That’s how I like it—me, myself, and I, lost in my own thoughts. But the stillness breaks, pierced by Maverick’s low and drawling voice, followed by a soft, lilting giggle that flutters through the air.

Dropping the bale onto the stack, I straighten, jaw clenching as I roll the toothpick between my teeth. Reaching up, I shift the brim of my Stetson up, narrowing my gaze on Maverick. He’s standing near Lincoln’s office, talking casually with a girl who has her back to me, and Brandon loitering nearby. Ignoring him, my gaze flicks between Maverick and the girl, noting the body language. There is no doubt in my mind they are siblings. Which can only mean one thing. She’s the little Becker princess.

Curious, I pause to take her in. Long blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, legs that seem to go on forever and a heart shaped ass that would fit perfectly in the palms of my hands. I tear my gaze away, glancing around to make sure no one’s caught me checking her out. Luckily, they’re too wrapped up in theirconversation to notice me. Not that I’m worried. I could take both those assholes blindfolded with my hands tied to my back if it came to that. But I need this job and the last thing I want right now is trouble. Especially not the kind wrapped in a woman like that.

Shaking my head, I exhale, letting my gaze drift over the trio. Maverick stands to her right, talking animatedly, while Brandon hovers at her side like her own personal guard dog. His eyes stay locked on her, a look of awe on his expression as he watches her laugh. The fucker is completely besotted with her.

Brandon wasn’t there the day Lincoln laid down the law for all of us. But did he extend the same threat to his son’s best friend? A warning to keep his hands off the ranch princess?

My gaze shifts back to her, moving down her body and swallowing as every curve catches the morning light. From the view alone I can see why Mr. Becker would be worried about her being here, surrounded by a couple dozen horny cowboys and ranch hands. Now, if I could only see her face. If the front matches the back, Lincoln’s concerns were well founded.

As if hearing my thoughts, she glances over her shoulder. My body stiffens and I suck in a sharp breath. The biggest, softest smile lights up her face and holy fucking shit. Now I get it. Why he was so insistent about his daughter being off limits. Big blue-grey almond shaped doe eyes, pouty lips and a perfect little upturned nose. She’s fucking stunning. Easily the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something considering the women I’ve had in my bed, beneath me, on top of me...

My eyes rake over her face, noting her fresh, dewy, flawless skin. She’s young. But how young, exactly? I think back to last night, replaying the conversation surrounding her. I’m pretty sure I recall Brandon saying she is starting college in the fall. That would make her at least eighteen. Legal, technically. But still way too young for me. For fucks’ sake, I’ll be thirty in acouple weeks. Even if there wasn’t the risk of losing my job for touching her, I have no business messing around with a teenager. None.

As if sent by the devil himself to tempt my resolve, the girl turns fully toward me. That smile widens, and I swear the whole damn day brightens with just that one look. With each passing second it becomes clear why Brandon is so transfixed by her. There’s something about her face that completely draws you in and never lets you go. She is everything I’m not. My complete opposite. Night and day. Sunshine to my dark cloud. Warm to my cold. Light to my dark. Her presence radiates warmth and I wouldn’t be surprised if birds started singing like they do in one of those Disney movies. It’s the total opposite of my grumpy disposition.

Crossing the yard with a spring in her step, she closes the distance between us, her hand extended. “Hey, I’m Mila,” she chirps, her voice carrying a hint of a southern accent.

Shaking my head of the brain fog, and the damn metaphors filtering through my head, I scowl at her outstretched hand. “Hi,” I grumble, barely glancing at her before turning back to the hay bales. Hopefully my dismissal is enough to send her on her way.

But no. Not even a second later, she’s sidling up beside me.

“And you are?” she asks, completely undeterred by my attitude.

Spitting the toothpick to the ground, I side eye her, grunting out, “Busy,”

She chuckles, not in the least bit offended by my answer, and the melodic sound, so lovely, hits me somewhere deep inside that I didn’t even know existed. “I see that,” she says lightly, stepping toward the stack of hay on the flatbed trailer. But before she can curl her fingers around the string of a bale, Maverick steps in, pulling her back.

“That’s Colter. Don’t mind him, sis. He’s a grumpy asshole.” I ignore the insult because honestly? He’s not wrong.

The comment doesn’t deter the little ball of sunshine in the slightest. “Nothing wrong with being grumpy, Colter. I’d be the same if I had to deal with these idiots all day.” She chuckles, the sound somehow both innocent and mischievous as she jerks her head toward her brother.

Glancing at her, I frown when I find that same big, unwavering smile on her pretty face. For a second, I almost feel bad for being such a dick toward her. But it’s the only way. I don’t have the time or the inclination to get caught up in the trouble she’s bound to bring. Don’t want to. I’m happy keeping myself to myself. Besides, I need this job. Lincoln Becker was the only person willing to give me a chance with my reputation. After the accident, and then the stint in prison for what was technically self-defense, my options quickly dried up. I can’t afford to screw this up. And something tells me that if I give Mila Becker even an inch, I’ll end up wanting the whole damn mile. Figuratively and literally.

“Who you calling an idiot?” Brandon laughs, throwing an arm over her shoulder. It’s meant to be seen as a friendly gesture, but I see the possessiveness in the way he pulls her close, the warning etched on his face.

I smirk, shaking my head as I toss another hay bale down. Let him glare all he wants. He won’t get the reaction he is looking for out of me.

“Come on Mai. I thought we could get you back in the saddle. Go for a trail ride.” Brandon says, his tone more of a command rather than a request.

Mila glances at me, her teeth sinking into that pouty bottom lip, hesitation flashing in those unusual colored orbs. Then, with a quick look at Brandon, she nods. “Sure. Sounds good.”

Brandon looks smug as he steers her toward the barn, his arm lingering around her neck while Maverick trails behind, shaking his head. No doubt he’s seeing the same thing I am. His best friend is completely smitten with his sister. Not that I care. But I can’t stop the small, unwelcome question that flashes in my mind.

Does Mila feel the same?

Shaking the thought away, I watch them go, my eyes narrowing when Mila glances over her shoulder. A wide, sassy smile curves her lips and then.... she winks, shocking the shit out of me. My brows shoot up, but before I can think more of it, she disappears inside the barn. I end up staring at the barn door for longer than I’d like to admit, my mind circling back to that wink. What game is she playing?

A deep voice breaks through the silence, snapping me back to reality. My head jerks up to find Garrett, one of Oakridge’s cowboys and a damn good Bronc rider, sauntering toward me with a smirk playing on his lips.

“If you want to keep this job, don’t even think about it,” he warns.

I snort, turning back to the trailer and bending to grab another hay bale. “Spoiled princesses aren’t really my type. Wouldn’t touch her if she was the last woman on earth.”

Garrett chuckles, grabbing a bale and tossing it down on the stack with ease. “Whatever you say, man.”

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