Page 6 of Ranch Life At Heart
My head is still buzzing from our second round of sex while he’s fallen into a deep sleep. I’m smiling when I tiptoe around the room to pick up my clothes and silently get dressed. I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and take one last look at the man who brought light into my life at a time of utter darkness.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I sneak out the door and start the long walk home.
CHAPTER FOUR
– CEDAR –
Slowing down, I take my time to glance to my left where the Lavern ranch is located. A few horses are grazing in the pasture between her property and my father’s. There’s no sign of Rosy. The woman snuck out of my bed early this morning while I was sleeping.
Just the thought of her flares my body right back to life. Burying my cock inside her sweet pussy was surprisingly divine, and even better the second round I fucked her. Other women I’ve had in my life were forgotten as soon as the deed was done. Rosy? Sweet fucking Rosy. I’m not ashamed to say I rubbed one out in the shower this morning with her on my mind.
Focusing back on the road in front of me, I hit the throttle and ride down to the Stellan ranch. The difference between the two is huge. It’s not just the size of the buildings. The Stellan ranch might have a smaller house, stables, an indoor and outdoor arena, but their land is double the size of my father’s pastures.
Everything my father owns is high-class, along with the breed of the horses. The Stellan ranch only breeds Arabian horses. A stark contrast with the Lavern ranch horses, or so my father never fails to mention.
Training and breeding horses is in my blood. Yes, I have a love for Arabian horses, but I’ve also trained many other breeds and like working with a Friesian horse, as well as a Quarter horse, or whatever bloodline. Hell, I fell hard for an American Paint horse I was supposed to be breaking in to sell and insteadbought her for myself. My father, though? For him only the Arabian breed matters.
My grandfather was the same way, and I’m sure my father hoped I’d work at his ranch and take over one day. Focus only on Arabians to get the best foals to show and breed with. I have worked at different ranches all my life, but the way my father runs his well-oiled ranch is not my cup of tea.
He barely lifts a finger himself and has a handler for everything. I’m more of a hands-on man, no matter how big my bank account is. It’s probably why I’m only now returning home. Not that I have any plans on running the ranch alongside him, unless he puts me in charge of everything.
I’ve saved enough money to buy a house with some land and maybe start something myself to do everything my own damn way. Before I got on my bike, I contacted the local real-estate agency and asked if they could schedule some viewings of ranches for sale around here. I release a deep sigh as I hit the kickstand and turn off the motorcycle. Hanging the helmet on the handlebar, I swing my leg off the bike and run a hand through my thick, long, and dark hair.
“You’re home,” Anne gushes as she runs out of the house and wraps me in a tight hug.
It’s great to see Anne again, even though I’ve talked to her on the phone lots of times. Life seems to have us all in a grip where days turn into weeks, months, and years before you have time for an in-person visit instead of through video or a phone call.
Chuckling, I hug her back. “Don’t know about the home part, but I’m here.”
She pulls back and smacks my chest. “Oh, none of that, young man. Your father is thrilled to have you here. Come, come. I made those fresh oatmeal cookies you always loved.”
Young man? I’m thirty-nine years old. Not quite old, but for sure as shit no young man. I shake my head and grab my backpack from the saddle bags to follow Anne into the main house.
Anne is fifteen years younger than my father and used to babysit me. When I was old enough not to need anyone watching me, she stayed on as the cook…and my father’s…girlfriend. Weird way to call her that, but the man never remarried after my mother died when I was barely five years old.
She was stomped to death by her stallion, a Clydesdale. It was the only other horse my father had on this ranch, and he regretted ever buying my mother the horse. She saved the traumatized horse and wanted to work with him. Sadly, it had a horrific ending where both were killed. It’s probably why my father never allowed another breed, other than the Arabian horse, on his property.
I shake away the memory as I step inside the house.
“Cecil, look who’s come home,” Anne bellows.
“Way too loud,” my father states with laughter in his voice as he rounds the corner.
He pulls Anne close and looks at her with tender eyes as he places a kiss on the top of her head. The smile she gives him in return is one of pure love. My chest tightens at the sight. Seems like I’ve missed out on a lot. Public affection was never something I’ve seen my father do to any woman.
My father clears his throat and turns his attention to me. “Anne made some delicious oatmeal cookies. Come on, let’s have some tea and we can chat at the kitchen table.”
Again, I’m stunned. Decades ago, my father wouldn’t step foot inside the kitchen. Discussions are held in the office, during dinner, or in the living room. Certainly, no casual chatting in the kitchen.
Without a word I follow them and while Anne makes herself busy with making tea, my father keeps his eyes on her while he says, “I’ve heard great things about you from your last employer.”
I reach out and grab an oatmeal cookie from the plate in the middle of the kitchen table. “The three years I gave Ray Pendar were well spent.”
“He shared a little information about your plans to start something for yourself. I also heard from the local real-estate agent you’ve been interested in viewing some of the offered properties around here.”
The bite of cookie in my mouth almost goes down the wrong way with the words my father just spoke. Shit. Here I thought I was keeping my interest on the down-low. Yet, I should have known the rumor mill runs fast around here. I slap my chest while I cough and try to swallow in an effort to clear my mouth and recover.
“Why would you look for another property while you can easily oversee our business and live here? I would like to retire and it’s the perfect solution for both of us,” my father announces.
