Page 22 of Chasing the Wild
Job. Money. Apprenticeship hours.
My threesome of needs that this man is so generously providing.
But when I slide into the warm cab, my emotions are immediately rag-dolled all over the place. It’s full of traces ofhimin here, and in that moment, I realize as his scent of leather and hay and something citrusy hits me, I’m going to need tofigure out a way to deal with the fact I’m up here all alone with a very off-limits man.
One who infuriates me as much as he sets my pulse racing.
Chapter 7
It’s been a whole fucking week.
One spent doing my best to find something—anything—to focus on, other than the gorgeous girl currently sitting across the kitchen island from me eating an omelet and sipping her coffee, while she scrolls her phone.
Wi-Fi has been patchy as usual, and fortunately the power has only dropped out a couple of times for short periods. I’ve shown her where to stack wood both close to the house and inside so neither of us have to go far to load up the fireplaces. She’s split kindling, neatly arranged supplies, and even offered to cook our meals. Insisting that it’s the least she can do to help more.
Meanwhile, when I remember, in between all the other shit there is to do around this place, I’ve shown her how to run the backup generator in case we lose power completely and where to get fresh water if pipes freeze.
I also gave her a run-through of our radio system. It’s what we rely on up here year-round, since cell coverage is non-existent and Wi-Fi barely works outside of my office. My brief instructions covered how to contact the ranch vehicles kitted out with a handset, the mountain patrol, and the sheriff. All those‘emergency situation’ types of necessities that Layla needs to know about because god forbid I get myself into serious shit, but ranch life is tough. All it would take is for one of the cattle to crush me against a gate or for my horse to roll. Too easily things can go south. Accidents happen in the blink of an eye.
While we were going over the ways to contact the outside world, I went to mention Storm, but something halted me. Without any good reason, my mouth opened and then snapped shut.
I realized at that moment I didn’t want him to know about Layla, or at least, the asshole inside me doesn’t wantherto know about him. I immediately bristled at the idea she might take an interest in what she saw… or whatever the equivalent of speaking with someone over a radio handset might be.
Either way, I didn’t fucking like it, so I conveniently forgot to tell her about my friend and closest person nearby whoshouldbe her first port of call in case of emergency. She doesn’t need to know anything about Stôrmand Lane, nor about the fact he used to be a rodeo star. Doesn’t need to know about his stupid fucking tattoos that I’ve seen first-hand act as a pussy magnet everywhere he goes, and certainly doesn’t need to be anywhere near his charminggruffness.
Nope. For now, she’s got plenty of emergency contacts if required. Anyways, we had plenty more crap to go over on how things run here on the ranch.
Fortunately, the girl with green eyes is a quick study and it only took a day or so before I could leave her the horses. Those idiots all seem to love her.
Or at least, what she sneaks out to them in her pockets.
They never get enough attention from me usually because I’m too damn busy, and I see it in their big liquid eyes that they’re gobbling up all the crooning and petting and brushing they’re getting these days.
Lucky assholes.
I finally had a reply from Kayce, he emailed me one line saying he’ll be back once the roads are cleared. What a first-class prick. He might be my own flesh and blood, but I’m not going to shy away from calling it shit if it stinks. How this girl ended up with him is beyond me.
She’s stunning, and I can’t seem to stop stealing looks at her, even though I know I shouldn’t. Which inevitably leads to me barking something in her general direction, just to try and scare her off because fuck knows what I would do if she turned around and looked at me the same way.
Kayce is out partying, chasing the next high and likely a warm bed to fall into, meanwhile this girl is putting in a full day’s work without so much as a peep. She shows up, gets on with it, and doesn’t have much to say.
Which suits me fine.
I’m so used to my own company that the silence is easy for me.
Being busy is a godsend. It’s the dangerous thoughts about this girl—those ones that bubble up at times when I least expect them to—that I’m most concerned about.
“We’ll take the horses and ride out to check on the furthest paddocks today now the snow has thinned.” I stand up, and she’s right there, ready to go. Tidying up quickly after herself and slipping her phone in her back pocket. I don’t know why kids her age always feel the need to have their phones on them. It’s not like the damn thing gets service up here anyway.
“I get to ride?” Her green eyes light up, and I have to duck my head.
It’s so fucking hard not to want to touch her when she looks like that. All flushed and excited and full of vitality for life, the kind that got burned out of me so long ago, it’s a distant memory.
Maybe it got stubbed out of me like the cigarette butts my grandpa used to put out on the back of my head right after he wailed on me for just breathing wrong.
I grumble something resembling an agreement, and head off out the door. Shoving into my boots and yanking on my hat.
She follows, quietly doing the same with her own work boots, but I feel her eyes stray to me every so often. I hate that she’s curious about me, even though I’m a fucking dickhead. There’s nothing good that can come of being interested in the darkness that lies beneath the surface of Colt Wilder.
