Page 99 of Chasing the Wild
Supposedly, that’s why we’ve come up here.Maintenance.
Ever the pragmatic man he is, Colt tells me it’s all part of his shuffle of jobs that need to be done regularly on the ranch over winter. Although, I’m certain it’s more than that. He alluded as much last night in his truck, that he wanted to show me this place… and I’m clinging tight to that warm, gooey, ridiculous feeling occupying front and center in my chest.
Colt wanted to bring me here. To a place that holds such special meaning for him.
Knowing that, feels like I’ve been given a little peek behind the curtain of his carefully guarded heart.
Earlier in the day, he seemed happy enough to fuss around with a mental checklist of little details. Fastidious things like fixing down roofing tin and testing the wooden boards for rot. Stuff that I am very much clueless about and felt like I was only getting in his way if I tried to assist. My contribution was mostly just occasionally passing a hammer or a few extra nails, while I spent most of the time enjoying the view.
Both the muscular cowboy kind, and the mountain vista kind.
I’m guessing since Colt built the damn place with his bare hands, he’s got a bit of a love affair going on with this cabin.
Well, if it isn’t the biggest turn-on ever to know how endlessly capable the man currently at my back can be. We’ve already heated up and eaten the meal we packed to bring, making sure the horses were fed, watered, and warm for the night before coming inside ourselves. Colt has kept me tucked between his outstretched legs, and now there’s just the glow of the flames and a contented feeling wrapping around us.
I love that being together like this is effortless. There’s no need or urge to fill the silence. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s just enjoying each other’s company and small touches, like how his thumb absently strokes my upper arm, while appreciating the peacefulness up here.
Although I’m sure this rosy-hued scene will turn a more heated shade before too long. The more time I sit with my back pressed against his strong torso, the more I enjoy the steady rise and fall of his chest behind me. A growing torrent of warmth hums to life in my veins with each soft glide of his thumb.
“Layla… I’ve got something for you.” Colt’s voice is relaxed and rich as honey when he breaks the silence. I stretch a little, then twist around so I can sit facing him, our legs kind of tangle with one another’s when I do so.
“You brought dessert?” I tease. Curiously watching him lean back on his elbows onto the small couch behind him. We’re both on the floor, using a pile of cushions and blankets for comfort in order to be closer to the fire, and even though there is a loft with beds, I much prefer this idea. It’s a little nest-like, and the prospect that we might just end up fucking and spooning and sleeping in front of the fire feels mighty appealing right now.
Heat zaps up my spine.
Oh, yup, I’m definitely turned on by that idea.
“Well, for starters,youare dessert…” He wets his lips and devours me with hungry, hazel eyes. “But no, I wanted to give you something.”
All of a sudden, that heated look he just hit me with morphs, and Colt runs his tongue over his teeth. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s a little hesitant, rubbing one hand up the back of his neck, and I swear to god, right before my eyes, a faint blush appears on his cheekbones. Sweet Jesus, I’m instantly the horniest girl alive, sitting tangled between the thighs of a rugged cowboy who is looking all sorts of gorgeous and flushed.
Sounding gruff and gritty, he shifts his weight. “It’s a gift. Either an early one, or a late one, or fuck, I don’t know.” With a shrug, he adds. “You arrived after Christmas, and you’ll be gone before March, so I wanted you to have it.”
I’m blinking fast as Colt reaches one arm toward the end of the couch. Fisting his jet-black hat, this startling, gorgeous man nonchalantly leans forward, placing it on my head.
My brain vacates this plane of existence.
He stares at me with an expression I can’t decipher, and leans forward, elbows on knees while rubbing a strand of my loose hair between his thumb and forefinger. All the while, studying me, like he’s committing every inch of this scene to be stored away in his memory. Me seated between his thighs in a simple sweater and leggings. My curls over one shoulder. Fire dancing behind me. His hat seated on my head.
“But…” My hands fly up to the brim. I’m trying to form words of protest. “This is yours. You can’t give me your hat? You don’t need to be giving me anything.”
He clicks his tongue at me. “Like I say… whichever way you want to look at it, take it either as a late present, or an early one, since you’ll be gone before your birthday.”
“How do you know—”
“Bosses gotta have their employees' records, don’t they?” Colt tugs on my hair gently, a curve playing on his lips.
“I couldn’t.”
“Trust me. It looks much better on you, angel. Besides, I hear you quite like me in a backward cap.”
Is that the sound of my heart exploding?
“Colt, seriously, you can’t give me this.”
The cowboy staring me down isn’t in the mood to discuss the matter. He shakes his head and heaves himself up off the floor. Towering over me, he extends a hand and effortlessly hoists me to my feet leaving me swaying before him.
I’m breathless and awe struck and utterly confused. Trying to read meaning into whatever this gesture is and at the same time, willing myself to not read any meaning into it at all.
