Page 13 of Alive and Wells

“Oh yeah? Here I thought youdefinitelyweren’t a cowboy?” She smiles over at me.

“I’m not,” I shoot a sideways glance at Red, “and I will not.”

“Oh, let’s do a calf-tying competition. Whoever has the fastest time tying gets a case of beer tomorrow—Austin’s buying.” Denny’s practically jumping in his seat with excitement about a stupid little competition.

“Whatever. You guys do what you want.” I shake my head.

My agreement is only slightly influenced by my wanting a certain woman to think I’m not a total stick-in-the-mud asshole. I know I shouldn’t care what she thinks. Normally, I’m fine with being the responsible eldest brother, even if it makes me somewhat “boring”, according to Denny. After all, that personality trait is the reason the ranch is successful. Even after my father left me to take over this overwhelming operation at the ripe old age of twenty-five. Today, though, I’d love to be one of the guys.

A few ranch hands cheer in response. Chatter starts up about rules, betting, and what beer the potential winner wants.

“Sounds like fun. Can I try? If somebody shows me how to tie.” Cecily turns to me with a raised eyebrow. Daring me to say no.

Focusing on keeping my face flat, I stare straight back. “Don’t sue me when you get hurt, darlin’.”

“Hell yeah. We might finally have somebody to do the ladies’ steer scramble at the rodeo this year,” Red hollers. As if winning a paltry gift card for nearly being mauled by a steer is something to be stoked about. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my younger days, but that rodeo event is asinine—only someone without a functioning brain would sign up.

With that, the guys finish their lunch in record time, and are eager to display their calf-tying skills for the pretty girl. And, boy, do they ever show off. It almost makes me wonder if the Nordforks were a waste of money—all this time, I could’ve had an attractive woman on site to keep them working diligently.

Who am I to talk, though?

Knowing her ass is parked on the fence and her eyes are on me is almost enough to make me walk out to the pasture, grab my retired roping horse, and show her how a real cowboy does things. I haven’t competed in tie-down roping events in more than a decade, but that doesn’t mean the muscle memory isn’t still there. Denny hauls a calf to me and the animalistic, sex-driven part of my brain takes over. I lift the one-hundred-pound animal with ease. By the fifth time, I don’t even care how sore my muscles will be tomorrow. If I’d agreed to join their absurd competition, I’d win by a long shot.

I’m no better than the other men, busting my ass to keep her gaze firmly on me.

When it’s finally Cecily’s turn, every nerve-ending sizzles as I watch her step forward with unbridled confidence. Nothing like the city girl I expected. Red moves in to help her, but my longer legs are faster—I’m practically on her and she visibly tenses from head to toe. Her body recoiling seems to be reflexive anytime I get close to her. She reacted similarly when I placed a hand on her shoulder to reach for the chilli pot earlier; entire body freezing, face twisted with disgust as she shrunk away.

I hand her my gloves, and she smiles to herself as she pulls them on. Her small hands make the worn leather look like giant ice-hockey mitts. Pulled by a taut rope, a calf appears.It’s go time. With one hand on her tail and another on the back legs, Red gears up to get the calf to the ground for branding. With little hesitation, Cecily grabs the front like she’s done this a thousand times.

“Get the rope round there… yeah, just like… you got it…” She’s following the steps and tying up the legs before I even have the chance to get my words out. Clearly, she’s been studying how we all do it. Holding down an animal that weighs almost as much as her, she waits calmly for Colt to bring over the branding iron. Every time I have a shadow of doubt, she makes me feel like an idiot for expecting so little from her.

I hate how easily impressed I am by this woman. She’s certainly not the first nor the last to help with branding—hell, Kate’s usually in here like a dirty shirt when she isn’t pregnant. It’s notthatimpressive. Embarrassingly, I hate knowing Cecily didn’t need my help even more. Leaving me standing there with my hands in my pockets when all I really wanted was to jump right in next to her.

Panting, covered in dirt and cow shit, and radiating pride, she gets to her feet. Cecily stumbles back until she’s close enough she can probably feel my hot breath on her neck. Yet, she remains loose and calm for the first time. Likely because she doesn’t realize it’s me she’s standing next to. So relaxed and joyful, I can’t help but smile in response.

“Damn, girl.” Denny hands her a cold beer. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Honest! That was cool, though. I can’t believe I did that.” She cracks the can open and takes a long gulp. At some point, she lost her hat and her hair’s no longer slicked back neatly. Loose blonde strands stick out in every direction, and a few small pieces cling to the sweat along her hairline. There’s dirt smudged on her jaw, and I can’t help but envision how soft her skin might be under my calloused thumb. It would be so easy to reach over and rub the dirt away.

“Glad you didn’t fire me yet?”

Lost in thought about touching her face, her voice catches me off guard and stops me just before I do something stupid. Her face shining at me cracks through my chest. And I… clam up.

Fuck, I do this every damn time.

Something about her voice and her smile and her fucking earth-shattering gaze stops me in my tracks every time. I lose the ability to form words, let alone sentences. Leaving me with two default modes: asshole boss and silent douchebag.

The only sound I manage to make is a gruff snort. I guess it’s better than creepily brushing my hand against her jaw, but not by much. Her eyebrow raises playfully. She’s constantly studying, dissecting, and analyzing me, as if she can read my thoughts.

“He’s mad that a girl can do a better job than half his guys.” Kate jabs me in the rib with her sharp elbow. “Careful, Austin, your misogyny is showing.”

I roll my eyes.Seriously?

“Nah, he had a good point about me needing boots and he lent me gloves. If he wanted me to fail miserably, he could’ve made it happen. So, thanks, boss.”

“Welcome,” I mutter.

Once Kate leaves to talk to Jackson, Cecily leans over and lowers her voice. “It’s okay to admit you’re so impressed by my work ethic you can’t think of a good enough apology—or maybe admit you liked watching. No shame in either.”

---