Page 5 of Claiming Ours (Anchor Bay #2)

LIAM

C oarse bristles rasped over the horse’s shiny coat as I dragged the brush along his spine.

I repeated the motion, quieting my mind with the cathartic movement as I worked my way down to his belly and legs.

I hadn’t always found peace in the day-to-day tasks of caring for the massive animals, but after a year of equine therapy for my anger management issues, I learned the therapeutic benefits of the mundane, repetitive tasks.

Now I could immediately slide into the quiet mind space the moment the familiar scents of the barn enveloped me.

Most of those in the community didn’t like coming in here, complained that the barn reeked of piss-soaked sawdust and animal shit with a hint of mold, but it didn’t faze me.

In fact, I’d rather be here with the animals than out there with annoying clients and nosy townies.

I had nothing against being around people—I just preferred the animals.

Well, I preferred them over everyone except for Baylee.

Just her name flicking through my thoughts had my gaze sliding over the horse’s back to where she stood several feet away outside the goat pen, talking to them like they understood her.

Miles, Langston, and I helped build the massive metal barn a couple of years back.

Originally it only housed several wide stalls for the horses I used for the guided horseback trail rides booked through Uplift, plus a large area for the few cows we owned for when it was too cold or bad weather, but after Baylee joined our community, we added a chicken coop with a bit of room for them to wander around, a sheep pen, and now an area for her goats.

Why goats, who I believed were spawned by the devil?

Fuck if I knew, but they made Baylee happy, so I fenced off some available space in the barn for when it was too cold out and sectioned off a new segment of the pasture every month since the little shits ate everything, even stripping bark and leaves off the trees.

It was extra work for me, but watching her smile and chat with the living garbage disposals every morning made it worth it.

Some people were said to be born with a green thumb, but Baylee was blessed with unending compassion and patience for all animals, which made her a fan-fucking-tastic veterinarian.

And I would gladly break multiple bones of anyone who said differently.

As if sensing my unapologetic stare, crystal blue eyes flicked my way, followed by a wide, genuine smile.

Baylee scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue before turning back to the newest addition of our goat family.

My heart clenched at the happiness radiating off her.

I wanted to believe that joy was because we’d made progress in pushing past the friend zone in our relationship, helping her slowly move on from Dean’s death, but deep down I knew it was because of the goats.

What a fucking blow to a guy’s ego.

After she first moved into our community, it took me months to work up the balls to ask her out on a date.

Her hesitant yes had made my damn year. I knew the hesitation and slow pace of the physical side of our new relationship wasn’t from her lack of attraction to me, and that wasn’t me being cocky.

The way that woman eye-fucked me any time we were together spoke to her attraction, and believe me, the feeling was absolutely mutual.

Baylee’s hesitation then, and still, stemmed from a recent tragedy.

That kind of trauma, of having your planned future suddenly ripped away, wasn’t easy to move past.

I would know.

I had mostly healed. Several years had passed since my late wife’s accident, plus the kick-to-the-balls details I’d uncovered helped me move from grief-stricken widower to constantly pissed off at the world.

Baylee’s pain and loss were fresh. Her fiancé’s death while deployed happened only two years ago, so of course she still struggled.

I had no intention of pressuring her into a romantic relationship, to make her move faster than she was ready physically, but I was ready when she was.

Each time I was with her, my chest would tighten uncomfortably, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

It felt like a fucking heart attack. She was so damn gorgeous, even when her grief and sadness were clear as day.

Her white-blonde hair was as soft as it looked and framed her heart-shaped face.

Fair, smooth skin made her almost clear blue eyes stand out, and fuck if they didn’t sparkle when she laughed.

Full lips that begged to be kissed and a tiny button nose, plus the scattering of faint freckles along her cheeks made her look younger than she actually was.

It made our age difference seem that much more drastic, considering I wore my hard life like a badge of honor on my face and body.

But it wasn’t just her physical appearance that drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Baylee was my opposite. She was full of passion for animals and people alike, whereas I radiated anger and violence, a “fight first and ask questions second” type of person.

The woman’s heart was too big for her own good.

I swore she wouldn’t think twice about picking up a hitchhiker carrying a battle-ax in an orange jumpsuit if she thought she could help.

Not that she was na?ve or lacked a sense of self-preservation—though her solo runs in the morning made me question that recently.

She was just kindness personified and saw the good in everyone.

I was the perfect example of her seeing past the bad to the core of who a person was, finding the good in them.

There was no reason she should’ve given me a chance.

At twice her size plus my anger management issues, she should’ve run for the mountains when we first met.

But not Baylee Smith. Instead, she stared deep into my dark and damaged soul, stuck out her hand to introduce herself, and explained how we would be great friends.

I didn’t know how to respond to her, too confused to refute her claim, not that I wanted to.

Other than my Army Ranger brothers, I never had genuine friends—none like her anyway.

It was no wonder that initial bewilderment shifted into something deeper than I had ever felt for a woman in my whole damn life.

And I was fucking married once before.

Obsession was a close word to describe how my feelings shifted toward Baylee as I got to know her.

I craved all of her, wanted to make her mine.

Her kind heart, brilliant mind, awkward jokes, her perfect tiny body.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip to silence the guttural groan that wanted to escape when she bent over to pet the kid, her perky ass conveniently pointed in my direction.

Damn, all the dirty things I wanted to do to her. But that would have to wait.

Based on what I’d picked up on over the past few months, I assumed she was inexperienced compared to me, but I wasn’t sure to what extent.

If she knew how fucking bad I wanted to teach her everything I knew—and that list was plenty long and disturbing—she’d run away screaming in fear. Not that I’d let her get away.

Fuck, I was demented and 100 percent obsessed with her.

“You ready?” I cut my heated gaze from the woman who had me wrapped around her little finger to Langston, Uplift’s go-to guy for all things water related, who rivaled both my size and anger issues. “I don’t want to be fucking late for the meeting.”

A chuffed laugh brushed past my lips when he turned without waiting for a response and stormed out of the barn, only to freeze when Baylee’s voice called out his name.

Shoulders practically at his ears, the grumpy bastard twisted, responding to the greeting with a grunt and a return of the wave she sent him, though his was more of a raised hand than Baylee’s exaggerated back-and-forth motion.

“Hold up,” I called out before he could leave. I secured the metal latch on the stall and double-checked it was locked. “Give me a second and I’ll walk with you. Just need to give her this.”

Reaching down, I wrapped my fingers around the small cooler that I’d brought from home, sitting just outside the stall.

Langston grumbled something about me being pussy-whipped as he leaned against the frame of the barn’s tall rolling door, his permanent scowl secured on his face.

Flipping him the bird, I strode toward Baylee, where she was measuring out the chicken feed for their breakfast.

“Hey,” she said, blowing a rogue lock of hair out of her eyes when she looked up with a smile. “Heading to the Monday meeting?”

I ran my fingers through the longer section of my jet-black hair and nodded. “Yeah, you coming?” The weekly meeting was mandatory for those who worked directly for Uplift Adventure and Rescue and didn’t extend to her, though sometimes she came to see everyone.

“No, not today. I need to get several things checked off my to-do list here before heading out to tackle those home vet visits this afternoon. I only have a handful, but they’re spread out, so I’m assuming it’ll take me several hours to see everyone.”

A swell of concern for her going out alone had my brows pulling in tight.

Baylee was just so tiny, in stature and weight, and Alaska was dangerous—the animals, people, and landscape.

I’d noticed, based on the few pictures framed in her cabin, that she’d lost significant weight since Dean’s death, giving her an almost frail look.

Which was when my slight fixation with feeding her as often as possible began.

Even though I knew she was capable and smart, I never wanted her to be in a situation where she felt like she had to handle everything alone. It was my job now to protect her and keep her safe. To eliminate all threats so she didn’t feel so damn abandoned in this life.