Page 7 of My Match with the Cowboy (Sterling Brothers Ranch #4)

SIX

IMOGEN

H e tastes like peppermint. It’s the only thing I can think of as his mouth moves against mine slowly, carefully, like he’s testing the moment with each gentle move of his lips.

There’s a war going on inside me. One half is telling me to pull away. To smack some sense into the man and give him a piece of my mind. We shouldn’t be crossing this line, especially when we both know better.

But the other half yearns for more. To feel his hands, calloused and rough, against my skin. Wonders what it would be like to let him break through the ice around my heart.

For the first time in forever, I feel almost…right. Like I’m where I belong. And I don’t understand why it has to be with him.

The logical, sane part of me tells me to get out and run.

The dreamer in me begs me to stay and finally feel again.

My hands move of their own accord, one gripping his forearm as he continues to hold my chin. My other moves to his shoulder like a magnet seeking more.

Calder’s tongue swipes against the seam of my lips, asking for entrance that I grant him immediately. The taste of mint explodes on my tongue, a taste that takes me by surprise. I moan against his lips, for some reason wanting more.

But Calder pulls away sharply, sucking in a breath. My cheeks heat from the moment, or worse, from the embarrassment of being rejected. It’s almost like he’s come back to his senses, and they’re telling him he’s made a huge mistake.

I should know better. Tears burn the back of my eyes as I pull out of his grip and sit back. Mortified doesn’t seem to cut it; what I’m feeling is ten times worse. It’s a reminder that no matter what, I’ll never be good enough.

“Trouble…” His voice is hoarse, grating against my better judgement.

I swallow hard and wish I could wash away the taste of peppermint from my mouth. “I’m fine,” I tell him, keeping my voice even. I summon all the strength I have left; the strength I’ve been able to use to my advantage since the death of my grandfather.

Clearing my throat, I don’t bother to look at the man sitting beside me as I sit back.

I wish I’d been lying about how beautiful the ranch is; I wish this moment had been enough to taint the image of the land for me, but it hadn’t.

It’s still a beautiful sight; rolling hills drifting into darkness, the mountain in the distance, usually capped with snow, which I can’t see now because of the clouds.

From the corner of my eye, Calder hands me a take-out container. “I promised you dinner,” he says. “I don’t break my promises.”

I wish he’d promised not to hurt me, and yet…

I take the food, which smells divine, reminding me just how hungry I am. Silently, I pop the lid and stare down at the bacon cheeseburger and fries. The burger has been cut down the middle, share style, which for some reason makes my heart hurt a little more.

First, he kisses me.

Then, he pushes me away.

Now, he presents me with food, which really shouldn’t affect me the way it does.

I grab a fry without a word and shove it into my mouth.

Despite the drive and it sitting in the box to sweat, it still tastes fresh.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as Calder sets out two more meals—a serving of meatloaf, which usually isn’t my go to meal, but actually looks fantastic—and a classic serve of pancakes.

Calder doesn’t say anything as he sets one container on his lap, the other between us. Silently, we eat. There’s so much to say, and yet I hold it all in.

Maybe, there really isn’t much to say at all.

Calder takes me home once dinner is done.

I feel my resolve start to crack when he pulls into the cabin.

From the corner of my eye, I watch him as he cuts the engine and sits back.

For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything.

I should just say goodnight and escape. Pray he doesn’t come to me in the morning.

When I finally move to unbuckle my seatbelt, he does the same. “What are you doing?” I ask, shooting him a look.

“Coming in,” he replies, totally serious. “Show me what needs work.”

Shock rushes through me. “No,” I say, grabbing my bag and some of the leftovers. “No need. Also, please don’t bother picking me up, I’ll find my own way to work.”

And yet, despite the fact that I get out of the truck, despite my words hanging clearly in the air between us, he still gets out and follows me with the rest of the takeout.

“I’m serious,” I hiss. “Go home, Calder. Whatever is happening—it needs to stop.”

But this lumbering asshole of a man follows me to the front door. He leans against the doorframe, adopting that charming, annoying smirk he seems to always wear.

Maybe I’m some kind of joke to him. To everyone. Maybe he and Iris are in on it together: make the new girl in town fall for the handsome cowboy, then laugh at me when he drops me.

My entire body burns from embarrassment. “What do you want from me?” I ask. “You’ve done enough damage tonight. I just want to sleep.”

Something shifts in his eyes. They soften, but they also reveal hurt.

Why would he be hurt when he was the one who kissed me first? When he pulled away like it was a mistake?

I shake my head, scoffing. “I don’t understand you, Calder.” I grab my keys and unlock the front door. “Everything you do is?—”

I stop short and suck in a breath. My stomach dips in horror as I take in the mess that is my cabin. There are documents everywhere, tossed around like they mean nothing. All the files I’d been keeping in a box in the dining room are spread out throughout the main part of the house.

From here, the light in the kitchen flickers ominously. Cabinet doors swing in an imaginary breeze from where they’d been left open. The drawers hang open uselessly, cutlery and cooking utensils scattered across the linoleum.

It looks like someone had taken a knife to my sofa, because there’s foam all over the coffee table.

And by the door is a framed photo of my grandfather and me when I graduated high school, smashed, the glass reflecting the light of the lamp outside the cabin.

Calder tenses beside me, a steady presence I’m suddenly grateful for. He gently pushes me aside, growling under his breath, “Stay here. Call the sheriff.”

But I’m frozen in place. Trapped in my mind. In memories of my grandfather. The last thing I had of his, and it too, has been ruined. Stomped on by someone who doesn’t care, who only sees this as another thing they can take from me.

It doesn’t take Calder long to check the cabin. Whoever had been here must be long gone. The back door, which sits by the kitchen, is open to the darkness beyond.

My throat is tight with emotion, but I don’t feel the sting of tears. When Calder returns, his lips are pressed into a firm line, eyes dark.

“Go get in the truck,” he says. “Let me handle this.”

I don’t really know why I listen to him.

I’m a big girl, capable of handling myself.

And yet, I do as he says and go back to the truck.

I watch him from the passenger seat as he pulls his cell from his back pocket and calls someone.

He keeps his back to me for the most part, but tension lines his shoulders and back.

I slide down in my seat, exhaustion pressing in on me. Two weeks of being on my own in this new, unfamiliar place, and someone breaks into my house. The first thing I have of my own that can’t be taken from me, ruined.

I let my eyes close for a moment and wish I were anywhere else. Just the thought of having to be up in a few hours for another shift makes me want to cry.

The driver’s side door opens, truck jostling as Calder slides in. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes just yet.

“The Sheriff is on his way,” he says, voice soft, though barely hiding his anger. “I’m going to take you back to the ranch. You’ll be safe there.”

“I was safe here,” I murmur.

Calder captures my knee with his large, calloused hand. “I know, trouble,” he replies quietly. “I know.”

Yet somehow, I feel safer with him here. It’s a strange feeling, one I’m not used to. The only person who’d given me this sense of safety had been my grandfather, and I thought I lost that when he died.

Or maybe I just haven’t been looking at anything properly. Especially not him.