Page 8 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Five

Cole

A T FIRST I THOUGHT she was just shy, but as I watch her run up the sloped drive to the house, I can’t get her reactions out of my head. The way she startles like a colt in a thunderstorm is impossible to miss. Like she’s scared of me. Or just scared in general.

She reaches the house and starts to walk again, her butt wiggling in those jeans in a way I can’t help but appreciate, as she tacks right to go around the outside of the house to her bedroom, rather than through the front door.

I go the opposite direction, leading Rowdy to the stables, handing him over to Ben, one of our ranch hands who cares for the horses.

Inside, I shower, letting the hot water run over my stiff shoulders and back, dousing me all over before I flick off the faucet and step out, wrapping a towel low on my waist and striding to the large French doors of my own room—directly across the courtyard from Beth’s.

I stand there a beat, wondering about her, wondering about her life, and what brought a bookkeeper from New York all the way to Coyote Creek Ranch for a three-month contract.

A frown tugs at my lips. I presume Reagan got references, did all the usual due diligence, given that the woman’s been moved into the house.

As another one of dad’s strays, Reagan has a soft spot for someone in need, and it’s not impossible to believe that she took pity on Beth in some way.

Hell, I can feel myself taking pity on her and that’s something I will fight against with my dying breath.

I don’t have time to channel my dad’s penchant for wanting to make everything better for everyone.

Not now. The ranch is a big enough challenge—it’s something I don’t know I’ll be able to save, though God knows I’ll die trying.

Which means forgetting all about Beth Tasker and leaving her alone to do her work.

It’s only three months; how hard could it be to avoid her for that small amount of time?

Beth

I tap the pen against the edge of my desk, scanning the overdue notice from the feed shop. There’s a hand written note to Reagan on top of it.

Presume you missed this one in all the baby excitement. If you can make payment as soon as possible, we’d be mighty grateful. Sue-Anne.

The amount makes my eyes water. Then again, feeding this many cows through a dry summer would cost a fair bit.

What do I know about ranching, anyway? I reach for the check book and start filling it out, as the door behind me opens, and I turn on autopilot to see Cole standing there, a look of consternation on his face.

I sit up straighter, my stomach in very familiar knots. Because there’s a tightening in his expression that makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d still be here,” he says.

He looks like he’s just come in off the land.

Wearing dust-covered jeans and a plaid shirt, holding his light brown hat in one hand, his hair is a little damp with perspiration, and his brow has a smudge across it that my fingertips suddenly tingle to swipe away.

I clasp my hands firmly in my lap to get rid of the feeling.

“I just had a last few things to tidy up,” I say, nodding toward my desk. And to fill the silence, I add, “I got this overdue notice from the feed store—the original bill probably came in around when Reagan had her baby, so I guess she must have missed it.”

His eyes lock to mine and his jaw seems to clench. More butterflies. Fear is an easy response for me, even when I know I’m not actually afraid of Cole, so much as what I know anyone can become capable of.

I’m safe. I’m safe.

“I’ll post it,” I say. “Or I can take it into town tomorrow, if you’d like. I want to get some running gear anyway.”

“I’ll do it,” he says, holding out his hand.

I pass the check to him, and almost jump out of my skin when our fingers brush and something like electricity seems to explode through my body, hot and powerful.

I quickly tuck my hand in my lap, concentrate on my breathing and trying not to look like I’m losing the plot.

But his eyes bore into mine and a frown tugs at his lips, like he’s struggling with this, too.

Or something. He folds the check in half then in half again and slides it into his top pocket, all without looking away.

“It’s hot today,” I say, wishing I didn’t have a pathological need to fill silence around Cole.

“Sure is.” He rubs a hand along the back of his neck.

He probably gets a sore neck, sore shoulders, sore muscles all over.

Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s just how I would feel if I was out riding horses and jumping fences or whatever it is cowboys do all day.

It’s funny, I really have no idea what his day involves—it’s not something I’ve ever thought about.

“I got this for you.” He shoves the hat in my direction. At first, I don’t take it, then, my fingers reach out and curve around the soft felted brim.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Looking down at the hat, I can see my assumption was wrong. This isn’t his hat, but rather, a brand new one, with the tag still attached.

“It’s what you wear out here.”

“I’m only here for three months,” I say, to remind myself, as much as anything.

He shrugs, carelessly. “Three months is three months.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay, well, thanks.” I put the hat on my desk quickly.

“You know, you never answered my question, the other day, Beth,” he says, and the air in the office seems a little thin, all of a sudden, making it hard to properly inflate my lungs.

“Which question?”

I feel like he’s moved closer to me. I can see pilled lint on his shirt—just a little, a few white flecks on his broad shoulder. My fingers spark with an instinct to lift up and brush it away. I can just imagine how hard and warm he’d feel through the fabric.

“What brings you all the way to our ranch?”

My lips part on a rush of breath. I do remember him asking that, and I remember fobbing him off. It’s not an unreasonable thing to ask, but I don’t have an easy answer to give him. “I saw the ad online and just applied,” I say, knowing I’ve left a thousand things out.

He nods slowly. “They run out of bookkeeping jobs in New York?”

My lips twist sideways in a grim acknowledgement of his logic. “Have you ever been to New York, Cole?” I realize I haven’t used his name very often, and that I really like saying it.

He shakes his head, eyes still resting on mine.

I lift a finger to my necklace and hook it through the chain, pulling it from one side to the other.

“Well, I’ve lived there pretty much all my life,” I say.

“Born there, went to school there, college as well. I love that place, but sometimes, it feels so big, so loud, so over-built and over-crowded, that I can hardly breathe.” I turn my back on him to look out the window, at the dusk-draped ranch.

This is my favorite time of day.

The landscape of Coyote Creek Ranch is always striking, but right now, it’s particularly so, with the fields turning a shade of silver gray, the sky vibrant with tendrils of purple and orange streaking across a mauve background that’s darkening by the minute, showing a soft blanket of stars beginning to sparkle.

The enormous trees at the edge of the property are mere silhouettes now, somehow imbued with a kind of magic.

“I just wanted to come somewhere I could breathe a little, and stay a while.” I shrug, not even caring that I probably just gave away more than I’d intended.

“Do you miss home?”

I flinch at the mention of home.

It conjures the most jarring, awful image.

After Christopher died, I stayed in our apartment.

Where else would I go? I have no family, other than Christopher’s sister—my one-time best friend—and Elsie has no idea about what our marriage was really like.

Spending time with her was as hard as it was being with anyone else, because I had to fake it.

Fake my grief, my sense of loss, all to protect the man they thought of as ‘perfect’.

A shudder rolls through me. The idea of going back to that place fills me with ice, and I make the snap decision, then and there, that I won’t do it.

It’s strangely freeing.

I mean, I have money. I can go anywhere. Do anything. I can sell the penthouse, or donate it to a refugee charity or something—let someone else live there and make use of it.

I’m no longer bound by the misery of my marriage. No longer trapped by a sadistic bastard of a man.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, voice deep, and right behind me.

I know, without turning, that he’s come to stand and look at the view, too.

A quick refocusing of my eyes shows his outline in the reflection of the window, and yes, he’s close to me.

My pulse ratchets up, so my heart is uncomfortable in the narrowness of my ribcage.

“I guess you’d miss this place if you ever had to leave,” I murmur, diverting the conversation away from myself.

He expels a sigh, and I feel it against my neck. Every part of me flips into a weird sort of overdrive, an explosion of awareness makes it seem like an alarm is going off in my head.

“Bet your boots.”

A smile tugs at my lips, because it’s such a sweet, folksy way to agree with me, but there’s nothing sweet about this rugged rancher.

“Tell me, Beth, you got anyone waiting for you back home?”

My heart jolts right up into my throat. The question isn’t totally out of place.

I mean, I’m here, living in his home, working at close quarters with him, dealing with the finances of his family ranch, and people out this way probably live by those old-fashioned sort of manners that mean they treat each other like open books.

It’s a far cry from the society I was a part of in New York.

I falter, trying to choose my words. “I—no,” I say, after a too-long pause. “Not really.”

“Not really?” He’s still so close. If I were to lean back, I’d be pressed against that solid wall of muscle.

What would it feel like to just surrender to that temptation?

To lean on someone strong and unbreakable.

I’ve had to be strong, on my own, for so long.

I can’t even imagine how good it would be to let someone like Cole be my strength for a while.

The thought terrifies me.

It’s completely out of character. I don’t trust anyone.

Not after Christopher. God, I learned that lesson.

I learned it hard and fast, and I never forgot it during our marriage; I’ll never forget it, the rest of my life.

Not when I lived with the consequences of that mistake for so many god-awful days and nights.

I turn around, needing to say something, to explain, but damn it, he’s right there and up close, there’s a pull toward him that’s almost magnetic. I try to swallow but there’s a lump in my throat that won’t quit.

“I don’t have any family,” I say, and don’t move, even though that was my plan when I spun around.

He nods slowly. “That must be kinda lonely.”

If only he knew the half of it.

“I can’t imagine, truth be told.”

My lips pull sideways. We’re toe-to-toe but neither of us moves. “Well, that’s because you grew up in a big family,” I point out. “It was probably always pretty noisy.”

“Noisy, stinky, whatever word you can think of, we were it,” he grins and my heart thwomps in my chest. He is way too handsome. “My mom, may she rest in peace, had the patience of a saint.”

I open my mouth to ask about his mom, but before I can say anything, he pushes on, almost like he’s trying to avoid the question.

“So, you’re heading into town tomorrow?” he asks, and it takes me a second to join the dots and work out what he’s talking about. Then I remember the check I’d offered to run to the feed store.

“In the afternoon, if I get through here.” I hesitate, something familiar chilling my veins a moment. “Is that okay with you?”

He looks at me like I’ve just asked if he wants steak tartare for dinner. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Heat floods my cheeks. He’s not Christopher and I really need to recognize that.

“I just—thought you might need me here.”

His eyes flare, I’m absolutely sure of it. For the smallest second, our eyes meet and the heat of his gaze almost scorches me from the inside out. Every cell in my body seems to be trembling, and my breasts tingle against the lace of my bra. I try to swallow, but my throat still won’t cooperate.

“You just said you’d only go if you get through your work.”

That’s true; I had said that.

“Seeing as you’re gonna be in Goodnight anyway, come on by and eat with us.”

Goodnight is the nearest town—about a ten minute drive from the ranch. I drove through it on my way here. It’s adorable. Almost like a movie set with its historic wild-west feel Main Street. I’m tempted by the offer, yet I just know I can’t agree.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?”

“I mean, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just—,” I bite into my lower lip. God, he is a really beautiful specimen of man and if I was the same person I’d been before Christopher, I would so be jumping his bones right now.

Or at least agreeing to dinner. But there’s too much water under the bridge of my life for me to just pretend it hasn’t happened. “I can’t,” I repeat.

“It’s just dinner with the crew.”

I shake my head. I’m terrified by how strongly appealing I find that offer.

“Austin, Beau, Mack, Caleb—I don’t know if you’ve met him?—a few of the others, like Hank Callahan from over the road.”

I sigh. “You’re being really nice, Cole, but I’m not interested,” I lie. “I came here to do a job. I don’t want to make friends.”

His thick, dark brows lift with surprise, first, then confusion. “You got too many already?”

I can’t help the humorless half laugh that escapes. “Oh, yeah. Miss Popularity over here.”

“It’s just a feed. A few friends, sitting down in a bar, chewin’ the fat, after a long-ass week.” He shrugs. “But suit yourself.”

“Thanks,” I shake my head a little. “You have fun though.” And finally, I take a little sidestep and move around him, toward the door of our shared office.

When my hand touches the knob, he says, “If you change your mind, we’ll be at The Silver Spur.”

I leave the office with total confidence that wild horses wouldn’t drag me to a bar to spend the night with my sexier than sin boss and his loud, friendly family.