Page 8 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

R apping my knuckles on the wooden doorframe, I hover outside Tessa’s office while she finishes up a phone call.

Through the glass of the ranch slider, she gives me a wave and holds up two fingers.

Gimme two minutes . Simultaneously, she flashes me one of those endless smiles the woman seems to so generously hand out to anyone she encounters.

From the covered porch outside her office, there’s an uninterrupted panoramic view of the mountains reaching into the sky.

All purple-tipped, swirled with mist, and dusted with powdered sugar snowfall along the craggy tops.

Carpeting the lower slopes, yellows and bronzes of the season crawl up from ground level.

As my eyes drift across the landscape, they reach the spot over in the distance where the copper shard of Crimson Ridge itself climbs above the town, like a blade.

Further along the line of windows and doors of the main house, a group of guests occupy the outdoor furniture as they sit around drinking their afternoon coffee and chatting.

Looks like a group of retirees vacationing together.

This place is only getting more popular by the minute.

It’s no wonder Beau has plans to build additional cabins and extend the facilities to cater to the growing demand.

That’s one of the things I make a mental note of needing to talk to him about—how many extra horses he’s likely to need by the time next summer rolls around.

At present, they have ten quarter horses suitable for taking on treks and letting novice riders loose on the ranch.

With how busy the place is getting, it’d be a wise investment to look at adding to the stables sooner rather than later so the animals don’t struggle physically with the workload.

It’s different operating as a rancher, completely in tune with your horse’s needs, rather than being a tourist unfamiliar with animals, merely hopping on for a novelty day trip.

Part of what I do is to make sure none of them have picked up injuries that might have gone unnoticed by their rider.

The kind that, if left unchecked, can become a massive fucking problem real quick.

A stressed horse is the last thing any of us want to be dealing with.

There’s a rolling, stuttered, creaking noise when the door at my back slides open. A gust of warm air hits as Tessa beckons me inside.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Although, you don’t need to hang about being an awkward duckling. You can just barge in here any time, you know.” Tessa pokes at the shoulder of my jacket and then wanders back over to her desk, leaving me to follow behind.

I linger with one fist wrapped around the handle.

“Oh, god, this again? You and your cowboy manners. Stop worrying about your boots coming inside.” She flaps a wrist at me. “Why do you think I chose the hardwood floor? Get your ass in here and shut that door to keep the heat in.”

Giving her a raised eyebrow, I follow her orders, but even so, double-check to make sure I’m not about to track horse shit in with me. Tessa might be accommodating, but I’m not gonna be that asshole.

“Got paperwork to add to your collection.” I hand over the stack of invoices and receipts and nod in the direction of the tray stacked with other similar pieces of paper.

It’s enough to make me shudder, yet this woman isn’t phased by any of it.

Just takes it off my hands like the angel she is.

Tessa Diaz is the type of person who can turn her hand to anything and make it successful, I’m sure of it.

Pretty sure that’s why she and Beau have worked so well together for as long as they have.

They might be siblings, but without question support each other and operate as a rock-solid unit. .. a team.

“So, when were you gonna tell me?” She swivels in her chair, scoots across the floorboards, and props her slippers up on the stool beside her desk. An immediate flood of relief settles on her face at having her feet elevated.

My brain is already composing a text to Beau to make sure he’s underway with those plans to get in extra help, and ensure she’s not overdoing it while running around the ranch unsupervised.

“And what might that be?” I scratch at my beard. My pulse does a stupid thing where it thuds a little harder, because this is a conversation I’ve been avoiding over the past week... well, until now, I’m guessing.

Her grin broadens. “Kayce is your brother? C’mon, I know you’re a man of few words and all, but for the love of rodeo, how could you not tell me?” She feigns a pout and holds both hands over her heart. “I thought you said I was your favorite person on this ranch.”

“You’re basically the only person on this ranch.” My palm wraps around the back of my neck.

“Don’t go insinuating you prefer the horses to me. I know they’re your only soft spot, but at least let me live in blissful ignorance.” She teases, and I let out a sigh.

Tessa drops her palms to rest over the swell of her stomach, evident through the dress she’s wearing.

“So . . . you guys are family?”

“Stepbrothers.” I bite out.

Her lips twist. “You never mentioned you knew each other.”

“I didn’t know.” Shifting my weight, I’m already trying to figure out how to exit this conversation as quickly as possible. “Didn’t know he lived here in Crimson Ridge, I mean.”

“Oh?”

Her expression says it all. She’s so damn close with Beau; I’m certain it’s impossible for a family like theirs to understand all the ways I’ve tried to outrun my own.

Clearing my throat, I shove my hands in my pockets. “Look, we ain’t close. Kayce and I? We’re too different. We just never got on.” Shooting a firm glance at Tessa, I add. “But I won’t let that affect how things run here, I can promise you.”

She cocks her head to one side and gives me a thoughtful look.

“Well, maybe things will be different now? Kayce really seems to have straightened himself out. I don’t know firsthand or anything, but I heard he went through a rough patch.

Now? He’s a doll with the guests; they adore him as a guide, and he’s been doing well since he cleaned himself up. ”

I sniff. “Good for him.” Yeah, I’m about ready to be done with this conversation.

Tessa’s eyes shine a little brighter as she smiles. “Maybe you two might have more in common now you’re older? Wiser and more mellow and all that shit.”

“Sure.” If there’s one thing I know about Kayce Wilder, it’s that he might have changed on the outside, but I know the truth of him.

There’s no hiding what still lies beneath the surface, the reality behind that golden boy smile.

“Anyway, I better get back out there.” Jerking my head in the direction of the door, my exit is made that much easier when Tessa’s phone rings again.

“Ok. Bye, grump.” She laughs and, before she picks up the phone, calls after me. “Can you send Storm over here once he’s finished up? I’m gonna pull the exhausted pregnant woman card. Hauling this bowling ball over to the barn today sounds way too tiring.”

“Will do.”

An uncomfortable feeling sits squarely on my chest. Walking away, Tessa’s words are still ringing in my ears about Kayce and how she thinks he’s sorted his life out. One thing I wasn’t prepared for was how goddamn frequently the guy turns up.

This time of year is a boon for fall photographers, tourists, and visitors to Sunset Skies Ranch in general, which means that the demand for guided horse treks and trail rides is in peak swing.

So it feels like every damn time I turn around, his black truck is rolling up outside the barn.

Each day, while I’m trying to mind my business and get work done, he’s there somewhere, laughing and smiling.

The boy with the blue eyes, blond head of hair, and boundless charm .

Of course, it’s all for show. Inside, he’s scared, and he’s never been able to confront that part of himself, so he conceals it. Always damn well hiding away and expecting everyone around him to pick up the pieces.

It’s easy enough to be busy, to keep my head down and focus on what I gotta do, but it pisses me off that we’ve been obliged to see so much of each other.

I take a few deep inhales, feeling the mountain air expand my lungs. A cool freshness laden with the added moisture that fall brings. It’s one of those days when everything glistens with little pearls of water droplets, and low-lying mist shrouds the ranch like a shawl.

This is the kind of weather that swirls and hangs about, nipping at your heels. An ever-present reminder that winter is about to purse her lips and start blowing those first icy kisses our way any time she pleases.

Outside the barn, the Devil’s Peak Farriers’ truck is parked up, and it’s easy to spot where St?rmand Lane is currently working. A shower of orange sparks burst into the air above his head, and his welding mask reflects the red-hot glow of metal as he works.

He’s got the usual pulse of thrumming music in the background, and one of the horses is hitched on the rail with a bag of feed hanging beside their head. As I get closer, I see a familiar spiked mane of white hair flash behind him.

Of course, the Duchess herself is glued to her boyfriend, supervising every move he makes from up close.

“Everything going ok over here?” I ask once I’m within earshot, and Storm’s piercing blue gaze meets my own. He picks up a horseshoe and gives me a wink.

“You know me. Keeping out of trouble.” The guy smirks, and strolls to the horse waiting for him.

“How are you settling since we last spoke?” He keeps talking as he bends over and catches one hoof between his thighs to rest on his chaps.

With all the fluent, practiced efficiency of a man who could do this in his sleep, he collects up a few nails in his mouth, whips out a hammer from his tool belt, and begins to quickly drive them in one by one to secure the horseshoe.