Gruff Ass in Love

by Sasha Burke

  “I’m sure as hell not,” I practically snarl.

  Her eyes fly open.

  With her staring at me in shock, I explain in no uncertain terms, “Once I have you, I don’t think the concept of enough will even apply. So stop telling me you’ll be okay with just one night with me, Katelyn. Because I’m not okay with that. I don’t want just one fucking night with you.”

  Before she can respond, before either of us has time to fully process that bomb I just dropped, I hear a couple of my guys enter the barn.

  Instantly, I shut the water off and yank my shirt off the hook to cover her up.

  Brushing a kiss over her parted, still-stunned lips, I tell her quietly, “Like I said, baby. We’ll talk later. For now, just wait here while I go get a spare blanket and my rain slicker to make sure those assholes don’t see an inch of you.”

  Honestly, I have no clue what the hell I’m going to say when we do finally have this talk. But what I do know is that I meant what I just said.

  I’m not going to be okay with just one night with Katelyn. Not now. Not ever.

  15

  | Katelyn |

  We didn’t end up getting to have that talk because the guys needed his help over at Winston’s, which kept him tied up for hours. But, he left me a short and sweet post-it note on my nightstand to apologize before he started his day at dawn like usual.

  As a result, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind all day. But really, who could blame me?

  I don’t want just one fucking night with you.

  I’ve been replaying that part over and over in my head since…all while brutally reminding myself of the cold hard facts where Cade and I are concerned.

  Fact Number One: We haven’t got a thing in common. I’m weird. He’s not. And in the context of our take on the world, I’m soft, he’s hard.

  Then there’s Fact Number Two: I’m pretty sure he’s extremely well-off. While I’m…extremely not.

  Still. When a guy vehemently doesn’t want to have a one-night-stand with you, it’s hard not to fantasize about those cold hard facts just plain not mattering.

  It’s a nice fantasy. A distracting fantasy.

  One that’s even making Shawn, my Cade-mandated ranch guide for the day, take notice.

  “You look happy today.” He grins and yanks on my backpack to keep me from stumbling into the creek—for the third time this morning. “That mean everything’s going good with you and the boss? You been treating him right? Because he’s a good guy, you know. Best boss most of us have ever had.”

  I raise a playful brow at him. “Isn’t it always the friends asking if the guy is treating the girl right, not the other way around?”

  Shawn just scoffs at that. “Please. We all know Cade’s going to treat you right. Not just because that’s the kind of man he is, but because he’s been into you for so long.”

  Huh, today’s guided ranch tour just got a whole lot more interesting. “By ‘so long,’ how long are we talking, exactly?”

  A deep throat-clearing rumble from behind us effectively ends that useful line of questioning.

  Shawn looks up. “Oh. Hey, boss. No worries, we were getting ready to head back soon.”

  Cade gives him a brief nod. “I’ll take over from here. You can head on in. Jonah needs some help with one of the new horses we just got.”

  “Will do.” Shawn turns to wave at me before heading out. “See ya around, Katie-girl.”

  Evil though it may be, I get flooded with a tiny wave of warmth when a swift sound of possessive displeasure gravels out of Cade.

  “Since when do my men call you by nicknames?” he grouses as soon as Shawn’s out of earshot.

  “That’s just Shawn,” I clarify. “Even though I’m older than he is, he says I remind him of his kid sister.”

  At that, Cade visibly relaxes. “Jenna-girl?” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “I suppose you do, a little bit. She’s headstrong like you are. Smart like you, too. Takes after their mom.”

  I’m not surprised Cade knows Shawn’s family members this well. From what I’ve been learning about him through the guys, he takes the time to get to know each of his workers. And in more cases than not, he’s gone out of his way to help out their family in some shape or form. With regard to Shawn’s family, that help was and still is in the form of therapy for little Jenna. “I heard she was here when that visitor died on account of one of the horses. Back before you took over the ranch.”

  “Yeah,” his voice becomes cloaked in sympathy and…something more I can’t quite pinpoint. “Poor girl saw the whole thing. She got real traumatized by it all.”

  I don’t mention that I know he’s been footing her psychologist bills; from what the guys tell me, he’s pretty private about, well, everything. But I am curious about one thing. “I’m surprised you bought the ranch after all that controversy surrounding the place.”

  “I didn’t care about any of that,” he replies. “The last owner was an asshole just looking to make a quick buck by exploiting the wild horses out here, and a good man ended up paying the price trying to protect them from him.”

  Right. The media had had a field day with that. “He was an animal activist or something, wasn’t he? Here protesting the commercialization of the mustang runs?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Heartbreaking story. From the news reports, it wasn’t one of the mustangs; it was a horse one of the ranch guests had been riding—something about the rider getting pissed at the activist guy and starting up a big fight. Somehow, in the chaos following, a couple of the horses got spooked and knocked some folks down, including the rider that started the fight. The activist guy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when he went to help the fallen rider. He took a blow to the head that put him in a coma he never woke up from. “Whatever happened to the horse that kicked him?”

  “I kept him. Rehabilitated him.”

  Of course, he did. Shawn’s right; that’s just the kind of man he is. “That was kind of you. All things considered—”

  “Listen,” he interrupts abruptly. “I don’t really like talking about all this. So if it’s all the same to you, could we change the subject?”

  I take a step back, surprised by the harshness in his tone. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him sound like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Wanting to give him some space, I turn to collect up my things.

  “Katelyn—”

  Seeing his apologetic expression, I quickly reassure him, “Cade, I wasn’t trying to be all passive aggressive and guilt you or anything. I really am sorry for being so nosy. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not so good about seeing the boundary lines when it comes to this place.”

  That makes the corner of his mouth twitch.

  Good. With that cleared up, I resume my packing then, which he comes over to help out with.

  We work in silence for a few minutes before he tells me quietly, “The guy who died out here that day…” His voice breaks down with emotion, the audible grief almost overwhelming as he says the absolute last thing I expect to hear. “He was my younger brother.”

  I don’t know how to respond, so for once, I just remain silent, and hope that my being here to listen will be enough.

  “For months after he died, people still kept coming around to take videos of the mustang run. In fact, the got even more foot traffic, sick as that sounds. But with the insurance hassles and the lawsuits from all the guests that got injured that day, the owner needed to sell. So I bought the whole place from him before it foreclosed. I didn’t want to risk it going to someone else.”

  With a disgusted headshake Cade scans the acres of his property. “That guy had no business buying this ranch to begin with. He didn’t know the first thing about horses or taking care of this land. Hell, he didn’t even live on the property. Heard he just swooped in when the previous owners were struggling to make ends meet and made them an offer that was jus
t barely decent.”

  Yeah. Something like that.

  Somehow, I don’t think now’s the time to tell Cade they’d already shut off our power before we took the offer from the man responsible for his brother’s death.

  And truth be told, I don’t know if there will ever be a right time.

  Grief, shame, and about a hundred other varieties of torment flicker over his expression as he continues, “After our parents died, I made sure my brother had everything he needed financially. He was just this really good guy, you know? A better man than me. Always wanting to save the planet. And though I never once hesitated to help fund his different projects, the last few years before he died, I’d been working too hard to spend any actual time with him. Too busy to tell him every day how proud I was of the man he’d become.”

  “You can’t beat yourself about that,” I reason gently, finally speaking up. Because if there’s one thing I know about, it’s surviving dead loved ones. “You supported him and the things that were important to him. In the absence of words, actions matter, Cade. Your actions mattered.”

  “Still doesn’t excuse my not being around more.”

  I study his tortured expression and see so clearly now how the weight of his brother’s death has been weighing on his broad shoulders. “That’s why you walked away from your life in the city to become a rancher, isn’t it?”

  He looks up at me in surprise.

  “The guys mentioned it once. They said you used to be some business guy in a suit before.”

  For some reason, that description seems to make his tense frame ease a bit. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “I don’t have a single regret about leaving. But, I’ll spend my entire life regretting that I didn’t do it sooner. If I had, if I’d given up that life earlier and not laughed off my brother’s suggestion that we run a ranch together like we’d always said we would as kids, maybe he’d still be alive.”

  I can’t even begin to imagine what he went through, what he’s obviously still going through every day. I know nothing I say can give him comfort. So, I do what I always do when life seems bigger than what I can understand.

  “Do you want to cut that geode you found now?” I reach into my backpack and pull it out, along with my handheld saw. “There’s nothing quite like cutting open your first geode without accidentally severing a fingertip.”

  He gazes at me with the very beginnings of a smile. “You’re such a strange, amusing creature.”

  “Thanks.” I smile and hand him the geode. As I set up an area for him to use the saw, I ask curiously, “So, where did you say you found this?”

  “On the northeast quadrant, just past a creek beyond the trees. At the base of the farthest hill on my property.”

  “Makes sense. If there would be any area that could be a potential geode bed, it’d likely be there.” Granddad used to find a lot of different minerals out that way. “I’ve actually never been over in that quadrant to see for myself.”

  He frowns. “Why not? Aren’t these things worth some money?”

  “Because, that area is on the other side of the clearing the mustangs run,” I say softly. “And I know how you feel about people disturbing them.”

  “Hell, Katelyn. I can take you out there one of these days if you want to—”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I’m out here looking for.” It’s important to me that he knows that. Whether he believes it is up to him.

  Making a chalk line for him to follow with the saw, I step back and let him take it from there.

  When the unassuming rock splits in half down the middle, even I’m surprised to see the interior.

  “Would you look at that?” Cade whistles.

  Most of the geodes I’ve cut before have all looked like hollow rocks with chunks of crystal lining its walls. But this…it’s like art. The entire rock looks like it’s been filled with resin, with ribbons of color, vivid oranges and blues, layered in concentric rings all the way to the center.

  “It’s a thunderegg,” I say softly, tracing each ring of color with my index finger. “They’re sort of like a filled geode. The different layers of colors show you what sort of minerals have been in the surrounding ground and water over the years.” That’s why Granddad always used to call geodes the prettiest history books of the land around us.

  I smile up at Cade. “This is a collection piece for sure. I’ve got some extra display boxes that’ll fit on your mantle, if you’re interested.”

  Cade’s eyes are glued to mine when he hands me both halves of the thunderegg. “You keep them. They mean more to you.”

  “What? No. These are too valuable; I can’t accept.”

  “No offense, but these are just rocks to me. I want you to have them. In fact, no more taking pictures of rocks out here. If there’s a rock you want for your collection, just take it. It’s yours. I don’t care if you find gemstones or meteor fragments. What you find, you keep.”

  I can’t possibly let him do that. And I start to tell him so, but the alarm on my phone goes off before I can.

  He immediately starts helping me pack up. “Are you going to be late for work? I can drop you off if you need. The library and the fabric store are both on the way to the feed store, which is where I’m headed later.”

  Me and my glorious part-time jobs. “I actually don’t work for a few days. That alarm is for a meeting I have with my grad program advisor today.”

  Knowing he’ll just say no if I try to give him back the two thunderegg halves again, I compromise and give him back one. “You keep one, and I’ll keep one. Deal?”

  Before he can argue, I stuff his half in his jacket pocket and quickly redirect the conversation. “Hey, what did you and your brother like to eat when you’d go visit your grandparents’ ranch? Hands down favorite meal.”

  A small, quiet smile tilts his mouth. “Chicken pot pie. Definitely.”

  Mentally, I take inventory of the fridge and pantry to make sure I have all the necessary ingredients. Thankfully, I do. “Then that’s what we’ll have tonight when I get back.”

  He stares at me for a long second. “You take me by surprise all the time, you know that? Normally I don’t like surprises.”

  “But you like my surprises?” I ask, my voice no louder than a whisper.

  “More and more every day, sweetheart. Though to be honest, I suspect that has more to do with you than the surprises themselves.”

  The warm fuzzies that hit me as a result practically float me all the way to the university.

  Being in the final research phase of my master’s degree means I get a lot more control over my schedule, which in my case, means I hardly go to campus anymore. Even the bulk of the work I do as a research assistant to keep my partial scholarship, I get to do remotely. So, really, the only times I ever roam the halls of the geology department now is to see my program advisor.

  “Hey, Professor Cooper. Sorry I’m late.” Getting seated in the office of my mentor, who’s become like a second dad to me over the past six years, I start off this meeting like I do all of our meetings. “So, I’m still not quite ready for you to read my thesis…”

  He doesn’t even pretend to look surprised anymore.

  “Katelyn, that research fellowship up north isn’t going to be around forever.”

  “I know.” The post-master’s field research in Northern California definitely sounds like an amazing experience that I’ll undoubtedly learn a lot from. But…

  He sighs, reading the expression on my face with uncanny accuracy. “The non-fieldwork part isn’t half as bad as you’re imagining it’s going to be.”

  So he keeps telling me.

  The thing is, while I love studying rocks, I really don’t want to ‘research’ them per se. Or write about them. Or take time away from them to do the other things normal, society-contributing geologists do.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, meaning it a hundred percent. He’s be
en so patient with me even though I’ve never fit the traditional grad student mold.

  He smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Honestly, if I loved rocks the way you do, I’d probably be as happy as a clam being a professional student, too.”

  Clearing some space off his desk, he taps the surface expectantly. “Okay, let’s see it. If you’re not here to finally graduate and show the world how brilliant a mentor I am, the least you can do is show me the specimen you have in your bag.”

  I sit up and unzip my backpack. “How did you know?”

  “Because you keep petting your bag the way those women who carry around those toy dogs do. Figured in your case, it has to be a rock.”

  He knows me well.

  Professor Cooper puts my half of the thunderegg under a light to examine each ring of color. “I can’t say for certain without a mass spec readout, but I typically only see this coloring in mineral layers out of Oregon, which makes this specimen all the more fascinating. I can get you a full mineral report if you’d like. And a buddy of mine should be able to pull up more detailed land history records for you.”

  I look at him in surprise before quickly handing him the thunderegg to run his tests on. “That would be amazing. How come you’ve never offered to get me the land records before?” He’s literally the only still-living person I’ve ever talked to about having lived on Cade’s land back when I was a kid.

  I hate to think the only reason he’s offering to help now is because he thinks there may be something of value to find.

  From the quintessentially parental look he lays on me then, it’s obvious that’s not the case.

  “Katelyn, the only reason why I haven’t offered to do more to support your trespassing habits is because frankly, I’ve been concerned you’ve been freezing yourself in your past, and not living life in the present.”

  I suppose that’s a fair assessment. “So then why are you helping me now?”

  “Because I’m not worried about you anymore. The ranch owner and all his ranch hands, that old neighbor next door to them, even the wild animals you visit with during your break-ins—you’ve been talking about them nonstop for the past couple of months. Something you’ve never done in all the years I’ve known you. They’re all part of your life now, they’re all filling your life now.”