by Claire Adams
I rolled my eyes in irritation. “So, this whole entire thing was a ploy then? I should’ve known you were up to your usual tricks.”
“Always, dear brother,” she said as she winked playfully at me. “In all seriousness though, I did invite her to stay until we know she can at least protect herself in case something happens again.”
“She doesn’t own a gun?” I asked. “I mentioned getting a security camera to put in the barn.”
“Does Cheyenne look like the type of person who knows how to even hold a gun? Let alone shoot one?”
Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I knew that Tiffany had a point. As tough and proud as Cheyenne could be, she couldn’t protect herself very well again a person, or even a wild animal.
“I’ll rectify that,” I said. “I don’t need to go in until later this afternoon for the dinner rush.”
Tiffany smiled, visibly pleased.
“Teach her well,” she said and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Colt. I don’t care what Bill Coates says about you.”
It was cold outside when I made my way down to the barn after watching Tiffany drive down the road. Cheyenne looked up from the red mare she was brushing when I entered the barn to find her in one of the horse stalls. A shy smile spread across her lips.
“Morning,” she said.
“Good morning,” I said, and reached out a hand to let the mare nuzzle my palm in search of a treat. “Did Rick show you where everything was?”
“He did. Thank you again for letting me be here—and rent-free at that.”
“Not a problem. Stay as long as you like.”
“The insurance company called yesterday. They’re going to have a claims adjustor out next week to look at the barn.” She continued with her gentle brushing and pats on the mare’s belly. “I’m not sure what to tell my grantors. I’m afraid I’d lose them if they knew where I was staying.”
“I wouldn’t say anything until the barn is redone,” I advised, scratching the mare between her ears when she snorted into my hand in disappointment. “They don’t need to know unless you plan on never rebuilding the barn.”
“I want to,” she said. “I love it here in Green Point. I’m not giving up on my dreams just because of one man.”
She tilted her chin up and looked at me with such fierceness that it startled me. I had no idea if she meant Bill Coates, or if it was the man who—according to Tiffany—chased her out of her hometown. Any thought I had about asking dissipated when a guarded expression completely changed her face. Instead, I changed the topic to what Tiffany brought up earlier.
“When you’re done here, I was thinking I could teach you something new,” I said. “Something that would benefit you in the future.”
That piqued Cheyenne’s interest. She looked up at me curiously, her dark braid swinging around her shoulders as she straightened up from brushing the mare’s underbelly.
“Such as?”
“You’ll see,” I said, and smiled at her. “Rick will be here soon to help out with the horses, too.” I caught the hesitant look on her face. “You don’t have to worry about them when he is here. I trust Rick completely with this ranch, Cheyenne. You can trust him too.”
“Where are the rest of your ranch hands?” Cheyenne asked. “I noticed Rick is the only one here besides you and Tiffany.”
The lack of sleep from the night before didn’t help my mood which instantly soured at the memory of a couple of ranch hands searching through things in my father’s office.
“I couldn’t trust them,” I said darkly. “I’ll bring on workers as we need them.”
“Oh.” Cheyenne looked down at the stall floor, visibly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to pry, Colt. I’m sorry. I was just curious about it.”
I sucked in a deep breath to regain control of myself. “No, I’m sorry, you’re fine. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I had a bad night.”
Opening the stall door, I hooked a finger on the mare’s bridle to lead her out, despite Cheyenne’s protests. She stopped when she realized the mare wasn’t pulling back out of fear and followed us out to the fields.
“You think I don’t know how to handle an abused horse?” I asked, amused by the shocked look on her face. “Come on. Follow me.”
Cheyenne followed me across the field to the edge where the land sloped down to a small pond the horses enjoyed an occasional drink from. I pointed to where I had placed a few bottles on some fence posts before pulling out my .9mm to hand over to her.
“You’re going to practice some gun safety,” I said.
Panic filled Cheyenne’s eyes as she pushed the gun away gingerly with a grimace.
“I’m all for guns,” she said. “I’m just not into using them myself. I trust people.”
I put the lead over the right side of the horse to make her stay. I didn’t want her running off on us. She was abused and skittish, but she also seemed to do good at going with the flow of things. I just hoped the gun wasn’t going to scare her off, I was a little worried about that.
“You trust people too much,” I said, and pulled out some earplugs. “Here. Put these in so you don’t go deaf in the process.”
“How will I hear you then?”
Our fingers brushed when Cheyenne took them from me. I waited until she pushed them into her ears before I took my stance behind her. Taking a deep breath, I placed my arms around Cheyenne’s slim body and encouraged her to grab the .9mm by showing her how to properly hold the gun. The smell of her soap filled my nose with cinnamon and vanilla when her braid brushed up against my face.
Every single one of my muscles coiled. It was tempting to drop my arms and smooth my hands along the soft curve of her waist. The recoil of the gun caused Cheyenne’s body to jerk back against mine in surprise at the force. She kept ahold of the gun though and turned to give me an excited look that instantly brought a smile to my face.
I didn’t mind the feel of her firm ass pushing up against my groin briefly either. I let her shoot a few more rounds, enjoying the closeness of her slender body next to mine.
Before I could savor the closeness, I felt my phone buzzing from inside my jacket pocket. I took the gun back from Cheyenne as she pulled out her earplugs with a confused frown.
“Tiffany’s calling,” I explained when I looked at my phone. “She hardly ever calls. Let me see what’s going on with her real quick.”
“Of course,” Cheyenne said. She took a step back to give me some space, even though it wasn’t needed.
“What’s up? You okay Tif?”
“Um, sort of.”
Concern shot through me at the tension in Tiffany’s voice. I looked over at Cheyenne who returned my stare in concern.
“What’s going on?” I asked, clicking on the safety of my gun before holstering it. “What happened?”
“I was trying to get to the top of a bookshelf. The shelf wasn’t… it wasn’t secured to the wall.” Voices echoed in the background. “I’m okay. It fell on my leg, but there was a tourist here who helped me. They called 911.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” I demanded, running a hand through my hair in aggravation. “Hang on; I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I should be at the hospital by then,” she said, then groaned into the phone. “I think it’s broken, Colt. I can’t feel it. I can’t even move it.”
Turning on my heel, I jogged back up the hill with Cheyenne right behind me. I caught sight of Rick’s truck parked right behind me and gritted my teeth.
“I’ll meet you at the hospital then,” I said. “Call me if something else happens. Tell those paramedics to call me.”
“What’s going on?” Cheyenne cried out, grabbing ahold my arm. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, no. I’m not sure. She was climbing up a bookcase, and it fell on her leg somehow. They’re taking her to the hospital right now. Her leg might be broken.” I fished through my pockets desperately looking for my truck keys.
&
nbsp; “Where are my damn keys? Why the hell is Rick blocking me in?”
“Colt.”
I stopped at the sharpness in Cheyenne’s voice. She took my hand in hers, squeezing it gently as she guided me in the direction of her truck.
“I’ll drive,” she said. “You need to calm down. Look, the paramedics are there, right? She’s in good hands right now.”
She opened the passenger door for me, and I got in, somewhat perplexed. I never accepted help or handouts of any kind. One thing I prided myself on was being the person who could help others and be the rock in a time of crisis. It struck a chord in me when Cheyenne climbed into the driver’s seat, and I realized that I appreciated having someone there to help.
Not caring if it was crossing a line, I reached out to touch her hand as she pulled out onto the highway in the direction of the hospital. Our fingers threaded together, and a bolt of pleasure went through me. I caught Cheyenne’s gaze briefly before it returned to the road in front of her.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I pressed a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles, savoring the taste of her skin. It didn’t escape my notice that she didn’t pull away. Her fingers squeezed tightly instead.
Chapter 9
Cheyenne
“Come on, just a little more, please?”
I looked away, cupping a hand over my mouth to smother my laughter at the irritated glare that Colt sent Tiffany.
“You can’t have anymore,” he said, impatiently. “If you have more, you’ll never wake up again.”
Tiffany shot him a dirty look as she flourished a hand at her leg. Braces and splints held it still and together until surgery tomorrow morning. It was hard to look at it without grimacing.
“You’re shitting me, right? Try having your leg broken and living with it.”
Colt didn’t bat an eyelash as he scrolled through his phone. “I won’t have that problem because I don’t get the brilliant idea to climb bookshelves that aren’t attached to the wall.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No,” Colt replied, speaking steadily without sparing her a glance. “I just know you’ve already had enough morphine to knock out five horses.”
“Who told you that?” Tiffany asked, glowering up at him. “Why are you even here? The ranch needs you. We can’t both be gone. You need to balance the books and all that.”
Colt looked up from his phone, exasperated. “I know that. We’re just here to check up on you before we head back to Green Point.”
Tiffany flopped back against her pillow with an aggravated huff.
“You know what your problem is? You need to get laid,” she mumbled, eyes rolling back when the machine next to her pumped another dose in. “I know that Cheyenne will gladly help in that department. Cheyenne!”
My cheeks were burning as Colt looked down at Tiffany with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.
She reached out a hand to me, as she looked up at me pleadingly. “Please, please help him. He won’t be such an ass afterward, I’m sure of it. Do it for all of us.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Colt as he sighed loudly. My heart pounded as Tiffany let go of my hand then, finally letting the painkillers take hold.
“You believe that? She can’t handle anything,” Colt said. “Don’t take any of it personally when she’s intoxicated, or apparently, high on morphine.”
“Duly noted,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “I suppose we should head back to the ranch, huh? They said she’ll have surgery tomorrow, right?”
“To put a pin in, yes. Or a rod maybe, I’m not sure. Anyway, she’ll be medicated all night to keep her comfortable.”
I watched as Colt leaned over the hospital bed to brush some of Tiffany’s fair hair. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and it warmed my heart to see the affection in his eyes. It also brought back the memory of Colt’s soft lips pressed up against the back of my knuckles and the way he had held my hand the entire time we walked through the hospital parking lot. Tiffany had even made a good-natured jest at seeing our locked hands before I remembered to let go.
Carrying my sweater in my arms, I waited for Colt to talk with the doctors before we left the hospital in companionable silence. I didn’t question it either when Colt held out his hand for my truck keys before hopping behind the steering wheel. We drove back to the ranch in silence.
I chewed on the pad of my thumb nervously as we pulled up to the house. Rick’s truck was already gone, and the horses appeared to be fed and brushed. We were utterly alone, and my heart raced at the thought of spending the night with Colt without the comfort of Tiffany around to interrupt my fantasies.
The evening air was chillier than usual when I walked up to the house with Colt following silently behind. I rubbed at my arms as I glanced up at the darkening sky. Autumn was just around the corner. I could feel it in the air.
“I need to get some wood split,” Colt said. “There’s a fireplace we can light tonight if you want.”
“That sounds great. I can go scare up some dinner, too.”
He smiled at the offer before continuing along to the other side of the house. I dug through the fridge to find a chicken, freshly plucked, and smiled as I pulled it out. A roasted chicken on a cold night sounded good. I spent the next hour preparing for food while listening to the sound of an ax splitting wood outside.
It didn’t matter that we were alone for the first time. Colt was a gentleman. He wouldn’t make a move or take advantage of the time alone. Not with his sister in the hospital with a broken leg.
Still, a part of me wished that he would. I placed the rolls into the oven next to the chicken, the skin golden and crispy now. Too long. It had been too long since I had done anything like this with the opposite sex.
Dexter had been the one to ruin that for me. If he bought flowers, he expected sex. If he took me out to dinner, he expected sex. He expected sex in return for everything, to the point that I felt drained most of the time. The day I had enough of giving into his demands was the day he had posted those photos on the internet with links for our close friends to see, including his good pals.
Bitterness swelled in my chest. It wasn’t fair sometimes. My life back in Portland had been good, but after Dexter, I was stuck in a place I’d never wanted to be to begin with. No matter how much I appreciated and cared for Tiffany and Colt, the barn burning had been hard to deal with. I was still tempted to pack up and drive back to Portland, and admit to everyone that I failed to implement my dream, even after telling them I would prove everyone wrong.
The side door to the kitchen opened. I turned to face Colt and instantly wished that I hadn’t as he closed the door. Sweat dripped off every inch of his well-sculpted chest, toned abs, and those broad shoulders.
My throat clenched as lust bubbled in my veins. I couldn’t look away no matter how many times I told myself to. I followed a single sweat drop as it trailed down his toned stomach, disappearing into a trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans.
I tore my eyes away to look up at Colt’s face and found his eyes focused on me. A smirk tugged at his lips, and not just any smirk. One filled with the pride of a man who knows he is appreciated.
“Dinner is just about done,” I squeaked out, turning away to hide my burning cheeks. “You, um, you’ve just got time to shower.”
“I suppose I should.”
He stopped briefly to look in the oven before continuing past me. Adjusting the shirt that was tossed over his shoulder, Colt gave me one last burning look before disappearing around the corner. I held my breath until I heard the water turn on above.
What are you doing, Cheyenne? Gawking at him like he’s some piece of candy?
Humiliation filled me. At one point, I had told my mother that Colt was like one of the cowboys you saw on the cheesy romance novels at the grocery store. He was physically fit and strong from years of ranching. Nothing would ever take that
away—even years in an office in the city apparently.
I pulled out the chicken to slice it up and set the moist and tender pieces on a platter. Colt appeared ten minutes later, right as I set the hot rolls on another platter. This time, thankfully, he was wearing a normal white t-shirt and a pair of sweats.
“This smells great,” he said, grabbing a plate without pause. “I’m starving. I didn’t expect a trip to the hospital would take the entire day.”
I waited for him to dish up his plate before I joined him at the dining table. My appetite was replaced by something else entirely, but the first bite of chicken brought back my hunger. I heard Colt breathe in sharply before sitting back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully as he did.
“You’re a good cook,” he said. “I never expected that for some reason.”
“You’re a better one, at least from what I’ve tasted at the restaurant,” I said. “The Iron Stallion has some of the best food on this side of Oregon. In my opinion, anyway.”
Colt chuckled lightly at that.
“I actually have a cook who does all the cooking. I just supplied my mother’s recipes after swearing him to secrecy for the rest of his life.”
“You’re a fraud then,” I said, grinning when he looked at me with arched eyebrows. “I was led to believe you were doing all the cooking.”
“I help with the prep work. That counts for something.”
“That counts for nothing unless you’re doing all the meals that come out of that kitchen of yours.”
“Don’t tell anyone in Green Point,” Colt replied, winking roguishly at me. “They might get a little disappointed if they knew truth about me being a fraud and all.”
“I’m sure the women would be.” I sat up suddenly when an idea struck me. “I have a suggestion because I know that Tiffany talked to you about using your restaurant for a fundraiser.”
“Right,” Colt said slowly. “I really don’t mind doing it at my restaurant. It’s not a big deal for me to give up a night of business to such a great cause.”