Wicked Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 3)

by Amber Kelly

  She screams in surprise.

  We both fall onto the sidewalk with a thud. My back hits the ground hard and absorbs most of the impact, and she lands on top of me.

  It takes me a second to recover, as the wind was knocked out of me.

  “You okay?” I ask as I pull her in tighter to me.

  Her face is tucked into my neck, and I can feel her warm wisps of breath against my throat.

  “I think so,” she mumbles.

  I relax back into the snow and groan as I realize I landed on the handle of one of the shovels.

  She lifts her head and looks down at me. Her gorgeous brown eyes are dancing as she tries not to laugh. “I’m so sorry,” she manages to get out.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  She starts giggling, and I become super aware of the vibration of her body against mine.

  “Elle?”

  “I, um … I was just thinking, I’m glad it was you who caught me and not Emmett or Pop. I think I would have broken them. But you’re so sturdy; it’s like falling into a brick wall.”

  “You calling me fat, woman?”

  Her eyes round, and she blushes. “No! I think you’re perfect,” she exclaims.

  Perfect?

  She ducks and puts her forehead into my chest as she sputters, “I mean, you’re big and strong and muscular, and I feel safe in your arms.”

  Well, damn.

  “Safe, huh?”

  She looks up, embarrassment written all over her face. “Yeah. God, I’m sorry I’m such a klutz,” she whispers.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the warmth of her body on top of mine and from how much I like the words that came from her mouth.

  “I was just going to the office. I wanted to get the filing finished before Sophie got here today. She’s going to train me on the software, and I wanted to give it my full attention,” she explains while still lying on my chest.

  The cold wetness from the melting snow at my back is starting to seep into my shoulders and arms where my waterproof coveralls meet my thermal, and I don’t give a shit.

  I grin up at her. Seems we both are eager to make a good impression today.

  We hear footsteps crunching through the icy snow, and then Braxton appears around the corner with a bag of salt tossed over each shoulder. He halts.

  “What happened?” he asks as he takes in the sight of us.

  She starts to get up, and I hate the feel of her heat leaving me.

  What the hell is that about?

  “I slipped on the ice and fell off the porch. Walker here was my landing pad,” she answers him as she stands to her feet. She looks back down to me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “Nah, just a shovel to the kidneys; that’s all,” I say as I pry myself up.

  “Oh no, let me see,” she says as she runs her hands over my hip, where I hit the wooden piece.

  That’s not good.

  I step back from her. “I’m fine, Elle. Better my sturdy self than you,” I say as I grin at her.

  She places her hands on her hips and gives me a distressed look. “Are you sure you’re okay? We landed hard. Maybe you should go let Aunt Doreen take a look at it.”

  Her concern hits me in a way that I’m unfamiliar with. I don’t have many people in my life who worry about my well-being—or anyone in my life that I can think of.

  “He’s fine. It’d take more than a hundred thirty pounds of girl to do any damage to Walk,” Braxton says as he throws the bags onto the step.

  “A hundred twenty, thank you,” she huffs, offended at his guess.

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry. I meant, a hundred twenty.”

  She sticks her tongue out at him.

  “Thanks again for coming to my rescue,” she says in my direction before turning on her heels and marching carefully to the steps of the office.

  “Watch those steps too. We haven’t iced them yet,” Braxton warns before turning back to me. “We’d better get this spread out before one of the aunts comes out and breaks their neck.”

  I agree, and we spend the next few hours getting everything clear before we head to saddle up our horses.

  All I can think about the entire morning is how right Elle felt in my arms.

  That’s not good. Not good at all.

  Elle

  Once Sophie makes it into the office, she spends the afternoon training me on the new software she purchased for the ranch’s accounting system. It doesn’t take long before I have a good handle on it. I have no idea what Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria were complaining about. It’s so easy that Pop could do it. How did they have a hard time catching on?

  After we finish with the stack of receipts to enter, we head out to pick up more salt from the hardware store and grab some lunch.

  We walk into Bountiful Harvest Bread Company, and Dallas joins us for a sandwich.

  “Are you going with Braxton to the auction next weekend?” Dallas asks Sophie as we eat.

  “Yep. Elle and I both are going, and so is Charlotte. She flies in the day before we head up there, so she and I can go over our new holiday collection launch and solidify our plans for the International Gem and Jewelry Show.”

  “Myer is going too. He wanted me to come along with him, but I’ve been so exhausted the last few months. This baby is sucking the energy right out of me. So, I talked him into taking Foster instead.”

  Foster is one of the employees at Stone Ridge, which is the ranch owned by Myer and Bellamy’s parents. He’s worked for them for as long as I can remember and he and Myer are good friends. He doesn’t hang out much outside of work but he and his wife just separated so that will probably change.

  “You can always come and relax and nap during the auctions, and then when Myer is done for the day, he can join you,” Sophie suggests.

  Dallas sighs. “We could use a little alone time away from the ranch. And he deserves hotel sex for putting up with me lately.”

  “What’s so great about hotel sex?” I ask.

  They both look at me.

  “Hotel sex,” Dallas says as she waggles her eyebrows.

  “I don’t get it. Is there something different about having sex in a hotel room?” I ask.

  “There is just something extra sexy about being somewhere different than your bedroom. It’s like having sex in the backseat of a car in high school but, you know, easier on the back and knees,” Dallas shares.

  “Yeah, and you’re not worried about being up at a certain time or doing the dishes after you eat or changing the sheets afterward or any of that domesticated stuff. It’s just you and him and high-thread-count sheets and room service and champagne. It feels erotic. Almost like you’re role-playing,” Sophie adds.

  “High-thread-count sheets and champagne? I’m guessing Jefferson and Braxton didn’t pick the hotel this time?” Dallas asks Sophie.

  “Never again. I booked us at The Elizabeth Hotel in Fort Collins.”

  “Nice,” she voices her approval and then returns her attention to me. “Back to hotel sex. Myer and I get the added bonus of not having to wait until we are sure Beau’s asleep and trying to keep quiet, so he stays that way while we enjoy each other. That makes it even better.”

  I grin at her. I’m sure that is a luxury. Not that I have any frame of reference. I’ve never had sex in a hotel or the backseat of a car—or anywhere for that matter. The closest I’ve come is, after a football game, I let Matt Bryant round a few bases in the bed of Sonia’s boyfriend’s truck while she was in the cab with him. It wasn’t comfortable, but we didn’t mind much, except for the smell coming from the grocery store’s dumpster we’d parked beside to obscure us from sight.

  “I don’t think we can swing for the fancy hotel though. Myer is spending a fortune on the addition to the cabin all because I didn’t like the idea of the baby’s nursery being upstairs,” Dallas ponders.

  “I negotiated a fantastic price. We are basically staying at
The Elizabeth for a couple dollars more a night than the Comfort Inn the guys usually stay at when they go to Centennial.”

  “How did you manage that?” Dallas asks.

  “It’s owned by the same hotel group as the one Stanhope uses when he is on business trips. He linked his membership to me and Sophie Doreen Designs, so I booked our rooms under my business name. I can add two rooms for you guys and Foster if you’d like. Please come,” Sophie begs.

  Stanhope is Sophie’s stepfather. He’s a big-to-do businessman in New York. His name carries weight.

  Dallas considers it.

  “Okay, let me talk to Momma about keeping Beau and handling things here at the bakery. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. She and Daddy gripe constantly about how much they miss having us right outside their door. You’d think I’d moved their grandson across the country instead of a couple of miles down the road,” she says on an eye roll.

  “You should probably invite your brother, too, since Charlotte is coming along. I’m sure seeing him is another thing she had planned for her visit. Might as well make it easy,” Sophie suggests.

  Her New York best friend, Charlotte, and Dallas’s brother, Payne, are an item—or at least, they are when she comes to town.

  We finish our lunch, and then Sophie and I head back to the ranch. We are all done for the day, so we join Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria in the kitchen.

  “Hi, girls. How are things going with the new working situation?” Aunt Doreen asks.

  “Great. Elle caught on quickly, and she’s pretty much trained up,” Sophie brags.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear. Your generation must have the affinity for technology that ours doesn’t.”

  “What are you two up to?” I ask as I take in the baking supplies on the counter.

  “We are baking for the Halloween Trunk or Treat this Saturday at the church,” Aunt Doreen replies.

  “Want some help?” I offer.

  “Love some. You girls grab a couple aprons and start peeling apples.” She beams at us.

  “Damn, what smells so good?” Walker’s voice booms as we hear the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  “Language, Walker Reid,” Aunt Ria scolds as he enters the kitchen.

  “Sorry, Ria.”

  He gives her an impish smile and hugs her. She grins and swats him away.

  Braxton comes in behind Walker. “Do I smell apple pie?”

  “Yes, but they are for the kids at church, not you guys,” Aunt Doreen says.

  Walker immediately sticks his lower lip out like a big kid.

  Aunt Ria puts her hands on her hips and gives him the look.

  “Really, Ria, you know how much I love apple pie,” he whines.

  “Oh, we might have baked an extra apple-and-cinnamon crumb for dessert tonight,” she says, giving in.

  Walker grins, and his dimples pop out in full display.

  “So spoiled,” I muse.

  “Yes. Yes, I am, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

  “Me neither,” Braxton says as he kisses Aunt Ria’s cheek.

  The aunts love cooking for these guys. It’s a joy to them. No wonder they refused to learn how to use the computer. They have their purpose, and they enjoy it. This house wouldn’t be the same without the two of them flitting around at any time of the day. They make this place a home.

  “Princess, you got a minute?”

  Sophie follows Braxton out into the living room.

  “Wait, does that mean, we have to wait until after supper for pie?” Walker grumbles.

  “Yes, you do,” I reply as I wipe my hands dry on my apron.

  He cuts his eyes to me. “And I saved your life this morning, woman,” he says as he shakes his head.

  “He did do that,” I tell my aunts.

  “What happened?” Aunt Ria asks.

  “She tackled me on the front lawn. Took me down like a linebacker,” he fake gripes.

  “I slipped on the ice, and he caught me. I hardly tackled him,” I retort.

  “I have a bruise the size of Colorado on my hip to prove it,” he whines. “You want to see it?” He reaches for the hook on his coveralls.

  “No!” the three of us shout in unison.

  “Keep your clothes on, and I’ll slip you a small slice. Just don’t tell the other boys,” Aunt Ria says, indulging him.

  He grins.

  “You’re good,” I praise his expert handling of my aunts.

  He leans in and whispers, “I know how to get what I want from a woman.”

  A shiver runs down my spine at his intimate confession as my imagination conjures up images of all the things he has been able to talk women into—other than pie.

  “You’re blushing, Elle. Where did your dirty mind just take you?”

  “Nowhere,” I squeak as I shoo him away with my hands.

  “Right,” he says as he scoots past me to sit at the table when Aunt Ria emerges with his slice.

  Aunt Doreen comes beside me and says, “That boy is a scoundrel. Some woman is sure going to have her hands full with him one day.”

  I look up at her. “I doubt he’ll ever settle down, Aunt Doreen.”

  “Oh, yes, he will. He’s too good a man not to. He was born to be a husband and father. I’ve seen him with Beau. He lights up when that little boy is around. And look at the way he takes care of his mother. He needs a family of his own. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  “You think he ever will?” I ask as I watch him dig into his prize like a kid.

  “All it’s going to take is for the right woman to cross his path, and he won’t be able to fight it. We are not meant to walk this life alone, none of us, and just like Braxton, when Sophie walked off that airplane and right into his path, he’ll fall. Stubbornness can only last for so long against the possibility of a lifetime of happiness. Mark my words.”

  I look from Walker to Aunt Doreen and see the pride in her eyes. She loves him like a son. The same way she does Braxton and Sophie and me. I look back to him, and as I watch him exaggerate how much he is enjoying the pie, just to make Aunt Ria smile, I think to myself that whoever that woman is, she’s going to be pretty lucky.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I agree.

  She pulls me in for a side hug, and then she steps to the sink to begin washing dishes.

  Walker looks up at me. “You want a bite?”

  He points his fork in my direction, and I walk over, sit opposite of him, and take his offering.

  “Mmm,” I say as I lick the filling from my bottom lip.

  He watches me intensely. “Good, huh?”

  “So good,” I moan.

  He stands abruptly. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

  I watch as he races toward the back door.

  I look over at Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria as they, too, watch him retreat.

  “That boy is like a thundercloud. He blows out as quickly and loudly as he blows in,” Aunt Ria ponders.

  She’s got that right. A thundercloud is the perfect way to describe Walker Reid.

  Walker

  “That’s the last one,” I call to Silas as the bale is offloaded from the trailer.

  I pluck my hat from my head and wipe the sweat from my brow. The sun decided to peek out today, and its rays have been bouncing off the glistening white snow on the ground and blinding us all afternoon.

  The pasture is a slushy mess as we continue to drop more supplemental feed stacks to help keep the herds’ body temperature up, especially the pregnant heifers. The animals are naturally built to withstand the frigid temperature, but we try to make it as easy for them as possible. That’s why we build the windbreaks and overfeed them this time of year.

  They are like our children. The thought of them outside, freezing and miserable, while we are inside, toasty by the fire, doesn’t sit well with us.

  “You want another load, or you think that’s good?” I ask Braxton as he approaches to help Si get the bale to the feeder ring.


  “Nah. All the hay rings are full. They should be good for a few nights.”

  “All right, we’ll take the trailer in, then,” I say as I remove my work gloves and jump down from the back.

  They get the feed in the ring and join me at the truck. I remove the lid from my canteen and guzzle the cool water.

  “It looks like more snow is on the way this weekend. We’ll check the feeders again on Friday evening,” Braxton says as he tosses his hay rake into the back of the truck.

  “Sounds good to me. When are the fencing supplies being delivered?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow morning. I had Sophie call this afternoon to make sure they would be here on time. Jefferson has a crew of six men coming to help. We’ll put in the back side before this weekend and hopefully finish up before we leave for Fort Collins the next week,” he says.

  “Be ideal if we could get the whole thing up before we bring the new cows and bulls in. We can keep them in the holding pen for a day or two if necessary, depending on how many we purchase, but we can’t leave them in there for long,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, I know. I do want Dr. Haralson to have a look at them though, so I’ll put them in the holding pen anyway. I know Jefferson is only purchasing special breed stock, but I’d feel better if the doc had a look before we moved them into the new pasture,” Braxton says.

  “I agree.”

  “I’ll have Elle call and schedule him,” he says.

  “How is that going, by the way?” I ask, curious as to how the good doctor and Elle are getting on.

  “What’s that?” Braxton asks.

  “Dr. Haralson and Elle?”

  He shrugs. “Fine, I guess. She gave me the impression that he’s not into her, but to me, he looks at her like he’s smitten. I think he’ll eventually come around and make his move.”

  My chest grows tight at the thought of him making any moves on Elle. I guess I have grown as protective of her as Braxton without realizing it.

  “You okay with that?” Si asks Braxton the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.

  “Yeah, I guess so. He seems like a gentleman. I watched him opening her door the other night and helping her from the truck. Plus, as Sophie has pointed out, he is her age, single, and successful. He makes a good living. People around here think highly of him and his mother. He makes a better prospect than any of the other guys she and Sonia have brought around. I guess I can’t really ask for her to end up with anyone better than a doctor,” he says.