Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)
Chasing The Wild: Chapter 10

It’s well after sundown by the time we make it back to the house. Even though it’s not late, it feels like we were down in the paddock for hours.

Colt orders me to go shower and warm up. I don’t fight him.

The after-effects of the adrenaline, shock, and worry have sapped my energy, and I spend a lot longer under the warm spray thawing out than I normally would.

When I get back to the kitchen, I’m surprised to see Colt is also freshly showered, and not only that but he’s rustled up dinner for two from somewhere.

“Don’t get too excited.” He says gruffly as the steaming hot stew is slid in front of me. “Just leftovers from the freezer.”

My stomach lets out a loud rumble.

“I’d have been happy with Ramen, but this smells amazing.” I dig my spoon in and the taste is pretty much heaven. Colt is obviously a damn good cook because the beef is tender and seasoned to perfection.

The man across from me looks horrified.

“You don’t like Ramen?” I slurp stew off my spoon.

“That’s not food.”

Noted. Cowboy mountain man won’t be joining me for a bowl of instant noodles any time this century. I hide my smile in my dinner and we both start to inhale our meals. Today has been a lot, and my body feels like it’s been run over by a truck and trailer.

“Beer?” He offers after standing and starting to rummage inside the fridge and I nod with a mouthful.

Colt settles down with a drink for himself across the other side of the island and passes one—already opened—to me. As he leans back to take a swig with head tilted, I watch on, captivated. His salt and pepper stubble and strong throat bobs when he works down a swallow.

God, he’s nice to look at.

I take a few more bites of food, and maybe it’s the alcohol working fast and helping me to feel a little looser, but there’s something I can’t quite work out. There aren’t any photos of family or a woman or anything personal in this entire place that I’ve seen—and I’ve definitely done my share of snooping when I’ve had the chance.

“Tell me this, Colton Wilder. Why maintain such a big place if it’s just you up here lording it over Devil’s Peak?” I smirk a little over the top of my beer.

He glances up at me, and doesn’t exactly smile, but I see his lips twitch.

I have to shift a little in my seat because that tiny flicker in his expression makes my pussy clench.

“It’s not exactly a pretty bedtime story.” His tone is light, but the creases around his eyes tell me this is territory he doesn’t easily venture into.

“I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

Colt runs his tongue over the front of his teeth.

“An exchange is fair.” He tips the lip of the bottle, pointing the neck at me. “Answer one question for me first, Layla.”

My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. What does he want to know?

“Okayyy…” I take the bait. Apparently I have no self-control when it comes to wanting to please this man.

“I’ve been sitting here wondering… what does a twenty-five-year-old need to pay for so desperately, that she’s rushing like a bull at a gate to finish her vet certification, and work night shifts in grungy bars on the side?” He sits back and crosses one arm across his chest, dangling the neck of his beer between thumb and forefinger with the other.

I pick at the hem of my sleeve for a moment.

He waits for me to start talking.

Blowing out a long exhale, I shift around on my stool.

“My mom had me when she was young—too young.” I hesitate, ducking a glance his way and see that he’s waiting for me to carry on. “I guess she felt like her youth was taken away, so spent mine chasing after what she thought she missed out on. I never met my dad, and the procession of guys she dated came and went with the seasons.”

Colt is studying me quietly as I talk, his hazel eyes watch me take a big sip of my beer before I continue.

“My aunt was the one who would pick me up after school, make sure I’d eaten, run me to dance classes and weekend recitals. She would let me stay with her for weeks, sometimes months at a time. I love her so much, and it always felt like I was on holiday when I was with her. Looking back, at the time, I was too young to think anything of it, but one day, I came home from school, and the guy sitting on my mom’s couch was looking at me with the same eyes he used to give her when they first met.”

It’s hard not to move around more in my seat under the intensity of Colt’s gaze.

“That’s the last day I lived with my mom.”

“Your aunt took you in?”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Evaline made sure I didn’t go back there again.”

This is the hard part. The bit that always makes me choke up when I try to replace adequate words to explain it.

“Except, by the time I finished high school, she’d already started forgetting things. Getting muddled up easily, you know.” I scratch at the label on the beer. “They called it early-onset dementia, and it took my aunt away before I knew which way was up.”

Colt clears his throat, and I reluctantly meet his eyes. I don’t want his pity or his charity, but I hope he understands why this is so important to me.

“You pay for her care, I take it.”

My lips thin as I nod again.

The clock on the wall ticks and we both sit there for a long moment.

“Now you’ve heard my happy bedtime story, let’s hear yours.”

Now it’s Colt’s turn to take a long swig of his beer.

“There’s not a lot to tell. My parents died in a car crash when I was a kid, too young to even remember them, and it was left up to my grandfather to take me on.”

“Here at the ranch?”

Colt makes a noise of agreement.

“Grew up right here. Or survived growing up here, I should say.”

My throat tightens as I see the tension in the jaw of the man across from me, having to revisit memories I’m presuming he’d rather leave locked away.

“He might have owned this ranch, but he was a mean son of a bitch, the kind who liked to take his anger out on whoever was closest. When I was old enough to understand why our cattle always ended up broken, I started to pick fights with him. At least that way he’d take it out on me rather than innocent animals.”

Colt chews over his thoughts for a moment.

“I was fourteen when I put my first bullet through a heifer’s forehead. She was due to calve anyday and so badly injured she’d never have survived.”

The backs of my eyes sting. I want to crawl into his lap and hold him.

“When that man hung himself, the real devil of Devil’s Peak was finally gone. Kayce had only just been born, and I spent the day knocking down the rotten old farmhouse that used to stand on this very spot instead of going to the sick bastard’s funeral.”

My chest aches just listening to him. But I don’t want him to stop talking. I feel like there’s a chance I’m the only person in the world Colt has ever spoken to about this.

I’m unsure what kind of spell has descended on this kitchen tonight, but it’s as if we’re suspended, dangling out of time.

He chuckles darkly to himself over the top of his beer. “Spent nearly thirty years taking this place from a broken, run-down piece of shit, and erasing that fucker’s legacy. Hopefully, one day, when I move on, this place will be sold to some savvy person who will come along and make way more money than I ever have off this ranch.”

“You didn’t build it for you?” I’m heartbroken for him, but at the same time I think I just fell head over heels for this man and everything he has worked so tirelessly to achieve.

Colt shakes his head. His unruly dark locks falling across his eyes make him look younger. It’s only when you see the flecks of silver in his beard that it gives away his age.

“Figured this place was always going to be a tourism opportunity, not a ranch that could compete with the big boys. So I built something that could be good for that. I dunno, accommodation for rich folk who like to chopper in and prance around on horses for the weekend or some shit.”

“Like a dude ranch?”

Colt shudders and scrunches his face up. “I swear if anyone calls this place that in my vicinity, I’ll have a fucking aneurysm.”

He gestures for me to pass over my empty bowl. I’m guessing our little heart-to-heart has come to a conclusion, but I pick it up before he can try to do my dishes for me. While I kind of like how easily we seem to split chores around here, tonight feels like the kind of night when we can each clear up after ourselves.

“I’ve got it.” I flash a small smile, then duck my head.

When I cross to the other side and join him beside the counter, my attention is drawn to peer out through the dark in the direction of the cattle. His broad shoulders fill the space in front of the sink as he rinses out the containers that must have had the stew in them, as well as his own bowl.

“They’ll be ok. You did an excellent job out there.”

My stomach does a little somersault at the unexpected compliment. Standing beside his large frame, I can’t help but be drawn in by the look of his soft t-shirt that looks like a second skin on him. My fingers itch to reach out and touch the well-worn cotton.

“Only because you talked me off the ledge… again.” It’s the truth. I wasn’t sure I could do any of what I did tonight if it wasn’t for his steady presence grounding me. Suturing livestock while indoors with all the equipment to hold an animal still during broad daylight is one thing. Being covered in blood and out in the snow and in pitch black is another.

His jaw tics.

My blood starts to heat, the alcohol settling comfortably in my veins.

“I like how you talk to me.”

He silently scrubs at the containers in the sink. My eyes don’t want to stay off the way the map of veins on the back of his hands glisten, highlighted by the water.

“Thank you for trusting me.” I’m standing too close, I know I am. But he’s not moving away either, and the heat between our bodies draws me in.

My thighs squeeze as that all too familiar ache starts to rise.

I know what I heard out there tonight.

Whether he meant to say it, or perhaps it just slipped out by accident in the heat of the moment, I don’t know.

But I want to hear him say it again.

“I liked how you spoke to me, tonight.”

Colt goes still.

“It must be hard up here dealing with things like that on your own.” I’m being way too fucking bold, but after hearing a little of his life and the beer and the warm glow I’m coated in, surely there might be a chance he’s feeling the same way I am.

His big paw reaches over to take my bowl from my hands, but I shake my head. “It’s ok. Let me.”

I reach into the sink beside him, and our bodies fit together side by side. He stiffens slightly, but doesn’t move away. As I feel my hip press against his thigh my heart kicks into overdrive.

Suddenly, the kitchen feels like a furnace, and my pulse hammers in my throat as I watch his hands rest on the edge of the sink. He’s letting me get close. Too close. His scent and heat fold around me like a blanket I want to burrow under and stay wrapped up in.

Warm water rushes over my hands as I clean off the bowl, and then turn the faucet off. Without it, the kitchen is so quiet, all I can hear is blood rushing in my ears and the faint howl of the icy wind whipping past the windows.

Colt is standing in front of the dishwasher and I angle my body toward his, still gripping onto my stupid bowl like it’s the only thing stopping me from putting my hands all over this man.

“Does it get lonely up here?” My whisper sneaks out as my head tilts back and I’m consumed by his darkened gaze. His pupils are the deepest crevasse imaginable, as he looms over me.

Reaching out, he takes the dish from my hands, placing it on the bench beside my hip.

Oh my god.

There’s a force drawing our bodies together that I can’t fight as he shifts his weight and plants one hand on the other side of my body. Caging me in against the sink.

His eyes drop to my mouth and my chest is rising and falling faster with every second we’re locked in this forbidden moment. I feel him—his power, his masculinity, his damn intoxicating scent of leather and raindrops. There’s a flood of wetness between my thighs, and my underwear has surely gone up in flames.

My tongue swipes over my bottom lip.

Colt latches onto the movement with a fierce, hawk-like gaze.

Just as his jaw flexes, as he lingers with precision on that spot where my lips are parted, a burst of noise crashes through from his office just off the kitchen. The radio explodes into life, making me jump, and Colt’s head whips in the direction of the intrusive sound.

That’s when a familiar voice crackles down the line, making my stomach plunge through the floor.

“Yo, Dad? Are you there?” Kayce’s voice is tinny but unmistakable on the other end of the radio handset.

About three things happen at once. Colt jerks away from me like he’s just burned himself on a hot stove. I spin around and double over the edge of the sink, gasping for air. The world rushes in like a freight train.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Whatever was just about to happen between us was most definitely going to happen, and I’m immediately scolding myself for being so forward.

I shouldn’t have put Colt in that position.

He should have moved away.

We’re both being reckless with how close we keep getting to the precipice—one that neither of us can come back from if we plunge over the edge.

Guilt thunders through me. Not because I still feel anything for Kayce. My concern is entirely for Colt. I’m flirting with him and pushing him, and that’s the thanks I give the man. Someone who not only provided me with a job, solved my disaster with the finance company, and on top of all that, has given me a temporary roof over my head.

What the hell was I thinking?

I slide everything into the dishwasher and turn it on. Behind me, I hear Colt’s low voice as he talks to his son over the handset. I’m guessing the vehicle Kayce has taken down to town has a linked-up radio unit like the one I’ve seen installed in the cab of Colt’s truck.

“You’ve got a place to stay?”

The line crackles, and I can’t quite make out Kayce’s reply. When I dare to peek at where Colt is standing in his small office, I see his broad back and he’s got one hand dug into his hair. He’s illuminated by the glow of the small lamp, light spilling through the open doorway. With his other hand, he fists the radio handset close to his mouth.

“Road’s going to be clear in about a week.”

There’s more muffled chatter from the other end.

I really want to know what Kayce is saying, so I carefully make my way closer and linger out of sight in the hallway with my back pressed to the wall.

“… Got something to take care of down here.” My ex’s voice floats out into the hall.

Colt lets out a heavy sigh. “Could have given me some fucking notice at least.”

“Yeah I feel bad. Are you gonna be alright dealing with everything for another week on your own?”

There’s a pause, and Colt coughs a little. “I’ve got help.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Fuck, that’s lucky. Is it Storm, or one of the other guys from down the Peak?”

Holy shit. Is he going to tell him I’m here?

“Not exactly.”

Kayce lets out a laugh that makes the static go crazy. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a chick up there?”

I clap my hand over my mouth.

“It’s not like that.” Colt grinds his words.

“Yeah, sure, Dad. It’s about time you found someone. Though I can’t imagine who would put up with your bullshit.” Kayce has definitely been drinking. Even through the radio I can hear the buzz in his voice.

“Kayce—” I don’t know if Colt is aware I might be able to hear their conversation or what, but he tries to cut in, only it’s no use.

“Have I met her before? Is she hot?”

I think I’m going to die.

“Kayce.” He snaps down the radio line. “It’s Layla.”

There’s silence and only a faint hum of static.

“My Layla?”

No. Not your Layla, dickhead. I want to burst in there and scream at them both. But I’m rooted to the spot.

“What the fuck’s going on, Dad?” He sounds pissed. Even though he has absolutely zero right to be. If anything I should be the one clawing his eyes out right now and demanding every cent he owes me, and now by extension, his father.

“Are you fucking my girl?” Kayce is drunk and mouthing off, and I’m stuck here in this hallway in a maze of indecision.

But Colt reacts faster than me. “It’s not like that. She needed help, and I gave her a job. End of story. The kid turned up here looking for you the night of the snow, and her car broke down.”

“So, what? You tucked her into your bed?”

“Watch yourself, son.” Colt sounds like he’s about to hurl the radio set at the wall.

“Then explain to me why the fuck you’ve got my girlfriend up there with you.”

Jesus. This is a nightmare. Between the man I nearly threw myself at a few minutes ago calling me a kid, and my ex-boyfriend being a drunk, jealous asshole, I don’t know what to do. Should I intervene? Would I be helping if I just try to talk to Kayce myself?

Does Colt really just see me as that? Some little girl who he’s just tolerating?

“I’m not getting into this with you. Nothing weird is going on. I’ve got a fucking business to run, and you’re not here to help me. So sue me for helping your girl out when you should have been here to look after her.” I’ve heard pissed-off Colt make an appearance before, but this is on a whole other level.

There’s more crackling down the line, and for a moment, I don’t know if Kayce has hung up.

“Ok. Look, I fucked up, alright. But I gotta sort some shit out, and I’ll be back as soon as the road is clear.”

“Good.” I hear Colt shuffle some papers around. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for, Kayce.”

“It’s ok, Dad. We’re cool.”

There’s a heavy sigh in the room next to me.

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Always do. Tell Layla I’ll be there soon.”

“Sure.”

Is there resignation in his voice? Something indecipherable, perhaps.

I hear them start to say their goodbyes, and that’s when I get the fuck out of there, making a quiet beeline to my bedroom. Hearing them talk just reinforced everything I’d tried to ignore. This is a man trying to do right by his son, and I’m in the middle messing everything up.

Colt’s right. He’s got a business to take care of, and I now understand a little more about the vision he’s built—the hard earned legacy he’s crafted here—from the ground up.

I can’t be the one that comes between him and his own son, and I refuse to be a distraction.

My goal here is to get through the rest of my weeks in this job. Get my reference to send to my supervisor, and move on.

No more inappropriate midnight run-ins with Colt Wilder.