Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)
Chasing The Wild: Chapter 7

It’s been a whole fucking week.

One spent doing my best to replace something—anything—to focus on, other than the gorgeous girl currently sitting across the kitchen island from me eating an omelet and sipping her coffee, while she scrolls her phone.

Wi-Fi has been patchy as usual, and fortunately the power has only dropped out a couple of times for short periods. I’ve shown her where to stack wood both close to the house and inside so neither of us have to go far to load up the fireplaces. She’s split kindling, neatly arranged supplies, and even offered to cook our meals. Insisting that it’s the least she can do to help more.

Meanwhile, when I remember, in between all the other shit there is to do around this place, I’ve shown her how to run the backup generator in case we lose power completely and where to get fresh water if pipes freeze.

I also gave her a run-through of our radio system. It’s what we rely on up here year-round, since cell coverage is non-existent and Wi-Fi barely works outside of my office. My brief instructions covered how to contact the ranch vehicles kitted out with a handset, the mountain patrol, and the sheriff. All those ‘emergency situation’ types of necessities that Layla needs to know about because god forbid I get myself into serious shit, but ranch life is tough. All it would take is for one of the cattle to crush me against a gate or for my horse to roll. Too easily things can go south. Accidents happen in the blink of an eye.

While we were going over the ways to contact the outside world, I went to mention Storm, but something halted me. Without any good reason, my mouth opened and then snapped shut.

I realized at that moment I didn’t want him to know about Layla, or at least, the asshole inside me doesn’t want her to know about him. I immediately bristled at the idea she might take an interest in what she saw… or whatever the equivalent of speaking with someone over a radio handset might be.

Either way, I didn’t fucking like it, so I conveniently forgot to tell her about my friend and closest person nearby who should be her first port of call in case of emergency. She doesn’t need to know anything about Stôrmand Lane, nor about the fact he used to be a rodeo star. Doesn’t need to know about his stupid fucking tattoos that I’ve seen first-hand act as a pussy magnet everywhere he goes, and certainly doesn’t need to be anywhere near his charming gruffness.

Nope. For now, she’s got plenty of emergency contacts if required. Anyways, we had plenty more crap to go over on how things run here on the ranch.

Fortunately, the girl with green eyes is a quick study and it only took a day or so before I could leave her the horses. Those idiots all seem to love her.

Or at least, what she sneaks out to them in her pockets.

They never get enough attention from me usually because I’m too damn busy, and I see it in their big liquid eyes that they’re gobbling up all the crooning and petting and brushing they’re getting these days.

Lucky assholes.

I finally had a reply from Kayce, he emailed me one line saying he’ll be back once the roads are cleared. What a first-class prick. He might be my own flesh and blood, but I’m not going to shy away from calling it shit if it stinks. How this girl ended up with him is beyond me.

She’s stunning, and I can’t seem to stop stealing looks at her, even though I know I shouldn’t. Which inevitably leads to me barking something in her general direction, just to try and scare her off because fuck knows what I would do if she turned around and looked at me the same way.

Kayce is out partying, chasing the next high and likely a warm bed to fall into, meanwhile this girl is putting in a full day’s work without so much as a peep. She shows up, gets on with it, and doesn’t have much to say.

Which suits me fine.

I’m so used to my own company that the silence is easy for me.

Being busy is a godsend. It’s the dangerous thoughts about this girl—those ones that bubble up at times when I least expect them to—that I’m most concerned about.

“We’ll take the horses and ride out to check on the furthest paddocks today now the snow has thinned.” I stand up, and she’s right there, ready to go. Tidying up quickly after herself and slipping her phone in her back pocket. I don’t know why kids her age always feel the need to have their phones on them. It’s not like the damn thing gets service up here anyway.

“I get to ride?” Her green eyes light up, and I have to duck my head.

It’s so fucking hard not to want to touch her when she looks like that. All flushed and excited and full of vitality for life, the kind that got burned out of me so long ago, it’s a distant memory.

Maybe it got stubbed out of me like the cigarette butts my grandpa used to put out on the back of my head right after he wailed on me for just breathing wrong.

I grumble something resembling an agreement, and head off out the door. Shoving into my boots and yanking on my hat.

She follows, quietly doing the same with her own work boots, but I feel her eyes stray to me every so often. I hate that she’s curious about me, even though I’m a fucking dickhead. There’s nothing good that can come of being interested in the darkness that lies beneath the surface of Colt Wilder.

Layla seems to have rebounded well enough after that first night—we collected her things from her snow-bound car, which I’ll get onto towing down to the shop once the road is finally clear—and I haven’t wanted to pry any further as to why things overwhelmed her the way they did.

Jesus, I know well enough the way the mind can be a terrible place to be.

Right after Kayce was born was when the attacks used to hit the worst. I’d replace myself losing it over the smallest thing. Hearing a loud noise, or another baby crying, or the thick perfume of lilies delivered to congratulate new parents who had no business being parents at all.

I never wanted to have kids. Does that make me a terrible person? But when you’re raised by a man who loved nothing more than to lose himself in a bottle and then smack his own grandson around just so he could feel like a big man, well, it changes your perspective on what you want from life.

The truth is, I was just a kid myself when Kayce’s mom came on the scene. I wasn’t interested in her bullshit, but she wore me down, and when you’re seventeen and dealing with years of neglect, there inevitably comes a moment when you finally let your guard slip.

It was meaningless. Only ever meant to be a one time thing. She told me she was on birth control, and who fucking knows, she either lied or wasn’t reliable enough taking it. Either way, despite the fact I’ve always insisted on using protection to be certain, it didn’t fucking matter. In the end I was doubly fucked. The condom broke, and Kayce arrived, and I felt like my life was over before it even began.

But you’re not supposed to think like that, are you? Everyone expects you to be happy, and I don’t regret his life, but I had to learn to reconcile how I imagined mine would be with the reality growing in front of my eyes week by week.

Then I went and fucked it all up more by convincing myself that my own kid would be better off without me. I had no one but a messed up grandfather as a role model. Who was I to be a parent? I hadn’t even turned eighteen yet, and back then, I could barely afford to buy myself my own pickup.

Shawn went off to the Midwest, with big dreams of her perfect life as a new mom and making a fresh start, and instead, she drowned herself in pill bottles rather than being a parent. We weren’t in contact much so the years trickled by, as they do, without me suspecting anything.

It wasn’t until Kayce was too old and hated my guts too deeply that I found out how shit of a job she was doing. Offering to have him come and live with me did nothing, the kid didn’t even want to know me by that stage, and I don’t blame him.

So, when I got the call a few months ago that he needed a place to land and someone to help him out, I couldn’t say no to the person I’d failed so many times before.

Now? Now, what am I doing? I’m staring at his girl’s ass while walking into the barn and fighting back the urge to pin her against the stalls while I sink into her.

“Saddle up Winnie and Peaches. We’ll take the girls out.” I fiddle with my hat. Lifting it enough to dig my fingers through my hair before shoving it back on.

“You got it, boss.” Layla scurries off to get them both ready and I can see multiple sets of ears prick up and follow her as the horses watch her work.

I grit my teeth, because it’s taking everything in me not to do the same damn thing.

After I’ve successfully worked out some frustration shoveling hay and cleaning out a couple of the stalls while Layla’s been busy, I wipe my hands on my jeans. She’s leading both horses toward me, drawing nearer to where I’ve kept to myself over by the main doors.

She’s got her plump bottom lip tugged between her teeth, and fuck me, everything about her is so sexy. How my idiot kid could let a girl like that go, I have no idea. If I were twenty years younger, she’d have been the girl of my fucking dreams.

Hell, she is right now.

Only problem is, I’m old enough to be her father, and I can’t cross that line. Kayce and I are on tenuous ground. If I even think about going there with this girl, I’ll ruin any hope of ever reconciling with my son.

But there’s no harm in spending time with her. I just have to keep my shit together.

“We’ll need to go as far round the perimeters as we can get, depending on the snow.”

“Ok.” She’s got that breathy fucking rasp in her voice again as she gazes up at me. Her long, coppery hair is in two loose braids today, and my mind is going to very bad places now that I’m seeing her up close like this.

The kind of dirty places where her hair is wrapped in my fist.

What was that about keeping my shit together?

“You might be a horse doctor, but now’s the time to see if you’re a fair rider.”

She gives me a coy smile. “I can hold my own.”

“Good. Need a hand?” I reach around and stroke the warm neck of Peaches. She’s a gentle horse and careful whenever we take guests out for trail rides over the summer. But this girl is short, and I have no idea whether she’s ridden a horse of this size before.

“Maybe the first time.” She’s got a little flush high on her cheeks. I hate myself for constantly cataloging all these little details.

This feels like the day at the gas station all over again. It’s too easy to slip into being like this with her. When it’s just the two of us, and talking to her feels as smooth as honey.

Which is why I’ve tried to leave her alone as much as fucking possible this past week.

She shifts around to grab the reins in one hand and hold the saddle with another. I’m moving behind her, and all of a sudden, it’s clear this was an insane idea. Her jeans are tight over her ass, those perfect thighs are right in front of me, and our hips are barely a breath apart as she lifts a foot into the stirrup.

I reach down and my bulk covers her back. We’re so close my lips are right at her ear and I feel the way her breath hitches when I clasp my fingers around the top of her boot.

“Go easy on me, ok?” Layla breathes.

I don’t know what comes over me, but as I help swing her up into the saddle, the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“I promise, I can be gentle.”

We spend the day going around the outermost paddocks on the ranch, checking for any needed repairs and storm damage. Layla is more than comfortable on her horse, and that at least settles me a little, knowing she’ll be fine to do more jobs unsupervised, now that I’ve seen she’s competent and can ride in these conditions.

I decide it’s safest to retreat into my shell after giving myself the biggest fucking talking to of my life.

Why I can’t seem to keep it together in her presence is ridiculous.

She’s just a hot little cunt parading around in front of me, that’s all it is.

We finish up the day separately, I leave her to the barn, and I deal with other crap on my list that needs my attention. My evening check-in with the roading crew by radio lets me know the road is cleared nearly halfway up the mountain, and the team should be done all the way to the ranch within the week.

I drag myself through the shower quickly and then throw on a clean pair of jeans and a tee. I’d usually wear a lot less than this, but seeing as I’m battling my self-control with a gorgeous young girl in my house, wearing clothes seems like a prudent decision.

Real fucking mature.

Not like my dick is half-hard the minute I walk into the kitchen, and she flashes a smile at me over her shoulder.

After we’ve both eaten—her on her phone and me keeping my eyes trained on the meal in front of me—she stretches and makes a move to clear both our empty dishes.

“Sit your ass down. I’ve got these.” I reach over to grab hers.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Layla tries to clutch the plate while perched on her stool at the kitchen island. I’ve got a dining table, it just never gets used. This has always been the place I prefer to sit and eat and Layla seems to feel the same way.

“You cooked.”

She lets out a little laugh and finally relents, allowing me to yank the plate away from her. “The things you don’t realize until you see the alternative.”

I’m not sure I know what she means, but I’m not about to ask either.

“I’ll leave you to the horses tomorrow while I head down and sort out that busted fence in the western paddock.” As I rinse the dishes and stack the dishwasher, I’m aware she’s moving around behind me but I focus my eyes firmly on the sink and the current task keeping my hands busy.

“I can handle that.” She sounds tired, and suddenly, I’m a little worried I’ve been pushing her too hard. Kayce tells me all the time I’m a miserable old bastard, which is about right.

“You sure?” I turn around and rest my back against the sink. My eyes fall on her, and oh, fuck I really wish I had stayed exactly as I was. She’s stretching up on tiptoes to reach for a cup from the cupboard, and her cropped sweater has ridden up, showing off the perfect rounded curve of her hips and ass, a strip of soft, pale skin above the waistband, jeans suctioned tight in the exact spot where her pussy is. Her back arches and her long braids hang down, and my filthy fucking brain devours the sight of her.

I’m more screwed than I thought because she turns and looks at me over one shoulder, catching me in the act of openly watching.

“Could you grab one of the tall glasses for me, please?” She twists herself and flattens her back against the counter.

I swallow heavily.

“Of course.” Why is my throat so scratchy?

Crossing to the spot where she stands, I step into her small frame. Layla doesn’t move, and I don’t want her to. I keep my eyes on hers and reach up, which leans my body so close I can smell the jasmine and pear scent of her shampoo. There’s a heat and tension thick in the air between us, and not for the first time today, I’m forgetting the reasons why I shouldn’t be looking at her like this.

My fingers close around the cool, smooth glass, and I pluck it down for her.

“Thanks.” Her voice is barely a whisper and I see her eyes flicker to my lips for just a second.

My dick jerks.

Blood rushes south in a way that it has absolutely no fucking business even daring to.

Fuck. I’m such an asshole. She’s my son’s territory, or at the very least, is meant to be with a guy his age, her age, and that reminder compels me to step back rather than grab her chin and taste those pouty fucking lips like I want to.

I’m a piece of shit for even looking at her.

What the hell am I even doing getting so close? This was a mistake.

If I’m ever going to have a relationship with my son, or have any chance of helping him make better choices with his life, I can’t give into whatever this thing is that hovers in the shadows between us.

She’s too young for me. I should know better.

There’s this thing called loneliness, and I really need to take the opportunity to replace someone else the next time the roads are clear to get rid of this tension with. To fuck the past few months of filthy fantasies I’ve been having about this girl out of my system.

Because the very soft and feminine-looking young woman standing before me, looking back at me with big eyes, is not where I need to be sticking my dick.