Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)
Chasing The Wild: Chapter 8

My earbuds blast something with a heavy beat that makes working in here even more enjoyable. I’m almost happiest when I’m alone and left to do my own thing, which I always thought was a flaw about myself for a long time.

Doing things on my own has always felt more comfortable. Girlfriends would try to take me shopping with them when I was in my teens, and I never felt like I fit in. I’d go back later on my own and that’s when I would replace the things I wanted, by myself.

I guess that makes me a little bit faulty in their eyes? Why I never really found a group of girls to become friendly with. Like I was separate from the pack somehow.

Suppose it’s also why Kayce and I were never going to work—his possible lack of being able to keep his tongue out of other girls’ mouths aside—because he lives for the glow of people. It energizes him.

Whereas I needed an entire week to recover after a single night out. I’d enjoy myself, absolutely, but it was afterward that I’d gladly crawl inside my shell and stay there, not leaving my apartment unless absolutely necessary. Or until my next shift arrived.

Out here on the ranch, it’s all too easy to slip into the fantasy of what life would be like. Being with someone who understands what it’s like… who craves space and solitude, but also wants to enjoy being alone, together.

My nostrils flare, I can’t allow myself to think like that, even for a second.

But holy shit, Colt could give a girl a break. This morning I caught a glimpse of him wandering around shirtless on his way to the laundry. I don’t mind that he forgets, I can’t imagine it’s easy for a man like him to go changing habits he’s been set in for so many years.

However, it’s a lot of rugged man to withstand being around. Especially when my pulse triples each time I catch sight of him halfway dressed.

He didn’t notice me sitting in the lounge with my coffee and Kindle while I warmed up in front of the fire. And my greedy fucking eyes ate up every inch of his muscled torso.

Colt isn’t super cut like those health and fitness bros with eight packs that look airbrushed. He’s broad-chested, with the sexiest indentations on his stomach showing the outline of his abs… and then there’s that v I want to lick, dipping below his jeans.

He’s got muscles honed by years of working hard and definitely could toss a girl like me around with ease.

But he’s off limits.

I don’t know what happened between him and Kayce, but he obviously sees me as his son’s property. I saw the same war in his eyes last night in the kitchen before he pulled away. An expression that said he feels the intensity between us too, but nothing can happen.

There is no Colt for me… or dreams of being his lover… or even playing the role of forbidden fruit. The kind of temptation he knows he shouldn’t touch but can’t help himself.

He’s too honorable, and I’m too much of a good girl.

But, fuck, if I didn’t wish there was another time and place for us where the invisible lines keeping us from giving in to that electric pull didn’t exist.

“Feeling better today, Ollie?” I smooth over the nose of the sweetest, most docile of the horses. She’s the one they use for novice riders over summer because absolutely nothing can mess with her calm. Yesterday, I noticed her favoring one leg, so I wanted to get a good look to make sure there wasn’t any infection or injury to be concerned about. The farrier Colt uses has left plenty of notes from his last visit, which I’ve been flicking through to make sure there aren’t any past issues that might indicate a more serious situation I need to keep an eye on.

Ollie simply bats her long eyelashes my way, gives a snort, and walks up and down the barn perfectly for me as I study her gait.

“Nothing to worry about, huh?” I run a hand over her shoulder. “Looks like a good night’s sleep and a few extra treats this morning has got you feeling brand new.”

Now that I know Ollie isn’t in need of any urgent treatment, tidying the barn today is my goal, and it’s physical enough that I can keep the distraction of thinking dirty thoughts about my ex-boyfriend’s father at bay. While the Wi-Fi doesn’t work out here—to be honest, it only works in about two spots inside the house on a good day—I’ve been able to take some videos on my phone of the other horses being goofy, and with any luck, the internet will be strong enough for me to upload a couple of things to my Instagram when I check in on messages from Sage later tonight.

Guilt gnaws at me that I haven’t found the right way to explain my situation here. Which is one hundred percent me being caught in my own head about it all. Surely I can just casually mention that I’m working for Kayce’s father without revealing my decidedly non-innocent thoughts I’ve been having about him?

I’m so busy getting in the groove of sweeping up that I don’t notice anything behind me until I feel one of my braids lift off my back. Whipping around, I’m expecting to see Colt’s dark features, only, my face falls as my eyes meet with an unfamiliar sight.

A man with short, crew cut brown hair is smiling at me with white teeth, and hungry eyes.

“What’s this we have here?” His breath smells like cigarettes, and I rear back in shock.

My eyes dart around the barn, and I pull my earbuds out.

“Who are you?” And where the fuck is Colt.

“Old Colton, eh? Thought he always went out of town to replace himself a hot, young piece of ass.” The smug look on his face widens as he leans up against the stall. His blue eyes are icicles, and he’s busy looking me up and down like a slab of meat. “Obviously, this winter, he’s decided to ship in a perky young thing to bounce up and down on his cock at night.”

Oh my god. This guy is crude and gross, and I feel violated after twenty seconds in his presence. He looks to be maybe thirty, and probably turns girl’s heads wherever he goes. But his personality is foul. Is this one of the supposed beasts who lives up the mountain? Because he sure as shit seems like one.

“What do you want?” My grip tightens on the handle of my broom. If I really needed to, I could smack this guy in the balls with it if he tries anything. What I would give right now for cell phone reception and the ability to shoot a quick text to Colt to replace out where he is or how far away he might be from the house.

“Name’s Henrik. I’m just calling in for a welfare check with the snow and all. Usually, we don’t worry too much about old man Wilder, but now I know there’s a pretty young thing like you running around up here, I might just have to drop by more frequently.” He lets out a laugh. “Make sure you’re being fed right.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and I fight the urge to gag.

Ugh. This guy is a sleaze and makes me want to go take a shower.

“I’m working the ranch this winter as an employee, and I’d be more than happy to replace Mr. Wilder if you need to speak with him.” I’d like to shove this broom so far up his ass, it comes out his nose. How dare he talk to me like I’m some kind of winter fuck-bunny shipped in to occupy his time.

“Well, if you’re not Colton’s property, then I’d love to take you out on a ride sometime. See how good you look in a saddle.”

Ew. Not in a million years, jerk off.

“No, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, I’ll take you out to the Ridge. Show you a real good time.”

“Well, I’m not interested, so if you don’t want to talk to Mr. Wilder, then I’d better get on here, and I’m sure you’ve got other properties to carry on to with your welfare checks…” I jerk my head in the direction of the open barn doors.

The horses stamp, and one of them lets out a low whinny.

Even they’ve had enough of this guy.

“You sure, girlie? How can I help change your mind?”

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t beat your skull in for harassing my staff, Pierson.” Colt’s growl echoes through the barn like thunder.

A flutter of butterfly wings kicks up in my stomach at the sound of his voice.

Colt easily has a head on this guy, and it’s clear who would win in a scrap between them. But whoever this dickhead is, he doesn’t get the message that it’s time to leave.

“Just making conversation is all. This sweet little thing was about to give me her number.”

“No, she fucking wasn’t.” Colt has put himself directly between the man and where I’m standing, and my pathetic little heart is doing skips and jumps at the way he’s protecting me.

It’s ok, I still have my feminist card tucked in my back pocket. Having fought, and won, plenty of battles like this on my own in the past, this sure as hell feels nice to have someone standing up for me for a change.

“In fact, she was pretty clear when she turned you down the first time, or were you too busy sucking yourself off to hear her.”

My cowboy protector is bristling. I’m sure he’s grown at least a foot in height.

Pierson raises both hands. “Jeez, whatever. Girls like her are probably lesbian and shit anyway.”

Oh my god. If Colt doesn’t kick this guy’s ass, I will.

“Get the hell off my property. You want to do a welfare check in the future? Pick up the radio instead, or so help me, I’ll put a bullet in both your knees.”

Colt stalks after the man, making sure he’s saddled on his horse and escorted well past the boundary while I hang back in the yard, watching after his broad shoulders.

When he seems satisfied the asshole is long gone, he finally comes back over to me. With eyes like a midwinter’s night, tension billows off him.

“He touch you?” Colt’s jaw tics furiously. Stopping a foot or so in front of where I’m hovering just outside the barn, he folds his arms and looks me over with an intensity that sucks all the air from the space between us.

My hesitation possibly just signed the man’s death warrant.

Colt advances on me, and I’m hastily backing up until my spine collides with the wood exterior beside the double doors.

“Answer the fucking question, Layla.”

“Not really.” I can’t even breathe with how murderous this man looks. “He grabbed my braid is all.” I twist the end of my hair between my fingers to show him it’s fine and I’m fine and suddenly I feel like the whole thing has been blown out of proportion.

“I’m ok. I’ve dealt with bigger creeps than him.” I try to show him how easily I’d like to just laugh it off. Because it’s the truth. Guys at the bars I’ve worked in have done much worse, attempting to grope me and try it on when they’re wasted, when they think they own the bar and my body because they’ve been buying rounds and filling my tip jar all night.

“Anyone tries to come at you again, you tell me.” Colt’s fists clench and unclench as he grits his teeth, but he steps back and heads for the house. I’m left clutching my stupid little broom, and my mind is trying to catch up with what just happened.

He’s mad at me, and I don’t understand why.

Dinner is a silent affair.

Colt wolfs down his food in record time and yet waits for me to finish eating before he pushes his stool out. The man eats about three times as fast as me, I swear, but always sits quietly, respectfully, until I’m done. He clears up our plates, but still hasn’t spoken a word since that moment outside the barn earlier.

I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong today, even though I know I did everything I needed to do jobs-wise, and obviously the run-in with that creep wasn’t my fault.

But even still. The silence tonight feels charged.

So when he grabs a beer and heads for the lounge without even looking at me, I admit defeat and head off to my room. At least the internet has worked long enough for me to stack my Kindle with my favorite smut, and I’m hanging out for a long hot shower.

I suddenly replace my heart in the back of my throat. So far, I’ve neatly side-stepped the exact details of my snow-bound employment. Sage knows I was coming up this mountain in search of Kayce, but for whatever reason, the actual words to the effect of hey, bestie I’m stuck here working for my ex boyfriend’s insanely hot father who totally flirted with me when we first met have yet to come out of me.

But the truth is going to come out sooner or later about this entire scenario, and as I chew my lip, it quickly becomes apparent that it will look a million times more damning if I don’t tell her.

Oh, god. I’m really doing this…

Dots bounce on the screen, and my thoughts race in time with the tiny fluttering icons.

I leave my best friend on read and swipe out of our message thread. There is no stopping Sage once she’s on a mission to dig for information on my love life, and I’m sensing immediate danger by letting her get a sniff of blood in the water with the circumstances I’ve currently found myself in.

While I might, eventually, one day tell her the whole ridiculous tale, for now, it is far better for my own sanity if I don’t start entertaining conversations about Colt.

There is already far too much going on in my imagination when it comes to the off-limits cowboy in this house.

Wanton thoughts and daydreams. Certain lingering fantasies.

Holy shit, my body heats and pussy clenches at the memory of the vivid sex dream I had about him last night. My submissive side and breeding kink is alive and well, it would seem.

Blowing out a breath, I plug my phone into its charger then reach up to tug my hair out. Crossing the room while wrestling both braids loose, I untangle them with my fingers before scooping the chaos of curls back up into a top knot. Winter, tiredness, and being all out of sorts means there is absolutely no chance I can be bothered trying to wash my hair tonight, it’ll have to last another day of the dry shampoo treatment.

My ensuite is pretty much an all-in-one tiled square, with a deeply inviting bath recessed into the wall at one end, and an open glass partition creating a wall to contain the shower on the other. The third wall has a toilet, vanity, and big mirror.

I’ve never had such a nice bathroom in my life.

On my list to ask Colt tomorrow, if he’s in a talking mood, is whether or not I’m allowed to run the bath. I’m hesitant to use it without knowing his rules about conserving water during winter storms up here. Reaching into the shower, I flip the water on and quickly get undressed. The stream from the detachable head pummels my aching muscles, and I groan at how good it feels to wash off the day of sweat and horses and the run-in with Henrik slimeball Pierson.

God, no one has ever protected me the way Colt did, and I think he somehow altered my brain chemistry. I’ve never been attracted to the idea of being someone’s possession before, but the way he guarded me and threatened that prick… fuck. It was super hot, and even just thinking about it again now, I can feel the slickness between my thighs. There’s a tension winding low in my core. What is a girl to do in the face of so much testosterone?

Especially when no good can come of allowing these thoughts to spill over into reality. I need to keep this job, and I need to not fuck things up between him and Kayce.

I slap the shower off and get out. More than a little turned on.

Why is it so hard to stop thinking about him when I know I shouldn’t? It’s like my pussy has been hijacked by a cowboy twice my age, and she refuses to calm the hell down.

I wrap myself in a giant man-sized fluffy towel and pad over to my suitcase lying open on the floor. For whatever reason, I still haven’t unpacked my things. I’m in limbo where instinct and past experience tells me I should be ready to hit the road at any second.

To be prepared for the moment the roads are clear and my boss decides I’m not worth the hassle of keeping around.

In spite of all my anxieties and misgivings, my room is warm and cozy, overlooking the porch and snow-covered vista that glows with a luminous white sheen. A quarter moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie silver glint across one side of Devil’s Peak.

Slipping into my comfiest sleep shorts and soft cotton cami, I toss the covers back and go to climb into bed, realizing with a groan as my ass hits the mattress that my Kindle isn’t on the bedside table. After a quick scan around the room, it hits me. I remember leaving it down in the lounge this morning.

Fuck’s sake. Tilting my chin to the ceiling, a gurgled noise of frustration comes out. I’m so tired, and cannot be bothered having to get redressed just to go a few feet down the hall to the lounge.

I creep over to my door and open it a crack, listening for where Colt is in the house. But everything outside my door is dark and blanketed in a heavy silence.

He must have gone to bed while I was in the shower because I can’t hear anything and none of the lights are on. So I creep quietly down to the lounge on bare feet.

When I get there, I spot my Kindle lying on the coffee table straight away and snatch it up, preparing to spin on my heel. Only, goosebumps erupt across my bare skin when it dawns on me that I’m being watched.

Looking up, I see Colt sitting in one of the large armchairs beside the glowing embers of the fire. With knees splayed wide, he fills out the leather seat like it’s a throne.

His handsome features are lovingly stroked by the long shadows of the room. As he takes a long swig from his beer, my entire body clenches, all while his hooded eyes remain locked on my figure.

“You gave me a fright.” My voice comes out more than a little breathy.

He shifts his knees a little wider but doesn’t say anything. Just rubs his thumb along the neck of the amber bottle as he rests it on one thigh.

“Is everything ok?” The air swirls with tension. He’s sitting down here with only the dark for company, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve intruded on something.

My bare toes curl into the carpet, and instantly, I’m very, very aware of my appearance. The way these tiny shorts barely cover my ass or my pussy. How my thin-strapped cami scoops low and shows off an expanse of cleavage. The way my nipples are hard and rub against the wafer-thin fabric every time I shift my weight.

“How old are you, Layla?” His voice is deep and alluring and tortured all at once.

“Twenty-five.” I hear myself say the words barely above a whisper.

He studies me in silence, and I can’t move. Or maybe I don’t want to. Did that please him to hear my age, or make him madder with me? Does it piss him off that I’m young in years, even though I feel like I’ve lived more in my two decades than most people do in a lifetime?

There’s a part of me that wants to hide, because Colton Wilder is a force of nature that shouldn’t be messed with. But there’s a more dangerous and demanding part calling to me from the deep.

I want this man to see me.

Burnt orange embers smolder in the fireplace while Colt takes another long drink from his beer, and I feel my body ache and plead for attention.

Through the darkness he’s fixated on me, arresting me with that stern gaze. He’s looking at me with the kind of voracious appetite that only means one thing.

This man desires what he sees.

Would he ever cross that invisible line to take what he wants? I don’t know, but one thing I’m certain of, is that the longer I stand here, the more we’re both tiptoeing toward the edge of something forbidden.

My chest rises and falls, breasts feeling heavy and full as his eyes continue to roam freely, dragging across my body, leaving a trail of crackling sparks beneath my skin in their wake.

“Go to bed, Layla.”

There’s a warning in his voice that makes me shudder, like he can’t be held accountable for what might happen if I don’t obey his order.

And his words echo after me, long after I’ve retreated down the hall. Long after I’ve closed my bedroom door with my heart in my mouth and my Kindle clutched to my chest.

His burning stare is still imprinted on my skin as I lean heavily against the doorway, panting into the darkness. When I squeeze my eyes shut, I wish it was his hands and body on me instead of just his gaze.

I’d give anything for it to be so much more.