Swift and Saddled: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel
Swift and Saddled: Chapter 8

I was an idiot.

But at least I was aware I was an idiot.

In this situation, though, I would’ve lost no matter which decision I made. I either could’ve let her fall, or I could’ve caught her. I would’ve felt bad for weeks if I’d let her fall, but I also felt bad now for touching her—even if it was to keep her from hitting the dirt—when she very obviously did not want to be touched.

My hands had reached for her before I even knew what they were doing. Then she was in my arms and my world stopped again.

Just like it did when she’d rolled her car window down today.

And just like it did last night.

I didn’t know how to deal with this. I’d been attracted to people before, had a few girlfriends, but not for years.

And honestly, I didn’t mind. At the risk of sounding like an asshole, I knew there were women in Meadowlark who wanted me—for either a fling or some sort of relationship. The older ladies in Meadowlark were always dying to set me up with their niece or their granddaughter, saying I needed to replace a nice girl and settle down, and the Meadowlark gossip mill could never figure out why I hadn’t done that.

It was that word “nice” that frustrated me.

It wasn’t a bad word, but to me it didn’t feel like a good one. I’d always been called a “nice” guy. It didn’t matter the context—with friends, with women, with strangers—I was always “nice.”

Again, not bad, not good—just there.

Maybe that’s why the thought of a nice girl from this nice town didn’t feel like…enough for me.

But sometimes I wanted it to be.

The truth—at least part of it—was that I liked my life as is. I never felt that because I wasn’t in a relationship I was missing out or anything.

The other part of it was more personal. It was deep-rooted insecurity that came from having a brain that I sometimes felt like wasn’t my own.

I’d been diagnosed with major depressive disorder about five years ago. At this point, I’d learned to live with it, and I had a regimen—medication, therapy, physical activity—that worked for me, which meant that things didn’t get as dark as they used to. It’s why I liked to draw too. Drawing helped my brain be kinder to me.

Logically, I had the depression bull by the horns.

But depression wasn’t a logical disease. It was an unexpected cold front in the middle of July. It was impossible to predict, which meant that I spent much of my time worrying about when the other shoe was going to drop. Not if, but when I would sink into another dark hole and have to decide to claw my way out of it.

Even when I was happy, I was thinking about when I wouldn’t be.

Honestly, it was exhausting. It took up so much of my brain even though I recognized that there wasn’t very much I could do about it.

That’s what I meant when I said that my brain didn’t feel like my own sometimes. It felt like it belonged to my mental illness instead.

And, frankly, that sucked.

“This place is incredible.” Ada’s soft voice brought me back to Baby Blue. She was standing in the middle of what used to be the living room and staring up at the vaulted ceilings. “How long did you say it’s been empty?”

She was looking at the old Big House the way I looked at it—like it was a dream. Yeah, I wanted a guest ranch, but I also wanted this place to be something. Not just a building that used to be something. I wanted it to stand on its own.

It was a part of Rebel Blue, and Rebel Blue was a part of me.

“My parents moved into the new Big House before my brother was born, so probably around thirty-five years.”

“It’s in good shape for being empty for that long,” she responded, running her hand across the kitchen wallpaper. “But that does mean that we’re probably going to be in for some surprises.”

I smiled at that. “Honestly, I’m just hoping that I don’t see any more animals in here—dead or alive.”

Ada’s brown eyes widened. I liked her eyes. They were dark, but they had a variety of light and dark rings—like the inside of a tree. The rings—they were like those hypnosis circles.

“Yeah,” I responded. “The raccoons are almost as fond of this place as I am. I had the raccoon guy come, but those fuckers are ruthless.”

A laugh bubbled out of her—not like the one in the kitchen and not like the one last night. This one was like she didn’t want to laugh, but she couldn’t stop it.

Who didn’t want to laugh?

“The raccoon guy?” she asked on the end of her laugh.

“Yeah. Wayne.”

Ada raised one of her dark eyebrows. “What exactly does the raccoon guy do?”

“He takes care of the raccoons,” I said, a little confused. “He comes to get ’em and then safely relocates them.” What else would a raccoon guy do?

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Of course there’s a raccoon guy,” she said. More to herself than to me, I think. She walked toward the workbench that I’d set up between the kitchen and living room. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go over what this week is going to look like.”

As she pulled her newly returned iPad out of her newly returned bag, I walked up next to her, making sure I kept a professional distance. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but I saw her stiffen anyway, so I took another step away, and her posture eased a little bit. She pulled up a few different files, flipping to what looked like a schedule.

“So, Evan will be here tomorrow, and he’ll be overseeing the rest of the demo. From the look of the place now”—Gus, Brooks, and I had spent the last few weekends getting a head start, neither of them ever said no to hitting shit with a hammer—“it shouldn’t take that long.

“The construction crew is set to start next Monday, right?” I asked, trying to show her that I’d done my homework. She nodded. “Thank you for accommodating my request for a local crew,” I said. “My dad—well, my whole family, really—is happy about that. It’s important for Meadowlark.”

“No problem,” she said, looking at me this time. “I never thought about it before, but it makes sense to utilize the local economy—especially for a project like this. I’m assuming you guys are a big part of it.” I nodded. That was true. “Honestly, I’ve never thought too critically about that before you mentioned it, but it’s something I want to incorporate into my future projects.”

“It is very much appreciated in this small town,” I said, locking eyes with her again. Finally. Her eyes were like magnets, and when she wasn’t looking at me, my eyes searched all of her until they could replace hers again.

I felt it then, my heartbeat. I heard it too. When our eyes locked in like this, something unlocked in me, and my whole body remembered what it was like to get lost in this woman—this stranger—and it craved that feeling.

I think she felt it too, because she took a step toward me.

So I took a step toward her.

In the silence of the room, I heard her breath hitch.

Fuck, I wanted to hear that sound a million more times.

We stepped toward each other again—toeing the line.

Ada was a stranger to me, but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe what happened in the bar last night was fate.

Maybe Baby Blue wasn’t my only chance at something bigger—at something that could be mine.

I wanted to touch her—to reach out and cup her face. I almost did, but when I went to take the last step, the old floorboard under my feet creaked loud enough to shock us both back a step.

Ada’s eyes snapped away from mine, and she shook her head. “Listen,” she said. Her tone was harsher than I’d heard it. It wasn’t the cool professional one she’d been using with me all day. This one was angry. “I didn’t come here for some stupid ‘Cowboy Take Me Away’ fantasy. I came here to do a job.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, not thinking too hard about the fact that she was using the Chicks against me. “I didn’t mean—”

But Ada didn’t let me finish. “The kiss last night was hot, but it didn’t mean anything. I was bored, and you were there. It should’ve never happened.” Okay, ouch. I didn’t know why that hit me so hard, but this woman threw words like Gus threw punches.

She was right: It was just a kiss.

Even though it didn’t feel like “just” anything. To me, anyway.

“And it’s never going to happen again. This is strictly professional. Do you understand?” Ada’s eyes were cold, and her voice was sharp. Compared to the laughs I got from her last night and today when I told her about the raccoon guy, this felt like a swift kick in the stomach.

But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

She was right. She was here to work, and I needed her to do a good job.

So I nodded and said, “I understand.”

And tried to ignore the sound of my heart cracking.