Chapter Eight
Beau
“No, I’m not.”
Fucking Christ.
Her determination, her spite, and her stubbornness were some of the things I’d missed most about her. Even now, as she tested my patience, I couldn’t help but be in awe of her.
My strong, resilient wildflower.
The entire drive here, I felt like there was knife in my gut, twisting each time I thought about her stalker.
Abbie had a stalker.
Someone who had been terrorizing her for years.
During the drive, I reached out to Red Snake Investigations, needing to know the full story. When Ash picked up the phone, he knew what to give me before I even asked. He’d played back the recording of the phone call, letting me hear how she tried to play off. As if having a stalker wasn’t a big deal .
I listened to her anxious ramble, the fear in her voice torturing me in ways I’d never thought possible. When it was done, Ash told me he’d done some digging, giving me her last two addresses and the police report from when she was living in her apartment. The stalker had been there too, and when she called the police, they showed up, took a few pictures and that was that. They couldn’t help her.
Which was the fuck of it. Most stalkers went unpunished.
But Abbie’s wouldn’t.
That fucker’s ashes would be spread on Hallow Ranch’s mountain before the summer was over—I had no doubt about that. I wouldn’t rest until I knew she was safe.
When I’d arrived at her place, it had taken every single ounce of willpower I’d been granted not to take her in my arms the second she opened that door.
But before I could get lost in those deep brown eyes, the man’s t-shirt hanging from her shoulders, concealing her curves from me, kept me in check.
That wasn’t my shirt, and it certainly wasn’t hers.
I knew that in my gut.
She’d been with someone else, and there was nothing I could do to change that. As much as I hated it, as much as it burned me from the inside out knowing another man had touched her, there was nothing I could do.
Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to hunt this man down and make sure the rest of his meals would be sucked up from a straw though.
I had to get her safe first and take care of her stalker.
Only then could I hunt down every single man she’d touched since me.
Fuck me, I had a fucking to-do list.
Fast forward ten minutes, and she was standing in the doorway of her little walk-in closet, filled with simple clothes that were all Abbie. She was grown woman now, with a successful career in journalism, and she had her own money. Yet, my wildflower still stuck to her roots, dressing simply. She was never the type of woman to spend hundreds of dollars on a purse or a pair of jeans. That just wasn’t her, and even if it was, I’d still be head over fucking heels for her.
There was no stopping the love I felt for her.
There was no cure for the spell she put on me.
There was no ending to Abbie.
Not for me.
My hands tightened on the tops of her boots as I clipped, “Abbie, we don’t have fucking time for this.”
She pushed back some of her wavy chestnut brown hair, drawing my attention to it. She’d kept it shorter than she had in the past, the ends only reaching to the middle of her chest instead of hanging down her back. Somehow, the shorter length made her even look more wild, and I wondered if she tried to tame it for her day-to-day life.
Did she let the rest of the world see her wild side?
Or was that only reserved for the men who shared her bed?
She rolled her eyes and moved, pushing past me and walking to the other side of her room. I had to hand it to her; her home was stunning—exactly what I’d pictured.
It was old but well kept. Her kitchen and living room were bright, airy, reminding me of Denver’s living room at Hallow Ranch. Along the walls of the hallway, she had pictures of her and her friends, pictures of the mountains, and then, of course, her paintings. As I was carrying her down the hall to her bedroom, the sight of them almost made my heart stop. I’d thought—assumed—when she left me, she would stop painting.
I was glad to know she hadn’t.
Painting was her way of feeling free, and I was utterly entranced by every single piece she created.
Her bedroom was a surprise to me, though. I expected light and airy, like the rest of her home. However, in here, I felt it—her pain. The walls were dark in color. I didn’t bother turning on any of the lights, so I guessed they were a dark blue or green. Her bed had dark sheets and an even darker duvet on top. On top of her dresser, things were piled up, and in the corner of the room where I’d stolen her chair from, there were stacks of books on the floor, covering a multitude of subjects as well as a few stray notebooks and pens scattered along the floor.
This was her true space. Out there, my wildflower was putting on a show, but in here, in the sanctuary of her bedroom, she didn’t have to. She was allowed to be herself.
Which bothered me almost as much as her having a stalker.
She was living in pain—just like me—and I didn’t understand it.
Why in the world was she in so much pain if she’d achieved her dream?
She got what she wanted.
“You need to leave,” she said, sounding tired, dragging me out of my thoughts.
I watched as she bent over, the hem of her shirt lifting as she reached for something on the floor. My gut tightened at the sight, and the front of my jeans suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Fucking hell.
I should’ve looked away from her, I shouldn’t have noticed the way that damned t-shirt rode up, giving me a full view of her bare hip and a peek of her lace underwear. I’d already had to grab a handful of them from her damn dresser, enough to fill my fantasies for the next three years. My cock twitched in my jeans, feeling something it hadn’t in years, reacting to just a few inches of skin.
Jesus fucking shit.
When she rose back up to her full height, she muttered a curse, inspecting her cell phone.
“Call the cops, and I’ll redden your ass” I warned, my voice low as I pictured the sight of it. Before I allowed myself to bring up old, but tempting memories, I rolled my neck from side to side, mentally shaking the desire off.
Her head shot up to me, her brown eyes filled with anger as her mouth got tight. “I’m not calling the damn cops, even though I should.”
I exhaled through my nose, growing tired of her bullshit already. We hadn’t even been around each other for an hour. That was just how it was between me and my wildflower. We were fire and gasoline. Either we’d rise in the flames together, or we’d let them consume us, destroying us completely.
Clearly, she’d chosen the latter.
“I need to get back to the ranch before noon, Abbie. Let’s get a move on,” I ordered, grinding my jaw.
She muttered something about her screen being cracked, ignoring me.
“I can have Milly look at it when we get into Hayden,” I told her.
“I don’t need to go to Milly when I can take it somewhere here in the city to get it fixed,” she shot back, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
Yeah, I’d had enough of this.
“Fuck it, I guess you don’t need pants,” I murmured.
Before she registered what I’d meant, her shit was on the bed, and I was coming for her. She held her hands up in protest, backing into her nightstand. “I am not going—oof!”
She was on my shoulder again, her weight calming me. She was in my arms, which meant she was the safest she could be. “You’ve got to start listening to me,” I grumbled, banding my arm around her and grabbing her bag and boots in the other hand.
“Put me down!” she screeched, hitting my back with her fists.
I shook my head as I went down the hall, knowing damn well she wasn’t hitting me as hard as she wanted. I’ve seen her knock out a grown man before. She wasn’t putting in as much effort. “You can hit me harder, Abbie,” I invited gruffly, coming into her living room. “I can take it.”
“I can’t stand you, Beau!” she shouted, growling and trying to buck out of my hold.
Those fucking words.
I let out a growl of my own, tightening my arm around her and jolting my shoulder. Her breath hitched as I warned, “Your ass is in the air, Abbie. Don’t fucking tempt me. Not now.”
As I was about to take us into the foyer, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A bouquet of white and yellow roses sat in the middle of her coffee table, a black box sitting beside it. I made a mental note to come back and look once I got her in the truck. I carried her through the foyer, out the door, and into the sprinkling rain. I threw her bag and boots in the back of the truck before opening the passenger door.
As expected, she fought me the entire time.
Once I had her ass in the seat, she was swatting at me, kicking her feet, doing everything she could to prevent this.
“God fucking dammit,” I bit off, snatched both her wrists in one hand and forcing my body between her legs as they hung out of the truck. I leaned down into her space, my upper lip curling. “Quit being a fucking brat, Abbie May Spears.” The sky opened up some more, and the sprinkles morphed into fat raindrops, soaking my back as I hovered over her. Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming out as soft pants, the sound going straight to my cock, keeping the damn thing hard.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Beau Darren Marks,” she spat back, baring her pretty teeth to me.
I cocked my head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Telling you what to do is my favorite fucking pastime, Abbie. Here,” I said, reaching for the glove box and pulling out what I needed, “watch this.”
In a flash, I had her facing forward, a shout coming from her as I leaned over the seat, clamping a cuff on her wrist and clamping the other one to the steering wheel. “Beau! What the hell?” she gasped, looking at me with wide eyes. “Did you just—”
“Yeah, baby, I did,” I said, righting my hat, rain drops falling from the brim and landing on her bare thighs.
She blinked, staring at me in disbelief for a moment. Then, she gave her hand a tug, the chain of the cuffs clicking. She repeated the process, shaking her head and mumbling something about all of this being a dream.
But this wasn’t a dream.
It was a damn nightmare, and I was at the center of it, being punished for something I didn’t even know I did.
“Beau, let me out,” she breathed, looking at me, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks. She was in shock, but within her warm, brown pools, anger swirled like a damn tornado.
And fuck it all to hell, I’d give anything to see that tornado again. I was ready to spend my life fighting her tornadoes, chasing them down, loving her through it all.
I pointed my finger in her face, grinning just to piss her off even more. “Stay.”
Then, I slammed the door, ignoring her cussing and shouting as I covered her bag and boots with my tarp before heading back into the house. Once inside, I went directly to her coffee table, my boots drumming against her hardwoods. Thoughts of her stalker, or even a damn lover, swirled in my mind as I swiped the box into my hands, flicking open the top.
Nope, definitely not from a lover .
Anger, blood red, boiling hot anger, raged inside me as I looked at the threat from her stalker and the picture he’d provided her with. I bit off a curse, finding multiple locks of hair underneath the photo—all labeled with the names of her friends. “Fucking Christ, this man is nuts,” I muttered, pulling out my phone and dialing Red Snake Investigations for the second time tonight.
“You get your girl?” the ex-Navy SEAL asked after the second ring.
“She’s coming to Hallow Ranch with me,” I told him simply, skipping over the fact that Hallow Ranch was the last place in the world she wanted to be.
Ash hummed. “I fucking figured.”
“Got something here,” I began. “A gift from her stalker.”
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
I gave him the run down as I plucked the card from the flowers, noticing the address on it wasn’t to her home. “He sent this to her work. She must’ve brought them home to not draw attention from her co-workers.”
“Yeah, carrying around a box of fucking hair might do that,” Ash deadpanned. “Alright, here’s what we can do: I can swing by in the morning, get access to her security system feed, and keep an eye on the house while you’re…hosting her at Hallow Ranch.”
“If he shows up, let me know,” I told him darkly, looking around the living room.
“Beau…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
“Look, she may not want to be mine anymore, but she is. There’s nothing else to it. She has my protection for the rest of her life, no matter what happened between us. That was never going to change,” I said, setting down the box.
“You’re fucking crazy. You know that, right?” Ash said softly.
“I’m a cowboy, Ash. A cowboy who made a fucking promise to her,” I said, moving away from the coffee table and doing a second sweep of her house, checking her windows, locks, and doors as I ordered Ash to charge everything to me—not the Hallow Ranch account.
Ending the call, I armed her security system, locked the door, and headed to my truck.
I stopped short, finding Abbie’s eyes through the windshield, the flood lights above her garage giving me just enough light to see the agony on her face. The rain was pouring down on me now, but I couldn’t look away, couldn’t move. Abbie was all I could see.
She fucking hated me, that much was clear.
My throat went dry as guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders.
There was nothing I could do.
I wasn’t the type of man to leave my woman in danger, no matter how much she hated me.
As I got closer to the truck, the agony in her eyes morphed into something else entirely: longing.
It was gone as quick as it came, but as I climbed into the driver’s seat, I felt something ignite in my chest for the first time in years.
Hope.