Live for Me (Hallow Ranch)

Chapter Nine

Abbie

No one could deny the beauty of Hallow Ranch. Generations ago, when Great-great-great Grandpa Langston bought this land, he knew what he was doing. He knew he’d come across a piece of heaven on this Earth, a piece of heaven that would be passed down from son to son for the next hundred years, becoming a pillar of Hayden, Colorado, and at one point in time, a safe haven for me.

However, when I left Hallow Ranch six years ago, I left the beauty of this place behind, fully prepared to never see it again. No matter how much it killed me inside. No matter how much it dimmed the light of my soul.

So one could understand my frustration as my eyes landed on the bright red barn with the giant signature “H” painted on the front, the beautiful two story white farmhouse sitting on the hill with the wraparound porch, and the building to the left of the barn known as the bunkhouse while I tried to get my hands free of the handcuffs a fucking cowboy put on me three hours ago.

“I told you to stop fucking yanking,” Beau clipped from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on top of the steering wheel, his cowboy hat in the seat between us. “I’ll get those off you soon enough.”

“The second I get out of this truck, I’m going to your father,” I spat, knowing Jigs wouldn’t stand for this.

As we drove by the main house, my eyes landed on the kid reading a book on the front porch, his hair the color of midnight. He looked up from the book in his hands, his gray eyes landing on me. My lips parted as my chest deflated.

Holy shit, that was Caleb.

Beau’s words cut through my shock, leaving an empty feeling in my chest. “Pop ain’t here, Abbie.”

My head whirled back to face him, finding him rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, elbow propped up on the window as he turned the wheel with an open palm, going down the hill to the barn and the bunkhouse. Desire curled—once again—in my stomach, licking my insides in the most delicious way.

Damn Beau Marks for making driving a truck look like porn.

Clearing my throat, I focused on the question burning inside my mind. “Where is Jigs?” I demanded, my words coming out harsher than I intended.

Beau’s eyes slid over to me, threatening to drown me in his addicting sea of blue. “He’s with my mom.”

I blinked, my chest tightening. “With your mom?” I whispered.

He looked away from me, driving his truck around the backside of the barn and parking behind the bunkhouse next to two other trucks I didn’t recognize. He put it in park and looked over to me as silence filled the cab. “We doing this the easy way or are you planning to continue to be a pain in my ass?” he asked simply, grabbing his cowboy hat.

I looked out the windshield, my spine snapping straight. “I’m not leaving this truck until you take me back home, Beau. I do believe I said this multiple times in the last three hours.”

“One hundred and forty-three times, actually.”

I bit the inside of my lip, refusing to look at him.

“And one hundred and forty-three times, I believe I told you weren’t going home until this fucking stalker was handled,” he said, growling at the end, the sound sending goosebumps across my arms.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes before shooting him a look. “Oh yeah? And what the hell are you going to do, Beau? Hunt him down and turn him into the cops yourself?”

A shadow fell over his features. “Who said anything about going to the cops?”

My eyes widened, one of the darkest memories of our past rising to the surface, bringing our secret to light. “You couldn’t possibly—”

“—killed a man with my bare fucking hands for touching you once,” he cut me off, his voice filled with malice. “I have no issues doing it again.”

“ Murder isn’t the answer,” I stressed.

He held my eyes. “It is if someone hurts you.”

Before I could respond, he pushed his door open, folding himself out of the cab, and slamming it behind him. Three seconds later— yes, I counted —my door was wrenched open and he loomed over me, his shadow covering my bare legs. I dared to look at him, my lips parting at the sight of his silhouette. The morning sun was behind him, its rays creating a halo effect around his cream cowboy hat, causing his tanned neck to glow, highlighting the few stray golden, blond hairs poking out from underneath it.

“The guys should be coming back from pasture four any minute, and I’ll be damned if they see you in nothing but a t-shirt,” he grumbled, shifting and reaching over the side of the tailgate. I twisted my neck to see him digging in my bag, pulling out a pair of cut off shorts, the ends frayed slightly. The lump in my throat swelled as he brought them to me, praying to God he wouldn’t notice the paint stains on the sides.

Those were my painting shorts.

They used to be jeans until one day, I was in the middle of painting a huge canvas in the middle of the field in front of the barn. The heat was unbearable, but I couldn’t step away. Beau came to me with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors and cut them as I continued dabbing my paint brush, perfecting the clouds above. That was a good day, one of my favorites.

Without a word, Beau reached over my lap and turned me before bending down and slipping the shorts over my feet and up my calves. He muttered a curse under his breath before rising back up and grabbing my boots.

I opened my mouth to protest as he slipped the first one on, then the second. “Beau—ahh!”

He yanked me out of the truck by my hips, setting me on my feet as I stared up at him. Our gaze didn’t break as his hands drifted down from my hips to the shorts, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops and pulling them up. When they got caught underneath the swell of my ass, his eyes flared, and mine dropped down to his lips. Suddenly, his minty breath and pine-scented cologne were overwhelming my senses, and I felt my nipples harden as he yanked the shorts over my butt. Those lips I’d been focused on curled into a small snarl as his hands drifted to my front, zipping the shorts and buttoning them underneath the hem of my sleep shirt. The heat of his hands against my soft stomach threatened to send me into the next level of insanity.

Then, his hands—his touch—were gone, and he took a step back, anger painting his features in a way that made him look even more beautiful.

It was devastating, and I hated it.

I hated how gorgeous this cowboy was.

I hated how much he still cared about me.

I hated how much he was willing to do for me.

I hated how good his soul was, how pure his heart was.

I hated that, after all these years, he was taking care of me like he never stopped.

I hated how I didn’t deserve any of it.

I hated myself for letting this cowboy love me.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the trees to my right, his jaw tight as he readjusted his hat. “Alright, let’s get you in the bunkhouse,” he said gruffly.

And just like that, the spell was broken, and reality rained down on me. This was crazy. I shook my head, trying to regain my bearings. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be curious about Beau’s life, be worried about his father, feel guilty for seeing Caleb nearly grown, hoping Denver and Mason Langston worked out their shit.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I wasn’t supposed to feel the way I was right now.

Hallow Ranch wasn’t my home.

And Beau Marks wasn’t supposed to be in my life.

He was in the past, with no place in my future.

“I’m going to call my friends,” I declared. “They should be here this afternoon.”

Beau clicked his tongue. “I see you’re choosing option B.”

Before I could ask what option B was, he moved, charging me for the third time in twelve hours. I was in the air and over his shoulder within the next second and we were moving, rounding the back of his truck, heading up the side of the bunkhouse.

“Beau Marks, put me down this instant!” I cried out, my voice echoing off the red painted barn as we walked between the two buildings.

“I gave you a damn choice, Abbie,” he clipped.

I bucked up, pressing my handcuffed hands against his lower back as I tried to look at him. My hair was everywhere and my t-shirt was sliding down. “Dammit, let me go! You fucking asshole!”

He turned, and we were in the sun once again, the gravel crunching underneath his boots.

“Quiet,” he ordered, moving his hands to rest just above my ass. “I don’t make empty threats. Test me, Abbie.”

My arms gave out, and I began kicking my legs. “This is kidnapping, you stupid, stubborn, arrogant cowboy!” I yelled out.

“I see Abbie hasn’t changed.”

I froze as the new voice registered in my ears, and my head snapped up.

Fucking Van Gogh.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the group of cowboys standing in front of the barn. When my eyes landed on Mason Langston, all the air left my lungs, and I forgot how to breathe entirely.

Mason Langston was here—at Hallow Ranch—with Denver.

The brothers were standing beside each other, Denver in dark colors and Mason in warm colors. Both of them had black cowboy hats on. Denver’s arms were folded over his massive chest, his dark beard longer than I remembered. Mason pulled his hat off, revealing their mother’s dirty blond hair as he pushed it back. Leaning against the barn was a man who looked similar to Denver. Dark hair, dark clothes, black cowboy hat, and his trimmed black beard offset his wild, long hair hanging down his neck, stopping just over his shoulders. His dark gaze was on me and me alone, as if he was trying to stare into my soul.

I see Mags still hasn’t left Hallow Ranch.

All three of them were older, more weathered in the way cowboys got, but it didn’t make any of them less attractive. That was the thing about Hallow Ranch. It didn’t just breed healthy cattle. It wasn’t just one of the wealthiest ranches in the state. It was home to handsome, scorching hot cowboys.

“Who is that?”

My attention moved from Mags to the two younger cowboys on Denver’s other side. One had a cream hat, like Beau’s, and the other had a brown hat. Both of them were just a few inches shorter than the Langston brothers, but no one was taller than them. They were giants, just like their father, grandfather, and all the cowboys who came before them. The cowboy with the brown hat, tilted his head to the side, giving me a better view of his face, and I realized they were twins.

“This is Abbie,” Beau answered as if that cleared everything thing up.

However, when the twins shared a look, my heart skipped a beat.

Beau had told them about me, meaning everyone on this ranch knew what I did. I wanted to run far away from this place and hide. I never intended on coming back this ranch—let alone be dragged back to it.

“Did you really kidnap her?” Denver’s deep voice rumbled. My eyes flicked back to him and I was ready to tell him everything, but Beau turned to the side.

“Ain’t kidnapping if she’s in danger.”

The twins chuckled, the one with the cream hat shaking his head. Mason looked at his boots.

“When did you get back, Mase?” Beau asked.

The cowboy looked back up to Beau and jerked his chin to the left, but I couldn’t see what was over there. “Got in this morning,” he answered.

“Thought you were heading to California,” Beau said.

Mason smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Harm wanted to come home, so we came home.”

Who was Harm?

So many questions were burning in my mind, and I mentally kicked myself for letting my curiosity almost get the best of me.

These people aren’t in your life anymore, Abbie.

They don’t care about you, and you can’t care about them—no matter how much you want to.

Denver’s eyes were on Beau for some time as I lifted up again. Then, when those gray eyes landed on me, my gut twisted, seeing something within them that scared the ever-living shit out of me. “I take it she wasn’t going to listen to you,” he said, looking back at Beau.

Beau grunted. “She never does.”

I opened my mouth, ready to cuss him out again, but Denver cut me off. “When the day is done, we need to have a chat, Beau.”

“Knew that was fucking coming,” Beau grumbled. I sucked in a breath as his thumb began stroking the back of my thigh.

He was trying to comfort me.

My eyes flicked over to the famous bull rider, and Mason tipped his hat to me. “Abbie,” he greeted, his face set in stone. Thankfully, he didn’t have the same murderous look in his eye as his older brother. The only thing I saw within his was disappointment.

I swallowed, blinking back the tears starting to form. “M-Mason,” I stammered, my voice faint. There was a connection between Mason and me, a dark, violent secret that tethered us together in the most unexpected way. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I re-focused my attention somewhere else.

Denver moved then, stepping forward as he dropped his arms. “Right, well, she can sit up at the house with Val,” he began, talking as if I wasn’t here and not giving me the choice, “or you can lock her in the bunkhouse. Hurry up and decide. We have work to do.”

Val?

Who the hell was Val?

“Yup,” Beau said, turning and walking to the bunkhouse.

I looked back to the Hallow Ranch owner, silently pleading for mercy, but judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t going to give me any.

Seconds later, when the cowboys were out of view, I heard Beau opening the door to the bunkhouse. Once he stepped inside, I was slammed with hundreds of countless memories, the sounds of the past filling my ears as the smell of whiskey, leather, and everything cowboy filled my nose. Beau kicked the door shut behind him as I watched the floor. He carried me past the kitchen area, which housed a massive cedar table fit for a king, and then into the small living room space in the center of the giant room. It had a mounted TV on a dark wooden pillar, and two couches, a small wooden table between them. The couches were the same, but the table was new.

Before I could assess the rest of the bunkhouse to see how much it had changed in the last six years, Beau set me down on my feet. I glared at him, my mouth tight as emotions boiled inside me, the main one being anger. I couldn’t tell if it was anger towards the cowboy who kidnapped me or towards myself. I blinked, looking away from him and into the kitchen area as I tangled my fingers together, the realization hitting me like a bullet.

“Abbie,” he murmured, his rough voice settling over me like a spring rain.

“I would like to go home, please,” I rasped, my voice cracking at the end as the memory of us dancing in front of that sink came to the forefront of my mind. That was the day I’d gotten my acceptance letter to school. Beau came back from working out in pasture four, and when I told him, he picked me up, kissed me, and then, we danced. God, we would've danced all night if we could've.

I blinked, clearing my throat and shifting my weight.

Being here was too much—too painful.

“Going home isn’t an option,” he said softly—too softly.

He was trying to make this easier for me, like being around him, being in this place, wasn’t ripping me apart at the seams. When my eyes met his, I could see the conflict within them raining down in those damn blues. “I’m not wanted here,” I told him. “I’m pretty damn sure I’m not even welcome here.”

He shook his head, moving around me. “That’s not true, Abbie.”

“Really?” I quipped, turning around and watching as he opened the trunk at the end of his bunk. “Because your boss looked like he was five seconds away from killing me, and we both know how he can get when someone he doesn’t want here is on his ranch.”

Beau muttered something under his breath as he pulled out a small brown leather bag, unzipping it and pulling out a set of keys. He didn’t speak until the trunk was closed again. “Denver would never hurt you, Abbie.” His eyes shot to mine. “He knows who you are to me. Every single one of those cowboys do.” He jerked his chin. “Lift your hands.”

I shook my head and did as he asked, looking out the window over his bunk, keeping my eyes on the blue sky, trying to ignore the heat of his touch as he undid the cuffs one at a time. When my wrists were free, he took them in his hands, his fingers massaging them. “You okay? Sore anywhere?”

A harsh laugh left me then. “Usually, the kidnapper doesn’t ask those kinds of questions because they actually don’t give a single shit about the person they kidnapped.”

“Well, I’m not that kind of kidnapper,” he replied almost instantly, his eyes on my wrists.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a booming voice.

“Let’s get a move on, Beau!”

He ignored Denver and dropped my hands, walking over the living room area, opening the single drawer in the small table between the couches. He pulled out a note card and flicked it out to me. “Right, here’s the WiFi password and all the channels we get out here. The signal should be strong enough for you to work while I’m gone,” he explained.

I took the card without looking at it. “The bunkhouse has WiFi?”

A short, deep chuckle filled my ears then. “Yeah, the twins bought it and set it up. Lawson developed a tracking system for the herd. He’s big into technology.”

“Then why is he here?” I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

Dang it, Abbie.

I was surprised to find Beau shrugging. “Hell if I know. Both of those guys could run the damn country if they wanted to, but I guess somewhere along the way, they wanted to experience a bit of peace.”

My throat worked, and I looked down the note card.

“Cute,” I deadpanned.

Beau left without a word, and as soon as the tension in my shoulders dissipated, the front door was opening again. I spun on my heel to find him carrying my bag inside and setting it on the table. He looked up at me and ordered, “Get settled. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Then, he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the memories of our happiest days hovering around me.