Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Hayden
CHANNELING MY INNER COWBOY
There is something about Connor that intrigues me.
At first, I was sure it was just the instant attraction that had my mind so hyperfocused on him, but when I saw him watching me in the milking shed, it was like he was only watching me, which he could have been.
I mean, I was watching him almost the entire time, too, but that part of my brain that had me convinced our neighbor was a serial killer lit up when I saw him.
Do I think Connor is a secret killer hiding out on a ranch, burying his victims in the woods?
No. Maybe. One thing I am sure about is that there is more to this cowboy than first meets the eye, and I intend to find out everything I can about him.
“Where are you going?” Wendy asks as I pull on my coat. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, her phone in her lap, flicking through socials.
“For a walk.”
“Oh, I’ll come,” she says, climbing from the bed.
“With Connor,” I finish, and she laughs.
“Oh, really?” she asks, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and tilting her head to one side as she eyes me, patiently waiting for me to tell her more.
“It’s not what you think,” I say, and she scoffs.
“What is it then?”
“I’m just going to ask him about the ranch, you know, get info for my story,” I say and turn and leave before she sees right through me.
I’m halfway to the cuddle cove when I spot Connor pacing outside his cabin.
Connor’s place is built right up against the back of the mini barn.
Most of the calves sleep with their mothers, the young kids in the goat pens, except for Cuddles, who sleeps up at the house with Dean, and Lulu, who lives with Connor.
He’s mumbling to himself, but I’m too far away from him to make out any of the words.
Then he looks up and spots me.
“Oh, umm, sorry, I was just… I don’t know what I was doing, actually,” he concedes with a sigh, turning his hat over in his hands, and it’s more adorable than it should be.
“You talk to yourself often?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“Yes. No… Maybe. I talk to the animals mostly, but you knew that, too.”
“I did.”
“And yet you still came?” he asks as we make a start along the lit path toward the pool.
“Most serial killers start with animals first, so I figure I’m pretty safe with the cuddle cove cowboy,” I reply, and I’m thankful for the cool night air bringing down the blush in my cheeks.
“Lori Jones was a serial killer in her thirties who killed people who hurt animals, often using the same traps and weapons on them that they used on the creatures they captured.”
“How do you know that?”
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand as if he can somehow massage the tension of the day away. I resist the urge to reach up and take over.
“I don’t think my answer will help convince you that you’re safe out here.”
“Why?” I ask, unable to hide the smile from my tone.
“I listen to a podcast about the criminally insane,” he finally says, kicking his toe against the gravel path, sending tiny rocks skidding ahead.
“You listen to serial killer podcasts?” I ask, my pulse quickening at the thought that we might share more than an interest in cock.
He nods.
“It’s weird, I know—“
“It’s not. I listen to them, too. Wen thinks it’s why I was convinced our neighbor was a serial killer, but the signs were there, and I swear when he’s unmasked in a decade, I will have no problem telling her I told her so.”
He laughs, and it’s light and carries on the breeze like a song.
“Why do you think he’s a serial killer?”
“He had boxes of large black trash bags delivered before he even moved in and is always leaving at all hours. Wen reckons he’s just going to work, but he crochets blankets he sells online, and he does that from home, and no way is he dropping orders at the post office at that hour.”
“I’m with you, total serial killer vibes.”
A rustle of leaves to my left draws my attention, and I sidestep into Connor. His hands grip my shoulders gently.
“There’s nothing on this part of the ranch that will hurt you,” he says, my heart racing.
“You sure? There is more than one place you could easily bury a body.”
He laughs.
“Better to chop it up and feed it to the pigs.”
“Ummm—“
“I heard. On the podcast, that is.”
“Sure. So what else do you do for fun out here?” I ask, and he nods up ahead to the pool. Really, it looks like a pond. The edges were made to look like real stone with a rock waterfall on one end, surrounded by reeds and plants, and wait… “Is that a llama?”
“Fucking Chewie.” He sighs, jogging over to the fence.
“Can you grab me a rope from back at the cove?”
“Sure,” I reply, turning on my heel and heading back the way we came.
I find a rope and am back in time to watch Connor walking out of the shallow end of the pool, soaking wet.
He flips his drenched hair back, sending a fan of water into the air and it’s like I’m watching some GQ photoshoot, then he starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I stop walking.
I stand there just outside of the glow of the lights surrounding the pool, watching him strip off his wet shirt, revealing his chiseled abs.
“I’m building them a fully enclosed cage just for you,” he tells the llama, splashing it behind him, who only snorts in reply, and I laugh.
Connor looks up then, lips spreading into a wide grin that makes my chest swell.
“Fucker came over for a pet, and when I reached out, he grabbed my sleeve and pulled me in.”
I meet him by the fence and hand over the rope.
“I can’t say I’m entirely mad about it.” I laugh, watching him wring out his shirt, the cool air coming off his warm body in a soft mist.
“Can I borrow your phone? Mine is drenched,” he says, reaching out.
“Sure. But who are you calling?”
“Skye. He’ll come take Chewie home so I can get changed before I freeze.”
I hand over my phone and lean against the pool fence, waiting and trying not to make it too obvious that I’m trying to memorize every curve of his muscles.
Connor laughs down the line.
“Yeah, well, he’s either the fucking Houdini of llamas or you didn’t close the gate properly, again.”
There is a pause, and I can hear Skye on the other end, but not clear enough to make out his reply.
“I’ll get him roped and out of the pool by the time you get here. Thanks, Skye. See you in a minute.”
He clicks the phone off and goes to hand it back but pauses when he sees the lock screen. I’ve saved a quote by Bruce Lee that says, “In order to control myself, I must first accept myself by going with and not against my nature,” on it as a reminder to help me manage my stress and anxiety.
“Your favorite quote?” he asks, handing it back.
“More like a gentle reminder from the great Bruce Lee.”
“To accept who you are?”
“Pretty much,” I say as he loops the rope around the llama’s neck and starts to pull. The thing is stubborn, though, and thrashes its head in the other direction, nearly pulling him off balance and back into the water.
“When things change abruptly, and I’m not given time to prepare, I start to over-control the things I do have power over.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“I thought it was. I spent a good chunk of money on therapy to understand that it doesn’t have to be. It’s no use running from yourself because you’ll be running in circles, and when you finally stop, you’ll still be in the same place you started.”
“I should save that as a quote on my phone. If it ever turns on again.” He chuckles and gives Chewie another yank with the rope. “I’ll give you my number, and you can text it to me.”
“Sure,” I reply as he tries again to pull the llama out of the water.
“Maybe Bruce can help us in this situation, too,” I say, walking around to the edge of the water where the pool depth decreases in a slope to make walking in and out easier. I crouch down.
“Hey, Chewie,” I call to him softly. “Aren’t you a good boy?” I try to channel Connor and the way he talks to the cows. Soothing. Calming tones.
“He is a fucking shit, is what he is,” Connor says, and I shake my head.
“Shhh, don’t listen to him, Chewie. I know you’re a good boy, aren’t you?
Come on out now so we can get you all dry,” I say, keeping my focus on the llama and my voice low and soft.
“Let the rope go slack,” I say without taking my eye off Chewie.
The second he does, Chewie’s attention shifts from Connor to me.
“That’s it, come on, good boy, come here,” I coax, and he takes a step toward me.
My pulse doubles. Okay. Keep this going.
Calm, mellow, just like Connor. “You’ll get a chill staying in there all night.
Come on, let’s go get you warmed up.” He takes another step, his big dark eyes locked on me. I reach out with one hand toward him.
“Come on, let’s get you a snack. Do you want a snack, maybe some carrots?” I say, and he walks over slowly and steadily. As he steps up the sloped exit, I stand to meet him until he nudges my outstretched hand with his head. His fur is soft, and my fingers slip through, scratching behind one ear.
“Good boy, come on, let’s get you dry,” I say, standing and walking back toward the pool fence. Connor is still holding the other end of the rope, but it’s hanging slack, and he follows behind Chewie and me as we make our way out of the pool area.
“Who’s the Chewie whisperer?” someone asks, and I turn and find Skye, the young farmhand, standing there wearing bright blue flannelette pajamas with sloths printed all over them, and he’s holding a bunch of carrots in one hand. Cool, I picked the right snack for a cheeky llama.
Connor closes the pool gate with a clang that echoes through the open air.
“This is Hayden. He’s staying in cabin twelve,” Connor replies, a notable chatter in his voice.
“Good thing he was out for a walk then, or I might have had to pull both of you out.” Skye laughs, holding up the carrots. The second Chewie spots them, his interest in me fades, and he makes a start toward Skye.
“That llama is a menace,” Connor replies, handing Skye the end of the rope. He starts walking backwards, teasing Chewie with the carrots in the air to keep his focus on him and moving the way he wants.
“Then he fits right in here, doesn’t he?” Skye replies. “Thanks for the assist, Hayden. I’ll get this guy dry and put away; you two can get back to whatever it was you were doing.”
My face immediately warms.
“Lock the gate properly this time,” Connor replies, not even acknowledging Skye’s comment.
“I will, good night,” he calls, and I turn my attention back to Connor.
He wraps his arms around himself.
“So…I should get changed. Sorry, we’ll have to cut our walk short.”
“It’s no problem,” I say, trying to hold the disappointment from my voice. It’s not like I can expect him to just keep going soaking wet in this cold weather. He’d catch hypothermia or something. I strip off my coat and throw it over him.
“But you’ll be cold?”
“I’m dry, you’re soaked through. I think I’ll be fine for a few minutes until we get you back.”
“Thanks,” he replies, hugging the coat around him. “For a guy who’s not really into animals, you handled Chewie really well back there,” he says as we near his cabin.
“I was just channeling you.”
“Ha. I was yanking on that rope trying to drag him out.”
“Yeah, but with the minis you’re not like that. You’re different. Softer.”
“Everything a cowboy should be, right?” He laughs, and we stop in front of his place.
“It’s everything I think a cowboy should be,” I say, and he steps closer, gazing down at me with those big blue eyes, and damp hair hanging around his face.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach up and brush the loose strands behind his ear.
He leans into my touch, and then I push up on my toes and kiss him.