Chapter 2
Chapter two
Beau
The drive from Billings International to the ranch usually takes just under an hour.
But today… today it feels like it takes both an eternity and no time at all.
Having this woman in my truck is messing with my sense of time.
Every time I find myself looking over at her, it’s almost as if time stands still, and yet, when she looks back at me, it doesn’t feel nearly long enough.
I tried engaging in light conversation when she first got into the truck, but, despite the way she breathed a sigh of relief when I showed her the picture of me and Joe outside of the airport, I can tell she isn’t quite comfortable around me. Not that I blame her.
Jasper and Lawson gave Lincoln and me a quick rundown of the situation and everything Abigail has been through.
The longer I listened, the harder I clenched my fists.
I saw red. And I don’t even know the woman.
Not that it matters. No woman—no person—deserves to go through what she went through, and I know we don’t even know the half of it.
When it was clear Abigail would much rather look at the Montana landscape than pretend to feel comfortable, I left her to it.
I’m more than familiar with what it feels like to want nothing more than to go unseen.
I don’t mind the silence, though. It allows me to hear the small gasp fall from her lips each mile we pass.
It’s as if she’s seeing what true beauty looks like for the first time.
And she’d be right.
Everyone has their favorite time of year in Montana.
For some, the prospects of summer make their heart sing.
Swimming in the creeks and lakes, the bright sun warming your skin well into the evening, the sight of lush greenery as far as the eyes can see, and night after night of rodeo lights.
For others, spring is their favorite time of year here.
It’s a sign of new life. Colorful wildflowers blossoming in the fields, calves and other livestock taking their first breaths, and cool, crisp water filling streams as it melts from the mountains’ caps.
And for a select few, winter is when they feel most at home here.
Waking up to fresh blankets of snow that, when untouched, it looks as if God himself reached down and blanketed the valleys in white silk.
But for me, it’s fall. I love nothing more than feeling the crispness of the air wash over my skin as autumn settles around us, as if the land itself is taking one final, deep breath before winter.
It’s like rolling valleys and mountains are painted in the most beautiful watercolor tones—faded sage, burnt orange, and gold all accompany the wide blue sky.
There’s a stillness this time of year. When all that’s heard is the crunch of branches and leaves as animals prepare for the changing season, the rivers run low, and the horizon continues to glow earlier and earlier.
Fall feels like peace.
I soak in every second of it. I let each ray of sun seep deep into my bones, because before long, those feelings of warmth will be few and far between. Hell, it’s why I avoid wearing a jacket as long as possible.
Which is currently serving me well because the cab of my truck currently feels like it’s the dead of summer. Because as Abigail stares out the window, admiring Montana for everything she is, I keep catching myself staring at her. The sight of her fills me with a gentle warmth I can’t quite place.
Much like the world around me, Abigail feels like autumn.
Its essence captured in a single frame. Her hair spills in waves of copper and strawberry blonde past her shoulders, like October sunlight is woven in the strands, each lock holding the warmth of a fading day.
Freckles dust constellations across her porcelain cheeks, making her look wild and natural.
And her eyes, my god, those eyes. When they met mine outside of the airport, I couldn’t look away.
The perfect mix of green, blue, and brown holds the same quiet fire that I see in the rest of her.
Not loud, not demanding, but steady. Unwavering.
Like the way this land holds its secrets.
There’s an untamed elegance about her. A balance of wildness and grace.
She’s not the kind of beauty that’s shouted from the mountaintops.
She’s the kind that lingers. The kind that slips beneath your skin, keeping you warm for months on end.
Impossible to forget. Even bundled up in her leggings, sweatshirt, open flannel, and tennis shoes, her small frame looks like it belongs at the edge of a meadow, the wind combing through her hair, surrounded by fall’s beauty. Because that’s what she is.
Warm. Untamed. Unforgettable.
I don’t know anything about her. But I know that much.
And that’s enough for me to want to protect her.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I turn on my blinker and take the exit toward Roundup.
“Roundup?” she says, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she spots the exit sign. “I thought you lived in Billings?”
There’s an edge of panic to her voice, so I’m quick to explain, not wanting her to think I’m taking her somewhere I shouldn’t be.
“We tell everyone the ranch is in Billings. It’s the closest major city to us.
No one knows where or what Roundup is anyway.
Honestly, it sounds like a town someone made up for an old country western movie.
” The corners of her lips pull up at that.
“Joe probably didn’t think anything of it.
It’s just a habit. If it’d make you feel comfortable, you can call and ask her. ”
She looks at me for a beat before refocusing her stare out the front window and relaxing back into her seat. “No. I-I trust you.”
That sentence sits heavy in my chest.
She shouldn’t trust me. I’m a man she barely knows. And yet, I want her to trust me. I don’t know how to explain that, so I don’t. Instead, I give her a reassuring, non-creepy smile and drive through the small town. It takes all of five minutes before I’m turning out onto an unpaved country road.
I meant what I said. Roundup is a tiny town in the middle of nowhere with fewer than two thousand people.
There’s a post office, gas station, grocery store, coffee shop, vet, and a small clinic, but that’s about it.
Oh, and of course, The Busted Barrel. Because what’s a small western town without a bar.
For everything else, you’re pretty much forced to go to Billings or go without it.
But that’s the way it goes out here. You get pretty used to being able to do a lot with a little.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice as Abigail starts fidgeting with the hem of her flannel.
The corners of my mouth turn up as she opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, like she wants to say something but can’t quite find the words.
Once I turn onto the last road before we reach the entrance for the ranch, I hear her take another deep breath before her mouth pops open again.
She stays like that for a few more seconds, and just when I think she’s going to speak, she snaps it closed all over again.
Before I can think better of it, I reach across the center console and gently place my hand on hers, stopping her from fidgeting with her flannel. Her entire body tenses, so I slowly remove my hand and place it flat on the console.
Shit.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
She lets out a shaky breath as she looks down at her hand.
Analyzing the spot where my skin touched hers.
She rubs the pads of her fingers across the back of her hand before looking up at me.
The same eyes that I was so drawn to outside of the airport are locked on mine once again as they shine with sincerity.
Slowly, she lifts her hand and places it on top of mine.
She lingers for a moment and, once again, time ceases to exist as I memorize the way it feels, before she pats my hand gently and puts hers back in her lap.
“I’m okay. Just… it’s been an exhausting couple of days.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous. ”
“I understand feeling nervous,” I answer.
Because I truly do. “But I promise you there’s nothing to be afraid of.
You may be hiding, Abigail—” Her breath hitches as I say her name.
I know that’s not her real name, but it’s the one we best get used to calling her.
Because that’s who she is now. “You may be hiding from everything that fell apart back there. But if you’ll let us, we can help you build yourself back up here.
You won’t ever have to run from them again. Not with us around.”
“Why?” Her voice is soft now. Barely above a whisper.
“Why what?”
“Why did you agree to help me? You don’t even know me. How—how do any of you even know I’m worth all of this hassle?”
She asks the last question so quietly I can hardly even hear her as she stares down at her lap.
I take a moment to let an oncoming truck drive by us before I allow myself to look back over at her. “Abigail.” She doesn’t look at me. “Abigail, Darlin’.” Still nothing. “Look at me.”
Her gaze immediately snaps to mine.
“Nobody deserves what you went through. Do you hear me? Nobody. And if you’re ever ready to talk about it, any of us will listen.
But if you don’t want to, that’s okay too.
Just know that you’re worth it. You’re worth having a life outside of whatever hell you were living in.
And sure, we might be helping you because Joe asked, but that doesn’t make what I’m about to say any less true. ”
“And what’s that?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter.
“You’re here, which means you’re ours to protect now. Got it?”
The corners of her soft lips lift ever so slightly, and she narrows her eyes at me. “Sounds a little possessive, don’t ya think?”
I can’t help the chuckle that forms in my chest. “You think I’m bad, just wait until you meet the other three.”
Abigail crosses her arms over her chest.
I like seeing that fire in her eyes burn a little brighter.
“I’ve had enough possessive men to last me a lifetime.”
I scoff. “Those men—if you could even call them that—weren’t possessive, Darlin’.
They wanted to own you. To control you.” Her nostrils flare and I grip the steering wheel tighter with my left hand.
“But us, out here, when something is ours we don’t try to control it.
Because it’s not really ours at all. You’re a part of this land.
This place. This peace. And the best we can do is protect it and help set it free.
That’s the difference between us and them. ”
“That’s a very cowboy thing to say,” she says, smiling softly.
“Yeah, well. If the boot fits,” I answer with a wink.
Abigail giggles, and I do everything in my power not to let the sound go straight to my cock.
“Hey, Abigail?” I say as I approach the driveway to the ranch finally comes into view.
“Yeah?”
“Welcome home.”