Chapter Three
Blake
I am sore in the best way—in all the worst places.
I have never had so many orgasms in my entire life.
I was getting a little worried it was too much, but no.
Can you ever have too much of something that amazing?
I think not. We did run out of condoms. I choose to ignore how pleased I was that he had to search high and low for the ones he had, meaning he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time.
Sneaking out of his place once he gave in to sleep was no simple feat.
The man is a cuddler. Which I honestly adore, I love to be cuddled.
To be honest, that is a new development so I can admit maybe I just loved being cuddled by him.
I have never felt so safe in my life. We agreed though—one night was all I could give him, even if part of me wanted more.
Now I rush through the small bunk that is my new home for the foreseeable future on Meadow Vale ranch.
I hop on one leg to pull up my favorite worn jeans, my boot thudding on the hardwood floors.
It is entirely too early for me to be up after my escapades last night.
My hot shower this morning did little to loosen limbs after the way Brooks folded me up.
“Jesus, why did I sneak out on him? We could have had another round before the day started,” I chastise myself as I pull a pink bandana on over my waves, gathering my hair back from my face.
Staring back at me seems to be an entirely different woman than the Blake I know.
Rosier cheeks than usual, eyes a little wilder, and if I tilt my head just so, I can see marks from Brooks on my throat and down my chest. Remembering his beard scruffing my skin as he pinned me down and rode me hard, I shudder.
Lord, why did I sneak out? Why did I limit what we did last night, what we shared in that little cabin, to just one night?
“Because this is the brand-new Blake and he wouldn’t want anything to do with the mess that comes with old Blake, would he?” I spit the words out with more vitriol than I mean.
Shaking off my frustration, I pull on my boot at last and head out to get the day started.
The air at Meadow Vale Ranch is earthy and bright, dry hay, damp grass and a fresh start.
Last night’s misstep is nowhere to be found, even if my body wants to argue.
I am starting fresh on this ranch, and a round of hard work is the best place to start.
My head does a rhythmic thumping against my skull that times up with the crunch of my boots on the gravel.
It is just after dawn, so the ranch is starting to buzz with activity.
I take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sprawling ranch with the horse paddock settled on the horizon.
There is a little painful tug in my chest as I remember a thousand sunrise days on my uncle’s ranch.
Part of me wonders what the hell I am doing here instead of trying to get that place back, but this is a new start—no more looking back.
“You must be the new hand,” a gruff voice calls, startling me.
I squint toward the main stable. An older man with black hair streaked with silver is leaning against a fence post, sizing me up.
Gunner! That’s the surly man’s name, the groundskeeper.
I vaguely remember him from my first meeting with Sterling Vale, the man who hired me.
Is he the man in charge? If so, he is who I am looking for, so I square my shoulders and head his way.
“That would be me. Blake,” I offer, though he did not ask, attempting to sound less hungover than I am. “I am supposed to....” I trail off as he dismisses me with a look and a jerk of his head to the barn behind him.
“Head on in, stallion in the last stall. Carter has been waiting...be good not to keep him waiting again, miss,” he suggests before he saunters off, leaving me in his grumpy wake.
Fantastic. I am starting my first day off on the wrong foot.
I step into the shade of the barn, my eyes adjusting to the dim, golden light.
Meadow Vale is breathtaking, in a 'this-place-could-break-your-back' sort of way. It is all dark wood and polished brass, a far cry from the worn saddles and battered stalls of my uncle’s place.
It was one of the reasons I chose this place—I could feel the love in it, even under the shine of it all.
My uncle’s place had a different kind of love.
Those worn saddles were because we spent hours riding the trails on our handful of horses.
The battered stalls were because my uncle hated change but he spoiled his horses and he spoiled those of us who worked with them.
I rub at my chest as I reach the last stall, trying yet again to disconnect from the shadows of my past.
In the last stall, a huge, black and silver stallion stands.
He might intimidate anyone else, but I see the beauty in him immediately.
A large man stands, back to me, his broad shoulders filling out a denim shirt that looks suspiciously soft.
He whispers something to the stallion that I could swear is the two of them sharing a secret.
“Uh...hello. Hope I am not interrupting a moment between you two,” I wince because it sounds like a joke, but I truly mean it.
The hulking figure of a man goes still. I am about to turn tail to escape when lets out a little chuckle. Cold washes over me before my entire body heats up. I stumble back a step. Because...yeah, I’ve heard that laugh.
“Hello, Blake,” his voice is even warmer and softer than I recall.
There is no way I would not recognize that hot-honey voice saying my name.
He said my name a hundred ways last night.
In the throes of orgasms, in the darkness as we laughed about how we had picked each other up at that dive bar, and as I drifted off to sleep in his arms. Before I made my cowardly exit before the sun came up.
Slowly the big figure turns, and the familiar impulse to turn and flee takes hold of me.
Because, lord above, was Brooks this beautiful last night too?
Rays of sunlight through the rafters hit his face, highlighting the sharp jawline and the piercing, blue eyes I spent hours gazing into.
His beauty in the daylight seems unfair.
Gone now are the hoodie and jeans, the motorcycle boots and biker air.
Now he fills out worn jeans and cowboy boots, looking every bit like a cowboy.
How did I miss that last night? How did I not hear the adorable twang in his tone or see the weather skin that tells of a hundred days spent out in the sun mending fences and tending to horses?
“Of all the stables in all of Starlit Summit, you wind up in mine,” Brooks laments as he leans back on the stable gate.
He does not look surprised. He does not even look upset.
No, if I were to put a name to the look on his wickedly handsome face, I’d call it amusement.
He crosses his arms over a chest I know for a fact is solid muscle.
With a smirk, he lets the silence stretch until I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.
“Funny guy. I do recall some laughter,” I choke the words out, hanging my hands from my back pockets as I rock on my heels. “Look, about last night, I did say...” Once again, I trail off as he cuts me off, closing the distance between us in two big steps.
“Eight hours. That is what you gave me,” he nods, his mouth twitching into a smirk as he reaches out to brush his knuckles over my cheek. “Doesn’t mean that is all I was hoping for. I had hoped to at least get a proper goodbye from you, not your pretty backside rushing out my front door.”
Heat crawls up my neck, a blush so fierce it probably glows in the dark. “Brooks, I....I had no idea you were...or that we would...I mean we never talked about...this.” I end on a sigh, waving a hand to indicate not the weird thing between us but the ranch itself.
“No, we did not. We did not discuss a lot, darlin’. What are you doing here, Blake?”
Brooks towers over me, so tall I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. Big mistake. Those eyes saw me come last night, they saw me desperate and needy and we both know it. In fact, I think they saw a lot more than I meant them to, if I am being honest.
“I am here to work, Brooks. I took this job months ago. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, dove, it was not about me before I found you sitting there waiting for me. Now, I think we both know better,” his breath is warm against my ear as his big hands circle my hips and yank me closer.
All I want to do is fall against his chest and let him have his way with me. Again. All day, for a lot longer than the eight hours I gave him last night. But I can’t. He is wrong. I came here for me. To find the girl I left on my uncle’s farm a long time ago.
“That is where you’re wrong, stud,” my tone is curt, leaving no room for flirtation or frailty on my part. “This is about me and what I want. I wanted you last night. I had you, Brooks. Now I want to work.”
Brooks lets out a chuckle that is mildly foreboding, tipping his hat at me.
“Have it however you want, darlin’,” he hums, not sounding convinced at all.
To be fair, I did not convince myself with my little speech.
“I can play along just fine. On the ranch, you work for me. You do what I say, when I say, and how I say, and we will be just fine. If you don’t like it, you can run that pretty ass out of here just as fast as you ran out of my place this morning. ”
Glaring at him as he turns to hand me a broom, I shake my head. “No. No more running off. That is why I am here, Brooks. To work. Deckard hired me for a reason, Brooks. Wait...Brooks Carter? Is that....no way.”
Grinning at me as I piece together who he is, he nods. Well, I am well and truly fucked. Both literally and figuratively, it would seem. Because last night I saw this big, brooding man as a dangerous biker who would give be my one last mistake. I had no idea he was a cowboy, let alone this cowboy.
Brooks Carter is an elite horse trainer, a man my own uncle raved about.
My uncle did not hand out praise. Hell, I broke a horse he couldn’t, and all he said was that I had gotten the good genes.
Brooks is who they call in similar situations—when you think you have done all you can to train a horse, to soothe its wild streak, he comes along and does his magic.
Suddenly, I wonder if he is going to do that same magic on me.
“That’s me, darlin’. Now, get to it, stall three needs mucking. Welcome to Meadow Vale.”
Brooks tips his hat at me again then saunters off, leaving me dumbfounded.
Well, also, a little turned on. Because he was hot enough as a bad-boy biker in that bar last night.
Out here in the sunshine, in dusty Levi’s that fit him like they were made for him and those cowboy boots, he is a new level of hot I am not prepared for.
Well shoot, I was not looking to be tamed, but with Brooks taking the reins I might not have a choice.