Chapter 18
Over the next twenty-four hours, things on the ranch whip up into a frenzy.
As soon as the pair of guests we have lodging in the main building check out, everyone leaps into action.
For once, our lack of weekday bookings is a blessing, because it doesn’t take long for the lobby and dining hall to devolve into a disaster zone.
I’m forcing myself to trust Belle’s instincts and vision, even if right now it looks ten times worse than if we’d left things alone.
Wylie and Remy joke and throw strips of age-weathered wallpaper at each other as they work on the far wall, and I want to snap at them to get a move on, but bite my tongue and turn back to the task at hand.
It’ll all get done. Even if I don’t sleep for the next four days, it’ll get done.
We can’t afford to mess up this opportunity, and it’s too late to abandon the refurbishment plans.
August is taking the worn-out lobby furniture to the dump as we speak, along with some of the guest room furniture because Belle managed to get some truly mind-boggling deals from a furniture wholesale outlet I’d never heard of before.
When I asked her if she had to sell her soul to get the discounts, she just shrugged at me, so I’m not convinced she hasn’t contracted with some kind of furniture mafia or illicit armchair black market.
My mind is abuzz with worries. Stressing about the new furniture being delivered in time.
Worrying if Belle was being too optimistic in thinking she and the new friends she’s made through Remy’s D&D group will actually be able to repaint the guest rooms in time.
Wondering if the guests will even appreciate all this effort or if we’re sinking Belle’s only funds into a lost cause.
That last thought bothers me the most, both because I don’t enjoy thinking about Belle wasting what little money she has to her name, and because it means I’m doubting the viability of the ranch overall.
It’s a worry I’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge, buried under a pile of day-to-day stress.
But now it’s rattling around in my head on repeat as I tear off strips of wallpaper, telling me that even with changes, the ranch can’t be saved.
That I can try with all my might, and it won’t be enough.
That I’m not enough, and I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.
“Cal!”
I jolt at the sound of my name and a soft touch on my back, and whip around to see Belle.
Her eyes widen, and she takes a tiny step back. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry! I said your name a few times, and you didn’t respond.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I shake my head, attempting to clear the miasma out of my brain and focus on her. Though when I do that, I notice the fleck of paint on her cheek.
“You’ve got some…” Before I can stop myself, I reach out and attempt to swipe it off for her, but it’s already dried so I end up caressing her cheek with my gross wallpaper-y thumb.
“Oh!” Bright pink blossoms on her cheeks as she touches the spot that I quickly retract my hand from. “Hazard of the work, I suppose.”
Stars, she’s beautiful when she blushes. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, Belle is beautiful all the time. Frustratingly and distractingly so.
“Want to take a breather? I need to grab something quick to eat and take a shower so I’m semi-presentable when the dining furniture delivery comes.”
“I could eat, but I don’t think there’s room in your shower for both of us,” I deadpan.
The joke doesn’t land as I intend, Belle’s flush deepening as she releases an uncomfortable, breathy laugh.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about that kind of thing.”
“No, no, it’s totally fine.” She shakes her head, making her cute little braids swish from side to side. I have the absurd, highly inappropriate desire to grab one of them to see what it would feel like wrapped around my hand. “I’m just not used to you joking with me like that.”
She still won’t meet my eyes, so I don’t believe her. “I won’t do it again. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Says the cow man who tortured me with farm chores for a week,” Belle retorts, a small smile spreading on her lips.
“That was before I knew I wanted to keep you around,” I tease back, relieved when she meets my gaze.
“You like having me around?” Belle asks, back to her usual cheeky smile.
“Hmm, I guess so. As a business partner, you’re alright.”
She lets out a peal of laughter. “What a glowing compliment.”
There are plenty of ways I could compliment this sassy, stunning woman, but none of them are appropriate for the professional partnership we’re building, so I keep them to myself and shrug.
It’s unseasonably hot on the delivery day for the lodge’s new furniture.
This sketchy discount furniture arrangement didn’t come with anything other than a team of human men dumping everything haphazardly in front of the building and driving off in a cloud of dust like the sheriff was on their tail.
So here I am, hauling everything inside on my own. I lose my shirt a few minutes into the endeavor, and by the time I’ve made my fifth trip up to the guest rooms, there’s a gross damp patch of sweat forming on my back and chest.
I’m lifting a deep green sofa, grimacing as my sweaty body touches the surprisingly luxurious velvet fabric, when I notice Belle standing over by the path from Dawn’s house to the lodge, staring at me. I wave over to her with my free hand, and she startles as if she were in a trance.
“Everything okay?” I call out to her, setting the couch back down, worried by her strange behavior.
She says something that I can’t make out.
“What?”
“You’re very strong!” she shouts back.
Carrying the furniture on my own doesn’t seem like an impressive feat of strength to me, but to a much smaller human woman, I suppose it does. I can’t help the brief surge of pride at the awe in her tone.
I pick the couch back up, flexing my abs a little more than is strictly necessary. When she stays rooted to the spot, that weird look still on her face, I huff. “Come show me where you want me to put this.”
“Oh!” Belle scurries over, almost tripping in her sparkly pink cowboy boots. Her cheeks turn red after she stumbles and she shakes her head at me as a smile curves my lips. “Don’t you dare laugh at me for tripping,” she grumbles as she leads us inside.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say solemnly, though I’m still smirking.
She scowls at me, and my cock twitches. God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.
As we arrange the furniture to her satisfaction, I catch Belle staring at me a few more times.
When I turn around from placing down the new coffee table and find her watching me yet again, I narrow my eyes.
Is she worried about me getting the new furniture dirty with my sweat? “Why are you staring at me?”
“What?” She blinks a few times, confused.
“You’ve been staring at me this whole time.” She sighs as if I’m being ridiculous. “You were! Am I doing something wrong?”
Belle sighs again. “If you must know, I was thinking about how this would make for good behind-the-scenes content. You, all muscly and shirtless, carrying heavy things around.” She waves her hand at me and the table.
I raise a brow at her, and she huffs.
“I’m not trying to be a creep! That’s why I didn’t say anything. You’re the one that told me I should make more content and offered to be in it!”
Watching Belle squirm does something to me that I’m not proud at all to admit. “Alright. Let’s film some content.”
Belle looks taken aback. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to agree.
“Though, maybe we can do it while I’m out doing a trail check instead of in here,” I continue. “Moving furniture isn’t as quintessential to ranch life, so might be weird to advertise with it.”
“Right. Okay.” After a beat, her surprise gives way to her analytical brain. “How would that work? I can’t exactly film you while we’re riding the same horse.”
“We have an ATV you can ride in,” I suggest, though I can’t say I’m in love with the idea of her filming while driving it. Maybe she can stay back and film me, then catch up in the ATV?
“The ATV will stir up too much dust and dirt. Hmm…I guess I could try riding on Undertaker?”
It’s my turn to gape at her, taken aback by her casual suggestion. “I know you’re trying to be brave, but that’s a terrible idea. Besides, you’re not riding a horse alone for the first time without my full supervision.”
I expect her to be relieved, but an angry scowl forms on her face. “I already had my first time on a horse by myself and I was fine without you being there.”
I glare back. “What are you talking about? When were you on a horse alone?”
“I’ve been visiting Undertaker ever since we went for a ride. I wanted to get acclimated to him, and Dutch said he didn’t mind me coming to visit and brush him.
“I bet he didn’t,” I grumble, jealous that she went to Dutch instead of me.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Belle snaps, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Nothing.”
Her scowl deepens. “You’ve been busy! I didn’t want to bother you, and I knew how important it is for me to get used to the horses, so that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m sorry that I rode Undertaker around the paddock without you. I didn’t know I needed your permission.”
“You don’t need my permission.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to tamp down my agitation.
It’s no use. All I can think about is Dutch’s hands on her as he helps her up onto Undertaker.
Is that the kind of guy she likes? Did she ask him for his help because she’s interested in him?
“Then why are you acting like I did something terrible?”
“Because I’m worried about you!” I snap.
“Why? I’m clearly fine.” She gestures down her body, but I don’t let myself look.
My eyes narrow. “I’m worried that Dutch will get the wrong idea from you asking for his help.”
I regret my words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, but it’s too late to take them back.
Belle flushes. “I’m not interested in Dutch! And even if I were, and if he didn’t already have a boyfriend, it’s none of your damn business.”
The wind in the sails of my jealousy deflates.
“Dutch is gay?” I ask weakly.
“Yes! And you would know that if you’d ever spent five minutes talking to him about something other than work. He told me about how he misses his boyfriend in our first conversation.”
Guilt and defensiveness fill me. “He’s my employee. It’s not appropriate for me to ask him about his love life, and he doesn’t need me distracting him from work with pointless conversations.”
Belle flinches at my pointed tone. “You know what? I think I’ll skip filming. I don’t want to distract you from your very serious work that requires you to maintain professional distance.”
I know I’ve fucked up, but I’m still riled up. “Fine by me.”
She storms off, leaving me behind with a riot of emotions that I can’t shake. The trail ride, which would normally be a respite for my mind, is torture. I replay our interaction over and over in my head, along with a highlight reel of all the times I’ve been around Belle.
I’m even more overheated and agitated by the time I get back to the stables, and for some godforsaken reason, I’m hard.
Riled up by all the things I wanted to say to Belle.
How I wanted to grab her and kiss her to explain why I’m acting so damn weird.
How I’m stiff and aching every time I see her no matter how hard I try to ignore her charms.
There’s no one around, since Dutch already left for the day, and before I can stop myself, I’m undoing my belt buckle and easing down the fly of my jeans.
My cock is hard and angry, already dripping pre-cum from all the repressed arousal and frustration. When I wrap my hand around my length, I can’t keep in a low groan of relief.
I shouldn’t do this here, but I can’t stop. I set a brutal pace, hand shuttling up and down my cock so hard and fast it’s almost painful, but I don’t care. I need relief from this nonsense. Get these damn thoughts out of my head so I’ll stop acting like an asshole around Belle.
“Fuck,” I grunt as a vision of her appears in my mind.
I shouldn’t think about her. It’s wrong.
But when I attempt to conjure up any past partners, Belle is still there, stubborn and scowling, and goddammit, I want her so bad, even if she’d never want me. Even if she couldn’t take me.
Dammit, why does that make me harder? I’m fucked in the head, thinking about Belle’s soft touch replacing mine. She’d need to use both hands, but I know she’d do her best. If I know one thing about Belle, it’s that she doesn’t back down from a challenge.
“Stars,” I groan, my balls ready to draw up and paint the barn wall with my release. I look back over my shoulder, tensing for a moment with the sudden worry that I’ve been too loud and that someone could be nearby.
There’s no one there, but a sick part of me wishes there were. That Belle was here, watching me, seeing how painfully hard she makes me.
I’m right back to the edge, and I’ve never needed to come more in my life.
God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.