Simply Yours (Baird Farm #1)

Chapter 1

One

CAITLIN

Several years ago…

Let me tell you about the day I fell in love with Jason Baird.

It was early morning, sometime in March, when winter still clung stubbornly to the edges of the world, refusing to release its hold. The air was sharp, tinged with the scent of damp earth and the last traces of frost, and the sky stretched in a vast, endless blue over Yonder, a town so small it felt like the walls closed in if you stood still for too long.

I was young—reckless, foolish.

And stupid.

Don’t forget stupid. That’s the most important part.

I was a dumb kid doing dumb-kid things with my best friend, Matthew Baird—the walking disaster zone who just so happened to be the younger brother of our story’s hero.

And let’s be honest—he was a mess.

Growing up in Yonder was like being trapped inside a cardboard box. Small, confining, and about as exciting as watching paint dry. The only way to keep from going stir-crazy was to make your own fun, and Matthew had turned that into an art form. He laughed too loud, played too many pranks, and had a knack for dragging me into whatever half-baked adventure he dreamed up.

That morning was no different.

Did I mention it was March?

Right.

And that kids are idiots?

Just making sure.

Now, close your eyes and picture it?—

The golden light of dawn stretched over the hills, painting the pastures in soft pinks and sleepy golds, the sky bleeding into the land as if the whole world had just woken up. The air smelled of fresh hay and damp cedar, laced with the distant echo of a rooster’s crow. The wind carried whispers through the trees, stirring secrets between branches, and the frost-laced grass crunched softly beneath my boots.

It was Sunday morning. And while we were supposed to be sitting in Sunday School, absorbing warnings about sin and salvation, we were here. Sneaking onto Baird land.

“C’mon—and hurry, Caitlin.”

Matthew was the only one who called me Caitlin. To everyone else, I was Caitie or Cait, but he said my full name like he had to remind me I was in trouble before I even did anything. Which, to be fair, was usually true.

I wasn’t the cool, fun friend I wanted to be—I was scrawny, knobby-kneed, and perpetually covered in scrapes from whatever ridiculous stunt I’d let Matthew talk me into. Case in point—the fresh scar just above my ear, a lovely parting gift from our last escapade.

And yet, here I was again, following him like a fool.

I hesitated at the barbed wire fence, heart pounding with that reckless thrill of doing something I shouldn’t. The metal was rusted, biting at the morning light with jagged teeth. Matthew held the wires apart, his breath curling in the cold, eyes glinting with mischief.

This was stupid.

I did it anyway.

Wiggling under, I sucked in a sharp breath as the cold metal grazed my sweater, catching a loose thread. One leg through, then the other, and I was free. My pulse hammered as I turned back, holding the fence open while Matthew slipped through.

We grinned at each other like we’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

This was the wildest thing I’d ever done. But it was Baird land, and Matthew was a Baird.

How bad could it be?

“C’mon, you’re gonna love this…”

“I can’t wait to see the kitties.”

“They’re gorgeous, too.”

“Are they sweet? Do they make mewy-mewy sounds?”

Matthew snorted. “Mewy-mewy?” He shook his head, grinning. “Nawww. They’re tiny. Like, shut-eye blind. Their little ears were still curled down the other day when I saw ‘em.”

I melted.

“Awwww…” My fingers curled instinctively, already aching to touch one. Toe beans. Whiskers. Tiny pink noses. There was no force on earth strong enough to keep me away from a litter of newborn kittens.

We crept through the tall grass, ducking low as the wind rattled the brittle stalks of last season’s harvest. The old shed loomed ahead, its wood silvered with age, roof sagging under the weight of too many lost years. It stood at the edge of the property, half-swallowed by creeping vines and time itself.

But my gaze drifted higher—up the ridge, to the house that had always sent a shiver down my spine.

The abandoned one.

The Bairds had left it untouched after Matthew’s great-grandmother passed, and time had done its best to erase what had once been a home. Dust-covered windows stared out like tired eyes, the grand wraparound porch sagging under the weight of ghosts and memory. Matthew once told me his great-grandfather had built the inlaid floors by hand—a wedding gift to his bride, a labor of love carved into wood, polished with devotion.

And then they just… left it.

I never understood that kind of love. The kind you build your whole world around, only to abandon when it’s gone.

His family was weird.

But whatever.

“How much further?”

“They’re over there, under the brush,” Matthew whispered, pointing.

The breeze shifted, carrying the musty promise of rain. I hesitated, torn between excitement and the nagging feeling that my mother would have my hide for skipping church to play with kittens.

But then, I saw them.

A tiny pair of ears peeked up from the grass.

“Huh, I guess their ears are unfolding now…”

“Oh my gosh, Matthew, they are sooo stinkin’ cute!”

And they were—little golden-ashy fluff balls with black stripes, their delicate ears lined with dark trim, their still-blind eyes promising to be the most striking shade of blue. Some squirmed blindly, others blinked at me, one even gave a tiny, breathy hiss that was more adorable than intimidating.

“Are they all the same color?”

“Yeah, I was hoping for an orange tabby in the litter. We’ve got mice in the barn again.”

“You have mice in the barn every year,” I teased, rolling my eyes as I knelt beside him, completely and utterly entranced.

“Caitlin…”

Something in Matthew’s voice snapped me back to reality. I turned to him, confused—then followed his frozen stare toward the brush.

At first, I expected to see a snake, maybe even one of those big hairy tarantulas that haunted my nightmares.

But no.

It was worse.

The mother of the kittens.

Except they weren’t kittens.

And she wasn’t a house cat.

A fully grown bobcat crouched in the shadows, ears flattened, her eyes locked on us with the kind of feral intensity that sent ice down my spine.

“Back up…” Matthew whispered.

The bobcat hissed, her sleek body tensing, muscles coiling, ready to spring.

“She’s pissed.”

“Uh, ya think?”

“I’d like to slap you on the back of the head right now, but I’m scared to move…”

“I’m gonna slap both of you on the back of the head once I handle this…”

Both Matthew and I turned in unison, and there—standing behind us like some avenging angel in a crisp white church shirt and Levi’s—was Jason Baird.

“Y’all back away,” he ordered, his voice as steady as steel.

“I can’t move. I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

“Oh, I am.”

Jason was three years older than Matthew, which might as well have been a lifetime. Where Matthew was wild, Jason was calm. Where Matthew was reckless, Jason was responsible. And where Matthew got her into trouble, Jason was somehow always there to get her out.

“You’re gonna be okay… just come toward me.”

Matthew obeyed instantly, stepping behind his brother.

Which left me…

Alone.

Between Jason and the bobcat.

Tears burned my eyes. “This is your fault,” I hissed at Matthew.

“Caitlin,” Jason murmured, his voice softer now, soothing, like he was talking to a spooked horse. He reached out a hand. “C’mon and take my hand. I’m gonna protect you. Okay? Do you believe me?”

I swallowed hard and nodded, even though my throat felt too tight, my body trembling like a leaf in the wind. I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of him. But the bobcat let out another bone-chilling hiss, and instinct yanked my head back toward her—just in time to see her step forward, her muscles coiling, ready to lunge.

Panic surged through me. I was going to die. Right here. Mauled by a wildcat almost as big as I was.

“Caitlin, gimme your hand now,” Jason ordered firmly, and I turned back to him, putting out my hand… only to feel him nearly yank my arm out of my socket as I flew almost five feet back, thrown against Matthew. Before I could look or say anything, I heard the scuffle nearby as well as the howl of the angry animal.

My head whipped around just in time to see Jason grappling with the wildcat, one arm wrapped around its body, the other clamping down over its snapping jaws. Claws flashed, razor-sharp and merciless, slicing at his arms as he wrestled the animal with sheer brute strength.

“GO!” he roared.

Matthew didn’t hesitate. His fingers clamped around my wrist like a vice, dragging me away, my legs stumbling to keep up as we tore through the dirt and grass.

“What about your brother?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if he wasn’t, he would have shot the bobcat…”

“But he… he can’t. She’s a momma.” My voice cracked, my breath hitching. The weight of everything—the fear, the adrenaline, the sheer insanity of the moment—threatened to crush me.

Matthew let out an exasperated sigh as we finally slowed, his eyes hard when he turned to me. “Look. You’re on the farm. Animals live. Animals die. We raise them, we eat them, and if we have to shoot them, it’s in the most humane way possible.”

“But… but…” My words tangled over themselves as I looked back desperately.

And then I saw him.

Jason crested the hill, his expression taut with fury, his chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths. Angry red gashes marred his arms and shoulders, blood staining his shirt, but he didn’t falter. He didn’t even look at his wounds. His dark eyes locked onto Matthew, his jaw set like iron.

“You’re bleeding,” I hissed, rushing toward him and reaching for his arm.

“And you’re not,” he snapped, jerking away from my touch. Before I could protest, his hand shot out, grabbing Matthew by the collar, his blood smearing onto his brother’s shirt.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jason’s voice was a low growl, raw with rage. “Are you cracked in the head? You don’t ever put a woman in danger, you moron. You’re supposed to protect them and provide—don’t you listen to Dad? What do you think he’s gonna say when he realizes you could have gotten Caitlin Barnes killed today? That wildcat was as big as she is!”

Matthew had the audacity to shrug. “It’d be like chewing beef jerky.”

Jason lost it.

“Quit being stupid or selfish for once in your life!” Jason roared angrily and then turned to me. “Caitlin, get on your bike and go home.”

“But you’re hurt…”

“And you’re not – and that’s all that matters right now! Now - get!”

And I melted.

It mattered to Jason that I wasn’t hurt? He’d tackled that cat to keep me from getting injured? I looked at him, that black hair and those flashing eyes, seeing the man he was growing into, the man he would be, and fell… hard. The sunlight was practically highlighting his hair like some dark halo as I gazed at him longingly and swallowed.

Is this what a crush felt like?

“Go…” he repeated bluntly. “This is our land, our problem, and I’m gonna handle my brother. You need to get off my property.”

“It ain’t yours… it’s Dad’s farm.”

“You need to hush – get out of here Caitlin. You don’t need to be hanging out on the farm if there’s a wildcat nearby. Go home.”

And as I moved to pick up my bike that I’d tossed down in the dirt, I heard his voice again. Those words I would never forget as long as I lived. They sliced right through me, leaving a scar no one else would know.

“Jeez, Matthew – why do you hang out with that flat-chested tomboy anyhow?”

Yup. I fell in love with Jason Baird for rescuing me… and died a little in my soul hearing how he saw me.