Chapter 7
JACQUELINE
Iwoke to the smell of fresh coffee and the low, rhythmic sound of tools coming from the back of the house.
It took me a moment to remember where I was—back on the ranch, but without Grandpa because he was gone.
I’d only slept in my grandparents’ bed when there had been a big storm that scared me as a kid.
This was the first time I’d had the room all to myself, and I’d thought maybe I would feel weird about it.
But after everything that had happened last night, I’d quickly fallen asleep.
Feeling well rested, I climbed off the mattress and headed into the en suite bathroom to get ready for my day. Then I snagged one of Grandpa’s old flannel shirts to throw over my sleep shorts and cami.
Following the sounds, I padded into the kitchen and found Brogan crouched by the back door. Tools were lined up around him, and his black T-shirt was stretched tightly across his broad shoulders as he worked on replacing the lock.
Just being in the kitchen with him again made me think about last night’s kiss, making warmth flood my cheeks. He glanced up, and heat flickered in his steel-gray eyes. But at least he didn’t comment on my sleep-rumpled state or how I was blushing.
“Good morning,” I managed, reaching for a mug to give myself an excuse to look away from his intense stare. “Are you up early because you need to head to work soon?”
“Priorities,” he grunted, turning back to the door and continuing to work.
Realizing that one word was all the answer I was going to get, I leaned against the counter. I should probably be annoyed at how naturally he was taking over my house, but I was too busy enjoying the bunching of his muscles as he moved with easy confidence.
The man had shown up intending to buy my ranch out from under me, and now he seemed determined to repair every minor issue in the place.
I wasn’t sure what to think about how quickly he’d shifted gears, except that it made him even more attractive.
There was something about a man who was dead set on making your life better that was irresistible. Especially when it was Brogan.
But that didn’t stop me from interrupting an hour later when he got to work on the porch step, prying up a rotten board with a crowbar while I hovered nearby. “You really don’t have to do this. I can call someone.”
He didn’t even pause. “Got it handled.”
I watched him measure, cut, and secure a new board in place, his big hands moving with precision. When he needed a second pair of hands to hold the board level, I knelt beside him without being asked. Our fingers brushed as I passed him a screw, sending a little jolt through me.
Later, while he mounted a camera on the frame next to the new storm door he’d already installed, I brought him a glass of iced tea. “Brogan, seriously. This isn’t your job.”
His steel-gray eyes met mine over the rim as he drank. “It is now.”
Handing the glass back to me, he went right back to work and didn’t stop until I called him inside to eat the sandwich I made for him. Between bites, he scribbled notes about fence posts, barn roof patches, and who-knew-what-else.
I leaned over his shoulder, trying one last time. “I can handle this. You’ve already done more than enough.”
He set the pen down and looked up at me, his steely gaze unyielding. “Jacqueline. Let me do this.”
I exhaled, more flustered than frustrated by his insistence. “Okay.”
I stopped arguing and decided to stick close and offer help wherever I could, handing him tools and steadying ladders. That allowed me to enjoy the play of muscle under his shirt up close and personal.
But as the day passed, my attraction turned into something deeper. He made me feel safe and cherished. Like I wasn’t dealing with taking over my grandfather’s ranch alone anymore.
He listened when I told him more of my plans for the acreage I wanted to use for the rehabilitation facility.
His insight was incredibly helpful, offering access to water on property owned by the Black Crowns if I needed it.
He also suggested a couple of local veterinarians he could connect me with to help establish a relationship so I could build enough trust to execute the rehabilitation plans they prescribed.
His willingness to help me achieve my dream had my feelings quickly turning into something deeper than simple attraction. And then the man showed me he could do more in the kitchen than kiss me senseless.
That evening, Brogan took over the kitchen without asking. I watched from the doorway as he pulled supplies from the fridge and pantry that I hadn’t put in there—chicken breasts, fresh vegetables, and herbs.
The sizzle of the skillet filled the air with a savory aroma that made my stomach rumble.
“I thought you said no one should eat what you cook.”
He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching. “No. I didn’t say anyone should eat it.”
I chuckled when I caught his play on words from the night before. “Still, you really didn’t have to do this.”
“You made dinner last night. It’s my turn.”
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup is barely cooking.” Laughing softly, I shook my head. “And from what I can see, you definitely undersold your ability to cook.”
“It’s only pan-seared chicken with vegetables and rice.”
“Only,” I echoed, rolling my eyes. “Right.”
While he finished making dinner, I set the table.
Our conversation flowed as easily as it had last night.
I told him more about my summers here, and Brogan listened like he had all the time in the world.
Then he asked thoughtful questions about the types of horses I wanted to help and how I planned to structure the boarding side.
At one point, he reached across the table and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The casual touch had warmth pooling in my belly.
After we finished, I stood to clear the plates. Brogan rose too, taking the dishes from my hands and setting them in the sink. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller as he turned to me, his big body backing me slowly against the counter until I had nowhere else to go.
“Brogan,” I whispered, my heart racing.
He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks before he kissed me. His mouth claimed mine, his tongue stroking deep the moment my lips parted on a soft gasp. I melted against him, my fingers fisting in his shirt when one of his hands slid down to palm the curve of my butt.
Feeling his hard length pressed against my belly, a needy sound escaped me. He growled into my mouth and rocked his hips forward, letting me feel exactly how much he wanted me. I kissed him back just as desperately, one leg wrapping around his calf without thinking.
Brogan finally tore his mouth away with a rough growl, his steel-gray eyes dark with need. His voice was strained when he rasped, “Go to bed, baby.”
I blinked up at him, my lips swollen and cheeks flushed. It took me a moment to understand what he said, and then I slipped past him on shaky legs before I suggested we see what happened if he followed me up to my room.
The following morning, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as I flipped a second omelet in the pan. Brogan sat at the table, his long legs stretched out as he watched me with quiet intensity that made butterflies swirl in my belly again.
When I slid his plate in front of him, he took a bite and gave a low hum of approval. “These are good.”
I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. “Don’t sound so surprised. Omelets are almost as easy to make as grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
He shook his head. “Mine always crack in the middle when I plate them.”
“Then you’re overcooking them.” I took a bite of mine and hummed in pleasure. “The trick is for there still to be the thinnest layer of wet egg on the surface of the pan when you gently roll it onto the plate.”
He grinned at me over the rim of his coffee mug, and I almost choked on my next bite of egg because he was so darn hot when he smiled.
We were halfway through eating when his phone rang.
“Yeah?” His expression darkened almost instantly. “Send Judge to Jacqueline’s place. Now.”
He ended the call and stood, tension rolling off his big frame.
I set my fork down. “What’s going on?”
“Wade was spotted heading toward our house.”
I didn’t have time to process his choice of wording because I was too busy freaking out over that man having the nerve to come here after what happened yesterday. It wasn’t long before the sound of two vehicles pulling up outside reached us. Brogan moved toward the front door, and I followed close.
A sleek black truck and a familiar motorcycle arrived almost simultaneously. Judge parked only a few feet from the driver’s side of the truck, dismounted, and stared down Wade as he climbed out of the truck.
Wade approached the house with a smooth smile, his eyes darting between Brogan and me. “Miss Rutledge. I’m Wade Kessler. I wanted to clear up any misunderstanding about the equipment my crew was moving from your barn. Your grandfather gave us permission to use the space while he was ill.”
Judge came up behind him and asked, “Do you have a lease? A contract? Invoice? Any record of payment?”
“It was a verbal agreement.” Wade’s smile tightened. “Otis was a good man. He understood the need for flexibility.”
“My grandfather was meticulous about keeping written records.” I lifted my chin. “Without one detailing what he supposedly agreed to, I am not giving anyone permission to use my property.”
Wade’s gaze turned condescending as he looked me up and down. “You’re young, Miss Rutledge. Running a place like this alone is harder than it looks. You’ll see soon enough that you’re in over your head.”
Brogan cleared his throat, drawing Wade’s attention to him. “She isn’t alone.”
Wade’s polite mask slipped for just a second, revealing something cold underneath. “Even with the Black Crowns around, country life can be dangerous for someone who’s better off leaving.”
The implied threat hung in the air as he drove off. It was obvious Wade didn’t plan to back off, but Brogan had also made it clear that he meant it when he said anyone who wanted to get to me would have to go through him first. And that was enough for me to feel safe.