Chapter 4
T he remainder of our trip passes in silence, until the sight of mountains rising above wide-open pasture greets us. We turn onto the long gravel drive leading up to what is presumably the ranch . As we pass beneath a wooden framed entranceway, it’s impossible not to notice the obvious lack of a nameplate in the location where I would have expected to see one hanging proudly.
“She doesn’t have a name yet?” I say under my breath. There’s a fluttering sensation in my chest, while my eyes bounce everywhere at once because this place is fucking breathtaking. We’ve arrived right on golden hour, with the setting sun coating every blade of grass and summer leaf in a shimmering, glittering dusting of twenty-four karats. I wouldn’t be surprised to see pixie dust flying in every direction with the way the light sparkles and dances and winks at us while driving past.
It’s taking everything in me to remain in my seat with all arms and legs inside the moving vehicle. The urge to hurl myself out of the passenger door, hurdle that fence, sprint to the nearest field, and start taking photos is almost overwhelming. Missing an opportunity to capture a scene like this feels criminal, because holy shit, it looks like a dreamscape out here.
I can already hear the credit cards swiping to book up a week-long adventure beneath expansive skies and the watchful gaze of those striking mountains.
This place is cool as shit. Utterly drool-worthy. In my mind’s eye, I’ve already created half a dozen promotional graphics and banners, and oh my god, I just want to get my laptop fired up so I can begin throwing ideas together. My creative itch demands to be scratched at the earliest possible opportunity.
Then, there’s the main house itself.
We draw closer to a cluster of buildings, and I have to bite back an audible whimper. The facade of cedar, stonework, and double-peaked roof gables are all bathed in that warm glow of an impending sunset to swoon over, and I catch sight of a circular outdoor fire pit set up out front of the main living and dining area.
Winding my window down, I hang halfway out, trying to take it all in. Oh, yes, this is going to be a picture-perfect summer, indeed. This ranch is going to be a dream to promote. All I have to do is try and do her justice.
“There aren’t any horses or stock here?” My eyes keep scanning over all the details—spotting the barn and other smaller buildings that must be the cabin accommodation, set a little further back from the main house.
“Not yet.” We pull up to a stop outside a garage where a similar white truck is already parked.
“Is Tessa around?” I start to gather up my things. “She texted to say she’d brief me once I’d arrived.”
“She’s not here,” he mutters and pulls out his phone before frowning at the screen. Whatever he reads leaves him fidgeting with the brim of his cap before lifting it and dragging a couple of fingers through his hair. Certainly, none of which I’m looking at out of the corner of my eye.
Nope. Not looking at the way his eyes have a slight crease around the corners, giving him that roughened, older, experienced look. Not catching a glimpse of a few silver streaks feathered along his temples in amongst the dark brown strands either.
I’m not even ovulating right now, yet my body and brain are in two completely different universes where this man is concerned. What is clear, is that I need to get this shit under control for any number of reasons. Starting and ending with that ring on his finger.
“Ok. Clearly, this is going to call for a re-do.” I clear my throat while swiveling in my seat and stick out my hand. “I’m Sage Maloney—founder of Wild Jasmine Studio. I’ve been hired for the summer to run the ranch PR and marketing. Tessa was supposed to fill me in on everything I needed to know, except without her to navigate this voyage, I’m going to need some help to get a feel for the lay of the land, cowboy. So do you fancy rummaging around in that vocabulary of yours for a few more words than just yes or no?”
His blue-gray eyes contemplate my outstretched palm, then tip up to meet mine. A wave of goosebumps makes an unwanted appearance down my shoulders. Little bitches that they are. There’s something about this man that I still can’t pin down, but I’m certainly not going to spend time examining what that might be.
His gaze drops back to study my hand with an indecipherable expression, and this is a repeat of exactly how our moment on the sidewalk felt all over again. He stared at my hand that day with something in his eyes that, if it were any other guy or girl, I’d say it was longing.
Except that absolutely cannot be the case here. So I need to shove that notion aside.
“C’mon, cowboy. I’m not gonna bite.” I wiggle my fingers. “Let’s give the whole introduction thing a little re-run, hmm . Clean slate?”
I watch as his throat dips, and he reaches out to take my hand in his own. His palm swallows mine with a powerful grip that wraps me up inside his calloused, hard-worn, and unbelievably warm hold. Tingles sweep up my forearm like fireflies prancing through my veins as he squeezes my hand.
“The name’s Beau.” This time, he holds my eyes, and I genuinely wish he wouldn’t, because the energy of that day when we first met races back into the space between us. It feels like we’ve suddenly been transported back in time, and we’re no longer in the front seat of his truck. Instead, we’ve stepped back to the flirty conversation when we were about to exchange names and a handshake. Only, as much as I might have been hopeful at that moment, it never eventuated.
I have to fight back a shiver, realizing I’ve been lost staring at the depth of blue in his irises. They remind me of a lake in the stillness of dawn. Peaceful. Reassuring. Calm.
“Just Beau? Not ‘Beau Heartford’ as our buddy back at the airport insisted on calling you? Not some fancy triple-barrel name I should apparently be aware of?” He’s still holding onto my hand as I tease him, and a flash of gold strikes his cheekbones from that rapidly setting sun.
“It’s Beau.” He must realize the handshake has been lingering a little too long, and drops my palm.
“Is Beau short for something?”
Silence .
“You know… I might just have to make it my mission to figure it out. Peel back those onion layers of yours. Like, discovering what inspired the mustache? Fan of classic eighties aviation movies?”
He gives me nothing to work with, but wets his lips slowly.
“Nice to meet you, Sage.” His voice is rich, velvety, and damn, I like the way my name sounds when he says it.
“Great… uhh… likewise.” I swallow hard and stick to the safe zone of playful banter. “Wanna fill me in on what I need to know? Since Tessa isn’t here and all.” I collect my bag from the footwell and climb out of the truck. My palm is still flush with warmth from his touch, and I have to tell the butterflies kicking up in my stomach to go the fuck back to sleep because this is a married man.
Married .
Those winged assholes sigh and pout and try to remind me just how insanely sexy his mustache is up close.
“You’ll be staying over here.” My luggage is hoisted out of the backseat, and cowboy strides off in the direction of some exceedingly cute, freestanding wooden cabins. They’re set amongst groves of spruce trees with a pretty bluish tinge to their clusters of needles.
“Do all the staff stay on site?”
“Tessa will call you in the morning, and she can answer all your questions.” He stops at the porch of the cabin closest to the barn and deposits my bag for me. “Keys are in the door. Linen, towels, everything you need is inside.”
The guy looks like there are a million other places he’d rather be as he scrubs one hand over the back of his neck.
“Alright, Beaufort scale . Thanks for the grand tour.” My lips roll together. He thinks he can get rid of me that easily? Not a chance.
His broad shoulders stiffen.
“I figured you’d want to settle in. After traveling and all.” With one of those big paws, he gestures at the door to my accommodation.
“Sure, but help me out here. Am I gonna bump into my new boss over breakfast, or what? You’d be doing me a solid, giving me at least a crumb or two to go on.”
A muscle flexes in the side of his jaw.
“Have you not eaten?” Grooves form between his brows. He seems genuinely concerned, and I suppose in cowboy-land, they’re probably attached to hearty meal times.
“Uh—Yes. I grabbed something earlier before my flight.” Why do I feel like I can’t get a straight answer out of this guy? “Circling back to my question though, does the owner live here, or is it staff only, or what’s the situation?”
“You’re looking at him.” The man before me mumbles.
Ringing chirps of cicadas and the quiet rustling of leaves fill the air as I digest those four words.
“What?”
“I own this place. Tessa is my business manager.” He scuffs the ground with a boot and shoves both hands in his pockets.
“Oh my god. You let us drive all the way out here, and I had no idea. Why didn’t you say something?” Christ, it’ll officially haunt me forever that I called my new boss Cock Ring in the middle of the airport.
“Tessa was supposed to be here to explain all that.”
“Ok, well—god, I suppose I want to say thank you for the contract. I mean, this place is incredible.” I’m still gaping at him as I gesture a sweeping arm in the direction of his exceedingly beautiful ranch.
“Still got a lot of work to be done,” he mutters, looking anywhere but at me. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”
My fingers tighten around the strap of the bag slung over my shoulder. His bag. God. My new boss’ duffel bag that I have indeed prettied up with pink rhinestones.
My hot, married boss who has seen my vibrator.
The skin on my nape prickles. This situation could not get any weirder.
He’s already started off in the direction of the barn, wide shoulders rapidly moving away from me, and I have to call after him.
“The ranch… why doesn’t it have a name? Now I know you’re the boss dog around here and all.”
He pauses, shrugs, and squints up at the mountain ridge line.
“That’s part of why you’re here, isn’t it? To help with that sort of shit.”
With that, Beau Heartford’s long strides carry him off into the setting sun.
“I’ll see you at 0800 hours for flight training, then, I’m guessing?” I let my voice ring out, but he doesn’t so much as turn back, nor appreciate my joke.
Looks like I’ll be very much left to find my own feet around here, after all.