Chapter 8
“R eporting to the flight deck for duty.”
The raspy voice and inquisitive eyes of the woman I’ve been avoiding since she first set foot on this damn ranch appear in the kitchen doorway, looking like she’s undoubtedly going to tear my soul straight from my chest.
Sage Maloney is so beautiful; it’s enough to flip my entire world, and morals, upside down with a single flutter of those thick, dark lashes.
“Help yourself to some breakfast, if you’re hungry,” I mutter, while gesturing vaguely in the direction of the fridge and pantry. I’ve got one eye on my phone screen, one fist clenched around my coffee, and a head full of rogue thoughts after seeing her ass in those running shorts yesterday morning.
Apparently, hauling horse feed for hours wasn’t enough to erase that sight from my mind.
“I’m good. To be honest, I’m not really a breakfast person, but I’ll take you up on the offer of mainlining caffeine and maybe just some fruit, if that’s ok?” Sage rummages around, finding things with ease. Of course she does. “So, what’s on the agenda for our squadron today?” As she pours herself a coffee, those plush lips curve into a smirk.
“Are you going to be like this all summer?”
“Resolutely.” Her smile grows wider.
I run my tongue over the front of my teeth. “I’ve got orders from Tessa to show you around the ranch today.”
That makes her tilt her head to one side. “Aren’t you the one in charge, Mr. Heartford?”
My asshole cock twitches, hearing the challenge in her voice.
“Leave me to the horses and the cattle. My sister is much better at everything else, trust me.”
“Well, lucky for you, I was the gold star pupil. My report card always read: excels at taking the initiative and displays an aptitude for leadership.” Sage sips her coffee, and those dark eyes dance at me in the bright light spilling into the kitchen. “In other words, once I’m set up with my laptop and in my creative zone, you’ll barely notice I’m here.”
She couldn’t be more wrong on that front.
“How are your horse skills?”
Her cheeks puff out. “Passable… my best friend is certifiably horse-besotted and has insisted on me learning to ride at every opportunity. It’ll take me a minute to find my rhythm again, but as long as you don’t play a dirty trick and put me on the back of a frisky bastard, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Goddamn, what sins have I committed to be stuck with a girl who has this much spark to her? It’s a monumental effort to maintain some sort of distance. To keep her at arm’s length, and not just give in to the urge to match her round for round, and joke for joke. I’m going to have to tiptoe my way through this entire arrangement, stuck inside my shell, because I’ll be absolutely done for if I let myself go there, even for one second.
Sage’s feistiness calls to a side of me I haven’t been able to let roam for what feels like forever. Certainly, a part of myself that has been locked away behind bars for the entire duration of my miserable fucking marriage.
“Are we riding today?” She lifts her eyebrows while crunching down on an apple. A fleck of juice hits the corner of her lips, and the back of my neck prickles as I drop my eyes immediately in a valiant effort not to stare like a creep when she swipes away the wetness with her tongue.
“Not today. We’ll take the truck.” I drain the dregs and load my mug into the dishwasher. “We haven’t brought in our quarter horses, yet. The only fella who’s here so far is a rescue and likes nothing more than to leave his friends with a bruise or two.”
“He sounds spunky. I’d love to meet him.”
Pushing off the counter, I stuff my phone in my pocket. “You ready to head out? Anything you need to grab from your cabin before we go?”
“Can I bring a fresh supply with me?” She wiggles the mug.
“Sure. There’s a thermos in that cupboard over there.”
Sage follows my direction to find herself a travel mug before stocking herself with more fruit, a gallon of coffee, and clutches her tablet tight to her chest. “Perfect, now I’m going to be well-fueled for a morning of witty remarks and a keen eye for all the best angles this ranch has to offer.”
I scrub a palm over my mouth.
“Lead the way, boss.”
“You—You can just call me Beau, you know.”
“I do… but this game is much more fun.”
With a sigh, I lead us out toward the vehicles. This fucking girl. I really don’t know how to handle what she’s batting my way without crossing lines that absolutely cannot be crossed.
Do I just need to be a sullen asshole twenty-four-seven?
Or is that just as likely to end up in some sort of employment dispute for being miserable and unreasonable to employees? Jesus. Fuck. This girl is so much younger than me; she’s been hired by my company, and I’ve got no business looking her way if I’m going to successfully escape the hell I’ve been trapped in for too long.
“Have you heard from your sister? I spoke to her yesterday morning,” Sage mumbles through a mouthful of apple while juggling her supplies and opening the passenger door. “Is her husband doing ok?”
“He’ll live. Oscar is tough as nails,” I grunt and slide into my seat. The scent of her still lingers in the cab after our trip back from the airport, and now that she’s buckling in on her side, those fragrant notes wind their way around me once more with much more insistent force, like a cat rubbing up against my ankles.
Fuck. Fuck . That is absolutely the wrong thing to say to myself. Do not for one-second start thinking of this girl’s pussy.
Not when she’s wearing those denim cut-offs I’ve been trying to avoid looking at. Now, here we are in close quarters once more, and all I can see is an expanse of rich, supple brown skin on her upper thigh.
“We’re building toward being up and running by next summer.” I start the engine and get us moving. The best goddamn thing I can do right now is concentrate on driving, and talking about the ranch. Yep. Talk about the business ‘til I’m blue in the face. Be the professional boss I need to be.
In other words, be boring as shit, and perhaps the gorgeous girl beside me won’t spend more time in my vicinity than is absolutely necessary for her job.
I fucking hate the idea immediately.
At least driving us past the barn and in the direction of the furthest reaches of the property gives my brain something to focus on. I don’t know why, but there’s something about driving that settles my brain into a pattern where I feel like I can process my thoughts. My best thinking happens when I’m behind the wheel. The same goes for getting on the back of a horse and riding into the hills with my camera strap slung over my shoulders.
It’s when my boots are still that the noise inside my brain starts to spiral far too easily.
“So you’re aiming for the first guests to be pre-booked in time for the next summer season?”
I nod.
“Have you considered a soft launch? Offering some opportunities to travel bloggers, or content creators during the spring?” Sage starts tapping on the screen of her tablet. “You could partner with them in exchange for sharing about their experience… nothing beats a rave review. Then word of mouth starts to do its thing in the future.”
“I suppose.”
“Will the ranch offer hands-on opportunities? Or is it strictly for experiencing the view and the atmosphere kind of vibe?”
“They can get on the back of a horse… camp… fish… there will also be an equine therapy aspect that folks can participate in if they like.”
“And at the end of a day filled with petting horses and gulping down lungfuls of fresh mountain air, they can wander over to watch cowboys kitted out in chaps and hats, roping some teeny-tiny baby cows?”
“If they’re into that kind of thing. And they’re called calves.”
Sage gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “I think you’d be surprised just how many people would gladly volunteer to take their place and be the one getting manhandled by a rugged cowboy.” She’s busy noting something down on her tablet, but from the corner of my eye, I catch the way her lips twitch. “Truss ‘em up with a bit of rope, wrestle them into the dirt, pull their hair. I think they’d say thank you and never want to leave.”
“Think I’ll stick to rounding up cattle.” Please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t tempt me to start thinking of whether she likes that kind of thing in bed.
“Pity.” She sighs wistfully. “Fishing sounds about as appealing as watching paint dry… apologies if that’s your idea of a good time.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
Sage chuckles. “My kind of fishing involves a tequila body shot, my best push-up bra, and a dancefloor at two a.m.”
Christ. I’m near strangling the steering wheel and silently threatening my cock to stay down.
“So, beyond frolicking around playing cowboy for the duration of their stay, what else can visitors expect from their time here?”
“What do you mean?” I grunt, continuing to drive us toward the river running through the property. She might not be interested in casting a rod, but I still need to show her around.
“Well… what sets you apart from other players in Crimson Ridge? Why here rather than Devil’s Peak Ranch, for example?”
“Other than not having to trek up a mountain?” My hand rubs over my jaw. “If folks are interested, we’ve got the river to swim in, hills to explore on foot or by horseback.” I focus on listing off things that sound pretty simple in reality, but I guess might be helpful, or appealing. “There’s also a workout room back at the house, the kitchen is top of the line and set up for groups to bring in their own chef if they want.”
“A workout room? Like a gym set up?”
“Sure. You’re welcome to use it, too,” I add. Even though I’m offering, I don’t know if I’ll survive running into her while working out in more of those short-shorts and tank tops, so make a mental note to always triple-check from now on before wandering in there.
Christ, it’s like I’ve never seen a woman before in my life.
Not like I’ve been damn well married to one for years.
“That’s actually a really unique asset. You could definitely work an angle for retreats, athletes, wellness-focused stays…” She trails off as her fingers fly across the screen in her lap. “Especially with your rodeo background. Mmm , that gives me an idea.” It seems as though she’s talking to herself more than anything as she hums and twists her lips in thought.
She works as we keep driving, and I do my goddamn best to continue shoving aside all memories of our first interaction. Even if there was a brief flirtation there—that I was an absolute idiot to even entertain for a second—there’s no way I can allow that idea of finding her attractive to bloom into something.
Whatever her age, for me, my mid-twenties is a time that feels like a million lifetimes ago. Years spent with the solitary goal of prize money, winning buckles, and outrunning comparisons to my father. Christ, she’s filled with all that vitality of youth . I’m her boss. I’m at the tail end of a drawn-out separation, with a vindictive blood-hound of a wife who will stop at nothing to keep me shackled to her. There’s no escaping the reality that I am very much still a married man. Even if our lives have been separate for years now, it’s not like I ever truly allowed my heart to become involved in the first place.
Mandy Spires loves nothing more than the fame and notoriety that comes with having a world champion for a husband. She’s built her entire brand around the false promotion of our marriage, and I was the idiot who was too busy with my own pro career to notice what was happening until it was too late.
She took advantage of the fact I was distracted and zoned in on perfecting every little thing as an athlete. By the time I realized the mistake I’d made in falling for her bullshit, I was neck-deep, firmly locked in a glass prison she’d carefully constructed around our fairytale marriage.
If I’d tried to end things, like I originally wanted to, she held all the cards to tank my career in the court of public opinion. Blackmail is too polite a term for the emotional and legal manipulation that woman wields like a stock whip.
“How much land do you have out here?” Sage interrupts my thoughts.
“Around two thousand acres.”
She’s still typing fast, but manages to glance up at our surroundings.
“This looks like a super cute spot.” We draw closer to the willows lining the banks of the swimming hole. “Not in a ‘let’s bore ourselves to death hunting fishies’ kind of way. However, I certainly will be adding skinny dipping in that gorgeous-looking water to my summer to-do list though.”
She’s gotta be fucking with me. This is like the moment when I was holding her vibrator and she gave me that look of daring.
Clearing my throat, I’m hanging on by a thread trying not to imagine that exact picture she’s just painted. Not after what happened the last time I was out here on my own. “Want to get out for a closer look?” I put the truck in park.
Sage is already out the door before I’ve finished speaking.
I simply sit there for a moment, heart pounding inside my chest. This is too tempting, too mouthwatering a prospect. The fact she hasn’t shied away from my quiet side is more refreshing than she could ever know. I’m not a complete introvert, but I’m happiest in my own company. Other people drain me, rather than recharge me. For the most part, I simply like a whole lot of peace and alone time.
When it comes to Sage? I don’t feel anything but the need to be around her. Fucking hell, if I’m already thinking that way, I’ve got a bigger problem on my hands than I could ever have bargained for.
“C’mon, even fighter pilots need to hop out of the cockpit for two minutes,” she yells from her spot on the bank, looking back at me over one shoulder while shielding her eyes from the sun.
Fuck me. The mid-morning light hitting her brown skin, and loose tendrils of raven, sleek hair frame her face, make Sage look absolutely goddamn luminous.
I swallow down the rock wedged in the back of my throat and slip out of my door. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I scuff at the grass with my boots as I make my way toward her.
“Tell me, Mr. Heartford. Why rodeo? Why bull riding?” She looks out across the water, still shielding her eyes and takes in the rippling, bubbling surface where it flows over the shallow rocks on the far bank.
“My grandparents got me into it.” I shrug, and bend down to pick up a smooth pebble from the gravel bank. “I was with them a lot as a kid.” No point in mentioning the asshole who should have been my idol, who gave me my first taste of bull riding. He might as well be dead.
“What about Tessa? Did she get into it, too?”
“She did. Was a talented young barrel racer, but Tessa wasn’t in it for the competitive edge like I was.”
Brushing my thumb over the cool, smooth surface of the rock, I focus on the water instead of the gorgeous girl at my side.
“You like winning, Heartford?”
I hear it. I hear that undeniable challenge again. That invitation to spar and play, and step into an arena that I absolutely have no business going anywhere near.
“I like knowing I’ve refined something.” I clear my throat and readjust my cap. “Riding bulls… I guess that was my thing. What I perfected.”
“Sure looks like you did.” The way her voice rasps as she says those words has me seriously contemplating throwing myself into the deepest part of that swimming hole. My lower back prickles with sweat and the tension of being so close to her, yet having to remain so far away, lest I tumble straight into the fiery pits of a hell I can’t ever escape from.
She’s too young, too forbidden. Even if our circumstances were different—even if I didn’t have this goddamn noose of a marriage around my neck—nothing can, or should happen with someone I damn well employ.
That’s the way it’s gotta be.
Stick to the agreement I made. The bargain I struck. See out the remainder of my sentence; then I’ll have gotten myself out of this awful fucking situation once and for all.