Chapter 13
“D evil’s Peak Ranch sure looks like a hot piece of ass tonight.”
The prettiest girl on the planet leaps out of my truck and rushes to smother her friends in hugs, raining kisses down on both of the girls over by the roaring bonfire. Layla and Briar squeal at the force that is undeniably Sage .
I’ve been to Colton Wilder’s property a handful of times now since arriving in Crimson Ridge to settle full-time. It’s a stunning place, and I can’t help but feel like a weight has lifted every time I set foot up here. Perched all the way at the top of the mountain access road, there’s nowhere else to go and only the endless horizon stretching out flanking Devil’s Peak herself.
I swear the air in this place has something a little extra special to it.
“About time you dragged your sorry excuse for a mustache out this way, Heartford. Can’t have you damaging those soft hands of yours pretending to be a rancher full-time these days.”
St?rmand goddamn-pain-in-my-ass Lane hits me with a wink and curious blue eyes before nodding in the direction of the cooler propping up his boots. “Help yourself.”
“Wild one.” I narrow my eyes on him, and the spot where his palm rests on the hip of the sweet brunette standing at his side, talking animatedly with Sage and Layla. “Good to see you two are still keeping it in the family.”
Storm shoots a scowl my way that makes me want to crack a smile a mile wide.
“I hope you’re taking good care of my boy, Teddy, for me.” Briar glances over her shoulder at me and clicks her tongue with a hint of a smile. “Also… I heard that.”
“Well, good thing Uncle Storm here is providing the beers, since I’m still sporting a horse bite you could see from space, thanks to your boy.”
“Fuck off.” Storm grunts. Pouting at the fact I’m still determined to milk the ins and outs of their relationship for every point I damn well can. “You deserve whatever that horse sends your way.” He points the neck of his beer bottle at me.
“Beau.” I’m given Briar’s chestnut eyes and a scolding look that morphs into a laugh. She’s a sweet girl, and has done the impossible where St?rmand Lane is concerned… taming the wildest creature of them all from our days on the rodeo circuit together. Of the two of them, Briar is also much more liable to join in with my jokes at Storm’s expense, especially where their unique connection is concerned. While she might initially come across as a timid thing, his girl has a wickedly dry sense of humor hidden away.
“Thanks for bringing my girl home.” Layla smiles widely, with her copper curls fluttering a little in the warm summer evening breeze as she side-hugs Sage, then keeps hold of her waist. “If it wasn’t for the contract with your ranch, Beau, I don’t know if I would have successfully dragged this one back to Montana any time soon.”
Sage rolls her eyes. All this immediate chatter of the group is such a contrast to the silence consuming our drive up here when she was busy tapping away on her tablet the whole time and hardly looked my way. “Hey, you know I need to see your bosom and freckles on the regular. Besides, you can hardly talk, what with Mr. Wilder over here whisking you off around the world every five minutes.” She circles a wrist in the general direction of the man who is every inch the epitome of this land and this place.
Something I guess I find admirable as fuck about Colton Wilder is the way he’s dedicated a lifetime to living and working this land. Being up here, I can’t help but feel like it’s what I’ve been missing so far in my own life. Outside of bull riding and pro rodeo, what was I doing with myself? What legacy was I nurturing? Taking on the ranch has been an opportunity to settle my soul in many ways after a life on the road and a career in the spotlight.
“Good to have you back here, Sage.” He shakes his head and gives her the Colt equivalent of a smile. Which is a barely-there thing, but you can see the affection he holds for someone who is deeply important to his girl, all the same.
A truck draws closer, accompanied by a bellow. “Alright, listen up, assholes. Time to earn your keep so that we can all fucking eat, and preferably do so sometime before midnight.” A voice calls out. One of the Devil’s Peak Ranch trucks pulls up, complete with a grill strapped on the back tray, and Kayce gives us his typical golden boy grin from his position behind the wheel.
I’m still undecided whether I’ve forgiven him for parading around half-naked in front of Sage the other day. I mean, ultimately, I think I’m screwed no matter what with that girl, because I could have brought in a team of cowgirls to work with me while unloading the hay, and there’s every chance she might have found one of them nice to look at, too.
She’s so confident in who she is. I think that might be one of the things I’m most obsessed with. Sage Maloney is a woman who might be young in years—certainly far too fucking young for me to be looking her way, at any rate—yet, is so self-assured, so immensely secure in herself. When I think back to being twenty-something, I was too preoccupied with being on a fast track to rodeo success. There was never a pause to breathe or stop for one single second to figure out who I might be beneath the sponsor’s vest and chaps. I was caught up trying to be the embodiment of perfection anytime I hopped on the back of a bull, to the point I shoved aside anything that didn’t correlate with being the dream candidate for rodeo stardom.
Too busy trying not to be my father.
Turns out I was incredibly fucking capable of being what others needed me to be while forgetting to find out who I was when the crowds went home, and arena lights turned off.
Not only that, but Sage understands herself. She owns her sexuality, wearing it like a luminary glow I find impossible to ignore, and that alone is unbelievably attractive.
Jesus. I’m just endlessly fucking churned up over her, and it’s been a battle ever since that night in the kitchen to try and refrain from thinking about her pretty lips, her gorgeous eyes, and Christ, here I go again.
At least my freefall into all too many epically-bad-wrong thoughts about Sage—how dangerously close I got to losing my goddamn mind and crashing my mouth against hers, the night I held her wrist to look at her burn—is interrupted by Kayce hollering at me as he climbs out of the vehicle.
“C’mon, old man Beaumont. Get your sweet cheeks over here and gimme a hand.”
* * *
Everyone is busy settling themselves into comfortable spots around the fire now that we’ve filled up on BBQ, and the sundown sky is filled with laughter and chatter.
Some of Kayce’s rodeo buddies have arrived, a couple of guys and girls that he trains and travels with. It’s funny, really, sitting here at the end of a glittering career, watching the damn shimmer in their eyes as they talk about events and tour stops and upcoming possibilities for the season.
A part of me feels the pull to join them and talk about the one thing that has nourished my lungs for so many years. Then again, I find myself equally as comfortable to sit here, drink my beer, and mind my business.
What do they care what I have to think or say? I’m out of the game now. It’s a different arena for their generation of rodeo stars. They know who I am and where to find me if they wanna know shit I might be able to give advice on. Kayce sure as hell loves to pick my brain at every opportunity. I’ll give the kid credit, he’s managed to turn things around after it looked like he was determined to smash onto jagged rocks surrounded by an angry sea of shitty choices and sinking to the bottom of a bottle.
Glancing around the orange glow cast by firelight, there’s one of the horse ranchers and his girl, Lucas and Skylar. Talking quietly alongside them are his son and boyfriend—Brad and Flinn, who also live and work at the property they all run together, Rhodes Ranch.
Scattered around are some groups of other locals, faces I recognize but haven’t necessarily had much of a chance to get to know. Since I’ve spent ninety-nine percent of my time with my head down, avoiding the public, while focusing on getting my ranch ready for stock and horses and eventually having guests booking their accommodation, I haven’t exactly had the time or inclination for socializing.
However, it would seem Sage doesn’t even live in this town and somehow appears to know every single person joining us to gather around a fire to share a meal and spend an evening shooting the shit.
One thing I’m endlessly grateful for, as I sit with my back propped against a round hay bale and one knee bent to rest my elbow on, is that this crowd couldn’t be less interested in Beau Heartford . Of course, I still catch the occasional knowing smile or double take when I shake hands, but these people are Colt and Storm’s buddies, and by extension, they’re fucking good at appreciating I would quite gladly be left in peace. I’ll comfortably spend the entire night seated here, nursing a drink, listening to the conversation ebb and flow like a tide around me.
I’m not much for talking. I like to be on the fringes, watching on. It doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say, I’m just usually content to simply be .
A life in the spotlight of the pro tour, the cameras, the interviews… I’m fucking done, and relieved as hell to leave all that in my dust without a glance back in the rear-view mirror.
Years slip by real fast when you’re training and competing. Suddenly, I was staring down retirement and nearly a decade with a person who I didn’t even know, a stranger I had to pretend to be happy spending my life with. It wasn’t until I had the ranch secured that I knew I could finally push for a divorce and that next step to get the legal headache resolved.
We might have been tied to each other through paperwork for that long, but we’ve lived separate lives for most of that time. If I wasn’t on the road, she was, and that’s just the way I got used to doing things.
What did I have any business bitching about, when I was the idiot who got married in the first place? My job was to put up and shut up until I’d called time on my career. All I had to do beyond that was ride out the ensuing few years, getting my plans in order for the ranch. Figuring out what life might look like once we’d negotiated an end date and point when divorce papers would finally get signed.
Except, in the here and now, one thing that is impossible to ignore in this scenario is how coupley it is. Storm has Briar seated in his lap, and judging by the way his mouth is attached to her neck, he’s probably been whispering filthy shit to her the entire time. The guy loves nothing more than to make his girl squirm, especially in public. I know more than I want to about the games those two like to play.
Colt has Layla tugged against his chest, settled on the ground together. Lucas and Skylar are much the same, with her pastel pink hair tucked beneath his heavy arm.
Being alone in a crowd like this doesn’t concern me as much as it used to, doesn’t gnaw at me like it did when I was young and foolish. Before I slapped a ring on my finger to try and fill that void. I’ve spent most of a marriage wishing desperately to not have to put on a show of pretend coupledom when I was out in public with Mandy, and the rest easily repeating the lies about how much of a shame it was to be flying solo while my adoring wife was off traveling the world.
There were countless days I dreamed of nothing more than to have my peace and solitude restored.
Now? Tonight? Watching all these cowboys cuddle up and look like they’re ready to hang the moon and the stars for their girls?
Fuck this.
The most beautiful and infuriatingly headstrong creature I’ve ever met is sitting five feet away from me, and I can’t do anything except ignore her.
I’ve moved onto something stronger than beer, having to focus on biting my tongue and drinking my goddamn whiskey. Turns out tonight’s biggest challenge is ignoring the urgent sense of need to draw her into my body and feel her soft curves fitted against me.
“Did you bring your fancy camera getup with you, sugar?” Storm stops his assault on Briar’s throat for half a second and gestures at the skyline, turning into a flare of brilliant orange, deepening to a shade of royal purple along the mountain range.
“Not tonight.” I shake my head. Though now he’s mentioned it, I almost wish I had tossed my equipment in the backseat just to have it on hand. Never mind, there’s always gonna be another impressive display in the skies over Crimson Ridge to chase after on another night.
“Who’s got a fancy piece of equipment? And why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Sage’s voice chirps in, and my gaze flicks over to meet hers. The sparks and dancing flames hit her dark eyes, making them glow like two golden orbs.
“Hasn’t your boy here mentioned his favorite little hobby?” Storm cocks an eyebrow my way.
“Oh my god. Sage, you have to see his stuff. Beau is really talented.” Briar pipes up and I’m immediately regretting the day I ever made friends with St?rmand Lane on the pro tour.
“It’s nothing.” I shift my weight and pick at some fluff on the blanket I’ve got draped over my lap.
“Heartford here is more than just that ugly slug of a thing on his face. He’s got an online account for his photos and all.” Storm carries on.
Briar nods and goes all soft smiles, looking at me as if taking photos is something more than just a silly little thing I do for fun. “He’s got incredible photos of the ranch. That one you took of Teddy in the river is my favorite.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” Sage arches perfect eyebrows my way.
Layla decides to really make a nuisance of herself and hops into the conversation with a drowsy yawn. “He’s got a secret account, an incognito profile.”
“Can you blame me? I don’t need any old weirdo on the internet snooping around. Privacy, ya know,” I grumble and keep my eyes on the ground, feeling the back of my neck heat. It’s not that I care about close friends knowing, but the only reason I shared the photos with Briar in the first place was because of her horse. It’s more the fact that I can’t decide whether I want Sage to know or not, and it doesn’t really make sense either way.
At the mention of Teddy, Briar starts animatedly talking about horses with Layla, which fortunately lets the chatter drift away from the topic of me and my photography.
I’m not really paying all that much attention to the flow of the conversation, at least they didn’t harp on about it too long. It’s only when I reach over to nudge Storm’s boots out the way and grab myself another drink, that Kayce’s voice floats over the crackle of the fire.
“Christ, Heartford, you’ve got the world’s biggest fucking blanket over there; quit being a selfish bastard, and share with Sage.”