Chapter 6
I ’m in a worse mood than usual. I’m always a miserable son of a bitch, but I’m next level today. I’m expected to babysit this chick for six months while simultaneously getting all my shit done during our busiest season and keep up with my chores at the ranch.
I should be grateful my family has a successful business I was able to step right into. That type of job security is unheard of these days. Swift Property Management was born out of necessity, and we keep it thriving out of necessity.
Andersen Ranch has been in our family for generations—once a relatively profitable cattle operation in this region of the Rockies. But like other ranches, over the years my family was forced to sell off land and cattle periodically so it wouldn’t go under completely.
By the time us kids were born, Andersen Ranch was hardly a functioning cattle operation, rather a homestead that provided beef and hay to the citizens of Swiftwater.
I grew up waking with the sun to help before school and jumping back into chores after school every day.
Once I hit high school, football became my priority, and I helped out less and less on the ranch.
James was never into ranch life and went off to college right out of high school.
He easily fell into office life at the company and is happy to simply live on the ranch, not work it.
Sam was much the same, college bound, headed for greatness.
I always knew college wasn’t for me, not even with the prospect of football. I never had the desire to leave.
The ranch was my heart and soul. But with no employees left to help run it, mom and dad aging, and my brothers both away in college, I couldn’t maintain it by myself. The weight of failure still crushes my shoulders but letting go of the ranch operations was my only choice.
Our entire family’s focus shifted to Swift Property Management, and Andersen Ranch simply became a beautiful place to live.
When things got tight, I did whatever I could to keep the horses fed and the gates open.
Started boarding horses just to make ends meet—weekend riders, barrel racers, even a couple of pampered pasture pets.
Don’t care, so long as their boarding checks clear.
Losing the ranch was bad enough—I wasn’t about to lose the horses too.
The company is my dad’s pride and joy. We manage vacation rentals on the western slope of Colorado.
It started as a ski cabin or two and expanded from there to the nearly hundred we currently manage, plus several resort-style hotels.
A few of the properties are owned and operated by the company.
Others are privately owned, and the owners hire us for seasonal upkeep and maintenance, billing, marketing, and customer complaints.
For the last seven years, I’ve been head of maintenance. Keeps me out of the office, away from people’s stares and questions, and most importantly, alone. Who I used to be might as well be dead, because in his place is my miserable excuse for an existence.
I can count on two hands the number of times since the funeral that I’ve seen my parents or my brother.
I’ve seen my friends about the same or less.
They dragged me out for my thirty-third birthday last month, but I got shitfaced in record time and embarrassed myself and everyone around me.
Hopefully they learned their lesson and will leave me the hell alone.
I know I’m a broody asshole on a good day.
But I haven’t been this far gone since the months following my accident.
The crushing pain in my chest is too overwhelming, so I shove it down until it’s an ever-present dull ache.
The thing about repressing shitty emotions, at least for me, is that all the good emotions get suppressed too.
The one emotion that never fails to erupt like lava from a volcano is my anger.
I’m so tired of being fucking angry. Angry at the universe. Angry at everyone around me. Angry at myself. Hell, I can’t even look at my own reflection without wanting to break something. It’s better all-around if I stay away.
What the fuck was mom thinking saddling me with this train wreck of a girl? I’ve been talking for a solid ten minutes trying to explain my, now our, shared duties to her and she hasn’t even been listening.
I pinch the bridge of my nose so tight my eyes burn and try to compose myself. She wants to learn on the fly?
Let’s fucking go.
I bet she quits before the week is through. I don’t have the time or patience for this shit.
I start walking away from her and call over my shoulder, “You comin’ or what?” She scrambles to gather up her things and rushes to catch up to me. I swear to god I'm already over this girl.
Striding through the lodge, stumbling steps and muttered curses trail behind me. I wasn’t expecting the girl who showed up early this morning. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, Isabelle waltzed into reception and asked for me without hesitation.
When I rounded the corner, I was dumbstruck. My only impression of her was from the banquet, where she was rumpled and flustered, and this was not the same girl.
We don’t have a dress code so I’m sure mom insisted Isabelle dress comfortably. She listened alright. She unknowingly dressed for a battle of the sexes, waging a war against my self-control.
Black yoga pants mold to her every curve. Chunky black combat boots make her look adorable and badass at the same time.
A pink AC/DC T-shirt at least two sizes too big knotted on one side at her hip bone shows off glorious ass cheeks that crease over luscious thighs. When she took off her oversized denim jacket, I nearly choked on my spit at the curve of her tits when she bowed her back to slip it down her arms.
Her bright blonde hair is tied into these puffs on the top of her head. Like pigtails but also like buns? I don’t fucking know. All I know is she's a smoke show.
She smiled brightly at the receptionist. The apples of her cheeks lifted her pink glasses, button nose scrunching to readjust them. The motion drew my attention to the studs in her nose. Why are they so sexy?
She’s like Bubblegum Combat Barbie and I don’t know what to do with her.
From our interaction the other night, I can tell she’s sugar and spice and everything I need to stay far away from.
Shaking the image of her from my mind, I push open the door to the back lot, not bothering to hold it for her as it swings shut behind me. A hollow thud is followed by a string of expletives. I don’t care that it was a dick move.
I can’t help but feel a bit better ruining her first day. She's going to fuck up my entire life for the next six months and the best way I know how to get ahead of it is to push her away.
I’m not sure I could handle it if she directed one of those megawatt smiles at me.
I unlock my work truck and start her up, slamming the door shut as I settle in. Isabelle’s red in the face as she rounds the hood of the truck, shooting daggers at me with those blue eyes. Not going to lie, she’s cute when she’s pissed. Nope, not going there.
She yanks the passenger door open and climbs into the cab, fumbling with her bag when she tries to shut the door. I internally chuckle and put the truck in drive.
“Can you at least wait for me to buckle my seatbelt?” she complains.
“Nope, if you’re with me, you keep up. I ain’t waiting for you. I got shit to do. Do whatever my mom told you your job is, don’t get in my way, don’t slow me down, and don’t talk to me. I didn’t ask to get stuck with you, so it’s up to you to make it work.”
Isabelle’s nostrils flare, breathing in short, deep huffs. She's five seconds away from ripping me a new asshole. I navigate out of the parking lot towards Main Street. Let her do her worst.
She can’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself.
Instead, she surprises me. Slow inhalations and exhalations fill the small space. She rifles around in her bag and pulls out a bright pink notebook and one of those pens that you can click down different colors. She opens the notebook to a blank page.
What the fuck? Are those fucking unicorns on the pages? She poses her pen and in a genuinely kind, bubbly tone asks, “where to first, boss man?”
I don’t know a lot about women, but I do know this isn’t fucking normal. She should be snapping at me, shrinking away in embarrassment, or at least roll her eyes at me. But no. Isabelle appears unbothered by my dickish behavior, and that terrifies me.
Is she going to poison my coffee later or something?
I’m way out of my depths here. I haven’t spent any extended time alone with a female in years, and even before then, my interactions were carnal and transactional at best. Insecurity and discomfort are suffocating me, and as always, my reflex is to withdraw.
I don’t look at her when I answer her question. “Don’t have a schedule. Today you’re going to stay out of my way while I do some repairs at a few of our local properties.” She lets out an affirmative noise in her throat and shifts to sit forwards in her seat.
“Can we stop by Bean & Brew on the way? I didn’t have time this morning.” Giving me a terrifying manic smile, she says, “You don’t want to experience me without caffeine in my system.”
“First property is nearby, so you can walk down. I don’t care.”
A quirk of her head is all I get in reply. I can't get a read on this girl. I don’t know if I should be annoyed, afraid, or aroused.
It’s going to be a long fucking day.