Chapter Seven
Blaze
Ikiss Morgan until she's breathless and shivering, and then I back off, just holding her against my chest for a moment. I want to storm inside the house, lock the fucking doors, and eat her alive.
And I will absolutely be doing that. But she needs purpose first, a reason to believe that she belongs here.
As much as I'd kill to be her reason, she needs more than that.
Life on a ranch is fucking hard. It's work, from sunup until sundown.
It's fighting the elements, fighting nature, and fighting time.
Love might move mountains, but it's delicate in places like this, too. It needs roots and reasons and room to grow.
I don't think she's ever had much of any of those. I want her to have them here. I want her to know this is her home, not just because it's where I am, but because it's where she feels purpose and passion and a sense of place she hasn't found anywhere else.
So I kiss her one more time, and then I let her go, lacing our fingers together.
"You're going to pay for that later, baby," I murmur.
"It was an accident!" she splutters, unable to hide her adorable giggle. "I swear."
"Uh-huh. That sweet laugh says you're full of shit."
"Then you should get your hearing checked, Blaze," she retorts, grinning at me with this perfectly wild look in her eyes, like she's happier than she's ever been. It's beautiful to see.
"I'll take that under consideration," I drawl, nudging her to get her moving. "But we've got work to do first."
"What now?" she groans.
"Well, you're shit at milking, and I've heard through the grapevine that you're also shit at cooking, wrangling, and using a lasso," I say, making her splutter through a protest, "so we're going to find what you are good at."
"Not manual labor," she grumbles, making me smile.
"Have you ever done manual labor in your life, Calamity?"
"I changed a tire once." She pauses. "It fell off."
"Jesus Christ."
"I wasn't driving."
For some reason, that doesn't make me feel even a little bit better.
I lead her to the horse barn.
"Jon!" she cries, hurrying forward to greet my pain-in-the-ass horse. Except… she stops a few feet from the stall, eyeing him warily. "Hi, bunkmate."
I watch her greet him, noting the way she avoids getting too close. Jesus.
"Morgan."
"Sorry I slept in your hay," she murmurs to him.
"Morgan," I call again, my voice soft.
"What?" she grumbles, turning to look at me.
"Are you afraid of him?"
"What? No. I…"
"Don't lie to me, baby."
She hesitates and then huffs. "Fine. Yes."
Motherfucker.
"Were you afraid of him before you slept in his stall?" I ask.
She hesitates again and then nods reluctantly.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, breathing steadily. I'm going to kill Roger Burkett, just wrap my hands around the bastard's miserable neck and squeeze until he stops breathing.
"Are you okay?" she asks me.
No. Hell no. I am not okay. Not even remotely fucking close to it. She slept in a stall with an animal she was afraid of because she had nowhere else to go.
I've gotta get right with Jesus before falling for this woman sends me to an early grave with my soul still stained and dirty.
I stride to Jon's stall, stopping beside the door. "Come here," I murmur, holding my hand out to her. "Let me properly introduce the two of you."
She hesitates for a minute and then strides forward, slipping her hand into mine. I don't miss the way her fingers tremble slightly.
"Jon Bon Pony, this is Calamity Jane," I say, my tone formal. "Calamity, this is Jon Bon Pony."
"It's nice to meet you, sir," she says with a soft laugh.
Jon shoves his head over the stall, trying to butt it against her. She squeaks and jumps back against me.
"Easy, baby," I murmur. "He won't hurt you. He's a curious bastard, but he's as placid as they come."
"He bit my butt."
I'd like to bite her butt.
"He wanted you to scratch his ears," I say, chuckling. "He's ornery when he isn't getting the attention he thinks he deserves."
She stares at him for a moment and then slowly lifts her hand toward him. Jon butts up against it, and she jerks it back before screwing up her courage to pet him.
"Hee-haw!" Horace screeches from the stall next door, jealous that he isn't getting attention.
"Don't pet Horace," I warn her, reaching into his stall to scratch his ears. "He's a bastard. He chased Wade across the field a few weeks ago, trying to mount him."
"He did not!" she gasps.
"Oh, he did." I grin. "You ain't seen a cowboy run until you've seen one running from a horny donkey."
"Is that what a donkey show is?"
I choke on my tongue. "A what now?"
"A donkey show," she repeats, her expression earnest, like this is a totally normal question to ask. "I heard my foster brothers talking about it, but when I asked what it was, they wouldn't tell me. They just said I wasn't old enough to know. I assume that means it's probably dirty."
This wild woman is going to kill me. I know she is. And God is probably up there right now, laughing his ass off because I deserve every second of it.
Dear Baby Jesus, I'm sorry for everything I've ever done wrong in my life. I mean it this time. I'm really sorry.
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen."
"You definitely weren't old enough," I mutter. "You still aren't."
"I'm twenty-two!" she protests.
"And I'm thirty, Calamity. I'm not even old enough to know what the fuck a donkey show is," I growl. "No one is." She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. We are not talking about this. Ever, as a matter of fact. "You were in foster care?"
"Yeah," she whispers, stroking Jon's nose. "While my dad was in prison and then again after he died."
"How long?"
"Five or six years, in total." She sighs.
"A nice couple took me in after he died.
They had two boys, my foster brothers. I was with them until they moved out of state when I was seventeen.
They tried to get permission from the court to take me with them, but the court wouldn't agree, so I got placed in a group home until I aged out. "
"Are you still in touch with them?"
"Yeah." She smiles at me. "They still check up on me. They wanted me to move to California with them when I turned eighteen, but I'd just started college, so I didn't go." Her brows furrow. "Maybe I'll actually finish one day."
"You're in school?"
"I was," she whispers, a shadow passing through her expression. "I couldn't afford tuition for this semester, so I had to take a break again."
Fuck my life.
"We'll get you reenrolled."
Her eyes widen. "I can't afford that."
"I can, Calamity."
"It's not your job to pay for me," she protests. "I'm already taking too much from you. I'm staying here for free, not helping out." Her shoulders slump. "You can't pay for me to go to school, too."
"Hey." I tip her head back, forcing her to look at me.
"We'll find you a job to do around here, but there is no scorecard, Morgan.
There is no set amount you need to contribute in order to belong here.
Whatever you decide to do here, it'll be because you enjoy it, because it gives you purpose, not because you feel like you're doing it to pay anyone back.
And helping ensure you have your degree helps us all.
Ranches don't run themselves. They take education and work. "
"Do you think…?"
"What?"
"Do you think maybe I can help in the office?" she asks, hesitant. "I'm studying business."
"You're working on a business degree?"
She nods. "Business administration. I've made the Dean's List every semester."
"Well, shit, Calamity." I grin at her. "Why didn't you say that? We always need business-minded people around here."
"Yeah, but…" She shifts uneasily. "I have a warrant out for my arrest," she whispers. "And my dad—"
I press my lips to hers, cutting her off. "None of that shit matters, baby. You didn't steal that jewelry, and you aren't your dad. The Carringtons will give you a chance."
"You really think so?" she asks, trying to hide the hope in her eyes.
I stare at her for a long moment and then wrap my hand around hers, tugging her toward the door of the barn. "Let's go."
"Where?"
"To talk to Hudson."
Hudson Carrington is in his office, cursing up a blue streak when we step inside. Morgan sticks close to my side, her eyes bouncing around the office like she's trying to take it all in.
It's a lot to see. His office is massive, with big windows overlooking the ranch, and paperwork stacked everywhere. It's enough to stress me the fuck out.
There's a reason I work outside. Paperwork is the reason.
"Blaze," Hudson growls, jerking his chin at me. "What's up?"
"Hudson, this is Morgan Lott," I murmur, nudging her forward. "Morgan, baby, this is Hudson Carrington. His family owns the ranch. He's the man in charge."
Hudson's gaze rakes over Morgan, his expression softening when he notices how nervous she looks. "Hey, sweetheart. Flint mentioned you'd be staying with us for a while. Is Blaze taking good care of you?"
"Yes, sir," she whispers.
Hudson grins at her before his gaze drifts to me, curiosity in his eyes.
"Morgan is working on a degree in business," I murmur. "I thought you guys might have more use for her in here than we do out in the fields."
His brows lift. "A business degree, huh?"
"Yes, sir. Business administration."
"How much longer do you have until you're finished?"
"About a year. I had to take this semester off."
Hudson nods. "You ever worked in an office before, Morgan?"
"I interned with Jack Whitlock for the summer when I was nineteen," she says. "I worked the front desk."
"Well, hell," Hudson says with a laugh. "If you can handle Whitlock, you can damn sure handle anything we'd throw at you."
"I believe so, sir."
"I just lost my assistant."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cries, her eyes wide.
"Shit." Hudson rakes a hand down his face. "I didn't mean it like that. She quit." He motions to the mountains of paperwork stacked around the office. "And now I have to sort through all of this shit. I could use some help."
"I can help," Morgan says and then bites her lip. "I mean…if you'll let me."
Hudon eyes her for a moment and then grins. "I'll make you a deal, Morgan Lott."
"Yes, sir?"
"You quit calling me sir, and the job is yours."
"Really?" She gapes at him, her eyes wide with hope.
"Really."
"I have a warrant out for my arrest right now," she blurts. "I…I just thought you should know before you agree to hire me. My last boss accused me of stealing jewelry from him. I didn't do it, but I don't have any way to prove it, either."
"Heard about that," he mutters, his eyes coming to me. There's no judgment there, just curiosity. "You handling it?"
"Yeah, I'm handling it."
"Good," he grunts. "Burkett always has been a prick.
" He looks at Morgan again, his expression soft.
"We don't take the word of bastards like that around here, sweetheart.
Blaze and Flint have vouched for you, and their word is worth a whole helluva lot more than Burkett's will ever be in my book. If you want the job, it's yours."
She squeals, flinging her arms around me in a big hug.
I yank her up against my chest, meeting Hudson's gaze over her shoulder. "Thank you," I mouth, grateful as hell that he's giving her a place here.
He jerks his chin in a nod.