Chapter 6
Cruz
Despite the fact that she is now safely tucked away in her cabin, I still spend the rest of the day thinking about Addison. How she’d looked so small out there on the trails—drenched and shivering. Walking so confidently in the wrong direction. It would be funny if it wasn’t so dangerous.
What if I hadn’t agreed to bring her lunch?
What if no one had realized she was lost?
She could have been up there for hours. In the rain.
And by the fact that she had so unquestionably decided to just keep on walking through the storm, I doubt she would have had the good sense to hide or avoid open fields when lightning struck.
And that stupid attitude of hers. Glaring at me like I’d come up there to scold her rather than help her. Sure, I may have scolded her a little—but she deserved it. What the hell was she thinking?
And then there’s the image I can’t get out of my mind. Addison in her thoroughly soaked white t-shirt, everything fully visible. I’m a gentleman. I truly wasn’t going to say anything about her state—until she dug her heels in again on something so utterly stupid and inane …
I force myself to take a breath, pausing in my work to focus. I only have a few tasks to finish up in the barn before heading to the mess hall for dinner. What is it about this woman that just drives me crazy? I’ve dealt with difficult people before.
Well, maybe not quite as difficult as Addison.
And there it is—that image of her. Dark eyes blazing, chin up in the air, her wet shirt showing off curves that should be fucking illegal. The contour of her hips, her waist, her nipples hard and pink and wet and—
Fuck.
No. I cannot be thinking about Addison Thatcher like this.
The way her ass had felt against my cock while bouncing on the horse …
I suck in a deep breath.
The way her feisty attitude makes me just wanna push her up against the nearest wall and shove my tongue down her throat. When she’d practically dared me to scoop her up over my shoulder, my head had been full to the brim of horrible, dirty things—all including Addison naked, me on top of her.
I slam the horse bridal I’m carrying onto its hook on the wall.
Shut up, Cruz, I snap at myself.
I glance at my phone. It’s a little after 6 p.m., and I’m about as done with the day as I’m going to be. I grab my hat and stride out of the barn and up to my truck.
The rain has finally stopped, which is nice. Although the entire ranch is just going to be one big mud puddle for the next couple days. I hop into my truck and make my way to the mess hall.
It’s crowded and lively when I enter, and I make a beeline toward the buffet table to see what Hank has prepared for today. After the storm, I’m hoping for something warm. When I see a big pot of chili, my wish is granted.
I grab a large bowl, along with a side of chips, and turn around to find a seat.
My gaze immediately zeroes in on Addison. Sitting at a nearby table and chatting away with some ranch hands.
I swallow, suddenly feeling … nervous?
There’s an empty seat next to her, but I decide not to take it. She’s probably had enough of me today.
There is, however, an empty chair a few seats down from her. Next to some of my buddies too. So I take that one.
“So where were you during Armageddon today?” one of my ranch hands, Theo, asks.
He’s tall—probably around six-five—but not in an imposing way.
Probably one of the kindest guys on the ranch.
Honestly, he would have been a better fit to watch over Addison than me.
I probably should have tried to pass the buck, but it’s too late now.
I grunt. “You don’t wanna know.”
He chuckles. “Took me twenty minutes to herd the cattle out of it. Was drenched by the time I was done.”
One of the ranch’s vet techs, Cora, laughs from across the table. “Yeah, you looked like a wet rat at lunch.”
Theo rolls his eyes, but I happen to know that he likes when Cora teases him. He’s head over heels in love with her and he might be the only one who doesn’t know it. Well … besides Cora.
A round of laughter catches my attention, and my gaze slips down the table to Addison. She’s laughing. Actually laughing. I didn’t think she was capable of it.
I glance farther to see who she’s laughing with, and my gaze locks on Graham, another of the cowboys. He’s telling some sort of story, waving his hands in the air. Addison giggles.
I glare into my chili.
Theo and Cora continue to talk about their day, and I interject here and there. I eventually get up for a second bowl of chili, and by the time I come back, Theo has left. Cora sticks around for a few minutes, finishing up her meal, before leaving as well.
I keep glancing to Addison and Graham. They’re close enough that I can hear most of what they’re saying. She’s telling him about her “hike” from earlier, conveniently leaving out the part about her getting lost and rescued.
“There are some great trails up there,” Graham says. He’s leaning forward. Too far.
Addison bobs her head.
“You know, if you’re wanting a tour guide …”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“I know a great place up in the mountains I could take you.”
Okay, sure.
“Real remote …”
Before I can stop myself, I stand, the metal chair screeching across the linoleum. I walk down the table, taking the empty seat beside Graham. He looks startled, and Addison looks angry—per usual.
“I see you’ve met the boss’s cousin,” I say pointedly.
Graham nods. “Yeah, we were just chatting.”
“Well, she should probably head back to her cabin. It’s been a long day for her.” My gaze drops down to his empty bowl. “And I see you’re finished with dinner.”
Graham purses his lips, nodding curtly. “Yeah. Okay.” He glances at Addison, shooting her a quick smile. “Nice to meet you, Addison.” He stands, grabbing his empty bowl and heading toward the bussing rack.
There’s a moment of silence and then, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I shrug a shoulder, meeting her smoldering gaze. “Didn’t like the idea of you and Casanova up in the woods alone.” Not that the guy is a predator or anything, but Graham will flirt with pretty much anything that breathes. Addison isn’t special. At least in his eyes.
“Oh, so your duties involve cock-blocking now too?”
“I don’t think Tate would disapprove of that,” I say honestly.
“Tate isn’t my father.”
“No,” I say slowly. “But if he were, he’d probably thank me.”
She lets out a short laugh, and I can’t help but notice how different it was from her earlier laughter. Sharp, tight, condescending. “Right. Because you’re the official Welcome Committee and moral police.”
“Just making sure the city girl doesn’t get herself into a mess she can’t handle.”
Her eyes narrow. “I can handle myself just fine.”
“Sure you can,” I say.
Her lips press together like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth arguing with. And for a split second, I pray to God that I am. “You know, for someone who claims not to care, you’re awfully interested in where I go,” she says, her voice low.
I glance away, pretending to watch the line of newcomers entering the mess hall. “Just doing my job, Princess.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, but the word drips with disbelief. She stands, snatching her still-full mug of tea from the table so hard that the liquid almost sloshes over the sides.
“Careful,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Wouldn’t want you spilling that all over your designer jeans.”
Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing, the kind of look meant to set a man on fire—or in my case, burn me down to ashes. “Fuck off,” she mutters.
She pivots on her heel, strides toward the door, and pushes it open so hard it bangs against the wall.
I watch her go, telling myself that shutting down Graham was for her own good. It would be bad for her to get tangled up with someone who works here—much less the town playboy. It has nothing to do with the fire in her eyes when she looks at me. The way my heart beats faster when she enters a room.
No. It has nothing to do with me at all.