Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SHAW
At the sound of a vehicle coming down the road leading to my ranch, I see it’s Rita’s red Jeep, so I don’t move.
What I don’t expect is Monroe frozen with terror, then passing out in my lap.
I check her pulse and feel that it’s steady, but her mind is so fucked up that fear of the unknown shut her down.
“I’m back!” Rita calls, and as she roams around back, likely having seen us making out like teenagers when she pulled up, she drops the bags in her hands when she notices Monroe's state and runs over. “Is she alright?”
“Yeah. She’s got a lot going on in her mind, and if I had to guess, it’s because of her mother.” If I weren’t such a good guy, I’d kill the fucking bitch.
“She’s gone, right? Back to whatever hole she crawled out of?” Rita’s always been a mother hen to anyone she views as wounded. And Monroe is as wounded as they come.
“Yeah, I told her she wasn’t allowed back here. Hopefully, she listens.”
Carrying Monroe inside, I head to my office where paperwork awaits me, and there’s a couch for the sleeping beauty in my arms to rest on. Laying her down on it, I carefully remove her shoes before grabbing the afghan off the back of the sofa and placing it over her body.
When I step back, I watch her sleep for a moment, wondering how often she gets a full night of peaceful rest. I know that last night, she paced around her room most of the time, then woke up this morning with the asinine plan to scar herself.
Swiping a hand down my face, my scruffy beard scrapes my palm, and frustration eats at me.
Getting involved with the woman under my protection isn’t the best idea, but the magnetism between us calls to my soul, and I don’t think I want to ignore it. If I’ve read Monroe right, she feels the same way, which means I need to get this shit figured out sooner rather than later.
Sitting behind my desk, I pull up the spreadsheet for the steers the ranch is selling next week.
When I moved to Eagle Rock and bought this place from an old man looking to retire, I inherited his entire livestock, as well as his clients.
Most of the cattle have been sold for meat and some of the heifers and bulls for breeding.
I’m working on offloading them all over the next year or two, so I can transition into a therapy ranch.
The main focus will be horses trained to accommodate special-needs individuals who otherwise wouldn’t be able to ride just any old mare.
I also intend to include smaller livestock.
Goats, llamas, and pigs will have their own designated area for those interested in learning about them.
And now that I see how soothing Marilyn is to Monroe, she’ll be a part of things as well.
I never could have sold her, but I had planned to keep her separate. I realize now that would have been a mistake. Marilyn is a huge part of my life here, and she deserves to be recognized for it.
It’ll be a while before the ranch reopens under my new vision, but I’ve spent a long-ass time saving for this, and my parents have even invested, helping me ensure it will be a success. And with a solid plan in place, I know that one day, it will be.
If I can convince Monroe to give me a chance, I think she’ll be an essential part of it too. She has a perspective I lack when it comes to people who’ve been abused.
After arranging for the cattle to be picked up late next week, I get back to looking through Monroe’s file. It seems something new pops up with each pass through, as I wait on Draven’s email about her father.
As tight-lipped as she’s been so far, I worry something even more tragic has happened in her past. Not much shocks me anymore, but after learning just how competitive the pageant circuit is, I get the feeling I might be soon enough.
“I wanted to go to the salon earlier so I could change my hair.” Monroe’s soft voice draws my eye to find her watching me.
Not understanding, I stare at her blonde locks, frown, and ask, “Why?”
“Blondes win more. I haven’t seen my natural color since I was a little girl.”
Is that even legal?
“What if I can get someone to come out here?” I really don’t want to take her into town. Eagle Rock may not be large to some, but it’s big enough for her to be recognized.
“I’d really appreciate it.” She sits up, still looking a little pale, and crosses her legs.
I watch her for a few minutes, but it seems to make her uncomfortable because she squirms off and on, then finally says, “Fear consumed me when I heard the vehicle. I don’t even know why.
Half the time, I don’t make sense to myself, and I can’t stop my responses. ”
“You had a panic attack,” I confirm. She nods. “You know that’s okay, right? You won’t be punished for having feelings here.” She nods again, but I don’t think she gets it. Not really.