6. Winnie
CHAPTER SIX
winnie
By the time I finish up morning feed and twist my hair into a messy bun that looks more like hot-mess-cowgirl than woman-who-has-her-life-together, I spot it.
The piece of paper shoved under my windshield wiper.
I reach to grab it, smoothing the wrinkles with my thumb.
happy your here
The “your” is wrong. The handwriting is rushed and impatient, like whoever wrote it couldn’t be bothered to slow down long enough to care.
Do cowboys write notes?
For some completely ridiculous reason, I picture Danger. But there’s no way he’d leave a note.
The thought is insane. That man barely forms full sentences, let alone misspelled affirmations on notebook paper. I can’t see him secretly writing some note out of the kindness of his heart.
The voice calling my name snaps me out of my thoughts.
I stuff the note into my pocket.
“Well,” PJ says, eyes sparkling, “I made a special lunch today, and I got an extra spot for you. You been helpin’ me out so much here lately, I owe ya.”
“How could I possibly say no to that?”
Her face lights up, and she pulls me straight into a hug.
“It’s been nice havin’ you around,” she says. “Sawyer and Trouble will be here soon, and Fisher’s going to start working on rolling the bread.”
We’ve never actually talked about me and Trouble. Not the good parts. Not the ending. But I think she always knew how hard I fell for her boy—and maybe that we were never meant to last.
She never treated me like I was temporary, though. And that might be one of the kindest things anyone’s ever done for me.
I follow her, laughing. “If you treat all your workers like this, they’re never going to leave. You know that, right?”
“That’s the plan. Around here, you don’t stay a worker long. You become family.”
“Perfect,” I say, just as her phone starts ringing.
“Well, if it isn’t Mama’s newest adoptee,” Rogue drawls from the porch. “Figured you’d have run by now, gettin’ tossed into this wolf den.”
Charming appears at his side, mouth tipped in a grin that should be illegal. “Careful, Darlin’. Keep lettin’ her feed you, and you’re in for life. No escape.”
Mama Stetson snaps her fingers without looking back. “Hush, both of you. Get inside and start settin’ the table.”
Mama stops mid-step, phone still pressed to her ear, and turns to me.
“Oh—Winnie? I completely forgot. Could you grab some eggs for me?”
I blink. “Sure! I can handle some chickens.”
“Wonderful!” She points toward the barn. “I’m sure you remember, but straight through there. Chicken coop’s just past it. Grab three or four and meet us inside.”
“Sounds good!” I say, because I really have committed to being this farm-capable woman now.
Rogue yells out, “If they chase you, just run zigzag.”
“That ain’t helpful,” Charming says. “Talk nice to ’em. Chickens respect confidence.”
PJ waves them all off, trying to listen to the person on the other end of her phone call.
I head in the direction she pointed, slipping through the barn doors. It’s bigger inside than it looks—long rows of stalls, hay dust floating in the warm light, the faint smell of cedar and horse.
And then—a sound. A laugh.
Another sound follows. A breath. Then—oh, god—a moan.
A feminine moan.
It takes me a second to process what I’m hearing, but once I do, there’s no mistaking it. It’s the kind of sound you only expect behind closed doors, not in a barn on your way to find chickens.
Nope. No. Absolutely not.
I should turn around. I should. Truly.
But my feet don’t listen. They take one step, then another, pulling me toward the noise like a horror-movie character who absolutely deserves what’s coming.
I edge past a stall, press myself against a timber beam, and peek around the corner?—
And that’s when I see it.
Danger is leaning against a support beam, one hand gripping the wood above him, the other buried in her hair as she's on her knees in front of him.
I know I should pretend I didn't just wander straight into the adult section of the ranch.
But I don't move.
I don’t even breathe.
His shirt’s pushed up just enough to reveal the kind of mouthwatering abs that make you want to lick whiskey off them—deep, carved lines that contract with each ragged exhale. Has he always had abs like that?
His jaw is sharp, tilted back, throat exposed like he’s inviting some sexy vampire to come take a bite. But it’s not his neck that’s getting attention.
The dark-haired woman's knees are wedged between his boots, sucking his cock like she’s enjoying it much more than he is.
The sounds—low moans, breathy and desperate—are all hers.
Every flick of her head, every time she chokes, it’s amplified in this barn.
Not to mention the proximity, the fact that I am steps away.
My first instinct is to turn and run. Abandon the chickens and their eggs.
But some sick curiosity has me in a choke hold. I’m frozen. Watching my ex’s older brother. Observing. Like some sick Peeping Tom.
He doesn’t even look at her. Almost looks anywhere but at her, eyes half-shadowed under the brim of his hat.
Like he’s completely detached. Like this is routine.
And maybe it is. But for me? Every detail is burning into my brain—the way his abs flex when he shifts ever so slightly, the way his face looks even more gorgeous each time he tilts it.
I shouldn’t be thinking this. I shouldn’t be watching this.
The woman is like a machine—efficient, relentless, trying way too hard. She moans around him again.
But it’s not her I'm paying much attention to. It’s him I can’t take my eyes off of.
And apparently he feels it because his gaze cuts through the dim light. They land on me. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes are nearly black.
The barn goes quiet as panic climbs my throat at the thought of him seeing me here.
That he’ll treat me like some dumb kid again.
But there’s no shame in his expression. No surprise. Just a quiet, steady look that makes it clear he knows I’m here.
The woman keeps moving, unaware.
My pulse hammers so loud I’m sure even he can hear it.
His mouth curves, slow as sin, and utterly merciless. Like he enjoys this—me, frozen, mortified, and unable to tear my eyes away.
But he’s beautiful—not that I'd ever say it out loud—in a painfully dark and perfect kind of way, like something you’d see at the edge of a wildfire, the last thing before the world burns down.
He doesn’t flinch, just licks his lips.
He still knows I’m here. And he hasn’t stopped her. Doesn’t push her away. Just tilts his head back like he wants me to keep watching.
And fuck me, why does it make my stomach flutter?
My pulse is still rapid, embarrassingly loud in my ears.
The woman’s pace changes—slower now, dragging it out. Moving her head up and down in a way that has me wondering just how large he is. Danger’s grip on her hair tightens, just a little, and his mouth forms a word. Maybe her name. I can’t tell.
I hate how I’m still here watching. It’s almost like a dream where your brain is panicking, screaming even, but your body can’t move.
Danger’s head rolls back and he lets out a noise—half growl, half gasp—and then it happens. He doesn’t even give her a warning, but I can tell by the look on his face. And Lord help me, because the way he looks when he comes is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
The woman pulls back, lips glossy, and grins up at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“That was so hot. Thank you,” she says, giggling.
Thank you? Did she just?—?
He nods down at her and adjusts himself.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… can we do this again soon?”
Danger doesn’t even bother pretending he’s thinking about it.
“You got what you came for,” he says, low and dismissive.
My eyebrows lift. She came here for that? Am I missing something?
She giggles like it’s a compliment. “You’re right. My friends are gonna lose their minds.”
And then his gaze cuts back to me—sharp enough to pin me in place.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s unflinching, like he’s waiting for me to step closer. Like he’s waiting for me to do something—anything—besides stand here like a creep.
The woman doesn’t notice. She stands, smoothing her skirt, and brushes a kiss to his cheek. She turns my way, but he grabs her arm to stop her then says, “Go the other way out, through the back.”
She nods, and doesn’t question it, just turns to walk the other way leaving me alone with him.
Danger doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just leans against the beam.
I should really leave now. Turn around and walk away. Pretend I never saw any of this. But my feet are still stuck to the ground.
Danger’s eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.
“You gonna stand there all day, Shortcake, or you gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”