Chapter 6
six
JULIA
The hot water had done exactly what I needed it to do. The aching tension in my muscles had melted away while I washed the city off my skin, metaphorically, anyway. But it was the clothes that actually put me back together.
I stood in front of the wide bathroom mirror and critically assessed my appearance.
I had skipped the soft, sensible sweaters packed in my suitcase and opted for something with a little more teeth.
A long-sleeve, skin-tight black bodysuit hugged my body like a second skin, tucked into a pair of distressed denim jeans.
They were ripped at the knees and fit so perfectly to my curves that they made my ass look spectacular.
I threaded a thick, decorative black leather belt with heavy silver hardware through the loops, tugged on my brand-new cowboy boots, and finally, grabbed my new favorite accessory.
I plopped the rhinestone cowboy hat onto my head, adjusting the brim so it sat perfectly over my dark hair.
Satisfied, I grabbed my phone, turned my back on that seductive nest of a bed, and headed out the double doors.
I navigated the sprawling, quiet house, following the faint hum of conversation and the lingering scent of cinnamon down to the first floor.
I found Gideon leaning against one of the heavy timber pillars out on the wrap-around front porch.
He was holding a steaming mug of coffee, looking out over the property.
He turned his head as the front door snicked shut behind me, and his blue eyes heated. His gaze dragged slowly from the tips of my boots, up the tight denim, over the black bodysuit, and finally landed on the glittering rhinestone hat.
A brilliant smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. “Well, don’t you look ready for a rodeo.”
“Or a disco.” My lips twitched. I knew the rhinestones were a bit much, but finding a legit cowboy hat in the middle of Silver City, New York had been a feat.
The second I’d laid eyes on the sparkly treasure, I knew it had to be mine.
“You know how the saying goes. You can take the girl outta the city, but you can’t take the city outta the girl. ”
The culture out here was so obviously different, but I was ready to embrace it as long as I could do it with my own specific flair. I wasn’t about to lose who I was just because my mates were a bunch of infuriatingly sexy cowboys.
Mates.
Suddenly, the whirlwind of the past few days caught up to me, and my head went a little dizzy. I had mates. Plural. As in six.
Breathe before you pass out.
I stepped past him, walking over to the edge of the wooden porch and gripped the railing tightly. I took a long, deep breath, letting the fresh air clear my head.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Gideon asked, stepping up beside me and offering me an extra cup of coffee. I accepted it gratefully and took a sip, surprised to find it was rich and sweet, just the way I liked it.
For a second, I just stood there, letting the quiet beauty of the landscape settle into my bones. “It is,” I whispered. “And the company’s pretty good looking, too,” I teased, adding a little flirtatious lilt to my voice as I took another sip with a smile on my lips.
Gideon’s chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle. His cinnamon scent wrapped warmly around me, setting my nervous energy at ease. “Ready for the grand tour?”
“Lead the way.”
I followed him to the porch steps, happy to break in my new boots while he showed me around. I stepped off the bottom stair onto the dirt path, feeling as though I were stepping into a whole new world.
A soft, rustling sound caught my attention near the shrubbery to my left.
A plump, brown-feathered hen strutted out onto the path, followed by a waddling line of tiny, yellow puffball chicks. They were so damn fluffy, I just wanted to scoop them up and rub my cheek on their feathers.
“Oh, my God,” I cooed, bending at the knees slightly, my coffee mug held carefully in one hand. “Look at the little babies. Hi, little guys—”
The mother hen froze, eyeing me in that way only a chicken can. She puffed up to twice her size, let out a demonic squawk, and launched herself into the air like a feathered missile aimed directly at my face.
I shrieked, scrambling backward until my boots slipped on the loose gravel.
Somehow, my heel went out from underneath me, and my center of gravity vanished.
I went down as inelegantly as a sack of potatoes, landing flat on my ass in the dust, but my right arm had shot straight up toward the sky like the Statue of Liberty, holding the ceramic mug perfectly level.
The hen pecked viciously at the toe of my boot, let out a triumphant, menacing cluck, and strutted away with her babies, fully satisfied that she had defended her turf.
I gaped after her while Gideon completely lost it.
He doubled over, a loud, booming laugh echoing across the yard. A second later, the deep, rumbling sound of answering chuckles drifted over from the direction of the barns, telling me August and Stetson had definitely just witnessed my spectacular defeat.
“Lesson one. Watch out for the yard raptors, city girl!” Gideon wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. He stared at my raised arm, his laughter breaking into a look of genuine awe. “I cannot believe you didn’t spill a single drop of your coffee.”
I blinked and then let out a small laugh of my own. “Us city girls don’t play around when it comes to our caffeine,” I panted, carefully bringing the mug back down to my chest. “You’d sooner see me bleed than drop a good latte.”
Gideon’s chest shook with another laugh. He stepped forward, setting his own mug on the porch railing before gently taking mine from my grip. He offered me his hand, his blue eyes dancing with pure affection. “Come on. I promise to protect you from the rest of the livestock.”
I rolled my eyes playfully and let him haul me to my feet, then linked my arm through his. This time, if I was going down, he was going down with me.
The property was staggering, both in scale and function. Gideon kept up a steady, easy stream of conversation as he led me away from the treacherous shrubbery and toward a sprawling network of dirt paddocks.
“This is the south paddock,” he explained, stopping at a heavy wooden fence.
A massive bay mare ambled over, tossing her head before stretching her neck over the top rail to investigate my rhinestones. I tentatively reached out, stroking her soft, velvet nose, charmed by the puff of warm breath against my palm.
We continued the tour, passing a towering pole barn filled with heavy machinery, a pair of highly indifferent barn cats, and Dusty, who trotted over to demand belly rubs with a happily thumping tail.
Past the back fence, the landscape dipped into a gentle draw where a cluster of old cottonwood trees spread their wide, gnarled branches over a patch of shade.
The grass grew wilder here, thick with tangled brush and purple lupine that swayed lazily in the breeze.
It felt separate from the rest of the ranch—quieter, somehow. Set apart.
An old wooden bench sat beneath the largest tree, half-swallowed by overgrown vines that climbed its legs and curled around the armrests.
The wood was weathered silver, the kind of aging that only came from years of sun and wind and nobody sitting down.
A garden had once existed around it. I could see the faded outlines of a border, the skeletal remains of perennials poking through the weeds, but it had been left to go wild for what looked like a long time.
Something about it tugged at me. The neglect, maybe. The quiet stubbornness of a place that was still beautiful even though nobody was tending it anymore.
I slowed, my boots scuffing in the dirt. “What’s this spot?”
Gideon’s easy stride hitched. Just barely. Just for a fraction of a second. His cinnamon scent shifted, picking up a faintly sharp undertone before it smoothed out again.
“Just an old sitting spot,” he said, his tone light in the way that meant it wasn’t. He touched my elbow gently, steering us back toward the path. “Come on. I’ll show you the pool.”
I let him redirect me, but I glanced back over my shoulder as we walked away. The bench sat there in its circle of shade, patient and overgrown and waiting.
I didn’t know why, but I already knew I was coming back.
By the time we circled back toward the rear of the main house, I was feeling much more at ease.
The backyard was a hidden oasis. A large stone patio wrapped around a beautiful, inset pool that was currently covered for the season. Next to it sat a steaming hot tub that tempted me almost as much as the tub upstairs had.
But it was a quiet corner of the yard that actually grabbed my attention.
A fenced garden sat abandoned near the back of the lawn, waiting for spring prep. A few raised beds were designated for flowers, but the larger areas in the back were obviously old vegetable patches.
I stared at the overturned dirt. I had never kept so much as a houseplant alive in New York, but looking at the empty, forgotten garden, I could vividly smell the aromatic tang of tomato vines.
“Something wrong?” Gideon asked softly, following my gaze.
“No,” I murmured. I dropped his arm and walked slowly toward the weathered wood. “My mother used to grow tomatoes.”
I remembered standing on a stepstool in our kitchen, her hands guiding mine as we crushed them and made sauce to feed fathers and brothers. Whenever she made spaghetti or lasagna was the only time our chaotic house was ever truly peaceful.
Life rarely gives you the thing you asked for, Jules, my mother’s voice drifted through my memory. But if you’re brave enough to plant the seeds anyway, the surprises are usually better.
She’d always been a wise woman.
The heavy crunch of boots on gravel pulled me out of my reverie. I turned just as August and Stetson rounded the corner of the house, heading back from one of the barns.