Chapter 10
Marshall wiped his brow as the last of the bales of hay was broken up at the feeding station.
The sweet scent of hay was a comfort; it mingled with the cool late afternoon air drifting across the fields.
It wouldn’t be long before they could reduce the feeds in favor of the abundant fresh grass that would be available once the spring rains came and turned the fields to a lush, verdant green.
Grateful his cousin Lachlan had volunteered to cover the other stations and distribute the rest of the evening feed, Marshall watched as the cattle gathered, a familiar sight at their dinner time.
Fatigue overcame him. Normally, work was a comfort, and he could lose himself in the endless tasks that filled his day on the ranch.
After his ride with Colette, he had trouble collecting his thoughts and making sense of them. His mind kept wandering back to the feel of her in his arms, to her unguarded enthusiasm as he showed her the breadth of this beautiful land he called home. What was wrong with him?
When he arrived in Rosebud to stay, he committed himself to living celibate for a while, staying away from the casual relationships that were in abundance when he was in the city.
He wasn’t opposed to being with a woman again, but he was wary of falling into the same toxic pattern of using them and moving on as quickly as possible.
It wasn’t healthy for the women, and it certainly didn’t make it easier for him to face himself in the mirror.
Those flings were empty and meaningless.
Though his family always supported him, he wasn’t immune to how happy they were when his brother Roger married his first wife, settling down in a respectable marriage.
His mother’s little comments about how she couldn’t wait to see Marshall settled in the same way only left him feeling sad, because in fact, he had been doing the actual opposite of settling down.
It upset the order of things. As the older brother, he should be setting the example for his siblings.
Yet he always remained disconnected, unable to make anything stick.
He had no desire to get his mom’s hopes up if he started dating Colette.
It was easier to keep his small-town relationships in Rosebud, whereas if he dated Colette, the time for that information to travel to Rowena King’s ears would be infinitesimal.
And Roger would murder him if he acted foolishly and indulged in a fling with Colette.
He was used to being the family disappointment.
He didn’t want to give them any other reason to feel like he didn’t meet their expectations.
Marshall was unsuccessful as an athlete and left his degree unfinished. He would not fail them in this.
Coming to Rosebud Ranch was one of the best things he had ever done.
There was no way he was going to start a good life here and sleep with every woman he was interested in.
He was trying to keep away from his old reputation, not revive it.
His new beginning involved some discomfort and discipline.
Not the kind of discipline he had as an athlete.
That work hard, play hard kind of mentality.
More like work hard. Be a better person.
Make something of your life. Gone was the young man who slept around, partied constantly, and drove his body to the limits.
Here, he was building a life to be proud of, becoming someone better.
Many years later, his life was calm, routine, and yes, predictable.
He made time for the occasional night out and dated a few local women who showed some long-term potential.
Someone who would give him more than what he was used to having.
But those few relationships left him wanting.
For what, he didn’t know exactly. They appeased his needs temporarily, but they didn’t give him what he was craving.
Possibly because he wasn’t sure what he wanted.
Then, there was Colette.
She walked into his life as quiet as a mouse.
The woman was as sweet and tart as raspberry jam on his tongue, and a breath of fresh air.
An animalistic lust roared through him when he thought of her prim, collared blouses and little skirts.
He snorted. Such inappropriate wear for a ranch.
Perfect for an indoorsy woman, as she described herself.
He tamped down the sensations she stirred within him.
They were wrong. It wasn’t her fault the press of her curvy ass against his crotch during their horseback ride drove him insane.
Or that the scent of her floral shampoo touched him somewhere deep inside, awakening some beast Marshall had long thought under control.
She made him want to take something that wasn’t his.
Possess someone who was out of bounds. Hold on to her and protect her.
He had no idea where this primitive instinct came from, and he was now grappling with a strange battle inside him.
Take what you want versus don’t be that guy again.
Give in versus don’t touch. He was already under scrutiny for messing up the finances.
Imagine if he slept with the new accountant and things went sour?
How on earth would he explain it to his grandfather?
Roger would murder him. His grandfather would demote him for someone more capable.
When he finished spreading the bales of hay, Marshall leaned against his truck, his eyes on the horizon.
This distance was good for them. He needed to stay the hell away from Colette.
At least until he found a woman in town to satisfy his urges with.
Just this once. To take the edge off and help him calm whatever storm she was brewing up inside him.
That was the most sensible solution.
He stayed long enough to watch the sun begin to set, when the sky took on the delicate mix of blue and yellow and a slight tinge of orange. He never grew tired of this view.
A sharp bark broke him out of his reverie.
“Dammit, Hank,” Marshall swore. “How did you get out?”
Hank sat obediently, his eyes barely visible under the brown mop of his hair. Maybe Betsy had let him out before she left, as she sometimes did. After a good wander, his low-energy farm dog was ready to go home. He would need a haircut soon. What kind of high-maintenance farm dog needed haircuts?
The passenger side of the truck opened, and Hank jumped in, waiting for Marshall to close the door.
If there was anything Hank loved more than roaming the ranch, it was riding in the truck with his head out the window and his ears flapping in the breeze.
Walking around to the driver’s side, Marshall exhaled a heavy breath, enjoying one final glimpse at the view before climbing into the truck and starting the engine.
“You must be hungry for your dinner,” Marshall said, eyeing Hank. His dog’s brown eyes were sometimes eerily human, and it gave him the illusion that Hank understood everything Marshall was saying. The head tilt didn’t help either.
“I got lady problems, Hank.” He glimpsed the dog stretching out on the seat and wished for a moment that his own mind was as blank as Hank’s.
Maybe his mind was blank before, filled with his daily responsibilities and managing the ranch.
Hard labor, routines that required little thought, just diligence and commitment.
Colette Slip had lit a match and blown up all that stillness.
There was a new ache inside him, a hunger that could not be satisfied.
Well, he would see if it could be satisfied.
Perhaps he had simply been alone too long.
He hadn’t enjoyed the company of a woman in a while, and he was the poorer for it.
It seemed like a situation he could rectify easily enough, without having to break any of his rules or cross any of his boundaries.
The rules kept him from sinking to that place that he never wanted to return.
He parked the truck in front of the farmhouse and Hank barked happily as Marshall trudged up the stairs behind him.
The house was dark and cool. Like every other night on the ranch, yet somehow different.
Empty. Kicking off his boots, he turned on the kitchen lights and his feet walked of their own volition to the kitchen window.
Placing his hands on the edge of the sink, his gaze was drawn to the lights in the distance, not so far away.
His chest hummed with energy. A pull beckoned him to look, to know, to see what she was doing. Marshall pressed his lips together.
This wouldn’t do at all.
Washing his hands at the sink, he followed his nightly routine, trying to shake the way his thoughts kept traveling back to the guest house. To her.
It was easy to want something he couldn’t have. So predictable.
He placed his cold plate from the fridge into the microwave and felt blessed to have such an amazing cook keeping everybody fed.
Betsy cared for him as a son and worked hard all day making meals to keep things running smoothly.
She always left him a fresh plate, knowing he worked later than anyone else.
Marshall fed the dog and cat, then pulled out his cutlery for his own meal.
Reaching into the cupboard for a glass, his hand hovered over the different options, and he pulled out a whiskey tumbler.
He hunted in his liquor cabinet for something drinkable and settled on the last dregs of a bottle of bourbon stashed away at the back.
His brother and father always left good stuff behind when they visited.
Marshall rarely drank, not wanting to get into the habit of imbibing alone.
Drinking always got him in trouble during his Playboy days, and he avoided over-indulgence of any kind out on the ranch.
He was a different person here. A better person.
It terrified him to lose the progress he had made.
Inhaling the rich scent of bourbon, his muscles relaxed, and the nagging fixation lessened.
He swallowed a warm mouthful, letting the burn distract him from his fascination.
Maybe he should call Roger and get another stern lecture, a reminder of his behavioral expectations with regards to Colette.
That would make Roger suspicious that Marshall was contemplating things he ought not be contemplating.
His gaze wandered over the rim of the glass to outside the window above the kitchen sink, again. Colette turned off the lights in the house. Marshall shook his head. Had she gone to bed?
Last night, she had the lights on to chase away the deep darkness surrounding them at night. Eventually, she would get accustomed to it. Or she wouldn’t and she would leave in a few months once her contract was completed. Back to the city, and all those bright lights.
The thought cooled his ardor. It would be foolish to become infatuated with the new employee when she fully intended to leave here as soon as her job was done.
She was afraid of horses, prim and proper, so damn clean and cutesy.
There was no way she would end up staying on the ranch. She stuck out like a sore thumb.
In the past, that would have made her the perfect candidate for a fling. Temporary, time-limited, no risk of getting too attached. Marshall pressed his lips together as he considered, then shook his head.
No.
He wanted more.
And Roger would kill him.
A knock at the door intruded on his reverie and startled him.
He placed his utensils on his plate and turned, easily seeing his guest through the glass panes of the door.
She was rubbing her arms and shivering, with pink cheeks and rapid breaths puffing from her mouth.
Hank’s tail wagged obscenely, his joy impossible to hide.
Colette.
Marshall sighed. Why was she here so late, out in the dark?
And why did it look like she had been running from something?