Chapter 24
“Try the engine again,” Marshall called up to Evan, who had come to help him tinker with his old tractor.
A few days had passed since his night at The Dusty Spur, and he was bursting to talk to someone about what was happening with Colette.
It was just awkward to bring it up. He was scared he would gush. Literally gush about the woman.
The tractor was making an alarming sound as it turned, and Marshall knew something wasn’t working right. Evan was a pro with machines and could fix just about anything. The engine turned, making a soft rumble, minus the squeaking sound. Good.
It was progress.
“Sounds a lot better. Thanks, man,” Marshall said.
“So…?” Evan said with a grin, eyeing him from the tractor seat. It was the kind of grin the old gossips had when they had a juicy new story.
“What?” Marshall asked in a testy tone. He waved him away. His friend cut the engine and jumped down.
“Thanks for helping me out,” Marshall repeated.
“I guess you owe me big time now. If I’m keeping tally. I made quite the sacrifice for you the other night,” Evan said, wiping his hands on the greasy towel covered in oil spots.
“Was being with Jessica so hard then?” Marshall asked with a chuckle, shaking his head. They ambled toward the stables, where Evan had left his horse. Their land was adjacent, and Evan sometimes preferred to ride by horseback if the weather permitted. It was technically a shorter distance by horse.
“Oh, it was hard…” Evan raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “She loved it.”
Marshall snorted. Leave it to Evan to always be a pig. “Lucky gal, I guess.”
“What about Colette? Was she a lucky gal?” Evan inquired.
Marshall slid his hat over his eyes and tucked his hands in his pocket to hide the blush warming his cheeks. Fucking Evan. Always putting him on the spot.
“I’m not kissing and telling,” he admitted.
His friend grinned and nodded slowly. “Aaah, so there was kissing.”
Marshall grumbled. “What’s wrong with you? I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
Evan crossed his arms and laughed. “Dude, you’re blushing.”
“Fuck,” Marshall swore. “When I have something to share with you, I will.”
“Alright, alright,” Evan said, waving his hand. “I’ll be ready when you have some hot gossip for me. I can’t wait to hear all about the woman who finally caught Marshall King’s heart.”
Marshall walked his friend to the front of the stable, where Evan’s horse, Bayard, was tied up waiting.
“You’ll be waiting a while,” he said, untying the horse as Evan slid his foot into the stirrup and hopped onto its back.
“Wanna go for beers tomorrow?” Evan asked, staring down at Marshall from the saddle.
“Maybe. Or wait, I might have plans. I’ll get back to you.”
Evan signaled the horse to get moving and waved at Marshall as they left the stable yard. Marshall wiped his hands absently on the dirty towel, satisfied that his tractor was working now. Looking at the time on his watch, he wondered where Colette would be this late in the afternoon.
He tucked the towel in his back pocket and checked the ranch office, which was empty.
Closing and locking the door as Colette instructed him to, he debated knocking on the guest house door, but didn’t want to give her the impression he was looking for a repeat of the other night.
His body tingled at the memory. He licked his lips, thinking of how delicious she had tasted, coming apart on his tongue.
Marshall placed a hand on his chest, his heart racing.
His dreams that night were filled with Colette, her mouth wrapped around his cock, the way his hands smoothed over her heavenly curves and the sounds she made that destroyed him. Reality was infinitely more satisfying than his fantasies.
He’d spent his entire day trying to focus on work and getting his jobs done, but his mind kept drifting…
Was she working at her computer, eyes narrow and watching her precious charts and finance tables?
Was her blouse all buttoned up, or did she undo the top button because she got warm?
Or was she wearing a pair of pajamas he hadn’t seen yet?
He wondered if she was as distracted as he was, if she hungered for more.
Leaning against the stable wall, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
This woman was a complete disaster to his productivity.
Maybe if he focused on her, he could settle his mind and get back to his actual job. In keeping with his desire not to repeat his old patterns, he wanted to treat Colette the way she deserved. Fuck the gossip and screw those damn rules he made up to protect himself.
If he was interested in Colette, he wasn’t going to angst away when they were both consenting adults. No one would give a shit if they had some fun.
To put his mind at ease, he called his grandfather.
Clarence King was less than impressed and warned him not to do anything to mess with their new hire. The old man begrudgingly accepted, telling Marshall to only go for it if he was serious. Marshall breathed a sigh of relief.
That wasn’t going to be an issue.
He was serious. Serious as a punch in the face.
Before jumping in his truck, Marshall checked in with the guys on duty to ensure the rest of the evening’s work would go off without a hitch. He needed to go into town.
The bells dangling from the door jingled as he entered The Buttercup Bakery. It was later in the day, and their stock of treats would be low, but Marshall knew Edna, the owner, and her daughter Imogen would help him find something special.
Ever since Colette had baked him cookies, he couldn’t get the desire out of his mind to treat her, to give her something sweet in return.
Watch her eat it and lick sweet sugar from her mouth.
He wanted to be nice, yes, but he also had an ulterior motive.
The act of watching her eat was extremely arousing.
Marshall studied the menu behind the counter. There were so many delicious pastries to choose from.
The original owner, Edna had gradually stepped away from the business, letting her daughter take over the job of running the place.
If the older woman appeared in the shop, it was to help out, take orders, and gossip with the locals.
The Buttercup Bakery was a town hub, where people came to be seen.
Marshall wanted to be seen.
He would make his intentions clear.
Discourage any other guys in town from moving in on his territory.
If she was willing to become his territory, of course. Something about Colette appealed to some primal need to possess her.
“How can I help you, Marshall?” Imogen asked, standing behind the till with her hand on the cash register.
Her blue apron brought out the blue in her eyes, and her tight ponytail was all business.
At one time, he had entertained the idea of dating Imogen, but things had never worked out for them.
Was she cute? Yes. Did she heat his blood into a raging inferno of passion that needed to be satisfied? No.
Edna came to the till and pushed her daughter over with her hip.
“Marshall, it’s been too long!” she said, a giant smile coming to her red painted lips. Her earrings, giant slices of cake, drew his attention. Her straight gray bob tucked behind her ears. “What can I get you? Something for your pretty new co-worker, perhaps?”
Marshall rolled his eyes as a wave of heat colored his cheeks. News traveled so fast in town.
“You got it, Edna. Gotta make the ranch’s latest employee feel welcome,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I want something special for her.”
Edna’s lips pursed as she gave a long “Oooh” and clapped her hands together.
“Okay. I have some delicious profiteroles, cute and small. Filled with a delicate Chantilly cream. She’ll love them,” she suggested, pointing them out in the case.
Marshall’s mouth went dry.
“You had me at Chantilly cream. I’ll take six.”
The woman took a small box from the shelf under the till and began to fill it with the rich, chocolate-covered pastries.
“So, how’s it going with the new accountant?
I heard she was out for beers with you guys at The Dusty Spur the other day.
” Edna waggled her eyebrows, clearly not done digging for more gossip.
Marshall’s brows knitted together as they wondered what the chances were that Edna wasn’t setting them up together in her mind already. Quite low.
Well, Edna would be pleased.
“She’s nice. Works hard. She’s a great fit,” Marshall revealed. “Hope she’ll stay for a while.”
Edna stilled, her eyes widening. She cast a look at her daughter, who choked on a sip of water. “Well, isn’t that lovely. I’ll make sure and wrap them with extra care.” Edna gave him a knowing smile.
Tucking his hands in his pockets and swaying nervously on his heels, he watched as she wrapped a cream ribbon around the box and tied a neat bow. She pulled a flower from a bouquet sitting behind the till, clipped the stem and tucked it in the bow.
“That’s beautiful. Thanks, Edna,” Marshall said, taking the package from the baker’s hands. “She’s going to love them.”
“June dropped off fresh flowers today and I thought they would look amazing. I was right, as usual,” Edna said, poking her daughter in the ribs with an elbow. Imogen rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending a wave to Marshall as he headed for the door.
His chest felt lighter as he stepped onto the sidewalk. It had been a long time since he had visited the bakery. Never in his life had he shopped for a woman. Colette made him want to shower her in gifts and take care of her, which was terrifying. And thrilling.
A smile teased his lips as he watched the sun setting over the foothills.
There must be some magic to treating a woman the way she deserved. An unfamiliar warmth filled him as he imagined surprising her. Gosh, he was in trouble.
June’s flower farm was on the way to the ranch, and Marshall was inspired to make a stop before heading home.
It wouldn’t hurt to pick up some flowers, too.
It had been a while since he had seen the local flower farmer, June Miller, and he had a few things to discuss with her.
He had been struck with inspiration and hoped June would help him with a new project on the ranch.
He was ready to stomp all over his fuckboy past and throw caution to the wind. If Colette wanted to take a chance on him, he wouldn’t be afraid.
Marshall grinned as he turned onto the long driveway leading to the ranch. Nervous energy bubbled in his chest, and he wondered if he was being foolish. He had no idea what he was doing, only that it was the absolute opposite of how he treated women in the past.
He wanted Colette to feel special.
Not disposable or forgettable.
She had given him a gift the other night and he wanted more.
He pulled up to the guest house as night was settling in, a soft hue of light blue and yellow remaining on the horizon, the last dregs of the gorgeous prairie sunset.
As usual, all the lights were on, and Colette was busy somewhere in the house.
With a steadying breath, he raised his hand to knock on the door, then lowered it. Was he making the right decision?
Or was he a fool walking down a path of no return?