Chapter 12 Tex
TEX
Iwoke up before the sun. Years of riding with the club had wired my body that way. Early mornings, long miles, and never sleeping too deep in unfamiliar places made peaceful sleep impossible.
For a moment I lay still in the narrow bed of the ranch’s spare room, staring up at the ceiling.
I’d woken up a couple of times through the night and had done quick tours of the house, checking all the windows for anything before going back to bed.
One time I hesitated outside her room, wanting to check on her and make sure she was okay, but deciding against it.
Her waking up to a six-foot topless biker in her room would give her nightmares for years.
The quiet was the first thing I noticed this morning.
No rumble of motorcycles outside. No snoring brothers down the hall, or stomping boots. No jukebox humming in the corner of the clubhouse, or bottles clinking.
Just the distant sound of wind brushing across open land and the faint creak of the old ranch house settling.
It was peaceful.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed my jeans, pulling them on. I ran a hand through my hair as I stepped out into the hallway and headed downstairs in search of food and hopefully coffee.
The smell of the place had changed overnight.
I could smell coffee grounds and wood, and when I opened the kitchen window, the faint smell of horses drifted in.
I walked around the tidy kitchen, glancing out the back door toward the barn, my gaze narrowing to make sure nothing had changed overnight, and I was happy when nothing had.
The sky was turning pale blue, the sun just starting to creep over the distant hills.
It was a hell of a view and I could see why Rowan loved it so much.
Rolling pasture was only broken up by aging wooden fences, patches of tall grass swaying in the breeze, and a distant line of cottonwood trees following the creek.
It was the kind of place a man could take a beat to just breathe.
It was the kind of place a man went to find peace.
I scrubbed a hand over my bare stomach and stretched, giving a loud yawn, and feeling the muscles in my back and shoulders pop with sweet relief. My stomach rumbled in hunger and I opened the fridge and found eggs, bacon, and a carton of orange juice.
A few minutes later, bacon was sizzling in the pan while coffee brewed in the old drip machine. I scrambled eggs, toasted some bread, and poured two mugs of coffee just as I heard light footsteps upstairs.
A small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth as the telltale sound of Rowan's steps could be heard moving across the landing. Rowan appeared in the doorway a moment later, and for a second my brain stopped working altogether.
She was wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts and a fitted tank top, the hard nipples of her breasts pushing up against the thin pink material.
Her hair was twisted into a messy bun that left her neck slender and bare and I had the sudden urge to wrap my large hand around the back of it and pull her closer to me.
Sleep still clung to her expression and she was doe-eyed, her eyes half-lidded as she stepped into the kitchen.
I tried to inhale and take a breath, but the sight of her made it hard to.
Her expression shifted from sleepy to surprised, and she blinked and rubbed at her eyes like she wasn’t sure if she was still dreaming.
“You cooked?”
I leaned against the counter with a mug in my hand, the sun warming the skin on my bare back. “Surprised?”
“A little.” She looked away from me, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “Did you sleep well?”
“I don’t sleep, sweetheart—not really. I doze in and out of consciousness just enough to not be fully exhausted.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, well that’s not good.”
I shrugged. “I’ve always been that way.”
She walked closer, peeking into the pan like she expected the eggs to be burned beyond recognition. A small smile tugged at her mouth when she saw they were anything but.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I guess bikers do have some hidden talents after all.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea of my hidden talents.” I slid a coffee mug across the counter toward her.
“Not just a walking talking big bad man then, huh?”
“Depends who’s asking,” I replied, and she laughed.
“Hmm,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee, “you can make good coffee too. Impressive.”
“Careful. Compliment me too much and I’ll start making breakfast for you every morning.”
“Careful,” she said, pulling herself up to sit on the kitchen counter, her long, tanned legs swinging back and forth and she looked at me, her sleepy gaze flicking up and down my bare chest, “I might just let you.”
A smile played on her mouth, and before I knew it I was smiling too.
Jesus, what’s happening?
Am I flirting with her?
Is she flirting with me?
I looked away, turning off the stove. I piled her plate with food and handed it over. She jumped down from the countertop and sat down at the wooden table. Picking up her fork she scooped up some food and took a bite before groaning in a way that made my dick tingle and my throat go tight.
“Any good?” I asked, trying to hide the way my jeans were growing tighter by the second.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, cowboy, it’s really good, thank you.”
I shrugged like it was nothing, but inside my chest my heart was beating hard and fast, and when she grinned at me, looking up through her lashes, I thought I might have a heart attack.
It was madness, but in the middle of everything that was happening, even I could recognize that I was turning soft for this beautiful fucking woman, and I had no clue how to stop it.
Worse still…I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop it.
We ate quietly for a few minutes, sunlight slowly filling the kitchen. I caught the pleased look she tried to hide when she took her first bite. My chest felt full and heavy and I cleared my throat and looked away, finishing my food and coffee.
Rowan wiped her hands on a napkin as she finished up. “So what’s the plan for today?”
I leaned back in my chair. “First we’re checking the fence line.”
“In case whoever set the fire came through there?”
“Exactly.”
She took a sip of coffee. “Well, after that I’ve got work to do with the horses.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Training?”
“Something like that. What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll check in with the club and then I’m all yours.”
“All mine?” she asked, pressing a hand gently to her chest. “Well, what am I going to do with you?”
The silence echoed between us for long moments, neither of us looking away.
I didn’t move an inch. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.
All I could do was stare into her eyes and try to keep control of myself instead of grabbing her like I wanted to and bending her over this table so I could take her hard and deep.
A slow smile crawled up her face like she had read my thoughts and she stood up. My throat constricted as I watched her, my mouth watering at the thought of how good she would taste on my tongue.
“I’m going to get dressed. I’ll see you outside on twenty minutes, cowboy.” And with hat she walked out of the room.
It was only as she left that I found I could breathe again.
Twenty minutes later we were bouncing down a dirt path in Rowan’s pickup truck.
The ranch unfolded around us as we drove. Wide pastures stretched in every direction, broken only by old wooden fences and patches of wildflowers. The mountains rose in the distance, hazy and blue against the morning sky. Cattle grazed lazily near the creek and birds circled high overhead.
I leaned my arm out the window, taking it all in.
“Hell of a place.”
“Isn’t it just.” Rowan glanced at me. “My dad built most of it himself.”
The fence line ran for miles along the outer edge of the property, and I could understand why her dad had settled into this life. We stopped a few times where we both hopped out to inspect the posts and wires.
“Nothing’s cut,” she said after checking the last portion of the fence. We climbed back into the truck and buckled back up. “That’s a good sign, right?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
Rowan cocked her head at me. “You guess?”
“Or it could mean that whoever came here knew how to get in without leaving tracks.”
Her expression turned from hopeful to anxious, and I watched as she sucked in the corner of her lower lip and began chewing on it.
“But,” I continued, hating to see that worried look on her face, “we haven’t seen any sign of anyone, so maybe not.”
She didn’t look like she believed me, but there really wasn’t any way to sugarcoat it for her.
Someone had it out for her and this ranch; it was as simple as that.
We drove back toward the barn. When we pulled up, Rowan jumped out and grabbed a saddle from the tack room and I trailed behind her, a cigarette hanging from between my lips.
Everything felt so normal, and yet also out of place.
I didn’t belong on this ranch and Rowan didn’t belong anywhere near me.
Yet here we were sliding into something that felt almost like routine.
There was a pattern to our movements. Where she moved, I moved.
Where she looked, I looked. And when I paused and scanned the horizon she froze, waiting for me to give the okay.
I’d only known this woman a handful of days, and yet it felt like I’d known her years. Like she was the other part of me.
“Are you coming to watch?” she asked, gesturing toward the training ring.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
The training ring sat behind the barn, a wide circle of packed dirt surrounded by wooden rails.
Rowan led a tall gray mare out of the barn. “This is Daisy. She’s my favorite, but don’t tell the others.” She scrubbed Daisy on her nose and the horse whinnied happily. At least I thought it was happiness.
They moved into the center of the training ring and Rowan swung up into the saddle in one smooth motion. I leaned against the fence, arms crossed, watching.
At first Rowan simply walked the horse in slow circles, her body taut and in control as they both moved; then she shifted her weight slightly and gave the reins the lightest touch and the horse, Daisy, responded instantly.
The two of them moved together like they were connected by an invisible thread, trotting, stopping, turning with precise movements that looked effortless.
Rowan guided the mare through tight spins, quick stops, and smooth transitions between gaits.
I felt my smile grow as I watched, completely impressed by the way she handled the horse with such ease.
Under Rowan's instruction, Daisy slid to a halt in the dirt, then backed several steps with barely a cue and I let out a low whistle.
“Damn,” I remarked, and she looked over and smiled.
She wasn’t just good, she was incredible. The kind of rider who barely needed to move to control a thousand-pound animal. I was impressed, and I didn’t get impressed very often.
Rowan finished with a fast run across the ring before pulling the mare to a perfect stop. Dust swirled around them and she leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck, her chest heaving with exhilaration.
“Good girl.”
I shook my head as she dismounted. “You been holding out on me.”
She laughed lightly. “What do you mean?”
“You ride like a damn professional.”
“My parents trained horses, remember,” she said simply. “Guess I learned a few things.”
I followed her to the barn as she swapped out horses. I was barely able to keep my eyes off her every move. I reached for some hay to feed Daisy as she stepped back from the pen and we bumped into one another, my arm going around her waist to stop her from falling.
“Careful,” I said, my mouth next to her ear.
Her body stilled in my arms, and softened against me. Her orange-scented shampoo wafted up into my nose and I found myself breathing the scent of her in.
“I should uhh…”
I released her. “Yeah. I need to go make a phone call.”
While she worked with the next horse, I headed back toward the house.
Inside the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and called the clubhouse.
The line clicked before Moose’s voice answered.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Tex.”
“About time you checked in.”
“What’s the word?”
There was a pause.
“We’re digging,” Moose said. “But nothing solid yet.”
“What about the old route through the ranch?”
Another pause. “Yeah, that's the same conclusion we came to.”
My grip tightened on the phone. “And?”
“As far as we know, only three guys knew about that route.”
My stomach turned. “Who?”
“JD, me…and Ink.”
I frowned. Ink had been in the club longer than anyone. He was the club secretary and knew exactly how much money the club had at any time. He ran a tight ship, counting out every penny and dime like his life depended on it. The man was like a father to me.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“That’s what I said,” Moose replied, “but someone tipped the cartel off, and it sure as shit wasn’t me or JD.”
“Ink’s an original. He wouldn’t…” I stopped myself because I knew as well as anyone that temptation was a seductive bitch, and Ink, well, he was pushing sixty with no retirement plan in place. I could imagine how tempting an offer from the cartel could be.
The line went quiet for a moment, both of us lost in thought before finally Moose spoke.
“We’ll keep digging,” he said finally.
“Find someone else. Anyone else,” I said, and ended the call.
Something felt wrong about all of it. I ran a hand through my hair and turned toward the living room.
That’s when I noticed the guitar. It was leaning against the wall beside the couch—old and slightly worn, but well cared for.
It was probably Rowan’s dad’s. I picked it up out of habit, settling onto the couch as my fingers tested the strings.
It was still in tune and my hands moved automatically, strumming a slow, familiar chord, slowly at first and then with more confidence as my hands familiarized themselves with the instrument, and then music filled the quiet house.
Outside I could still hear Rowan working the horses.
And for a few minutes, just a few, the ranch felt like the safest place in the world.