Chapter 2
Chapter two
Cole
Fuck me, I needed this day to end.
I’d been up since the ass crack of dawn and nothing, absolutely fucking nothing had gone right.
With more than a full day of work to get done and two ranch hands short, I got an early start.
I burned my tongue on the sludge I passed off as coffee because I’d run out of the fancy beans I liked and was still waiting on the order to arrive, so I’d had to revert to the instant shit.
I shouldn’t have bothered. Then I’d trudged out to the truck and trod in dog shit on the porch, only for the damn truck to not start.
Seems like last night, when I’d been too sore and tired to pay attention, I’d left the door ajar and now the battery was dead.
After I’d finally sorted all that out, I started dealing with everything else that had to be done.
It was a list that seemed never-ending these days.
Between mending fences, chasing stray cattle back to where they were supposed to be, and working on machinery I spent more time fixing than I did using, now I had to go into Wattle Creek to run some errands.
Going to town was the absolute last thing I wanted to do this afternoon, but there was shit I needed to collect.
I made a quick pit stop at home, showered, and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt. As much as I despised the idea of going into town, no one deserved to have to deal with me while I was caked in cow shit.
Twenty minutes later, with a PB&J on the seat beside me, I was heading into Wattle Creek.
It’d been two years since I’d bought Blue Sky Cattle Ranch between Wattle Creek and Fort Marshall.
After finishing my second tour, I needed a quiet life away from people, and cattle seemed like a good alternative.
I should’ve stuck with people. At least when you told them to fuck off, they did.
Cattle didn’t listen and most of the time, completely ignored me.
But I loved it out here. Despite the weather, the hard work, and the aches and pains, it had become home.
I put my foot down on the gas and hauled ass into town. The sooner I was done the sooner I could come home and put my feet up.
The moment I parked on Main Street, regret hit me.
I was barely out of my truck, and people were hollering and waving like they hadn’t seen me in months.
Maybe they hadn’t. My hermit lifestyle suited me perfectly.
I had my dog and the guys that worked for me and that was enough.
It was only on days like today, when I ventured off the property and back into civilization that I was forced to interact.
God bless home delivery. These days, I could order almost everything online, and that’s exactly the way I liked it.
Delivered to my door without a signature.
Wanting to get this done as quickly as I could, I slipped into the bank and took care of business. After making stops at the drugstore, the bakery, and the grocer, I dumped my purchases in the back seat.
“Is that you, Flanigan?” a voice boomed.
I slammed the door shut and yanked the hat off my head, wiping away the sweat. When I turned around, I saw another one of the hermits. Must be the day for it.
“Cobb?” I called back, spying the guy jogging across the street.
“What the hell are you doing in here? I thought you hated it as much as I did,” he chuckled, shaking my hand.
“Necessary evil sometimes,” I confirmed.
“I hear ya,” Cobb replied.
Austin Cobb was a truck driver who was based out of Wattle Creek. We’d worked together a time or two, and he was as close to a friend as I had, but that didn’t mean we were close. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a few months, and the poor bastard looked tired.
“You in town or passing through?”
“Got a few days off so I’m just killing time. Need it. Those hours on the road can be long and lonely.” Austin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I can imagine.”“You eaten?”
“Huh?”
“Feel like grabbing a steak?”
My stomach rumbled at the idea. The sandwich I’d scarfed down on the drive in had barely touched the sides, and I needed a decent meal. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a vegetable that wasn’t already on a frozen pizza. Steak sounded damn good.
I glanced down at my watch. It was already after four and I still had shit to do before I could call it a day.
“Give me an hour?” I conceded, unable to think of anything other than a thick, juicy steak with buttery mashed potatoes and a cold beer.
“Sounds good,” Austin replied, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Meet you at Dusty Boots in an hour.”
“See you there,” I confirmed, yanking open the truck door and sliding behind the wheel.
As much as I didn’t like people and hated being in town, I was looking forward to catching up with Austin.
He was a good guy. But first, I had to finish up what I needed to do.
I pulled into the parking lot at Seed and Feed surprised to find it was still full.
I stuffed my hat on my head and stalked into the side entrance making a beeline for the supplies I needed.
It wasn’t hard to run up an account here. Between the feed, the vaccines, and all the other shit that you needed to keep your animals healthy, it was never a cheap trip when it included a stop at Seed and Feed.
I ran into Joe, the owner, and he helped me haul the bags I needed out the door and load up. Twenty minutes later, with my bank account two thousand dollars lighter, I headed for the gas station.
I finished up my errands with ten minutes to spare and headed back toward the Dusty Boots.
From the moment Austin mentioned a steak, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I didn’t give a shit that I was eating at the same time the nursing home served dinner.
The only thing I’d had since five this morning was a couple of cups of coffee and a PB&J on bread that had seen better days.
Thankfully, when I stepped into the air-conditioned bar, it was still quiet.
Dusty Boots had been known to get a bit rowdy but that was usually on a Friday night when everyone was blowing off steam or on a Saturday afternoon after the baseball was done.
Wattle Creek wasn’t big enough to have an MLB team, but the town’s pride was firmly entrenched in the local team, the Wattle Creek Wizards So much so they tried to recruit anyone who stepped foot in town.
I’d been on their radar for six months before they finally got the hint that I wasn’t really into team sports.
I ordered a beer and found a table in the back. Right on time, Austin strolled through the door, showered and changed.
“You looking to pick up?” I teased as he sat down opposite me and took a long pull of his beer.
“Sorry, Flanigan. You’re not really my type.” He shrugged, and I grinned. Even though I hadn’t wanted to come into town, maybe I needed to. I definitely needed this.
Austin and I sat there, shooting the shit and eating our meal.
It was everything I needed it to be. Hot, tasty, and plenty of it.
I swear I was so hungry I inhaled it and when the waitress asked if I wanted dessert, I couldn’t say no.
I had a sweet tooth like no one's business and my greatest weakness was those peanut butter cups.
I had a really bad habit of the moment the bag was open, it was empty.
I had no willpower when it came to those chocolatey treats.
“I’ll take a peach cobbler with ice cream, thank you.”
“And for you?” the waitress asked Austin.
“I’m good, thanks,” he replied, and she sashayed away. “But for you, sweetheart, I can be bad. So very bad,” he added once she was safely out of hearing distance.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”
“A guy’s gotta have some fun. We can’t all become old men and hide on our ranches forever,” Austin replied.
I finished my cobbler, tossed some bills on the table, and said my goodbyes before heading out. Now I’d eaten I was ready to curl up in a ball and crash. It was an exciting life I led sometimes.
I jumped in the truck and fired up the engine. It was time to head home.
I’d made it a couple of miles outside the town limits when I saw her.
Hobbling down the road toward me.
I slowed my truck to a crawl as I inched closer.
She was fucking gorgeous. I mean, her hair was a mess and stuck to her face.
She looked like she was about to burst into tears at any second.
Her long legs were cased in short running shorts showing off her thick, creamy thighs that had my mouth watering more than the cobbler did.
And her rack. Well, fuck me seven ways to Sunday.
The woman was wearing a hot pink sports bra that barely contained those tits that, even from here, I could tell were more than a handful.
I edged the truck onto the shoulder of the road and pulled up. She was thirty feet in front of me. With each step, she wobbled.
Behind her, the sun was setting, turning the sky the most amazing shades of pink and orange but I didn’t see any of it. All I could see was her.
“You all right there, miss?” I asked as she froze.
A trickle of blood ran down her calf, and everything inside me coiled tight.
Her bottom lip wavered, and I took a slow, measured step toward her. “I fell,” she admitted before an ugly sob shook her body.