8. Beck
Beck
I’m up at dawn today, as usual, and in the kitchen to start my day before my dad is up.
I’m glad he can sleep in, rest his aching bones and have a slow start to his mornings.
For all the stress I’ve endured in taking over the daily operations on the ranch, it’s well worth it for him to have some peace.
The house is quiet, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen.
This side of the house is shaded. The morning sun starting its ascent in the east, but it casts the mountains out west in a breathtaking wash of pinks and purples.
The last remnants of snow capping the rocky, grey mountains is practically glowing.
I pour my coffee into a mug, tendrils of steam curling up around my face as I take the first sip. My bleary eyes begin to clear as soon as the liquid hits my lips. I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I rarely do anymore, but last night in particular was rough.
With Lyla across the yard in the guest house I’ve been restless, like there’s this steady awareness of her presence here. Having her stay on the property is a constant reminder of the feelings I’ve been trying to shove to the far recesses of my mind.
If I have to pretend that having Lyla here doesn’t affect me so she has somewhere safe to stay, I’ll do it. The thought of her staying in that seedy motel was too much.
But now, as I look out over the rolling foothills, the yard extending from the back of the house, I’m regretting my decision, because there’s Lyla, out on the grass, disrupting my morning doing whatever it is she’s doing in whatever it is she’s wearing.
Her pants look like they’re painted onto her body, exposing every curve of her hips as she places her hands on the rubber mat she’d laid out and lifts her butt in the air. And goddamn it, the fabric bunches between her legs, gathering and accentuating the outline of her—
Fuuuuuck me.
I open the sliding door and storm out onto the deck, taking my coffee with me because I do not have enough caffeine in my system to deal with this shit.
The sound must catch her attention, because she rises in one swift motion, a movement that would take a lot more core strength than I have.
I try not to think about her abs as she turns around to face me, but there they are, not hard and rigid, just soft with a gentle line running down each side.
And because my brain feels like torturing me today, I wonder how it would feel to trace that line with my mouth.
“Do you have to do… that out here?” I ask.
She places a hand on the curve of her hip, shielding her eyes with the other. “Don’t like my downward dog, Bossman?”
No, I like it too much. It stirs something in me, like the way she’s called me Bossman.
I don’t really have a reason for her to not be doing this out here, other than the thoughts I have about her ass and the places the fabric of her leggings scrunch. And I have more important things to think about, a lot of shit that I can’t be distracted from.
Not by Lyla Morgan, anyway.
“My mornings are the only time I get for real peace and quiet,” I explain, trying to find a reason why she shouldn’t do sunrise yoga on the grass. “I just… like it that way, okay?”
She looks up at me, face scrunched from the sun, now cresting over the roof of the house and lighting up her smooth, tanned skin.
“Well, I like my sunrise yoga practice,” she retorts. “And as far as I can see, I’m not hurting anyone.”
As far as you can see. It’s fucking torture for me.
But she’s right. She’s not hurting anything by being out here. There I go being an asshole again, right after I’d made some progress in getting her out of that motel.
“Fine,” I say, turning on my heel and waving my arm behind me in defeat. “Have fun with your doggy-style, or whatever-the-fuck it is you’re doing.”
I hear her huff a breath behind me, but I don’t look back. If I do, I know I’ll never get the image of Lyla in that matching workout set out of my mind. It will be burned on the inside of my eyelids forever.
I dump the rest of my coffee down the sink, I don’t have time to finish it.
I told Austin I’d meet him at the barn this morning.
We have a long day ahead of us, and I’ve already wasted my precious alone time being a dick to Lyla.
I wouldn’t have had to, had she not been half naked on my lawn at the ass-crack of dawn.
By the time I get down to the barn, Austin is already there with a couple of the other ranch hands, tacking up their horses. His horse, Bandit, is ready to go with his bridle and saddle on.
“You’re late,” Austin jeers, the only one of the group that has the nerve to call me on my shit.
The rest of the ranch hands look up as I enter the barn, giving me polite nods in greeting.
I put Austin in charge of the staff, a manager of sorts.
It gives me more time to handle the bigger issues, of which there are plenty.
“Had a little run in with Lyla this morning,” I explain. Austin knows as well as I do how Lyla can be–a bit of a menace, and a total shit disturber.
Austin claps me on the back as I lead Willow out of her stall, and clip her lead rope to a hook to start tacking her up.
“Thanks for letting her stay at the ranch, man,” he says, his tone knowing. Not how hard it is for me to be in such close proximity to her, but how difficult it was for me to even set foot in the guest house long enough to clean it up for her.
The house is haunted with memories I’d rather forget. Memories that have dulled over the years, but only because I choose to ignore them. They weren’t painful at the time, but that’s what makes them hard to look back on now.
I give him a nod, and turn back to Willow, adjusting her saddle blanket before I put on her saddle.
“Lyla… Is that the babe staying in the old guest house?” Chase, one of the cowboys chimes in.
I let out a chuckle and keep quiet, wanting to see just how far this conversation will go. Austin obviously doesn’t talk much about his family life down here with the boys. They would all be choosing their words more carefully if they knew Lyla was the manager’s sister.
Another ranch hand, Dylan, lets out a whistle. “Damn, she’s fine,” he says. “Did you see her ass in those leggings?”
I glance over at Austin from under the brim of my hat, his face getting more and more red by the second.
I know what Austin would like to do, what he might have done five years ago.
Had he met these guys in a bar and overheard them talking about Lyla like that, he’d have hauled them out back himself.
He’d have won, too. But he’s changed his ways, cleaned up his act. So I cut in instead.
“Better watch your mouth,” I warn, squaring my shoulders. “That woman is Lyla Morgan.”
It takes them a second, but they eventually catch on. All the blood drains from Dylan’s face, and he looks like he might vomit.
Austin has conveniently busied himself with another task, choosing to freshen the hay in all the stalls to keep him from saying what’s really on his mind.
I change the subject, because the reminder to be respectful about Lyla doesn’t just apply to them. It applies to me, too.
I had the same thoughts about her while she was out there, bending herself in half, showing me exactly how flexible she is. I didn’t verbalize them, but that doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t be having those thoughts at all.
Even though Austin’s been on his best behaviour recently, he wouldn’t hesitate to clock me in the face if he knew what I’d been thinking.
So it’s best if I steer clear of Lyla as much as possible.
I won’t have my coffee on the deck like I normally do.
She can do her yoga, but I won’t be there to witness it if I can help it.
“We all know the plan for the day?” I ask the guys, now that all the horses are geared up and ready to go. It’s herding day.
With the south pasture out of commission, we need to move the cattle more frequently, and can only rotate them between two. It also means the fields are taking a beating, and I know we can’t keep up like this for long.
They all nod, and I explain which field we’re herding the cattle to, which direction we’ll need to push them to make sure they don’t get separated, and who will lead on horseback.
We all mount our horses, and move as a group out to the pasture. I keep my eyes fixed ahead of me, using every ounce of willpower to not glance back over to the house to see if Lyla is still out there.