24. Holden
HOLDEN
Istop by the construction site to see if Sterling’s there.
Morning rain still drips from cabin roofs, the air saturated with the scents of wet pine, soaked dirt, and fresh lumber.
Crews haven’t arrived yet, but there are construction materials scattered across the ground.
One of the temporary fencing panels has blown over, and water streams in thick brown ribbons down the half-finished walking paths.
Sterling stands near the frame of what will be the main lodge with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm, boots sunk deep in mud while he surveys the damage.
As I climb out of the truck, Chance spots me first. “Well now, look who survived.”
I flip him off, then pluck my work gloves from the truck bed. “We had shelter.”
“So I heard.” The look he gives me says he knows who I spent the night with.
Fucking Quinn. I ignore him, mostly because he looks far too entertained already.
Sterling glances up as I approach. “Did you check the north fence line on your way in?”
“Still standing.”
“Good.” With that, he turns back to the building.
I frown after him. “Morning to you too.”
“Since when have you been one for niceties?”
I rock on my heels. Good question. When I don’t answer, he moves on. “We lost part of the drainage trench overnight. And the east retaining wall shifted.”
That gets my attention. “How bad?”
Chance points at the slope behind the cabins. A section of muddy earth has partially collapsed, leaving exposed pipe and washed-out gravel behind. “Bad enough.”
Sterling rubs a hand over his jaw. “If we don’t get the culvert cleared, we’ll end up with more runoff during the next storm.”
I look past them toward the nearly finished lodge. A month ago, I thought the project seemed excessive. Fancy guest cabins sitting on the land we used to ride through every day.
Didn’t scream Wild Ember to me.
But standing here now, watching Sterling stare at the damaged slope like he’s calculating every dollar disappearing into the mud, something shifts.
“When’s the contractor supposed to finish?” I ask.
“Six weeks.”
Chance snorts. “Not anymore.”
Sterling shoots him a look.
“What?” he says. “You think Lonny’s crew will stay on schedule after this mess?”
Sterling exhales. “We can’t afford delays right now.”
I survey the site again. The custom timber framing, the landscaping materials. The massive lodge windows still waiting to be installed. None of it would’ve come cheap.
“How tight are things?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Sterling’s expression shutters instantly. “We’re fine.”
When Chance looks away, a knot forms low in my stomach. That sure as hell doesn’t feel fine. And Sterling’s reaction to a potential delay has me wondering what else I’ve missed. But the set of his jaw tells me now isn’t the time to push.
He checks his watch. “Culvert’s overflowing near the lower road,” he says. “If it backs up any farther, it’ll flood the east pasture.”
Chance heaves a sigh. “Perfect.”
Sterling eyes him, then me. “You coming?”
“Let’s go.” I follow them down to the lower road in my truck. It curves beside the creek, which has swollen wide and fast from the overnight storm. Muddy water churns violently through the culvert beneath the crossing.
Or tries to.
Branches, weeds, and debris have jammed against the opening, forcing water over the road instead of under it.
“Well,” Chance says as the three of us assess the situation. “This looks like fun.”
Sterling kicks at a rock, then turns away. “Let’s grab the chains.”
The water in the culvert roars so loudly I can barely make out his words.
Chance crouches near the blockage. “There’s a whole damn cottonwood limb in there.”
“Can you hook it?” I ask.
“Probably.”
Sterling hands me one end of the tow chain and steps away. “Once he secures it, we’ll pull it loose with my truck.”
Simple enough.
Except nothing stays simple on a ranch after a storm. I wade closer to the culvert opening, mud sucking at my boots, and a rush of cold runoff slams against my shins hard enough to shove me sideways.
“Careful,” Sterling barks.
I grit my teeth. “I’m fine.”
Chance grins at me over his shoulder. “Aw, he does love you.”
Sterling huffs, though as he turns away, there’s a hint of a smirk on his face rather than irritation, and weirdly, that tiny distinction sticks with me.
Since I’ve been back on the ranch, I’ve been telling myself that coming home meant trying to wedge myself into a place where I don’t fit anymore. But standing knee-deep in freezing runoff while my brothers bicker beside me feels painfully familiar.
Like muscle memory.
Once Chance secures the chain around the lodged tree limb, he climbs back up the embankment. “All right,” he calls, getting out of the way. “Try it.”
I move as well, keeping clear of the chains, and Sterling gets behind the wheel.
He hits the gas, and the truck strains forward. For a moment nothing happens. Then the entire blockage tears loose. Water explodes through the culvert in a violent rush, carrying branches and debris downstream.
Chance lets out a sharp laugh. “There she goes.”
But the sudden release rips part of the muddy bank loose beneath my boots, and the ground disappears.
Chance calls my name just as I hit the water hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
The current shoves me sideways, icy and brutal, but before I can go anywhere, I’m being pulled up by the back of my shirt.
My brothers haul me toward the embankment while muddy water slams against our legs.
By the time we scramble clear, I’m soaked, hunched over on all fours, and coughing up creek water.
Chance bends over, laughing. “Oh my god.”
“Shut up,” I wheeze. My shoulder burns from hauling chains and fighting the current. Nothing I can’t deal with.
“You looked so pissed off when you were going in.” Chance starts laughing again.
Sterling stands over us, breathing hard, his expression caught somewhere between fury and relief. “What did I just say?”
I wipe water from my face. “That I’m your favorite?”
“That you’re both idiots.”
“Also true.”
For a second, he just stares at me. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs. Not much, just one rough, exhausted sound. But it cracks open the tension that’s been hanging around him all morning.
Chance grins. “There he is. Thought storm season had killed him.”
With a shake of his head, Sterling surveys the road, where water now flows cleanly through the culvert. “It still might.”
`***
The sun is low on the horizon, and I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I drive a little too fast toward my cabin.
After a day like this, I should be looking forward to an early night, but sleep’s the last thing on my mind. Not with Sage waiting for me at home.
As I approach my cabin, I slow at the sight before me. Sage is sitting on the top of my porch stairs, her back against the railing and her bare legs stretched out in front of her. She’s working on her laptop, and from here, it looks like she’s dressed in one of my shirts and nothing else.
My dick swells in my jeans, and I pull up close to the stairs before jumping out. “You know what you’re doing waiting for me like this, City?”
She presses her lips together as she tries to hide a smile. “Maybe.”
I stalk up the stairs, pick up her laptop, and deposit it gently on a nearby chair. Then I squat next to her.
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. “Is this where I get to save a horse?”
I bark out a laugh. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Too long.”
Her eyes flick up to my Stetson, the humor in her expression drowned out by heat.
Keeping my gaze locked on hers, I slowly lift my hat and set it on her head.
She looks so perfect here on my porch, wearing nothing but my shirt and hat. I graze my finger down the soft skin of her cheek. “Not so city anymore, are you?”
She tilts her face up to mine. “Never felt less like a city girl.”
I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her in, taking her mouth in a kiss. Then I grab her hand and tug her to her feet. “Come on. I’m sure there’s a horse somewhere on this ranch that needs saving.”
She laughs as I lead her inside.
“How was your coffee?” I ask, noticing the mug turned upside down beside the sink.
“Almost perfect.”
I raise a brow. “Almost?”
Her eyes cut toward me, lips curving. “I like it better when you make it for me.”
A low chuckle breaks free. “Is that right?”
My cabin and hers are similar, and though mine is a bit bigger, it’s only a few long strides from the front door to my bedroom. I survey the neat bedcovers. “Did you sleep?”
She sighs. “I tried, but I was too…”
“Too what?” I prompt.
She wets her lips. “Keyed up, I guess you could say.”
I shouldn’t love the thought of her waiting here for me, needy, but I fucking do.
With a hand spanning one side of her neck, I press her against my bedroom wall. My hat tumbles to the floor, but I couldn’t care less. “Have you been thinking about me while I was away?”
I’m transfixed by the pink stain that creeps into her cheeks.
“Maybe,” she breathes.
“Maybe?” I growl. “I’ve barely been able to think of anything but you, and you’re telling me maybe?”
Pupils dilated, she tilts her chin up. “And what have you been thinking about me?”
God, she’s fucking gorgeous.
“You want to know what I’ve been thinking?” I press my thumb to her lips and tug down a little. “I’ve been thinking about this mouth. How I can’t wait to taste it again. And how incredible these lips are going to look wrapped around my cock.”
Her lashes flutter in response, but she keeps her eyes fixed on mine.
I trail my hand down her throat, then over her chest, and cup one breast.
Fuck, she’s not wearing a bra. Does that mean she’s panty-less too?
My dick is already like a damn steel bar as I trace my fingers over her hip to where the hem of my shirt skims her thigh, then gather the fabric and drag it up.
My knuckles drift over soft skin and nothing else.
I brace my forearm against the wall above her head and lower my face until my lips are a breath away from hers. “Maybe I should find out for myself if you’ve been thinking about me.”
“M-maybe you should.”
I watch her watching me as I cup her pussy. She’s hot in my hand, her arousal slick and warm against my palm. I’m struck silent for a beat, imagining how good it’ll feel sliding into her.
“How long have you been like this?” I ask, gently rubbing slow circles over her.
A breath slips out of her. “Ever since I put your shirt on.”
I brush my lips across hers and glide my middle finger a little deeper between her folds.
More arousal leaks from her, and as it drips down my finger, a groan escapes me.
“Holden.” The plea in her tone is impossible to ignore, even more so the way her hips rock into my hand. “Please, make me come.”
Fuck. I could get addicted to hearing that from her. “You’re so pretty asking me to take care of you.” My voice comes out as a rasp. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see you.”
She breathes out an almost silent “Okay.”
“That’s my girl.” I slide my middle finger inside her. She’s hot and slick and so damn ready for me. Rocking the heel of my palm against her clit, I slowly pump into her. “You feel so good. I can’t wait until you’re wrapped around me.”
Her lids lower, but she doesn’t close her eyes. Even when I add another finger on my next stroke in, and her mouth falls open in a moan, she still doesn’t look away. “That’s it, sweetheart. You take my fingers so well. You’re going to take the rest of me just as perfectly, aren’t you?”
“Holden…” She squirms, tugging on my hair, getting closer.
I press my thumb against her clit, smearing her arousal over it until she whimpers.
“Are you going to come on my hand? Show me how much you like being mine?”
“Y-yes. God, yes, I’m going to come.”
My dick is so hard it’s damn near painful at this point. I can’t take it anymore. Thrusting as deep as I can go, I rub hard, fast circles over her swollen clit.
She lets out a choked moan, her pupils blowing wide as she orgasms.
When her pussy clenches around my fingers, squeezing and pulsing, I’ve never been closer to coming in my jeans. “That’s it,” I groan. “Just like that.”
Eventually, she sinks back against the wall, though her internal muscles still flutter with residual tremors.
I draw my fingers out of her, and the way she whimpers at their loss shoots straight to my balls. With my other hand, I cup her jaw.
She’s flushed, her eyes wide and a little dazed as they search mine. “You’re beautiful, Sage. Even more so when you’re coming.”
With my finger still glistening with her arousal, I trace the outline of her lips. Then I press my mouth to hers.
Her silky tongue tangles with mine and I can taste all of her—all at once.
This woman is a damn aphrodisiac, and I might just die from overdosing.