Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Wyatt
I grab a saddle off the peg and trudge toward Maverick. He gives me a snort and stomps his front right hoof like he always does when I’m about to saddle him.
My mind is running a mile a minute, looping through the mental checklist that usually keeps me sane.
I’ve gotten Alex to school, now I need to figure out how much time I’ve got at the north pasture before I have to be back for pickup, then calculate how many hours I can spare for that water pump that’s been busted for a week.
It’s a mindless, repetitive loop, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to function these past four years. If I keep the gears turning, I don’t have to think about the quiet, lonely parts of the day.
From behind me, I hear the guys messing around, their rough voices mixing with a more melodic sound of laughter. I don’t have to look up to know who it is. Despite her being here less than twenty-four hours, I can pick that sound out from a mile away. It sends a prickle down my spine.
It doesn’t help that I woke up at two this morning after some weird-as-hell dream about her. Not that anybody will ever know about that. I barely know the woman—I mean, as an adult—so I have no idea why she’s been infiltrating my headspace since the second she pulled that toy car into the drive.
Okay, she isn’t exactly hard to look at. In fact, she’s probably the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time. But I’m not interested. I don’t have the time, and I sure as hell don’t have the heart for it.
I heave the saddle onto Maverick’s back, the horse shifting under the weight.
“Mornin’, Boss,” Dayton says, leaning against a post nearby with a smirk that tells me he’s been watching me be unusually aggressive with my gear. “You look like you slept on a bed of cactus.”
“Mind your business, Dayton,” I grunt, pulling the cinch tight.
“Just sayin’. You’re cinchin’ that horse like you’re tryin’ to squeeze the truth out of him.” He nods toward the entrance where Emily and Kassie are walking in. “Maybe you just need a distraction. Looks like one just walked in.”
I don’t answer his teasing. I keep my focus on the leather straps, but my peripheral vision betrays me. Emily is wearing a ridiculously tight pair of jeans that fit her in a way that makes me want to swear out loud. She’s looking around the stables with a look of pure nostalgia.
“Wyatt!” Kassie’s voice cuts through the barn. “Tell Dayton to get a saddle on the bay. We’re taking Emily out to the south bridge.”
I finally stop what I’m doing and turn around. The guys have all gone quiet, their eyes drifting toward Emily like she’s a miracle they weren’t expecting to see before breakfast.
Wes, one of the younger hands who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, is already straightening his hat and putting on his best smile.
“The south bridge?” I repeat, looking directly at Emily for the first time.
She meets my gaze, her chin tilting a fraction.
She looks nervous, but there’s that Callahan steel underneath.
“That’s a long ride for someone who hasn’t been in a saddle in two decades.
” I have no idea why I’m being so frosty right now.
But the heat in my jeans tells a different story.
“I’ll manage,” she says, keeping her voice steady despite the faint hint of pink creeping into her cheeks.
I see Wes start to step forward, his chest puffed out. I know that look. He’s about to offer to ‘help’ her up, or play the hero.
A sudden, hot flash of irritation flares up in my chest. Before he can even open his mouth, I’ve stepped into the gap between them, my shoulder nearly clipping his as I move. I can feel the eyes of every man in this stable on my back.
“Wes,” I say, my voice dropping into that low warning tone that usually makes the bulls back off. “Go check the salt licks in the lower meadow.”
Wes freezes, his eyes darting from me to Emily, then back again. A knowing grin spreads across his face. He lets out a soft whistle, nudging Dayton with his elbow.
“Right. Salt licks. Got it, Boss,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. He leans in, enough for the guys to hear. “Didn’t realize you had dibs. My bad.”
The barn erupts into a low chorus of chuckles and muffled jokes as they scatter.
I want to put my fist through the nearest stall door.
“I don’t have ‘dibs,’” I mutter under my breath, turning back to Maverick, so she can’t see the heat I know is crawling up my neck. “Kassie, get her on the bay. If we’re going, let’s get it over with.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emily look down at the ground sheepishly. She looks like she’s been stung. Damn it. I know I’m being a surly asshole. I didn’t need to snap, but her presence has me completely unnerved, and the fact that I can’t name why only makes me crankier.
“Jeez, she’s doing you a favor, asshole!” Kassie shouts back at me.
I don’t respond. I keep my head down, obsessively checking Maverick’s cinch for the third time.
I watch as Kassie leads over a young, steady gelding for Emily.
Emily approaches the horse with a bit of hesitation, patting his neck before trying to find the stirrup.
She’s no bigger than five-four, but the horse is tall, and her reach is a bit off.
She tries to hoist herself up, but her foot slips and she wobbles back down to the dusty floor.
Before I can even take a step toward her or decide if I want to help, Wes swoops in like he’s been waiting for his cue.
“Let me help you there, ma’am,” Wes says, his voice coated with a sweetness that makes my skin crawl.
He extends a hand, giving her that charming grin that he usually saves for the tourists in a bar. Emily blushes, and a warm, genuine smile spreads across her face as she looks up at him.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “It’s been a while since I got on one of these.”
Wes places a hand firmly on her waist to steady her and offers his other hand.
As she hoists herself up into the saddle, he doesn’t pull his hand away immediately.
His eyes linger on her as she settles into the seat, specifically on the way her jeans stretch over her ass.
He takes his sweet time making sure she’s secure with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.
A hot pang of jealousy hits me right in the gut. It’s irrational and stupid, but seeing his dirty hands anywhere near her makes my blood boil.
Kassie catches the look on my face. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and shoots me a glare. “Well,” she drawls loudly, “at least someone on this ranch is being a gentleman.”
I ignore her, though the muscle in my jaw is ticking so hard it’s starting to ache. I swing up onto Maverick in one smooth motion, and he senses my mood, dancing under me.
“I gotta be back by two,” I growl, looking straight ahead toward the barn doors, “so if we have a bridge to look at. Let’s move.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I dig my heels in and lead the way out into the blinding Montana morning sun. I try to ignore the sound of Wes’s chuckle and the way Emily’s melodic voice sounds as she thanks him one last time.
I lead everyone out of the barn, and we make our way into the mid-morning warmth. The sun is already beating down, casting long shadows across the dry dirt of the yard.
Behind me, the rhythm of hoofbeats is drowned out by the constant stream of chattering.
I can’t make out the specifics of what they’re saying over the wind and the creak of my own saddle leather, but they sound like a pair of hens in a coop.
I suppose they’ve got twenty-something years of catching up to do, but the sound of it is one more thing grating on my nerves.
Every time Emily’s laugh drifts up, I feel Maverick’s ears twitch, or maybe it’s just me.
I keep my eyes locked on the horizon, focusing on the uneven line of the mountains, but I’m acutely aware of where she is behind me.
I’m wondering if she’s struggling with the reins, or if she’s thinking I’m the biggest dick in the valley.
“You gonna set a pace we can actually follow? Or are you trying to win a race no one else is in?” Kassie shouts from the rear.
I realize I’ve let Maverick slip into a fast trot, putting a good twenty yards between us. I pull back on the reins, slowing him to a walk, and wait for them to catch up.
As Emily draws level on the bay, her face is flushed from the heat, and her eyes are squinted against the glare. She looks out of breath but exhilarated.
“You okay back there, Emily?” I ask, my voice still stiff. “The trail gets a lot narrower once we hit the creek.”
She looks over at me, pushing a stray lock of icy blonde hair behind her ear. I can’t help but notice how crystal clear her blue eyes look out here. “I’m fine, Wyatt. The gelding is a dream. And the view…” She pauses, looking out over the valley. “I forgot how big it is out here.”
“Everything’s big out here,” I mutter gruffly, turning my gaze back to the trail. “Including the problems. The bridge is just around this bend. Keep your horse tight to the left. The bank is soft.”
As we round the corner, the old timber-and-iron bridge comes into view.
It’s a mess, leaning slightly to the west with a big sag in the center.
It’s been a headache for months. We’ve been meaning to get someone to look at it, but the consultancy cost is something we’ve been trying to avoid until now.
I notice the way her expression changes. The awe has been replaced by a more analytic focus. She doesn’t wait for me to give her instructions. She swings her leg over the saddle a little more gracefully this time and slides to the ground before I can even dismount.
“Wyatt, hold my horse,” she says, tossing me the reins without even looking at me.
I catch them out of reflex, blinking. She’s already walking toward the edge of the ravine, her boots sinking into the soft mud as she peers underneath the main support beam.