Chapter Eight
We warn people about wolves up here in the mountains though the conversation doesn’t include the mountain lions as much, but damn, that thing was one of the biggest I’ve ever seen.
It wasn’t hungry, there’s plenty to eat up here in the summer.
I don’t think it was rabid; it didn’t have the behavior.
It was hunting, and Dixie was the thing it wanted.
When the boys switched shifts, they briefed me on what they saw and how the herd was doing.
Nothing except calm where they were. They heard my gunshot, and the cows shuffled, but not much.
They calmed down pretty quickly. I was going to take my turn.
..but I didn’t want to leave her. She acts like she doesn’t need a protector, and clearly she’s got history.
History that she has every right to keep to herself.
But riding up here in these mountains differs from where she’s from.
I’ve just got to keep my distance, but keep her in reach at the same time.
When I held her in my arms last night as I pushed her away from that beast—I didn’t want to let her go.
I felt something, and now the guilt is gnawing at me.
I keep telling myself I was getting her out of the way; it was my duty as her boss and a man.
But then I remember how I couldn’t keep my eyes from studying hers as I waited to see if she was alright.
I needed to know that she was alright. It was more than a sense of duty and I fuckin’ know it.
I laid here all night, couldn’t sleep, felt guilty for not taking a shift. But I just couldn’t do it.
“Hey boss! Breakfast!” Toby yells at me as I pull on my wranglers.
“I’m coming!” I yell back and roll my eyes.
He doesn’t know how bad I want to wring his neck half the time.
But he’s a good guy and a great supervisor.
I pull down my tent flap gearing to step out, proving I’m awake and getting dressed.
“You forget who’s in charge on this drive?
” But as I do, I run headfirst into the side of one of my guys. I stumble and cuss.
“The fuck? I told you guys I was…”
Shit.
“Excuse the hell outta me, boss!” She’s on her ass and pissed. “It’s not my fault you fuckin’ planted my stakes too damn close to yours! Now my hat’s in the dirt, and my hat never touches the dirt!”
What the hell did I just do? I fucking bulldozed her because I’m two hundred and fifteen pounds of six foot two muscle and testosterone, and she probably only weighs a buck thirty at most. I reach down and offer my hand.
“I’m sorry, blondie, I should’ve looked up before I stepped out. Are you alright?”
“Stop calling me fuckin’ blondie. I have a name, use it.
” She refuses my hand, picks up her hat and stands—her brows pinned and the rest of her face hard.
“I’m not a princess, boss. I’m a cowboy just like the rest of you and I don’t need any of you treating me like I’m porcelain.
” She dusts off her pants and places her hat back on her head.
Her hair’s down—it’s always down. The morning sun reflects off the ribbons of brown, it looks like the most beautiful sunflower I’ve ever seen.
“I didn’t mean it that way, I was just…” She cuts me off and her jaw hardens when she steps closer, dropping her nose, looking up and down my naked torso. Throwing on a shirt was on my to-do list, after I did up my pants but—Oh shit! I never finished doing that.
“I’m gonna bite my tongue because I work for you…
but your fly’s undone, and your belly button has some fluff in it.
” A little dazed at what just happened, I watch her turn her back on me and march over to where the rest of the boys are having breakfast. I button and zip my pants, then take the shirt off my shoulder and pull it over my head.
Before I tuck it in, I check my belly button.
Theres’s no fuckin’ fluff in there.
I get it, she’s mad. It was my fault, and I feel bad about her hat, but damn it’s just a hat.
They cost a mint, but she acts like it’s her most prized possession.
I take down my tent and when I’m finished; I take hers down too.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
Dixie Wilder is getting under my skin and there’s only been one other woman on planet earth who’s been able to do that.
Whatever this is, I’ve got to snap out of it. As I roll the tarp, I hear her spurs, she’s coming up on me—hard and annoyed. “What’re you doing? I can handle my tent. There're no cougars this mornin’. If you wouldn’t do it for any of the others, don’t do it for me.”
“Listen, blondie…” I try not to let my temper get the best of me.
The last few days have been long and I don’t care if she doesn’t like it—apparently I get off on teasing her, so I’ll call her blondie if I damn well please.
“I would take a tent down for any of my men, if the occasion called for it. It just so happens I knocked your hard-ass on the ground, and put your hat in the dirt. This is my way of apologizing.”
“I don’t need your apologies. No one’s ever apologized to me in my life, and frankly I don’t give a shit. This is my job and I plan on keepin’ it. I’m used to people calling me names and trying to hurt me.”
I drop the tarp I just rolled up onto the ground and she swoops down to pick it up.
I watch as she hefts it over her shoulder, glares right through me, then spins around.
My eyes are on her back as she makes her way to the supply truck.
But without thinking, my gaze drops and I can’t help but notice the way her hips swing.
She needs a hard spank on that ass is what she needs…
Fuck me. I’m just a horny son of a bitch, who hasn’t been laid in over five years. Have mercy.