Chapter Eighteen
The bunk is made, and there are a pair of extra boots next to the nightstand.
Every worker has one next to their bed, fitted with drawers.
I wonder what’s in hers? There’s a second duffle bag peeking from under the bed.
I lift it out, open it up, then pull the knob on the top drawer.
Socks and underwear… I gently handle the bras and panties as I pick them up and put them in the bag.
She’s got navy blue, black and burgundy–matching pairs.
That means, the bra she’s been wearing, is most definitely pink.
“Um…Should you be touching those?” Adelaide stares at me like I’m a criminal. Evie is too busy admiring Dixie’s extra pair of boots.
“Adelaide—I’m an adult, I’m just packing up her things.”
I finish packing the rest of her belongings and we head back up the hill to the main house.
On our way I let the girls know they need to gather all the eggs we missed over the last few days.
They’re excited about that, it’s always their favorite chore.
So I send them to the barn to get their baskets while I take everything inside.
I move down the long hall to where I know she’s probably showering, because I can smell the musky notes of my shampoo.
Right now, within this moment, I want nothing more than to bust down the door, rip my clothes off and step under the water with her.
I stand in front of the wooden door and place my hand on the knob to see if it’s locked.
I turn it slowly… Shit, it’s open. I wouldn’t have to bust down anything.
Instead of sitting with my fantasy and letting it fester, I tell the swiftly growing bulge in my pants to settle the fuck down.
I push the door open, place her things at the foot of the bed and quietly step back out—pulling the door closed again with me.
The girls will come inside any minute and I need to get my head screwed back on straight. But that son of a bitch has other plans. Images conjured up all on its own of Dixie Wilder in my shower flood my consciousness.
Head back.
Eyes closed.
Tits up, nipples tight.
Fingers skating through her hair.
Water droplets running down the foggy glass—her pink panties laying on the floor…
The screen door smacks and my day dream comes to a screeching halt. Whatever road I was just about to go down, has a bright orange sign in the middle with an arrow reading, Detour.
“We got the eggs, Dad!” Evolette shouts as she races into the kitchen.
“Two entire baskets, Dad.” Adelaide chimes, walking in behind her.
I knew there’d be a lot, and it’s always good to have eggs. We take what we need in our kitchen, then send the rest down to the bunkhouse for the boys.
“Nice!” I say, trying to harness a cheerful demeanor that I currently don’t feel. Because now I’m fighting my other head, telling it that what it wants right now, will never happen. I follow my daughters to the sink where we wash all the eggs.
“She’s nice.” Addie says, looking up at me as she rinses another brown, speckled orb. I take it from her and place it back in the basket, now lined with a clean dishtowel.
“I like her too!” Evie confirms. “She’s cool…and she rodeos. So now I have someone to practice with.” She grins up at me deviously.
Pretending to contemplate that thought for a moment, I say, “I think she’ll like that too.” Needing to keep this whole thing looking innocent and platonic around them. They’re hound dogs. They’ll sniff me out in a second if I’m not careful.
When we’re finished, we put our eggs in the fridge and head out to put the rest where they belong. As we leave, I look back over my shoulder, hoping Dixie is okay back there. I’m sure she is, there’s no reason she wouldn’t be… I’m just being me.
Marching down the hill, I see someone leaving through the back door of the building.
I look closer and instantly know it's not Brian. There are three other guys still hanging around here and I don’t have to stare hard to know it's Grady. I only hire men I know I can count on. But after I saw how he interacted with Dixie the other day, I’ve been carrying a chip on my shoulder.
He irks me and if I ever catch him talking to her or about her like that again, his ass is grass.
Gone. Fired. Won’t ever work on my ranch again.
He’s the gofer from now on. The lowest man on my totem pole.
“Hey, Grady!” I shout at him. “Samson needs to be brushed and combed. Now.”
He tips his cowboy hat and shifts his stride toward the barn.
We make it down to the bunkhouse and put all the eggs in the fridge.
I look around and a rage grows inside my chest. This place is a fuckin’ mess.
Dixie Wilder does not belong here…ever. I don’t know what I’ll do after she heals enough to get back to work.
But she’s not sleeping here—over my dead body.
And as soon as the gopher finishes grooming my horse, he’s cleaning this shit up.
Brian and the other men have been working since sunup, I can guarantee it.
And that little fucker was doing, only god knows what in here.
Suddenly, my mind steers back to the woman still alone in my house. We need to get back.