Chapter Six
Colt
Maeve’s been on my mind a lot since she showed up three weeks ago. Probably because we’ve spent most of our days together training, talking, sometimes just working in silence. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of company. The kind that doesn’t feel like effort.
She’s easy to be around and funny as hell.
Always tossing out some sharp, quick one-liners or sassy remarks that catch me off guard.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed how intoxicating Maeve Callaghan is to look at.
The way those flickers of yellow contrast the chocolate brown of her eyes when she’s about to say something clever? Hard not to notice.
But it’s not really about how she looks.
There’s something steadying about her presence.
I don’t feel the usual weight dragging me down when I get up in the morning.
The days don’t feel like the same tired routine.
There’s warmth now. Laughter. A spark of something threaded between feed runs and barn clean-ups.
Even though she was a stranger just a month ago, I catch myself saying things I didn’t plan to, letting little truths slip out.
The kind I usually reserve for my therapist. She never makes a big deal out of it.
She just listens. And sometimes she shares too—not much, but enough that it feels like we’re building something.
A connection, maybe. Definitely a friendship. Which is kind of a big deal for me, especially considering that it brings my social circle to a total of two.
I scoff at how pathetic that sounds.
I lean back against one of the barn beams, watching her with mud streaked up her arms and hay in her hair. She’s mucking out the stalls like it’s second nature.
Come to think of it, I don’t think she’s complained once since starting. And when something doesn’t click right away, she keeps at it until it does. There’s a quiet determination in her, like she’s got something to prove. So much for the whole “city folk can’t hack it” line.
Wade clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.
The thought makes me smile, almost as much as watching her befriend the horses with that stubborn fire in her eyes.
I look away before my thoughts drift too far. She’s a friend… and not a permanent one either. Best I remember that no matter how easy it is to imagine otherwise.
“Hello, boy. Want a treat?” Maeve coaxes, approaching Wade’s horse, a stubborn bastard of a stallion.
Like cowboy, like horse. The American Quarter horse trots back the moment she gets close, putting distance between them.
Maeve’s been trying to win him over ever since she got comfortable in the barn.
All the other horses love her, mostly because she bribes them with goodies they can’t resist—carrots, apples, even the odd sugar cube.
“Oh, just you wait. You’re gonna love me like the rest… sooner or bloody later.”
She turns toward me, and I look busy. Like I wasn’t just caught daydreaming about her and how she’s changed everything around here for me faster than I expected.
“Still no luck?” I grin, teasing her.
She shakes her head. “Nope. But the day will come.”
“I’m sure it will. Everyone else here likes you.”
“Yeah… Everyone else. Except boss man and his equally grumpy stallion.” She lowers her voice, hand covering her mouth like she doesn’t want the horse to hear.
Maeve’s all twisted up over why Wade won’t give her the time of day, and honestly, it bugs me.
Why should it matter so much? Then I remind myself—he’s her boss.
Everyone wants to be liked by their boss, right?
And Maeve’s dead set on making everyone like her.
Easy enough for most folk ’round here, but it’s hard to explain to her that she isn’t the problem, he is.
“They’ll come around eventually, Maeve. Don’t sweat it,” I say, even though I’m not sure I believe it. Still, kinder to let her think there’s hope.
“C’mon, let’s hit the calving pen. Bet those pregnant heifers are dying for their feed.”
She drops the rake and meets me at the barn doors. I only notice how much I am grinning when my cheeks start to ache. And then, without thinking, I catch her wrist. “Come here, for God’s sake.”
She turns, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
I reach up and start picking the hay out of her hair. “There ya go.”
She laughs, cheeks flushing pink. “Thanks. Guess I’m a messy ranch hand.”
We exit the barn and head to the next job.
I tell Maeve about the time I tried to ride old Buster, the crankiest mule on the ranch, which resulted in me being bucked clean in the air.
I landed in a fresh pile of cow dung with Gramps standing over me, laughing and saying, “shoulda listened to this old man,” ’cause he did, in fact, warn me not to.
Maeve’s hand lands on my shoulder, her other clutching her stomach as she laughs so hard it sounds like she might burst. I grin, trying not to laugh too, but hell, it’s hard when she’s like this.
That’s when I spot Wade.
He’s lingering near the paddock outside the barn—the one where we teach the beginners and children how to ride.
His eyes aren’t on me. They’re on Maeve.
And it’s not the first time I’ve caught him close by lately.
Usually, I wouldn’t see him until dinner time. Now he’s hovering often within earshot.
What’s he playing at? Watching over us to micromanage?
Waiting for the smallest fuck-up to pull the plug on this whole scheme?
It sure feels like it. There is no other reason he would be watching Maeve like a hawk.
And it sure as hell ain’t because he likes the girl—he’s made that abundantly clear to everyone.
Even Mrs. Mae gave him a proper earful for the way he talks to her. Not that it made a difference.
“Afternoon, Wade. Everything ok?” I call out, making sure he knows I clocked him.
Maeve instantly quiets. Her posture straightens; head tilted towards him with practiced civility. But her glare is a quiet challenge, like she has also noticed that he has been keeping close tabs on her.
“With all that laughing, I’m gonna assume the damn jobs are actually done,” he sneers, tone as dry as the Sahara Desert.
Before I can say a word, Maeve fires back, “On to the next one now, Boss. We’re just over here getting along and enjoying ourselves while getting the job done.” There’s a pause and a slight change in volume as she gets closer to him. “I guess that’s not something everyone’s familiar with.”
With a little swing of her hip, she strides right past him, leaving Wade momentarily speechless.
“She has the grit,” I remark, echoing his words from when we first started looking for candidates.
Wade doesn’t answer. He just scoops the pile of saddles by his feet and hauls them over to the rack by the barn.
My legs double their effort to catch up to Maeve. For someone with such short legs, she moves bloody fast. By the time I reach her, she’s already elbow deep in feed prep. Silent, brows furrowed, laser-focused on the task at hand.
I stop, watching for a moment, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
Wade’s presence has a way of flipping the mood on its back.
He sucks the life out of everything he’s around, but I won’t let him when it comes to Maeve.
She’s the first good thing that has happened to the ranch in God knows how long.
I just want to fix what Wade’s done to Maeve. To get that smile I’ve come to love back where it belongs. I never want to see her upset, especially over him. And I really hate that I care as much as I do… It leaves me vulnerable.
But at the moment, that doesn’t matter. What matters is making sure Wade does not chase Maeve off the ranch and back to London. So, I rack my brain on how to make this better.
We haven’t spent time together outside of work or the usual staff dinners. Maybe that’s what she needs. A change of scenery. No chores. No energy-sucking leech looming over us. Just me, her... and maybe a stiff drink?
Does she even drink? I’ve only ever seen her with coffee or water. Fuck, why am I overthinking this? Just fucking ask her, you idiot.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I blurt, “Maeve, don’t suppose you wanna chill after dinner? You know, hang out. As friends,” I add that of, trying not to sound too keen. “Maybe grab a drink? No pressure if not, just thought you know it’d be… nice.”
What the hell was that ramble? Jesus Christ.
Maeve pauses what she’s doing, then steps towards me, placing a hand on each of my arms like she’s trying to steady me. She looks at me, really looks at me. And then, she flashes a soft smile, the kind that says that she noted my nerves.
“Colt, chill,” she says, with a laugh. “Of course I'd love to hang out. You're a pretty cool dude. I reckon it'll be a laugh. But just to be abso-fucking-lutely clear, I refuse to drink wine. Nobody likes Wine Drunk Maeve. She's feral.”
I blink, head tilting. “Feral how?”
“Let’s just say, the last time I drank wine, I tried to fight a statue, and Iris had to physically drag me off it. Oh, and I cried over puppy-for-sale ads. But if I’m being honest, I do that sober too.”
Her giggle relaxes me, and I bark a laugh. “Alright, no wine. And maybe steer clear of the puppy ads. We’ll stick to beer. Safe choice.”
She winks. “Perfect. It’s a date.”
I raise a brow.
She smirks. “A friendly date. Don’t worry. I’m not going to jump your bones.”
I laugh it off. Friend, Colt. A frickin’ friend. Hold your horses.
And just like that, the heaviness that Wade left behind lifts. Maeve's smile is back where it belongs, and God, it’s damn beautiful.
Mission complete.
We fall back into step side by side, headed toward the feed pen. I haven't just hung out with someone for the hell of it since Jae left for his bull-riding tour—five months ago now, give or take. Feels like a lifetime.
The excitement that bubbles up in my chest at the thought of tonight is embarrassingly easy to explain. I've just missed having someone I can hang out with.
For the rest of the day, I catch myself watching the clock.