Chapter Eight
Wade
I’d only come back for my damn truck keys. That’s it.
But then a sound filtered through the hall. Breathless noises that no man with blood in his veins could mistake. I should’ve left right then. Turned my ass around, shut the door, and drove to my cabin like a decent fucking human being.
But let’s face it, I ain’t a decent man. And sure as hell never claimed to be. Especially not when the melody of soft moans soaked in pure need and desire echoes into my ears, drawing me in like a siren's song.
I knew who it was. Of course I did.
Maeve. The same girl who’s been a thorn in my side since the moment she opened that smart fucking mouth in my truck.
And as much as I’d like to believe I’ve still got some goddamn self-control left in me, I don’t.
I wanted—no, I needed— to hear more.
I followed the sound, and now I’m standing outside her bedroom door. It’s only pulled to, not latched shut.
I tell myself that it isn’t an invite, just her being used to this house turning into a ghost town after dinner.
But logic doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to her. And before I can think twice, I’m slowly, quietly pushing the door open just enough to get a full view.
And there she is.
Flat on her back. Legs spread wide. Fingers working slow, steady circles over her swollen clit. Her T-shirt is bunched around her waist, leaving everything beneath it on full display.
Fuck me, she is intoxicating.
If her eyes hadn’t been closed, I’d swear she knew I was watching. Moving like she’s putting on a private show, one she doesn’t know she’s giving, but God, I should shut the door. Walk the fuck away.
Instead, I step forward into the doorway, hand palming the bulge straining against my jeans.
Her fingers slip lower. Her breath catches.
She’s close. Too close.
“Wade…”
I step back, caught off guard by my name.
Her eyes fly open and lock on mine.
Shit.
I stumble back like I’ve been caught committing a crime.
Because technically, I have.
I’m down the stairs and out of that house in seconds, adrenaline punching through my veins. I hit the truck, slam the door, sit there panting, already working open the buttons of my jeans before I’ve even registered what the fuck I’m doing.
Fucking hell.
I free my throbbing, rock-hard cock, gripping it tight and starting to stroke it. Giving in to the possessive hunger clawing in my chest.
Every detail burns behind my closed eyes—her slick pussy, the way she arched up off the bed, how her breath hitched right before my name escaped her lips. My fucking name.
The thought of her coming undone thinking about me makes me fist myself hard. My head falls back against the seat, hips rocking up into my hand, trying to match the pace she used.
I ignore the voice inside my head telling me she is off-limits. Frankly, that just makes me want her more. Makes me want to bury my face so deeply between her thighs and taste her until she’s screaming my name instead of whispering it.
I come hard, groaning low as I release myself over my stomach and fingers.
It takes me a minute to gather enough energy to grab an old t-shirt from the back of the truck and clean myself up.
What the fuck just happened?
And how the fuck am I supposed to keep my hands, my distance, from Maeve after seeing her that bare?
No matter how badly I am enticed by her, for reasons I cannot make sense of, I can’t give in to anything like this again.
For my sake. For the ranch’s sake. And for Colt’s.
Sweat beads down my face as I grip the rope around the kicking calf’s hind legs, trying to keep the little bastard still while Wyatt controls the front. My arms ache and dust clings to every inch of me. The repetitive strain of pinning calf after calf has worn me raw.
“Ready,” I grunt towards Bryan, who surprisingly has the steadiest hands out of all my men. He steps forward from the fire pit, holding the iron rod, the ranch’s logo glowing red-hot at its tip.
He gives me a short nod, and we tighten our hold.
The searing hiss of iron pressing into the calf’s flesh is sharp.
The calf bawls, high and pained, echoing in my ears.
I wince, the acrid stench of burnt hair burning the back of my throat.
No matter how many times I’ve done this, or the knowledge that the pain doesn’t last long, it never gets easier.
One of the reasons I stayed far from the butchering game.
“Next one!” someone calls in the distance.
I release the calf and stand, watching it scramble off in the direction guided by the ranch hands. My shirt sticks to my chest, soaked in sweat from the relentless summer heat and the fire’s flames. A wave of dizziness hits me hard, making me sway.
My fault, really. I skipped out on breakfast, trying to avoid Maeve after last night's…
events. That, and the fact that I was up half of the night, thinking about her, processing everything that had happened.
How has one random girl gotten under my skin so fucking much?
Just as my thoughts begin to race all over again, I stumble forward, grabbing the fencing to steady myself.
“Whoa, Boss, you good?” Wyatt hurries over as I place my hand on my head in an attempt to stop the spinning.
“Yeah. Just overheating. Think I need to call it for a bit,” I respond, acting fine even though nothing about me is fine. “Right boys! Let’s break for lunch. Make sure you fuckers are fuelled to do the rest later.”
Quiet celebrations break out as they start packing away. I hang back, gathering myself before slowly following them towards the house. Each step takes more effort than I care to admit.
Children’s laughter fills the air the closer I get to the house. I forgot the riding school is on today. Easily done, given it’s Colt’s little piece of the ranch and a world away from the day-to-day chaos I usually deal with.
The midday sun beats down on the paddock, turning the dust kicked up by tiny boots and hooves into a golden haze.
A few parents who decided to stay watch scattered around the fence, iced coffees and phones in hand, while a handful of kids wait impatiently for their turn, helmets slightly crooked and excitement written all over their faces.
I glance over to the round pen and spot Colt being his all-attentive self with the kids. He’s a good teacher, my boy. Got the patience of a saint with everyone, except me. And he’s instantly likable, unlike me.
Then I see Maeve. Standing in the corner of the pen.
My heart beats faster as I close the distance between us, noticing the curve of her legs in those dark denim shorts that cut halfway up her thighs—thighs I want to bury my head in between.
Her golden skin has deepened since she arrived here, making me wonder if there are any tan lines hidden under that shirt for me to explore.
That confirms it. I’m screwed.
Seeing her spread out before me like a forbidden feast last night has every filthy fantasy clawing its way to the surface.
I try to lie to myself; saying it’s just been a long time since a woman got me going.
But I know the truth, and I know from here on out, it’s going to be as hard as my fucking cock—which is rock solid—to not act on every unholy urge I have when it comes to this woman.
I wander over, pretending to check on the riding school as a curious boss, instead of a father wanting to see his son doing what he loves, and a perverted bastard drooling over his young employee.
“How’s it going?” I ask Colt, leaning on the fence. He stops, confusion crossing his face. I clearly don’t ask it enough.
“Uh, yeah. All good here, Wade.”
“Looks like everyone’s learning fast. Good job.”
“Yeah, they are,” he mutters bluntly, turning back to the kids.
I have been fighting the urge to glance at Maeve. The debate’s been like an intense tennis match in my mind, swinging back and forth. And just as I finally decide to steal a look, she’s gone.
“Wade, a word?”
Colt’s voice drags my eyes from where Maeve was standing.
“Course,” I say, wondering what sort of work-related bullshit he’s about to throw at me. No doubt it’ll end up as more on my plate.
Colt slowly cracks his knuckles, one after the other. A tell he’s had since he was a teenager. Always means something’s bothering him, even if he tries to hide it.
“I want to talk about Maeve.”
Shit. Did she say something? Surely not. Why would she?
“What about her?”
“She seems… off. She’s been on top of her game since she got here. Making real progress on the tasks you’re allowing her to do. But today she’s just kind of switched off.” His voice is laced with concern.
“So?” My voice comes out flat, cold. No sign of affection for the girl my son and I have clearly taken an interest in. How fucked up is that?
Colt’s expression turns sour, annoyance flashing across his features.
“Maybe you could try being less of a dick to her. She’s a good girl, Wade.
She’s just trying to get the most out of this experience.
I can’t help but notice that she acts different around you.
Now she’s avoiding you completely. Maybe you could take her into town.
She said she needed to get some things, but she’s not confident with the idea of driving yet. ”
The tension in my head starts to throb. The last thing I need right now is another car ride with her.
Colt glares at me.
All these years later, and my kid still looks at me like I'm the villain. Some days, I wonder if keeping Ruby's secrets was worth losing him.
He continues waiting for a response that I’ve yet to give. Then something in his face changes. The set of his jaw loosens. His shoulders drop a fraction.
“Please, Wade,” he says, quieter now, almost careful. “I don’t want her feeling like she isn’t welcome here.”
I close my eyes, taking in the fresh air before letting out a groan. “Fine. I will take her into town later. Got a few things I need to get anyway.”
Colt offers me a rare smile, “Thank you, Wade.”
“All good,” I mutter, making my way back to the main house, hoping there’s food left. Knowing my men, they probably inhaled it all.
When I step into the kitchen, relief washes over me at the sight of leftover sandwiches and cut fruit laid out on the island. I’m even more thankful to see Maeve sitting at the far end of the table, talking to Mrs Mae, the rest of the team scattered around them.
She can’t avoid me here. Good.
“Maeve,” I bark, my voice instantly commanding her attention.
Her head snaps up, something like fear flickering in her eyes. I stalk forward, greeting Mrs Mae before locking eyes with Maeve.
“You’re with me this afternoon,” I tell her flatly.
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve got a few errands in town, and I heard you need to pick up some things too. So, you’re with me. Simple.”
Mrs. Mae beams at me like a proud mom, finally being the half-decent person she has been nagging me to be all these weeks.
“Oh, that would be lovely, wouldn’t it, dear?” she says to Maeve.
Maeve gives a sheepish smile and agrees.
“Good. I’ll see you out front in forty-five minutes.”
“Sounds good, Mr Carter. Thank you,” she says softly.
Not sounding like the Maeve I have come to know.
Maybe she’s fighting her own mind like I am, wondering how the hell we’re going to survive another truck ride alone together.
Because the last one went so well. And that had been before last night.
I should be thinking nothing of it. Just a run into town. A favour for my son.
But deep down, there’s a flicker of anticipation and excitement. Whether I get quiet Maeve or the smart-mouthed angel I’ve become obsessed with, it’s going to be a hell of a journey.