Chapter Thirteen
Maeve
Maeve: Omg! Never in my life has my backside been so sore!!!
Maeve: Add to that my thighs and back.
Iris: YES FINALLY! Give me all the deets babe. LEAVE OUT NOTHING.
Maeve: Well, I did just spend hours riding. He was so big. ??
Iris: I fear this is not going where I wanted it to go…
Maeve: You’d be correct, you sex fiend. I was horse riding with Colt. Remember? The lessons I am having.
Iris responds with our favourite gif, the Jeremy Corbin one where he shouts, “BORING.” An absolute new classic.
I type a quick message confirming I’ll call her tonight, then collapse onto the barn floor, waiting for Colt to put Merribell and Silas back in their designated pens.
Spread out like I’m about to start doing snow angels in the hay, I stare up into the abyss of the timbered roof, trying not to focus on my aching muscles.
Who would’ve thought horse riding was essentially another form of torture?
With only my fifth lesson complete, I think I’m getting the hang of it. A few months ago, I couldn't have told you the difference between a saddle and a stirrup. Now I can tack up without help, read a horse's mood before I approach, and, according to Colt, I have good instincts.
It's been good, using my spare time to build something rather than just exist through it. Especially something that might come in handy should I get to stay.
Some may call that delusion. I call it manifesting.
The crunch of hay announces someone’s approach. Probably Colt, but I am too tired to even lift my head to confirm.
“Maeve… You good there?”
Yup. Definitely Colt.
I manage to raise my arm, giving him a good old thumbs up, then let it drop dramatically beside the rest of my stiff body.
His soft laugh fills the barn, and I just know he has that golden-boy smile plastered across his face. “Need help getting vertical?”
He appears above me, hand outstretched, the afternoon light coming through the barn slats catching the gold in his hair. I reach for his hand with great effort. His skin is surprisingly soft for a ranch worker, fingers curling around mine with a tight grip as he attempts the task.
The first tug fails to lift me an inch from the ground. Granted, I’m doing nothing to help, just letting my body be a sack of dead weight.
On the second attempt, he grabs me with both hands and hauls me to my feet.
“Cheers,” I brush the hay off my jeans. “I thought you said the aches lessen with every lesson? Or have you begun to lie to me, Golden Boy?”
A slight colour rises in his cheeks; he ducks his head in an attempt to hide it. “I would never lie to you, Maeve.”
The sincerity in his voice makes me blink. He watches me for a brief moment before adding, “Your city-girl body probably just needs longer to adjust.” The laugh that follows sounds forced, like he’s having to try extra hard to match my banter.
“How much longer? Because at this rate, I’ll have to call in sick, then you gotta do all my jobs for me.” I nudge his arm as I attempt to walk.
I now understand what people mean when they say, “walking like a cowboy.”
“Do you need a day off to rest?” He straightens immediately, completely missing that I'm taking the piss.
I've noticed he does this a lot, pivoting from easy-going to panic the second he thinks someone might need something.
Like he's always half-ready to step in. “I can cover your jobs and let Wade know.”
“It’s chill Colt, I was just messing.” I give him a reassuring smile. “A soak in a bath and a good night’s sleep will sort me out. Maybe let’s give it a few days till the next lesson though, because back-to-back days might not have been one of our brightest ideas.”
He goes quiet. I watch him drop his gaze to his dust-covered boots, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
“Ah, yeah. No problem.” He shrugs. “Did you want to do something else tomorrow after work instead? Maybe go for a swim? I know a spot.” Before I can answer, he lifts his head and bumps his shoulder against mine. “Or are you tired of my company already?”
He’s smiling, but there’s something underneath it that I know all too well. He’s bracing himself for rejection.
I’ve done the same thing myself more times than I care to admit, mainly with my mum. Joking to hide how desperately I needed her to say she wanted me around when I told her I was leaving.
“I could never get tired of your company, Colt.” I squeeze his arm, his muscle tensing with the contact. “You’re a good friend. I’m glad I have you during this experience.”
His smile flickers back across his face.
“That being said, could we maybe take a raincheck until the day after? It’s my weekly video call with Iris tomorrow.”
A lie. I just need some alone time, but I don’t want to say that. I understand Colt because we are more similar than we both care to admit. Both abandoned in some way, and both seeking something to make us feel better.
The last thing I want is to make Colt feel rejected over something that has nothing to do with him. I just need an evening to rot in bed and let my body recover before I end up getting pushed around the ranch in a wheelchair.
“Course. Can't have Iris thinking I'm monopolizing you.” He grins.
We walk back toward the main house. I'm hoping it'll be quiet at this hour.
Tonight's agenda: quick snack from the kitchen, bath, call Iris, bed.
The warmth of the house wraps around me like a comforting hug as I step through the doorway. I stand in the hall alone, head raised, listening for any signs of life within these walls.
All I can hear is the growling of an engine.
Colt decided to skip the main house, heading straight for his cabin in the rusty tin can he calls a truck.
He made a point of needing to be up early, hence why he needed to shoot off, like early starts aren’t a part of the cowboy lifestyle.
I decided to shrug it off, trying not to read into the fact that I may have upset him.
I head straight for the kitchen, making a beeline for the peanut butter cups I’ve hidden in one of the bottom drawers, next to the cleaning supplies where none of these men dares to go. That’s the thing about working and essentially living with several rowdy cowboys—they always steal your snacks.
Just as I reach the kitchen entrance, I freeze.
Bryan is sitting there, quiet as a mouse, his head resting on both hands as he stares with intense focus at the papers spread across every inch of the dining table. The one that usually seats about sixteen people.
His head whips up.
“Jesus.” He leans back in the chair, hand flying to his chest. “You startled me, for fuck’s sake.”
If it wasn’t for the faint snigger of a laugh that follows, I’d think he was being pissy with me. Which would’ve not ended well for him. I’m not scared to chew a grown man’s ear off if he’s being an utter dick.
“Still not used to me being in the house, huh?” I tease.
“You’d be correct, ma’am,” Bryan says “ma'am” with that thick southern drawl of his, the one that could have any girl swooning. Lucky for me, I’ve heard about his escapades out in the town. He’s a ladies’ man here, but in London we’d call him a fuckboy.
I move closer to the end of the table, eyeing Bryan as he gathers the scattered papers. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but can you close your eyes for about a minute?”
“Oh, hell no. The last time a woman asked me to close my eyes, I was handcuffed to a bed by one wrist.” He lifts his hand, fist bent back, emphasising his wrist like it was evidence of the encounter.
“I don’t even want to know…” I flap one of my hands as my shoulders shrug. “But I promise I do not have access to any apparatus that could be used to bind you to anything. Just please shut them and keep them shut!”
His eyes narrow as he studies me for a moment before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
Bryan squeezes his eyes shut. I move toward my destination, opening the fridge enroute to cover my tracks. It seems like an overkill, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
I grab the family-sized bag of peanut butter goodies and return to my original spot at the end of the table.
“You’re good to look now.”
“Wow, what a neat magic trick.” Sarcastic bastard.
“Probably not the healthiest idea to put edible items near cleaning chemicals.”
“Told you to close your eyes!” I shake my head, ripping the bag open.
“I did. I found those yesterday, figured they were yours. Lucky for you, I don’t like the vile little things.”
“One less snack thief to worry about, then.” I pop one in my mouth, savouring the nutty chocolate melt on my tongue. “So, what’s got you all stressed in the kitchen at this hour? Isn’t it past the little cowboy’s bedtime?”
“Ha. Very funny.” He sniggers. “I’m working on a top-secret project. Figured I’d work here because as soon as my ass hits the couch, I won’t get anything done.”
“Makes sense, I’d be the same.”
“How’d your pitch to the boss man go?”
I fill Bryan in on Wade’s response to the supply plan that he kindly assisted with as my personal chauffeur. I really need to get over the fear of driving on the other side of the road.
Naturally, the conversation spirals into a mini-planning session, Bryan reeling off other small businesses we could get on board. His enthusiasm is infectious, and it gets me excited about what this could mean for the ranch and the town. How I could help so many people here.
I’m scribbling notes on a scrap bit of paper I stole from Bryan, and before I know it, twenty minutes have gone by.
The sound of boots on the floorboards makes me look up before he even appears in the doorway. I’ve developed some sort of spidey-sense when it comes to Wade Carter. There’s a shift in the air whenever he is around that has my hairs on my arms standing up and my heart racing.
He appears in the doorway and nods once at both of us before moving straight to the sink. I grab a handful of my chocolate, shoving it into my mouth as my eyes trace his every movement.
“Anyway,” Bryan says, gathering his remaining papers and leaving our unfinished conversation alone for now.
“If you want to join me tomorrow, I'm heading to the other side of the ranch to check the fencing. Colt said you want more things to do, so we could see if there’s any fixing that needs doing.
Also, I could show you that stretch of the ranch, it's beautiful out there.”
I open my mouth to answer.
“She's with me tomorrow.”
Wade is not even looking at us. I stare at the back of his head, utterly baffled.
He sets his glass down and turns, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, eyes on Bryan like I haven't just been claimed like an item on a to-do list. “You take care of getting that bit of land sorted. We'll cover the fencing while we're out.”
“Awesome.” Bryan points finger guns at Wade, which Wade does not acknowledge. “Cheers, Bull. Right, I'm off.” He gathers his things, shoots me a grin that says good luck, and within about thirty seconds flat, it's just me and Wade in the kitchen.
The familiar silence settles thick between us. Wade pushes off the counter, rinses his glass, and sets it on the rack. Then he turns and looks at me properly for the first time since he walked in.
“I'll see you in the morning. Make sure you get a good night's sleep. You're going to need it.”
He is gone a moment later, and I'm left standing in the kitchen holding a bag of peanut butter cups and wondering what the hell is going on with the Carter men today.
I stare at the spot where he was standing and shove a chocolate in my mouth.
Then another.
She's with me tomorrow. Not an option, a command.
I polish off the last of the peanut butter cups, letting today hit me all at once. Colt’s odd behaviour at the barn, and now Wade, walking in and quietly rescheduling tomorrow like it's nothing.
My stomach flips, and I know it’s not from nearly finishing the family-sized bag of chocolates.
Iris better be ready for this episode of The Cowboy Chronicles, because it sure has left me on a cliffhanger, and I don't even know which Carter man is confusing me more right now.