Chapter 5 Rapping my knuckles on the wooden doorframe, I hover outside Tessa's office while she finishes up a phone call. Through the glass of the ranch slider, she gives me a wave and holds up two fingers. Gimme two minutes. Simultaneously, she flashes me one of those endless smiles the woman seems to so generously hand out to anyone she encounters. From the covered porch outside her office, there's an uninterrupted panoramic view of the mountains reaching into the sky. All purple-tipped, swirled with mist, and dusted with powdered sugar snowfall along the craggy tops. Carpeting the lower slopes, yellows and bronzes of the season crawl up from ground level. As my eyes drift across the landscape, they reach the spot over in the distance where the copper shard of Crimson Ridge itself climbs above the town, like a blade. Further along the line of windows and doors of the main house, a group of guests occupy the outdoor furniture as they sit around drinking their afternoon coffee and chatting. Looks like a group of retirees vacationing together. This place is only getting more popular by the minute. It's no wonder Beau has plans to build additional cabins and extend the facilities to cater to the growing demand. That's one of the things I make a mental note of needing to talk to him about-how many extra horses he's likely to need by the time next summer rolls around. At present, they have ten quarter horses suitable for taking on treks and letting novice riders loose on the ranch. With how busy the place is getting, it'd be a wise investment to look at adding to the stables sooner rather than later so the animals don't struggle physically with the workload. It's different operating as a rancher, completely in tune with your horse's needs, rather than being a tourist unfamiliar with animals, merely hopping on for a novelty day trip. Part of what I do is to make sure none of them have picked up injuries that might have gone unnoticed by their rider. The kind that, if left unchecked, can become a massive fucking problem real quick. A stressed horse is the last thing any of us want to be dealing with. There's a rolling, stuttered, creaking noise when the door at my back slides open. A gust of warm air hits as Tessa beckons me inside. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Although, you don't need to hang about being an awkward duckling. You can just barge in here any time, you know." Tessa pokes at the shoulder of my jacket and then wanders back over to her desk, leaving me to follow behind. I linger with one fist wrapped around the handle. "Oh, god, this again? You and your cowboy manners. Stop worrying about your boots coming inside." She flaps a wrist at me. "Why do you think I chose the hardwood floor? Get your ass in here and shut that door to keep the heat in." Giving her a raised eyebrow, I follow her orders, but even so, double-check to make sure I'm not about to track horse shit in with me. Tessa might be accommodating, but I'm not gonna be that asshole. "Got paperwork to add to your collection." I hand over the stack of invoices and receipts and nod in the direction of the tray stacked with other similar pieces of paper. It's enough to make me shudder, yet this woman isn't phased by any of it. Just takes it off my hands like the angel she is. Tessa Diaz is the type of person who can turn her hand to anything and make it successful, I'm sure of it. Pretty sure that's why she and Beau have worked so well together for as long as they have. They might be siblings, but without question support each other and operate as a rock-solid unit . . . a team. "So, when were you gonna tell me?" She swivels in her chair, scoots across the floorboards, and props her slippers up on the stool beside her desk. An immediate flood of relief settles on her face at having her feet elevated. My brain is already composing a text to Beau to make sure he's underway with those plans to get in extra help, and ensure she's not overdoing it while running around the ranch unsupervised. "And what might that be?" I scratch at my beard. My pulse does a stupid thing where it thuds a little harder, because this is a conversation I've been avoiding over the past week . . . well, until now, I'm guessing. Her grin broadens. "Kayce is your brother? C'mon, I know you're a man of few words and all, but for the love of rodeo, how could you not tell me?" She feigns a pout and holds both hands over her heart. "I thought you said I was your favorite person on this ranch." "You're basically the only person on this ranch." My palm wraps around the back of my neck. "Don't go insinuating you prefer the horses to me. I know they're your only soft spot, but at least let me live in blissful ignorance." She teases, and I let out a sigh. Tessa drops her palms to rest over the swell of her stomach, evident through the dress she's wearing. "So . . . you guys are family?" "Stepbrothers." I bite out. Her lips twist. "You never mentioned you knew each other." "I didn't know." Shifting my weight, I'm already trying to figure out how to exit this conversation as quickly as possible. "Didn't know he lived here in Crimson Ridge, I mean." "Oh?" Her expression says it all. She's so damn close with Beau; I'm certain it's impossible for a family like theirs to understand all the ways I've tried to outrun my own. Clearing my throat, I shove my hands in my pockets. "Look, we ain't close. Kayce and I? We're too different. We just never got on." Shooting a firm glance at Tessa, I add. "But I won't let that affect how things run here, I can promise you." She cocks her head to one side and gives me a thoughtful look. "Well, maybe things will be different now? Kayce really seems to have straightened himself out. I don't know firsthand or anything, but I heard he went through a rough patch. Now? He's a doll with the guests; they adore him as a guide, and he's been doing well since he cleaned himself up." I sniff. "Good for him." Yeah, I'm about ready to be done with this conversation. Tessa's eyes shine a little brighter as she smiles. "Maybe you two might have more in common now you're older? Wiser and more mellow and all that shit." "Sure." If there's one thing I know about Kayce Wilder, it's that he might have changed on the outside, but I know the truth of him. There's no hiding what still lies beneath the surface, the reality behind that golden boy smile. "Anyway, I better get back out there." Jerking my head in the direction of the door, my exit is made that much easier when Tessa's phone rings again. "Ok. Bye, grump." She laughs and, before she picks up the phone, calls after me. "Can you send Storm over here once he's finished up? I'm gonna pull the exhausted pregnant woman card. Hauling this bowling ball over to the barn today sounds way too tiring." "Will do." An uncomfortable feeling sits squarely on my chest. Walking away, Tessa's words are still ringing in my ears about Kayce and how she thinks he's sorted his life out. One thing I wasn't prepared for was how goddamn frequently the guy turns up. This time of year is a boon for fall photographers, tourists, and visitors to Sunset Skies Ranch in general, which means that the demand for guided horse treks and trail rides is in peak swing. So it feels like every damn time I turn around, his black truck is rolling up outside the barn. Each day, while I'm trying to mind my business and get work done, he's there somewhere, laughing and smiling. The boy with the blue eyes, blond head of hair, and boundless charm. Of course, it's all for show. Inside, he's scared, and he's never been able to confront that part of himself, so he conceals it. Always damn well hiding away and expecting everyone around him to pick up the pieces. It's easy enough to be busy, to keep my head down and focus on what I gotta do, but it pisses me off that we've been obliged to see so much of each other. I take a few deep inhales, feeling the mountain air expand my lungs. A cool freshness laden with the added moisture that fall brings. It's one of those days when everything glistens with little pearls of water droplets, and low-lying mist shrouds the ranch like a shawl. This is the kind of weather that swirls and hangs about, nipping at your heels. An ever-present reminder that winter is about to purse her lips and start blowing those first icy kisses our way any time she pleases. Outside the barn, the Devil's Peak Farriers' truck is parked up, and it's easy to spot where Stôrmand Lane is currently working. A shower of orange sparks burst into the air above his head, and his welding mask reflects the red-hot glow of metal as he works. He's got the usual pulse of thrumming music in the background, and one of the horses is hitched on the rail with a bag of feed hanging beside their head. As I get closer, I see a familiar spiked mane of white hair flash behind him. Of course, the Duchess herself is glued to her boyfriend, supervising every move he makes from up close. "Everything going ok over here?" I ask once I'm within earshot, and Storm's piercing blue gaze meets my own. He picks up a horseshoe and gives me a wink. "You know me. Keeping out of trouble." The guy smirks, and strolls to the horse waiting for him. "How are you settling since we last spoke?" He keeps talking as he bends over and catches one hoof between his thighs to rest on his chaps. With all the fluent, practiced efficiency of a man who could do this in his sleep, he collects up a few nails in his mouth, whips out a hammer from his tool belt, and begins to quickly drive them in one by one to secure the horseshoe. Storm works fast. Impressive. Smooth. His tattooed hands take excellent care of the horse, making sure that each nail protruding out the topside of the hoof is snipped off and filed down in a blink. "No complaints. Got myself a comfy bed. And there's plenty to keep me busy." Leaning my ass on the back of his truck to watch him work, I'm quickly nudged in the thigh by a white muzzle and whiskers. The perfect height and vantage point to seek out any potential treats that might be lurking in my pockets. The Duchess of this ranch is actually named Willow, and struts around like she damn well owns the place. A miniature pony with a planetary-sized attitude. Oh, and she's absolutely head-over-hooves in love with Storm. There's no need to tie her up; she'll trot around on his bootheels all day long like an obedient shadow while ignoring anyone else and generally being a menace whenever he's not here. Nothing in the world brings this horse more joy than to try and put her stable-mates in their place, even though they might be three times her size. She snuffles and then snorts at me, shaking her head from side to side upon discovering that I'm not, in fact, the treat dispenser she was hoping for. "Tessa asked if you could drop by when you're all done here." Storm finishes checking over the base of the horse's hoof, sets it back down, and then straightens up. "No problem. I think she wants to chat about plans for winter." "Yeah, I was going to suggest we aim to have all the horses fitted with their new shoes before then. That'd be best." He dips his chin in agreement and sets to work on removing the old shoe from the other hind leg. "You just let me know when you need a break from everything you've taken on here. Me and Briar are happy to come down whenever, man." "I think I'll be good. Work is work, ya know." Storm laughs softly to himself as he starts to trim the hoof and clean up the underside. "Yeah, and the offer still stands." He double-checks the spot where that particular horse has been wearing the heel down quicker. "My girl fucking loves it here." Using the tool in his hand, he gestures over toward one of the enclosures just off the barn. "As you can see, it's no chore if we end up staying for a few days at a time." Inside I can see Briar along with a couple of kids who turn up once a week to help out with grooming the therapy horses they've got based here. She's got her boy Teddy out in the pen with them, and he's walking on a rope and halter with the two kids leading him, all under her close supervision. I can't help but exhale a laugh beneath my breath. "That fucking turncoat. I swear he looks at me like I'm a punching bag, yet he's out there batting his eyelashes at your woman like he's a prizewinning show pony. I'll bet Briar could suggest putting ribbons in his mane, and the prick would flop over to show his belly." "That's the way he rolls. Gets a kick outta knowing the likes of us aren't turning our backs on him for one second." Storm shakes his head. "He's got a hell of a set of teeth on him; I'll give him that." My shoulder can still feel the sting where he got me real good on about my second day here. Beau had warned me, told me exactly how Teddy likes to greet newcomers-well, anyone who isn't Briar, more specifically-and yet he still managed to get a good nip in. A row of purple marks later, I'd officially had my branding and formal welcome to Sunset Skies Ranch. Can I blame him? He's had a shitty life prior to being rescued and coming here. I know all about what it's like to trust no one. "Gotta get my ass out there and check on the cattle." I laugh to myself, watching the Duchess try to angle her head in order to lean up against Storm, not giving a fuck whether he's working or if she's getting in his way. He absently reaches out to scratch behind her ears, and I swear the little thing goes knock-kneed, melting on the spot. "I've already done Mist if you want to give him a run. Let him stretch his legs while Beau's not here." "Will do." After we chat for a few more minutes, I leave him to it. Making my way inside the barn, I follow the line of stalls to where Beau's quarter horse is located. Mist is a gorgeous Blue Roan, and I can see exactly why he'd apparently had his eye on this particular guy for a long time. "Wanna get outta here, huh?" I click my tongue his way, and his ears flick around at the sound of my voice. His long neck immediately bobs over the door to his stall, keenly watching my steps as I head for the tack room. This ranch is fucking well-equipped. It's a pleasant change from some of the places I've worked, where everything is held together with duct tape and a prayer. There are too many landowners who refuse to invest in the stuff that matters most or haven't adapted to changing times in order to keep the cash flowing in. Beau Heartford might've had a glittering pro career, been a god on the back of a bull, and walked away with world champion status, but that didn't guarantee shit where turning his hand to ranching was concerned. He bought this property and immediately put a plan in place to make sure business was going to flourish all year round. To walk into a gleaming tack room with the smell of new leather and careful attention to detail is a refreshing notion indeed. A relief to find everything in its place. There's no worrying your equipment is gonna break on you mid-ride, and there sure as hell aren't any nagging concerns about saddling up. No matter whether the horse is one you've ridden day in, day out, or-like today, with Mist-one you're taking out for the first ride together. It's the way I've always dreamt a property of my own might be. The respect, passion, and thoughtfulness . . . caring for your animals is how I'd run things. If I ever had the luck to own a piece of land myself, that is. Hardly likely. Guys who grew up out of the dirt like I did aren't ever gonna be the ones with their names hanging on a sign at the front gate. As I'm carrying the saddle and blanket over to Mist's stall, I hear laughter pealing through the open window overlooking the western hills of the ranch. The trail horses are making their way back from today's ride. Front and center are Kayce and Chaos Hayes, their horses side-by-side at the head of the group. My eyes flick their way quickly, then toward the main doors where Storm's heavy metal drifts in from. It's an odd sensation, almost feeling like I've been caught watching them when that's definitely not the goddamn case. I'm not fucking creeping on what they're doing; I'm just checking how the horses are looking after their long ride for the day. I shift the weight of the saddle in my arms and can't seem to move from this spot right here, where it's easy to watch as they approach the barn. The two of them are busy cackling, honking like a pair of goddamn geese, and Chaos leans over to shove at Kayce's shoulder. Their knees bump as their horses walk in step, so close it would be nothing to reach out and take hold of the other's reins. Something about seeing the two of them acting like idiots fucks me off. I can't explain it. They're technically doing their job. It's adequate enough, although if I was being a dickhead about it, I should really chew Kayce out for not making sure one of them was stationed at the rear, pulling up the last rider position. But I know from seeing them head out earlier this morning that they did, in fact, set out that way. Nope. It's nothing I could give a crap about. The two of them are obviously obsessed with each other. They travel to pro events together, they ride together, and they're training partners. Being up each other's asses is how they live and compete. I inhale deeply and make my way over to saddle Mist. They're going to be in here, filling up this barn any minute, and I'm not interested in hanging around listening to them crack jokes, thinking they're funny. It's none of my business. They can suck each other's dicks while they're at it, too. I've got work I need to get on with. As I heave the saddle into place and thread the straps through their buckles, making sure nothing is too tight around Mist's belly, the pressure inside me refuses to dissipate. The frustration I've got rolling around my shoulders and chest is probably a sign I need to work this out of my system. When I let Kayce think I'd hooked up with that girl from the bonfire, it was just to mess with him. I never did go there, and I certainly don't have any plans to. But hell, it was satisfying to see the look in his eyes when he thought his sweet little barrel racer had ditched him. No prizes for guessing that I need to work out this tension somewhere and somehow. Between moving across the border and getting my head around managing this place, it's been a dry spell. Too much work isn't an issue, but I clearly need to break the drought-pussy or cock, doesn't worry me. I've got phone numbers for both, and invitations I haven't taken up yet. All I gotta do is get through this week, then when the weekend rolls round I can let Crimson Ridge find me a bit of hot-blooded, no-strings attached fun.