“You sure you don’t wanna join us for a few beers at the bunkhouse?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight, but maybe next time.” Henrik nodded and headed over to the single story building my great-grandfather built for the men – and now women – who worked on the ranch. It was long, resembled a log cabin, and had three bedrooms. One of them even had bunkbeds, but at the moment only two of the rooms were occupied. There was a small kitchen and living space, and two small bathrooms.
I didn’t drink with them often, but I did enjoy spending a couple of hours of downtime with them. They were a good group and always down for a game of cards – poker, rummy, whatever.
Tonight, though. I was too unsettled. I didn’t know what to do about Clara and whatever she’d been thinking during dinner last night.
She’d spooked so quickly – both during our conversation when we were eating and then again when my brother barged in. I couldn’t blame her for that last part.
I had a feeling she’d be concerned about what some people might say about us being together. There’d been rumors and nasty gossip about her and our friendship when we were in highschool, when people thought she was after me for the Ashland name.
Clara had never once cared about my last name. Or the status and money that came with it. That was one of the reasons I’d made sure to keep the friendship so strong, even when we were apart for school. And then after her parents had died, I tried to bring her into the Ashland family fold even more – bringing her over for holidays, birthdays, random movie nights.
I’d been in love with Clara since we were teenagers, I just hadn’t pieced together that’s what it was. I didn’t give a shit about what anybody said. Never have. So many people had made jokes or comments about me never dating or only dating once in a while, and the“are you a monk”jokes were endless.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. I hadn’t dated much. A few short relationships when I was younger, and a couple of one-night stands back when I competed in some smaller rodeo events. But that had been the rush of adrenaline from competition and women basically throwing themselves at anyone who even remotely looked like a cowboy.
It was true I hadn’t been with someone in a while. I didn’t see the point. None of the dates or short-lived relationships had felt right. There was always something missing. I hadn’t realized what until a few months ago.
Clara.
Something in me shifted, a clarity that had been waiting for me to notice it.
She’d had dinner with the family over at my parents’ house and called me not ten minutes after she’d left to drive home. The fear in her voice as she told me she’d almost hit a deer and was in a ditch had near stopped my heart.
I grabbed Thatch by his arm and yanked him with me to the truck while I kept her talking to me on the phone. Thatch had called the sheriff, and they sent out an ambulance to have herchecked out. I made the drive in less than five minutes, Thatch silently white-knuckling the oh-shit handle as we both kept Clara talking.
The sight of her sitting on a fallen tree limb while her car was only a few yards away stuck at an angle and in a ditch was carved into my mind forever.
It was hard to not insist I pick her up and drop her off any time she came to the ranch. But I knew better than to push or make her think I doubted her in any way. Clara would hand me my ass in a basket if I tried.
And now, months later, I needed her more than ever. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – lose her. Especially not now, not after tasting her.
No, Clara was mine. I might as well have her name branded on my chest.
Maybe it made me a fool or some kind of sap, but there was only one person I wanted to spend my time with.
All I had to do was convince Clara that we could get through anything – whatever anyone might say, accuse, or gossip. My chest tightened at the thought that someone could even think she wasn’t good enough or worthy enough. What utter bullshit.
Clara was mine, and I was hers.
Chapter Eight
Clara
Counting inventory was exactly the type of tedious task my mind needed to take it off Beckett and the humiliating way I’d left last night.
I still cannot believe that Noah walked in and saw – whatever he saw before Beckett covered me and threw Noah out.
I’d never been so embarrassed. I didn’t technically have a reason to be. We were consenting adults, after all. But it was awful to have Beckett’s youngest brother see me … doing what I’d been doing.
It also didn’t matter that Beckett had been there for all of my embarrassing moments growing up. Back then, he’d always been Beckett, Best Friend.
Now, he was … what? Lover? We haven’t actually even had sex yet – though my body certainly wanted to.
Friend with sexual benefits? No, that was weird. Plus, Beckett wasn’t one to do anything halfway. He was an all or nothing man. I knew that about him at least. No, anything lessthan us together would be off the table – unless we kept it at just friends.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts and refocused on the task in front of me. I checked product against the system, marked an item as ‘need to order’ on my notepad, and adjusted the quantity. The new soap vendor’s products were popular. I made a note to let her know; maybe she could expand her booth space or bring in other products.
