Down the mountain she stays put, sipping my favorite kind of coffee I didn't know I had a favorite kind of, watching me like she's already decided I'm worth the wait.
I cut the next tree and I let her.
Chapter Two
PAIGE
Ionly needed twenty minutes to see this dark horse’s skills as a lumberjack. The ranch has been buzzing about how he’s an expert at his craft.
Still enjoyed watching him for over an hour, fighting against the obvious tension in his bones as he sawed and pretended my presence didn’t irk him like a sharp pebble in his well-worn logger boots.
If Gabe is paying me to manage our broody new contractor, I might as well enjoy the experience because I have to say, there is something hypnotic, watching this heart-weathered man command the trees.
His stance is sure. Peaceful. Fearless.
He’s attuned to the land. Pays attention to the small things most miss, but I caught them all. How he observed the upper canopy against the sky, watching the wind shift, thudding beneath his boots, picking up the flying chips to analyze the tree’s give.
Heavens, it was masterful. Each clean hinge elegantly snapping its fibers on the fall. Graceful and powerful.
And after each one, he’d take a breath and close those storm-filled brown eyes, hold…then exhale. I could have orgasmed right in that moment. And wouldn’t that have been highly inappropriate to do on the job?
Best to stop torturing the poor enigma. Plus, I’m out of coffee. And that’s simply a crime.
I gather my stuff, mentally logging in his loads that I’ll report to Gabe before lunch at the main house. Movement catches his attention, and he turns off the saw before starting the cut on a new pine.
He stands tall, a saw hanging at his side, and just watches–waiting.
I scoff a laugh and adjust my hat. “Figure that’s long enough for day one. Can’t have you getting sick of my presence so soon.”
Behind that full face beard, thick as a forest of trees in the inky black of night, his jaw tenses and locks. Perhaps it’s cause he still keeps it well-shaped and groomed that I even catch that.
Straight, heavy-set brows hover over those stern, dark eyes that remind me of Serenity’s deep, onyx, mirrored ones. Only hers are framed by the most gorgeous eyelashes no horse has the right to have. And she knows it too, that cheeky mare. How else does she get Hunter Cooper, of all ranchers, to bring her extra treats?
We continue to engage in this high noon stare-off.
I don’t like to lose.
“Same time tomorrow, then.” I tip my hat and grin.
“Be a waste of time,” he grunts, his voice perfectly suited for the centaur of Greek tragedies before me.
Mama always reprimands my romantic view on life, but praises my empathetic intuition, which she says I inherited from my Coquille father.
There’s a deep wound that hangs like violent summer storms over Harrison–Aiden Harrison, though no one calls him by his first name. Ever.
“Paige Adulsa Thomas. That curiosity will one day bite you in the rump like a family of chiggers in the summer. Heed your Mama.”
Sorry, Mama. Like you said. I’m my father’s daughter.
“Be sure to hydrate,” I call out as I mount Serenity. “And eat something soon. Lunch is in an hour. Bet you could go hours without feeling time pass,” I smile, not bothering to wait for a response.
I click my tongue and leisurely guide Serenity back toward the ranch. The air rests for approximately twelve seconds before the roar of the chainsaw reverberates through the land.
I smile.
I rideSerenity through the dense break in the trees toward the far side of Wild Peak Ranch. Further up the mountains, the July heat is a mild seventy-four. The sun ascends like a slow yawn, but her rays are a warm welcome against my face.
Yesterday, Gabe listened pensively as I gave my report. He knows more than he’s letting on, and my skin itched to ask. I’ve only been here a year, and even though the ranch embraces you like family, I try to tame the curious feline around my superiors. Besides, it’s more fun to unpack the mystery on your own.
