Page 11 of Thaw My Heart

“You always have been, Em.”

The next morning, I stretch out my legs on my front porch, readying myself for a run while Fox eats her breakfast. I peel off a pastel pink sweatshirt, wearing only a light blue sports bra and shorts with a gold horseshoe necklace that I never take off—the last gift I received from my mother.

Normally, I’d never go out in public so underdressed with my hair up. Too afraid someone would see the scars on my back and ask questions. But out here in the middle of nowhere, I feel safe, and the cold air is refreshing against my heated skin.

After my muscles are good and ready, I dash down the steps and turn the corner.

Running straight into none other than Kit Harlow’s solid abs. My reflexive action is to jab him in the ribs, which I do without even thinking about it.

And I hit him hard.

“Goddamn, Sadie!” He wheezes, bending at the waist as he winces in pain.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Kit.” I inhale cold air, letting out water vapor. The whiff of fresh pine fills my nostrils. “What the hell are you doing on my property?” Not to mention it’s four in the morning. Was he looking through my windows?

I thought Kit was harmless, but I’ve been wrong before.

“I was—” he takes a jagged breath, squeezing his side where I jabbed him. “Running.”

I glance down at his sport pants, tennis shoes, and minimalist grey shirt, soaked to his muscular body. “Oh,” blush creeps into my cheeks.

He rubs at his ribs. “There’s a trail just there,” he points, clenching his teeth. “Behind your house.”

I reach for him, wanting to do something but not quite knowing what, feeling guilty that I just assaulted my neighbor, who was only trying to exercise. “Do you need⁠—”

“I’m just fine.” He waves me off, gently pushing past me. Calloused hands brushing against the curve of my hip.

He staggers to his house and up his front porch.

“Thanks for the trail suggestion, Cowboy,” I shout, hearing him mutter under his breath as he closes the door.

Probably insulting me.

Oh well.

I take off towards the trail between two pines, trying to forget that whole awkward incident. Trying to forget how solid Kit felt when I collided with his body, covered in sweat. How his strong hands felt as they gripped my waist, gently steadying me out of his path. How I flinched at his initial touch, worrying that he was going to hurt me. Punch me back for jabbing him in the gut.

But his touch was softer than I imagined, so I settled into it. Warm, firm, calloused hands that are now branded on my mind. How can one man be so damn grumpy and strong, yet… gentle?

I run faster, pushing through the burn in my lungs as I lose myself in the wild. Running away from my dirty thoughts of my hotter-than-hell, yet grumpy-ass neighbor.

Two days pass as usual. Long days on the ranch driving cattle to new sections with Bandit working as a cattle dog—his favorite thing in the world. Keeping the herd up with vaccinations and preparing the ranch for the harsh Montana winter. Then finally, lunch in the afternoons at the Mess Hall—a steel shed designed to feed the workers and hold monthly meetings.

Except lunchtime is now an animalistic affair, as every cowboy, ranch hand, and man with eyes in his head vied for Sadie’s attention. It was amusing watching the men embarrass themselves while I sat in the corner, pretending I didn’t care. Pretending I didn’t want a shot with her while frustration built in my core.

Under different circumstances, I would’ve been the first in line.

Enter Sadie—jabbing me in the fucking ribs to shoot that temporary fantasy down.

She’s much stronger than she looks, and I don’t bruise easily, but there’s definitely a deep purple bruise blooming under my skin.

I ignore the pain and grab my toolbox, intent on fixing her anxiety-inducing front door now that she’s finally gone. Running, or so I assume, with how she was dressed this morning. It takes me all of ten minutes to tweak her door, adding a slow suspension. No more banging doors sixteen times a day. Finally, a small win.

I’m not sure what was going through her mind when she sucker-punched me, but the look she gave could cut steel. It’s the same look she’d given me when she slammed her door in my face. And no, I’m not still thinking about the softness of her skin when I guided her out of my path. For someone so aggravating and annoying, soft and supple skin is not something I expected.

She’s easily becoming the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met. With her “Good morning, Cowboy,” every damn morning, or “Goodnight Cowboy,” every damn night. She’s a goddamn home greeting system I never asked for.

She also insisted on blaring her radio—every fucking night. I don’t think I’ve slept properly in four days since she arrived. Thank God it’s Thursday and only one more workday until the weekend, which thankfully I have off.