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She opened her mouth to say something, but instead, she squealed. It was the coyote — stopped in its tracks, a few feet from her, clearly dead, its limbs sprawled across the hard floor.
“Millie Reynolds,” Chuck said, his voice clear, calm, and commanding. “I’m so glad I found you.”
Millie tried to stand, but her legs gave way. She stumbled down, fear still coursing through her body.
Chuck leaped down from his horse, and ran to her, threading his arms around her, holding her tight. “Babygirl,” he said, his voice ragged and desperate, “I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on, you understand? I’m going to look after you, and we’re gonna fix this, together, you and me.”
Her heart pounded so hard she worried he’d hear it.
There was a moment, a moment when she wondered whether, despite her drunkenness, Chuck might lean in and kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tears threatening her once more.
“No,” Chuck said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Now come on, I have to get you back.” Then, to her surprise, he grinned. “Got an early start tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
WhenChuckwokethenext morning, it was to the greatest feeling of relief he’d ever experienced.
She was safe. She was alive. He had another chance to show her that he wasn’t an asshole.
The ride back to the ranch had been interesting. Millie had been so drunk that he’d had his work cut out keeping her safely on Sunrise. She’d protested a little to begin with, but he’d insisted, and eventually, she’d come up with him.
She’d protested more when he’d insisted that she sleep in his room. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight that evening. For all he knew, she might have had even more to drink and headed out on another late-night escapade.
He had, of course, slept on the floor. That would have guaranteed him a bad night’s sleep by itself, but add the fact that he’d kept waking every few minutes to check on Millie, and the net result was that he was completely exhausted this morning.
As he lay on the camping rug, thinking about what had happened last night, the same thought kept swirling around his mind.
There was no doubt.
You had to protect her.
You didn’t have a choice.
You’re a Daddy.
He hadn’t really considered it before, but now, it was like something had shifted inside him, and he could never go back to the way things were.
From the moment he’d discovered that bottle of booze, it was like some deep-hidden part of him had risen up and taken control. A part of him that knew, instinctively, what Millie needed. Protection. Nurturing. Safety. Domination.
And now that part of him had awoken, he knew that he had to embrace it, and see where it took him.
To his annoyance, his phone started to buzz. He glanced over at Millie. She was snoring, her mouth open, with a line of drool dripping down to the pillow below her. Even like that, somehow, she looked beautiful. He didn’t want to wake her, so he silenced his phone. He recognized that number, though.
Rosy Pastures Ranch.
They’d been the ranch that had wanted to buy Littlecreek Ranch before Takis had swooped in with a better offer. Chuck had a personal connection with Rosy Pastures. When he’d been a kid, just learning the ropes of the ranching lifestyle, he’d done some work at Rosy Pastures.
Huh.
What did they want with him?
A moment later, he got his answer, when a voicemail popped up on his phone. He pressed the speaker to his ear.
“Chuck, this is Tyson Grant at Rosy Pastures. Long time no speak.” Tyson was a good guy — he’d given Chuck his first-ever paid job. “Wanted to run an opportunity past you. Our head of animal husbandry has passed on to new employment, so we’ve got a job opening. I’ve been watching your career with interest from afar — saw you did well in the UK and in Kentucky. Anyway, thought you might like to talk to me about it. There’s good money. Opportunities too. Call me back.”
Huh.
