Alive and Wells (Wells Ranch, #1)

by Bailey Hannah

“I’m not a cowboy, darlin’.” The combination of his mocking tone and the fake flattery of the word “darling” alters something in my attitude. It sparks a flame. “No? Sorry. I guess the cowboy hat, boots, too-tight Wranglers, and compensator truck gave me that impression, for some reason.”

“We’re up to our elbows in bread dough. Man up and ask her yourself, honey. I haven’t seen her leave yet.”

Fuck. I swear even Odessa stops mid-bite to give me a look about how pathetic I am.

The corner of his lip pulls into a strikingly adorable smile. Considering how hot he is with a scowl, I’d be in serious trouble if he smiled like this all the time.

“Not if we text, darlin’.” Am I having a stroke? “Text?” I croak. “I didn’t peg you for a texter.” His nostrils flare as he maintains focus on the road ahead. “I could start if you’d like.” It’s official. I’m definitely dead because there’s no way this grizzly bear of a man who seems to like looking at me, but isn’t interested in talking to me, wants me to text him. It’s a seriously laughable thought. Though he’s not laughing. In fact, he’s right back to his natural stoic expression. “Yeah?” My corpse somehow forms words. “What would we text about?” “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

When his thumb starts to draw small shapes on the back of my hand, I’m filled with butterflies.

When I die, I hope somebody sits around every year and watches reruns of my favourite shows to commemorate my life.

“Let me grab a knife and forks for the cake,” I say. “What kind of fancy place do you have here? We’re outlaws eating stolen cake—just grab forks.” “So you admit it’s stolen.” I shoot her a look. “Send me letters from your prison cell. I want to know what Martha Stewart’s like.”

She’s the sunshine of this ranch, bringing light into the parts of me that I thought I’d always keep hidden in the dark.

I’M DYING. I’M MELTED. I AM SWOONING!!!

Texting the one person I can count on to go along with my insane plan as I start down the moonlit path. And it is a completely deranged plan. Austin: You up? I need your help with a project. Denny: A project at 1AM? Is quitting the family ranch an option? If so, consider this my resignation. Austin: Yes or no? Meet me at the end of the driveway. Denny: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me put my pants on.

“I assumed anything we were getting up to at this hour was likely illegal or dangerous—possibly both. Thought liquid courage might be good.” He takes another slow sip and nods his head toward the chainsaws sitting at my feet. “So, what are we doing?” “Cutting down the goddamn lilac bushes.”

“On the off-chance you stay until next spring, you’ll never have to think about him again.”

“You’re here right now—alive and well on my ranch. I care a heck of a lot more about you being comfortable than their spirits potentially getting riled up over some silly flowers.”

“I’d really like to kiss you right now…” The way his voice trails off tells me there’s more to that thought. I whisper, “But?” “But I won’t want to stop there. I’ll want to run my hands over your body, and kiss every inch of your skin. And I can’t. Not when you constantly shy away from my touch.”

“You do. When the time comes where I can do this,”—his rough hand gently cups my chin and his throat bobs with a hard swallow—“without feeling every muscle in your jaw tense, I’ll kiss you until you’re unable to breathe. And a whole lot more, if you’ll let me.”

“I—uh—I came across this book and thought you might like it. Since you’re into history, y’know? It’s about the history of Wells Canyon.” I thrust my hand forward, holding out a flimsy paperback. By “came across”, I mean I specifically went to the local tourist information centre and purchased it after the day at the river. I should’ve cracked the spine, dog-eared a few pages… made it look less new. More believable that it’s just been lying around somewhere.

There’s a mutual understanding that we will kiss—it’s a matter of when, not if. And, for now, I’m happy with the long glances, subtle smiles, and footsies under the kitchen table. All of it is a constant reminder that we both want it to happen. I’m willing to wait to kiss her for as long as I need to.

It’ll be a good time. Lots of beer, lots of buckle bunnies.” “I love buckle bunnies!” Odessa exclaims between sips from her dinosaur cup. “You and me both, kiddo.” Denny’s wide grin and finger guns at our niece make her giggle. He cracks a beer and adds, “If I’m lucky, I’ll have quite a few wearing my hat, and taking me for a ride, after the rodeo’s over. Come on, Austin. Let your hair down.” Odessa leans into Kate and, with a hilariously loud stage whisper, says, “Mommy, why is a bunny going to ride Uncle Denny?”

“That was before he and I cut down all the lilacs ’cause she didn’t like ’em. Boy’s already tangled.”

“Mornin’, bossman.” “No Stampede?” “Yeah, no. Didn’t go well for me last year. Too many fake cowboys looking for a fight, too many mounties looking to arrest the real cowboys for giving ’em what they had coming.” “Can’t say I’m mad we won’t have to bail you outta jail again.” “Thought you’d appreciate that, Aus. You know you love having me here.” I grunt. “You don’t know me at all, do you?” “Oh, fuck off. You love me like a brother, even if you’re too much of a jackass to say it. Least Denny tells me enough for the both of ya.”

“Darlin’, you live on my property, and we’re friends, right? If there’s somebody who’s a threat to you, I’m already involved.”

“I didn’t feel safe at home and wasn’t sure where else to go. I thought I’d be safe here… with you.”

“You’re safe. As long as you’re here with me, you’re safe. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,”

“Austin? Can I hug you?” “You never need to ask, darlin’.”

Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

“I own over 100,000 acres of private land and a chunk of ground with so many buried animal carcasses you’d simply get lost in the shuffle. No neighbours to hear you scream for dozens of kilometres and the only cop in town to look into your missing case is my first cousin. Half my guys have been to prison and have no objection to going back for the right cause. I suggest you choose your next actions accordingly.”

“Hell, we could run him out a hundred kilometres into the woods and leave him to die ‘naturally’,” Denny suggests. “Break both legs for good measure. Tragic hiking accident.”