Chasing the Wild (Crimson Ridge, #1)

by Elliott Rose

“Do we have a problem here? Because I’ve got no issue leaving you to stumble your way back down the mountain in the snow without my help. I’m busy enough, and ain’t got time to be messed around.” His dark hair falls in his eyes and I feel about two inches tall beneath the weight of his threat. “I’m not lying about anything.” I wet my lips. Not technically. Just leaving out vast amounts of information. When you learn the hard way never to trust anyone, it’s a shitty habit to break. “Then hurry up, because I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Where I was heading, Shipton, I was going to have to pick up extra hours bartending on top of my job at the stables. It’s what I do to get by financially, until I’m qualified and I can apply for full-time veterinarian positions after graduation.”

“So, like I say, it’s all a lot of bother and a burden on you … and I can’t ask you to give me that amount of work, or pay.” The words rush out of me and I want to sink through the floor. “There’s work needed to be done here from sun up ’til long after sundown. The way I see it, if you’re here and one of the herd gets into trouble over the next eight weeks, we’ve got a hope of saving them. I won’t have to deal with it by putting a bullet between their eyes like every other year when the snow comes, and the closest vet can’t make it up here because the roads are shut.”

Colt towers over me, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I give you shit to do. You do it without question, and you do it properly.” All I can do is nod. “You do that, I’ll pay you full-time wages, bed and board, plus any overtime.” Holy shit. “But—” “You got a better fucking offer lined up?” My heart is thudding triple time inside my chest. There’s got to be a catch here somewhere, but I can’t go looking a gift horse in the mouth. His jaw tics. “Didn’t think so.” With that, he stomps out of the kitchen, and I trail after him like an obedient puppy.

Colt Wilder is short-tempered, growly, and impossible to please. No wonder he can’t find any fucking help to work this ranch. After spending a whole day trying to make myself useful, acting as his personal shadow in an effort to learn the ropes around here, I’ve discovered that it’s like trying to read a book while the cover and pages are glued together. Everything I need to know that would allow me to be more helpful is locked away behind a surly demeanor and a smattering of occasional grunts.

I’m secretly already in love with a glossy black mare, Winnie, who has a white spot over one flank. She searched my jacket pockets with nibbling, velvety lips as soon as I came near her stall, and I make a mental note to bring treats on my return visits.

I’m also going to be somewhat of an odd-job laborer, cook, cleaner, and basically all-round ranch-bitch.

It’s late in the day, and we’ve barely stopped. I’ve shoveled snow, hay, horse shit, and now we’re heading down to some of the further paddocks to feed out the cattle. Colt drives us down there in his truck, with the powdery snow apparently not too thick to prevent taking his giant vehicle. The wide black heads and matching noses of the cattle all turn to greet us as we draw close to the gate, and I can see their hot breath on the crisp afternoon air, along with the steam rising off their backs.

“Feed’s over there. I’ll usually handle this on my own, but it doesn’t hurt for you to know the drill.” Colt jumps out of the truck and goes about firing up the tractor and loading a giant round bale from the stack lined up outside the fence. When I see him start to head toward their paddock with the feed, I head over ahead of the machine and unlatch the gate. The cows are eager to see him and it makes me smile. He obviously doesn’t have a huge herd here, so I wonder if he’s got more of a farm-to-table type operation going on. Maybe organic? This place certainly isn’t massive in comparison to the sizable ranches in other parts of the country.

Colt parks up the tractor and trailer unit. I’m expecting us to carry on our way, but as he walks toward where I’m making my way back to the cab of the truck, he’s got a thundercloud hanging over his expression. My stomach does a little flip, but not in a good way. This is an oh, shit, what did I do wrong kind of feeling. “Latch the fucking gate properly. If you’re going to be here, you need to be attentive, or there’s going to be hell to pay if you leave a gate open and my cattle escape during the night.”

Straight away it’s clear the latch hasn’t caught properly, even though I was certain it had done so. It’s hanging a little loose, and all it would take is for a curious beast to nudge against it, and the thing would pop open. Only, it’s not my fault because the damn gate is heavy, and I see now how it has gotten caught in the snow and pugged up mud turned to ice on the ground. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure it closes easily, but in this weather, it’s clearly got a trick to it—one that I don’t know because I’ve been here all of five minutes. Silently, I wrestle with the gate and curse Colton Wilder under my breath until the latch finally slots firmly in position.

But when I slide into the warm cab, my emotions are immediately rag-dolled all over the place. It’s full of traces of him in here, and in that moment, I realize as his scent of leather and hay and something citrusy hits me, I’m going to need to figure out a way to deal with the fact I’m up here all alone with a very off-limits man. One who infuriates me as much as he sets my pulse racing.

Colt

It’s been a whole fucking week. One spent doing my best to find something—anything—to focus on, other than the gorgeous girl currently sitting across the kitchen island from me eating an omelet and sipping her coffee, while she scrolls her phone.

I realized at that moment I didn’t want him to know about Layla, or at least, the asshole inside me doesn’t want her to know about him. I immediately bristled at the idea she might take an interest in what she saw … or whatever the equivalent of speaking with someone over a radio handset might be. Either way, I didn’t fucking like it, so I conveniently forgot to tell her about my friend and closest person nearby who should be her first port of call in case of emergency. She doesn’t need to know anything about Stôrmand Lane, nor about the fact he used to be a rodeo star. Doesn’t need to know about his stupid fucking tattoos that I’ve seen first-hand act as a pussy magnet everywhere he goes, and certainly doesn’t need to be anywhere near his charming gruffness. Nope. For now, she’s got plenty of emergency contacts if required.

Fortunately, the girl with green eyes is a quick study and it only took a day or so before I could leave her with the horses. Those idiots all seem to love her. Or at least, what she sneaks out to them in her pockets. They never get enough attention from me usually because I’m too damn busy, and I see it in their big liquid eyes that they’re gobbling up all the crooning and petting and brushing they’re getting these days. Lucky assholes.

How this girl ended up with him is beyond me. She’s stunning, and I can’t seem to stop stealing looks at her, even though I know I shouldn’t. Which inevitably leads to me barking something in her general direction, just to try and scare her off because fuck knows what I would do if she turned around and looked at me the same way.

“I get to ride?” Her green eyes light up, and I have to duck my head. It’s so fucking hard not to want to touch her when she looks like that. All flushed and excited and full of vitality for life, the kind that got burned out of me so long ago, it’s a distant memory. Maybe it got stubbed out of me like the cigarette butts my grandpa used to put out on the back of my head right after he wailed on me for just breathing wrong.

She follows, quietly doing the same with her own work boots, but I feel her eyes stray to me every so often. I hate that she’s curious about me, even though I’m a fucking dickhead. There’s nothing good that can come of being interested in the darkness that lies beneath the surface of Colt Wilder. Layla seems to have rebounded well enough after that first night—we collected her things from her snow-bound car, which I’ll get onto towing down to the shop once the road is finally clear—and I haven’t wanted to pry any further as to why things overwhelmed her the way they did.

I never wanted to have kids. Does that make me a terrible person? But when you’re raised by a man who loved nothing more than to lose himself in a bottle and then smack his own grandson around just so he could feel like a big man, well, it changes your perspective on what you want from life. The truth is, I was just a kid myself when Kayce’s mom came on the scene. I wasn’t interested in her bullshit, but she wore me down, and when you’re seventeen and dealing with years of neglect, there inevitably comes a moment when you finally let your guard slip. It was meaningless. Only ever meant to be a one time thing. She told me she was on birth control, and who fucking knows, she either lied or wasn’t reliable enough taking it. Either way, despite the fact I’ve always insisted on using protection to be certain, it didn’t fucking matter. In the end I was doubly fucked. The condom broke, and Kayce arrived, and I felt like my life was over before it even began.

Then I went and fucked it all up more by convincing myself that my own kid would be better off without me. I had no one but a messed up grandfather as a role model. Who was I to be a parent? I hadn’t even turned eighteen yet, and back then, I could barely afford to buy myself my own pickup. Shawn went off to the Midwest, with big dreams of her perfect life as a new mom and making a fresh start, and instead, she drowned herself in pill bottles rather than being a parent.

So, when I got the call a few months ago that he needed a place to land and someone to help him out, I couldn’t say no to the person I’d failed so many times before. Now? Now, what am I doing? I’m staring at his girl’s ass while walking into the barn and fighting back the urge to pin her against the stalls while I sink into her. “Saddle up Winnie and Peaches. We’ll take the girls out.” I fiddle with my hat. Lifting it enough to dig my fingers through my hair before shoving it back on. “You got it, boss.” Layla scurries off to get them both ready

She’s got her plump bottom lip tugged between her teeth, and fuck me, everything about her is so sexy. How my idiot kid could let a girl like that go, I have no idea. If I were twenty years younger, she’d have been the girl of my fucking dreams. Hell, she is right now. Only problem is, I’m old enough to be her father, and I can’t cross that line. Kayce and I are on tenuous ground. If I even think about going there with this girl, I’ll ruin any hope of ever reconciling with my son. But there’s no harm in spending time with her. I just have to keep my shit together.

“Ok.” She’s got that breathy fucking rasp in her voice again as she gazes up at me. Her long, coppery hair is in two loose braids today, and my mind is going to very bad places now that I’m seeing her up close like this. The kind of dirty places where her hair is wrapped in my fist. What was that about keeping my shit together? “You might be a horse doctor, but now’s the time to see if you’re a fair rider.” She gives me a coy smile. “I can hold my own.” “Good. Need a hand?” I reach around and stroke the warm neck of Peaches. She’s a gentle horse and careful whenever we take guests out for trail rides over the summer. But this girl is short, and I have no idea whether she’s ridden a horse of this size before. “Maybe the first time.” She’s got a little flush high on her cheeks. I hate myself for constantly cataloging all these little details.

She shifts around to grab the reins in one hand and hold the saddle with another. I’m moving behind her, and all of a sudden, it’s clear this was an insane idea. Her jeans are tight over her ass, those perfect thighs are right in front of me, and our hips are barely a breath apart as she lifts a foot into the stirrup.

“Go easy on me, ok?” Layla breathes. I don’t know what comes over me, but as I help swing her up into the saddle, the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I promise, I can be gentle.”

Why I can’t seem to keep it together in her presence is ridiculous. She’s just a hot little cunt parading around in front of me, that’s all it is. We finish up the day separately, I leave her to the barn, and I deal with other crap on my list that needs my attention. My evening check-in with the roading crew by radio lets me know the road is cleared nearly halfway up the mountain, and the team should be done all the way to the ranch within the week.

seeing as I’m battling my self-control with a gorgeous young girl in my house, wearing clothes seems like a prudent decision. Real fucking mature. Not like my dick is half-hard the minute I walk into the kitchen, and she flashes a smile at me over her shoulder.

she stretches and makes a move to clear both our empty dishes. “Sit your ass down. I’ve got these.” I reach over to grab hers. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Layla tries to clutch the plate while perched on her stool at the kitchen island. I’ve got a dining table, it just never gets used. This has always been the place I prefer to sit and eat and Layla seems to feel the same way. “You cooked.” She lets out a little laugh and finally relents, allowing me to yank the plate away from her. “The things you don’t realize until you see the alternative.”

“I’ll leave you to the horses tomorrow while I head down and sort out that busted fence in the western paddock.” As I rinse the dishes and stack the dishwasher, I’m aware she’s moving around behind me but I focus my eyes firmly on the sink and the current task keeping my hands busy. “I can handle that.” She sounds tired, and suddenly, I’m a little worried I’ve been pushing her too hard. Kayce tells me all the time I’m a miserable old bastard, which is about right. “You sure?” I turn around and rest my back against the sink. My eyes fall on her, and oh, fuck I really wish I had stayed exactly as I was. She’s stretching up on tiptoes to reach for a cup from the cupboard, and her cropped sweater has ridden up, showing off the perfect rounded curve of her hips and ass, a strip of soft, pale skin above the waistband, jeans suctioned tight in the exact spot where her pussy is. Her back arches and her long braids hang down, and my filthy fucking brain devours the sight of her.

Crossing to the spot where she stands, I step into her small frame. Layla doesn’t move, and I don’t want her to. I keep my eyes on hers and reach up, which leans my body so close I can smell the jasmine and pear scent of her shampoo. There’s a heat and tension thick in the air between us, and not for the first time today, I’m forgetting the reasons why I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. My fingers close around the cool, smooth glass, and I pluck it down for her. “Thanks.” Her voice is barely a whisper and I see her eyes flicker to my lips for just a second. My dick jerks. Blood rushes south in a way that it has no fucking business even daring to.

She’s my son’s territory, or at the very least, is meant to be with a guy his age, her age, and that reminder compels me to step back rather than grab her chin and taste those pouty fucking lips like I want to.

She’s too young for me. I should know better. There’s this thing called loneliness, and I really need to take the opportunity to find someone else the next time the roads are clear to get rid of this tension with. To fuck the past few months of filthy fantasies I’ve been having about this girl out of my system. Because the very soft and feminine-looking young woman standing before me, looking back at me with big eyes, is not where I need to be sticking my dick.

Layla

Out here on the ranch, it’s all too easy to slip into the fantasy of what life would be like. Being with someone who understands what it’s like … who craves space and solitude, but also wants to enjoy being alone, together. My nostrils flare. I can’t allow myself to think like that, even for a second. But holy shit, Colt could give a girl a break. This morning I caught a glimpse of him wandering around shirtless on his way to the laundry. I don’t mind that he forgets, I can’t imagine it’s easy for a man like him to go changing habits he’s been set in for so many years. However, it’s a lot of rugged man to withstand being around. Especially when my pulse triples each time I catch sight of him halfway dressed. He didn’t notice me sitting in the lounge with my coffee and Kindle while I warmed up in front of the fire. And my greedy fucking eyes ate up every inch of his muscled torso. Colt isn’t super cut like those health and fitness bros with eight packs that look airbrushed. He’s broad-chested, with the sexiest indentations on his stomach showing the outline of his abs … and then there’s that v I want to lick, dipping below his jeans. He’s got muscles honed by years of working hard and definitely could toss a girl like me around with ease.

his lover … or even playing the role of forbidden fruit. The kind of temptation he knows he shouldn’t touch but can’t help himself. He’s too honorable, and I’m too much of a good girl. But, fuck, if I didn’t wish there was another time and place for us where the invisible lines keeping us from giving in to that electric pull didn’t exist.

I’m so busy getting in the groove of sweeping up that I don’t notice anything behind me until I feel one of my braids lift off my back. Whipping around, I’m expecting to see Colt’s dark features, only, my face falls as my eyes meet with an unfamiliar sight. A man with short, crew cut brown hair is smiling at me with white teeth, and hungry eyes. “What’s this we have here?” His breath smells like cigarettes, and I rear back in shock. My eyes dart around the barn, and I pull my earbuds out. “Who are you?” And where the fuck is Colt. “Old Colton, eh? Thought he always went out of town to find himself a hot, young piece of ass.”

His blue eyes are icicles, and he’s busy looking me up and down like a slab of meat. “Obviously, this winter, he’s decided to ship in a perky young thing to bounce up and down on his cock at night.” Oh my god. This guy is crude and gross, and I feel violated after twenty seconds in his presence. He looks to be maybe thirty, and probably turns girl’s heads wherever he goes. But his personality is foul.

“Name’s Henrik. I’m just calling in for a welfare check with the snow and all. Usually, we don’t worry too much about old man Wilder, but now I know there’s a pretty young thing like you running around up here, I might just have to drop by more frequently.” He lets out a laugh. “Make sure you’re being fed right.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and I fight the urge to gag.

“I’m working the ranch this winter as an employee, and I’d be more than happy to find Mr. Wilder if you need to speak with him.” I’d like to shove this broom so far up his ass, it comes out his nose. How dare he talk to me like I’m some kind of winter fuck-bunny shipped in to occupy his time. “Well, if you’re not Colton’s property, then I’d love to take you out on a ride sometime. See how good you look in a saddle.” Ew. Not in a million years, jerk off. “No, thanks.” “Aw, come on, I’ll take you out to the Ridge. Show you a real good time.” “Well, I’m not interested, so if you don’t want to talk to Mr. Wilder, then I’d better get on here, and I’m sure you’ve got other properties to carry on to with your welfare checks …” I jerk my head in the direction of the open barn doors.

“You sure, girlie? How can I help change your mind?” “Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t beat your skull in for harassing my staff, Pierson.” Colt’s growl echoes through the barn like thunder. A flutter of butterfly wings kicks up in my stomach at the sound of his voice. Colt easily has a head on this guy, and it’s clear who would win in a scrap between them. But whoever this dickhead is, he doesn’t get the message that it’s time to leave. “Just making conversation is all. This sweet little thing was about to give me her number.” “No, she fucking wasn’t.” Colt has put himself directly between the man and where I’m standing, and my pathetic little heart is doing skips and jumps at the way he’s protecting me. It’s ok, I still have my feminist card tucked in my back pocket.

“In fact, she was pretty clear when she turned you down the first time, or were you too busy sucking yourself off to hear her.”

“Jeez, whatever. Girls like her are probably lesbian and shit anyway.” Oh my god. If Colt doesn’t kick this guy’s ass, I will. “Get the hell off my property. You want to do a welfare check in the future? Pick up the radio instead, or so help me, I’ll put a bullet in both your knees.”

With eyes like a midwinter’s night, tension billows off him. “He touch you?” Colt’s jaw tics furiously. Stopping a foot or so in front of where I’m hovering just outside the barn, he folds his arms and looks me over with an intensity that sucks all the air from the space between us. My hesitation possibly just signed the man’s death warrant. Colt advances on me, and I’m hastily backing up until my spine collides with the wood exterior beside the double doors. “Answer the fucking question, Layla.” “Not really.” I can’t even breathe with how murderous this man looks. “He grabbed my braid is all.” I twist the end of my hair between my fingers to show him it’s fine and I’m fine and suddenly I feel like the whole thing has been blown out of proportion. “I’m ok. I’ve dealt with bigger creeps than him.”

“Anyone tries to come at you again, you tell me.” Colt’s fists clench and unclench as he grits his teeth, but he steps back and heads for the house. I’m left clutching my stupid little broom, and my mind is trying to catch up with what just happened. He’s mad at me, and I don’t understand why.

There is already far too much going on in my imagination when it comes to the off-limits cowboy in this house. Wanton thoughts and daydreams. Certain lingering fantasies. Holy shit, my body heats and pussy clenches at the memory of the vivid sex dream I had about him last night. My submissive side and breeding kink is alive and well, it would seem. Blowing out a breath, I plug my phone into its charger then reach up to tug my hair out. Crossing the room while wrestling both braids loose, I untangle them with my fingers before scooping the chaos of curls back up into a top knot. Winter, tiredness, and being all out of sorts means there is no chance I can be bothered trying to wash my hair tonight, it’ll have to last another day of the dry shampoo treatment.

Reaching into the shower, I flip the water on and quickly get undressed. The stream from the detachable head pummels my aching muscles, and I groan at how good it feels to wash off the day of sweat and horses and the run-in with Henrik slimeball Pierson. God, no one has ever protected me the way Colt did, and I think he somehow altered my brain chemistry. I’ve never been attracted to the idea of being someone’s possession before, but the way he guarded me and threatened that prick … fuck.

Why is it so hard to stop thinking about him when I know I shouldn’t? It’s like my pussy has been hijacked by a cowboy twice my age, and she refuses to calm the hell down.

Slipping into my comfiest sleep shorts and soft cotton cami, I toss the covers back and go to climb into bed, realizing with a groan as my ass hits the mattress that my Kindle isn’t on the bedside table. After a quick scan around the room, it hits me. I remember leaving it down in the lounge this morning. Fuck’s sake. Tilting my chin to the ceiling, a gurgled noise of frustration comes out. I’m so tired, and cannot be bothered having to get redressed just to go a few feet down the hall to the lounge. I creep over to my door and open it a crack, listening for where Colt is in the house. But everything outside my door is dark and blanketed in a heavy silence.

I creep quietly down to the lounge on bare feet. When I get there, I spot my Kindle lying on the coffee table straight away and snatch it up, preparing to spin on my heel. Only, goosebumps erupt across my bare skin when it dawns on me that I’m being watched. Looking up, I see Colt sitting in one of the large armchairs beside the glowing embers of the fire. With knees splayed wide, he fills out the leather seat like it’s a throne. His handsome features are lovingly stroked by the long shadows of the room. As he takes a long swig from his beer, my entire body clenches, all while his hooded eyes remain locked on my figure. “You gave me a fright.” My voice comes out more than a little breathy. He shifts his knees a little wider but doesn’t say anything. Just rubs his thumb along the neck of the amber bottle as he rests it on one thigh.