Chasing the Wild (Crimson Ridge, #1)

by Elliott Rose

My bare toes curl into the carpet, and instantly, I’m very, very aware of my appearance. The way these tiny shorts barely cover my ass or my pussy. How my thin-strapped cami scoops low and shows off an expanse of cleavage. The way my nipples are hard and rub against the wafer-thin fabric every time I shift my weight. “How old are you, Layla?” His voice is deep and alluring and tortured all at once. “Twenty-five.” I hear myself say the words barely above a whisper.

There’s a part of me that wants to hide, because Colton Wilder is a force of nature that shouldn’t be messed with. But there’s a more dangerous and demanding part calling to me from the deep. I want this man to see me.

He’s looking at me with the kind of voracious appetite that only means one thing. This man desires what he sees. Would he ever cross that invisible line to take what he wants? I don’t know, but one thing I’m certain of, is that the longer I stand here, the more we’re both tiptoeing toward the edge of something forbidden. My chest rises and falls, breasts feeling heavy and full as his eyes continue to roam freely, dragging across my body, leaving a trail of crackling sparks beneath my skin in their wake. “Go to bed, Layla.” There’s a warning in his voice that makes me shudder, like he can’t be held accountable for what might happen if I don’t obey his order.

When I squeeze my eyes shut, I wish it was his hands and body on me instead of just his gaze. I’d give anything for it to be so much more.

Colt

Each time the wood gives way below the metal head, I can’t help but picture it being that fucker Pierson’s neck. God-fucking-damnit, now that one of them knows Layla is here, I’m going to have them both sniffing around whenever they think I’ve turned my back. Men who like to use their good looks to prey on unsuspecting victims. There’s more than enough evidence of the sick shit they do to women unlucky enough to fall into their grasp. Yet, the Pierson brothers have never been charged.

Part of me knows I’m hiding out here. The worst part of me nearly wrestled free of its leash last night. Seeing her walk in wearing next to nothing was a temptation I nearly gave into. With her curves and smooth skin and wide green eyes looking back at me as if she fucking liked what she saw. The girl doesn’t know shit about me. If she did, Layla would run a mile and I’d never see another glimpse of her silky head of hair ever again. There’s a reason I’ve been stuck on this mountain for years on my own. Women I come across enjoy a fuck, an orgasm, and then they move on with their lives. They take one look after the glow has worn off from the sex and decide they want more than to be stuck with someone like me. I don’t blame them.

I hear it. A shout. Layla. “Colt.” Her voice is high-pitched. Frightened. The ax clatters to the ground as I grab my jacket and head in the direction of her voice. “Colt.” She’s yelling louder, swinging off the back of Peaches as I round the corner of the barn. “Layla?” I shrug my jacket on, and my eyes are all over her, looking for injury. Her eyes are hanging out of her head, but she’s moving ok, rushing toward me. That’s when I notice the blood on her hands. “Where are you hurt?” My instinct is to grab her face, but I stop myself, instead I grip Layla’s shoulders as soon as I’m next to her. The girl is trembling. “Layla, talk to me.” “It’s the herd. Some are hurt.” There’s tears in her eyes. “How bad?” My mind is already running back over all the fences I checked and trying to remember if there’s something that I missed. “I don’t know. There’s blood, and I was trying to keep one of them from making it worse—I needed to get supplies, and I couldn’t call you.”

“I’m sorry—” Her fingers twist in her lap and they’re coated in thick, sticky red smears. “Not your fault.” If I hadn’t spent so long splitting wood trying to get my head on straight, I would have been there. “There’s at least three of them hurt that I could see.” We bump over ridges in the track as I steer us towards the paddock. It’s almost dark now, the headlights bouncing over the fence below us in the dwindling light. “You did the right thing coming to get me.” My fingers tighten on the wheel.

Layla rushes toward where she’s got three of the cattle penned together using some temporary rolled-up fencing that I keep lying around down here. At least she had the sense to keep them contained, otherwise fuck knows how long we’d be out here in the dark trying to find them. From how much blood is lying around, it could have been fatal if we hadn’t gotten to them before morning. “I couldn’t see any others, but there might be.”

Each has what looks like a shallow gash across their flanks, just at the height of one of the fence posts. Shallow enough that it looks like a protruding nail has done the damage where they’ve maybe rubbed up against it, but it’s hard to tell and the amount of blood is possibly making everything look worse than it is. Of course it’s suspicious they’ve all been injured in the same manner. My spine stiffens knowing, but not wanting to admit out loud, what the obvious explanation for this blood-stained situation is. “I’ll get the first one restrained, you separate the other two with a bit more of that fencing.”

“I don’t think I need to shave it. I think it just needs to be cleaned. Maybe antibiotics just to be sure.” Layla digs around in the kit, searching for what she needs, but I can see her hands are shaking. Either from the cold or the shock or both. “Do what you think is best.” I trust her judgment. From what I can see it’s just a small gash and while I’m still trying to figure out what caused it, that is going to have to wait until we’ve dealt with these animals first.

“This one is worse than the others.” She presses carefully around the edges. “How bad?” “She’ll be ok, but needs stitches.” Layla sounds calm, but I can see it’s only on the surface. “Ok.” “Colt—” She starts to falter. In the bone chilling wind here in a paddock under the cold eye of Devil’s Peak, this is the last place I want her to have to be right now, but this is the reality out here and she’s going to have to face it. “Layla.” I adjust my position and lean closer to her. “Get it done.” Her green eyes flicker up to mine, and the glow of our head lights illuminates the plumes of white from each of our breaths where we’re hunched close together. “I’ve never done this before … like this. In a proper holding pen, or chute in the daylight, yes. But not in the dark when I might fuck it up.” “Do you care about this animal, Layla?” She breathes a little harder. “Of course I do.” “Then I know you can do it. Because you care enough to do the job properly.” “But—” “Did I hire you for nothing? No. You’re the one with the fancy vet schooling, and I’m just a cowboy who can hold this heifer down while you stitch her up. Unless you want me to go back up to the house and get my rifle and put her out of her misery.”

Without thinking, I grab hold of her fingers in my free hand and squeeze tight. She’s so fucking soft under my touch,

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she murmurs. Little does this girl know, she could never. “You won’t. Now, just take a deep breath for me, baby.”

she does as I say. Taking a long, shaky inhale. “And out.” She blows a white plume into the space between us. I stroke her palm with my thumb, and then guide her hands over to the wound. “Just focus on one stitc...

Layla

When I get back to the kitchen, I’m surprised to see Colt is also freshly showered, and not only that but he’s rustled up dinner for two from somewhere. “Don’t get too excited.” He says gruffly as the steaming hot stew is slid in front of me. “Just leftovers from the freezer.” My stomach lets out a loud rumble. “I’d have been happy with Ramen, but this smells amazing.” I dig my spoon in and the taste is pretty much heaven. Colt is obviously a damn good cook because the beef is tender and seasoned to perfection. The man across from me looks horrified. “You don’t like Ramen?” I slurp stew off my spoon. “That’s not food.” Noted. Cowboy mountain man won’t be joining me for a bowl of instant noodles any time this century.

maybe it’s the alcohol working fast and helping me to feel a little looser, but there’s something I can’t quite work out. There aren’t any photos of family or a woman or anything personal in this entire place that I’ve seen—and I’ve definitely done my share of snooping when I’ve had the chance. “Tell me this, Colton Wilder. Why maintain such a big place if it’s just you up here lording it over Devil’s Peak?” I smirk a little over the top of my beer.

I have to shift a little in my seat because that tiny flicker in his expression makes my pussy clench. “It’s not exactly a pretty bedtime story.” His tone is light, but the creases around his eyes tell me this is territory he doesn’t easily venture into. “I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

“An exchange is fair.” He tips the lip of the bottle, pointing the neck at me. “Answer one question for me first, Layla.” My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. What does he want to know? “Okayyy …” I take the bait. Apparently I have no self-control when it comes to wanting to please this man. “I’ve been sitting here wondering … what does a twenty-five-year-old need to pay for so desperately, that she’s rushing like a bull at a gate to finish her vet certification, and work night shifts in grungy bars on the side?”

“My mom had me when she was young—too young.” I hesitate, ducking a glance his way and see that he’s waiting for me to carry on. “I guess she felt like her youth was taken away, so spent mine chasing after what she thought she missed out on. I never met my dad, and the procession of guys she dated came and went with the seasons.” Colt is studying me quietly as I talk, his hazel eyes watch me take a big sip of my beer before I continue. “My aunt was the one who would pick me up after school, make sure I’d eaten, run me to dance classes and weekend recitals. She would let me stay with her for weeks, sometimes months at a time. I love her so much, and it always felt like I was on holiday when I was with her. Looking back, at the time, I was too young to think anything of it, but one day, I came home from school, and the guy sitting on my mom’s couch was looking at me with the same eyes he used to give her when they first met.”

“That’s the last day I lived with my mom.” “Your aunt took you in?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Evaline made sure I didn’t go back there again.” This is the hard part. The bit that always makes me choke up when I try to find adequate words to explain it. “Except, by the time I finished high school, she’d already started forgetting things. Getting muddled up easily, you know.” I scratch at the label on the beer. “They called it early-onset dementia, and it took my aunt away before I knew which way was up.”

“You pay for her care, I take it.” My lips thin as I nod again. The clock on the wall ticks and we both sit there for a long moment. “Now you’ve heard my happy bedtime story, let’s hear yours.”

“There’s not a lot to tell. My parents died in a car crash when I was a kid, too young to even remember them, and it was left up to my grandfather to take me on.” “Here at the ranch?” Colt makes a noise of agreement. “Grew up right here. Or survived growing up here, I should say.”

“He might have owned this ranch, but he was a mean son of a bitch, the kind who liked to take his anger out on whoever was closest. When I was old enough to understand why our cattle always ended up broken, I started to pick fights with him. At least that way he’d take it out on me rather than innocent animals.”

“I was fourteen when I put my first bullet through a heifer’s forehead. She was due to calve anyday and so badly injured she’d never have survived.” The backs of my eyes sting. I want to crawl into his lap and hold him. “When that man hung himself, the real devil of Devil’s Peak was finally gone. Kayce had only just been born, and I spent the day knocking down the rotten old farmhouse that used to stand on this very spot instead of going to the sick bastard’s funeral.”

“Spent nearly thirty years taking this place from a broken, run-down piece of shit, and erasing that fucker’s legacy. Hopefully, one day, when I move on, this place will be sold to some savvy person who will come along and make way more money than I ever have off this ranch.” “You didn’t build it for you?” I’m heartbroken for him, but at the same time I think I just fell head over heels for this man and everything he has worked so tirelessly to achieve.

“Figured this place was always going to be a tourism opportunity, not a ranch that could compete with the big boys. So I built something that could be good for that. I dunno, accommodation for rich folk who like to chopper in and prance around on horses for the weekend or some shit.” “Like a dude ranch?” Colt shudders and scrunches his face up. “I swear if anyone calls this place that in my vicinity, I’ll have a fucking aneurysm.”

“They’ll be ok. You did an excellent job out there.” My stomach does a little somersault at the unexpected compliment. Standing beside his large frame, I can’t help but be drawn in by the look of his soft t-shirt that looks like a second skin on him. My fingers itch to reach out and touch the well-worn cotton. “Only because you talked me off the ledge … again.” It’s the truth. I wasn’t sure I could do any of what I did tonight if it wasn’t for his steady presence grounding me.

“I like how you talk to me.” He silently scrubs at the containers in the sink. My eyes don’t want to stay off the way the map of veins on the back of his hands glisten, highlighted by the water. “Thank you for trusting me.” I’m standing too close, I know I am. But he’s not moving away either, and the heat between our bodies draws me in. My thighs squeeze as that all too familiar ache starts to rise. I know what I heard out there tonight. Whether he meant to say it, or perhaps it just slipped out by accident in the heat of the moment, I don’t know. But I want to hear him say it again. “I liked how you spoke to me, tonight.” Colt goes still. “It must be hard up here dealing with things like that on your own.”

As I feel my hip press against his thigh my heart kicks into overdrive. Suddenly, the kitchen feels like a furnace, and my pulse hammers in my throat as I watch his hands rest on the edge of the sink. He’s letting me get close. Too close.

“Does it get lonely up here?” My whisper sneaks out as my head tilts back and I’m consumed by his darkened gaze. His pupils are the deepest crevasse imaginable, as he looms over me. Reaching out, he takes the dish from my hands, placing it on the bench beside my hip. Oh my god. There’s a force drawing our bodies together that I can’t fight as he shifts his weight and plants one hand on the other side of my body. Caging me in against the sink. His eyes drop to my mouth and my chest is rising and falling faster with every second we’re locked in this forbidden moment. I feel him—his power, his masculinity, his damn intoxicating scent of leather and raindrops. There’s a flood of wetness between my thighs, and my underwear has surely gone up in flames. My tongue swipes over my bottom lip. Colt latches onto the movement with a fierce, hawk-like gaze.

a burst of noise crashes through from his office just off the kitchen. The radio explodes into life, making me jump, and Colt’s head whips in the direction of the intrusive sound. That’s when a familiar voice crackles down the line, making my stomach plunge through the floor.

“Yo, Dad? Are you there?” Kayce’s voice is tinny but unmistakable on the other end of the radio handset. About three things happen at once. Colt jerks away from me like he’s just burned himself on a hot stove. I spin around and double over the edge of the sink, gasping for air. The world rushes in like a freight train. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Whatever was just about to happen between us was most definitely going to happen, and I’m immediately scolding myself for being so forward. I shouldn’t have put Colt in that position.

“… Got something to take care of down here.” My ex’s voice floats out into the hall. Colt lets out a heavy sigh. “Could have given me some fucking notice at least.” “Yeah I feel bad. Are you gonna be alright dealing with everything for another week on your own?” There’s a pause, and Colt coughs a little. “I’ve got help.” My heart skips a beat. “Fuck, that’s lucky. Is it Storm, or one of the other guys from down the Peak?” Holy shit. Is he going to tell him I’m here? “Not exactly.” Kayce lets out a laugh that makes the static go crazy. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a chick up there?” I clap my hand over my mouth. “It’s not like that.” Colt grinds his words. “Yeah, sure, Dad. It’s about time you found someone. Though I can’t imagine who would put up with your bullshit.” Kayce has definitely been drinking.

“Have I met her before? Is she hot?” I think I’m going to die. “Kayce.” He snaps down the radio line. “It’s Layla.” There’s silence and only a faint hum of static. “My Layla?” No. Not your Layla, dickhead. I want to burst in there and scream at them both. But I’m rooted to the spot. “What the fuck’s going on, Dad?” He sounds pissed. Even though he has absolutely zero right to be.

“Are you fucking my girl?” Kayce is drunk and mouthing off, and I’m stuck here in this hallway in a maze of indecision. But Colt reacts faster than me. “It’s not like that. She needed help, and I gave her a job. End of story. The kid turned up here looking for you the night of the snow, and her car broke down.” “So, what? You tucked her into your bed?” “Watch yourself, son.” Colt sounds like he’s about to hurl the radio set at the wall. “Then explain to me why the fuck you’ve got my girlfriend up there with you.” Jesus. This is a nightmare. Between the man I nearly threw myself at a few minutes ago calling me a kid, and my ex-boyfriend being a drunk, jealous asshole, I don’t know what to do.

“I’m not getting into this with you. Nothing weird is going on. I’ve got a fucking business to run, and you’re not here to help me. So sue me for helping your girl out when you should have been here to look after her.”

I can’t be the one that comes between him and his own son, and I refuse to be a distraction. My goal here is to get through the rest of my weeks in this job. Get my reference to send to my supervisor, and move on. No more inappropriate midnight run-ins with Colt Wilder.

Layla

It’s been almost a week since our near miss in the kitchen, and I’ve been so good. Until today, that is. I swear, it’s like Colt knew I was feeling proud of myself for staying well away from him and keeping myself occupied like the good little ranch hand I’m here to be. The barn has been my safe-space to spend as much time in as possible with the horses, distracting my mind that wants to wander to thoughts of the cowboy sleeping just down the hall. I’ve been posting videos and photos of the horses, who are funny and sweet as all hell and seem to adore having my undivided attention heaped on them. Meanwhile, Sage is doing her best to flood my inbox daily with as many riding related puns as possible. At night I’ve perfected the art of making dinner then excusing myself to go and read before Colt has even sat down to eat.