Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)

There’s a girl nearly half my age standing in my kitchen with puffy red eyes. It looks like she’s either going to try and swing at me, or crumple like a tissue.

“I just need to arrange a tow truck. Please.” She won’t fucking sit down, even though I’ve offered her a stool at the kitchen island several times.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I rest both hands on the countertop. Trying to keep my eyes on her face. Trying not to think about the fact the girl from the gas station is here.

She’s here and standing in my kitchen.

“No chance of that. Not with this snow coming down.” I grunt.

The girl checks her phone again for what must be the tenth time since I brought her inside out of the cold. Out of the corner of my eye I can see a layer of white growing thicker by the second on the porch railing beyond the window.

Of course, her piece of shit car broke down. I’m not at all surprised, more amazed it actually made it up here in the first place.

I’d barely had a chance to hang the deer, shower off the blood, and get dressed when she reappeared. Banging on the front door, frozen to the bone from having to walk from wherever she abandoned her car in the snow. After I was sure that would be the last time I ever saw her.

“Look. I can’t get stuck here. I’ve got to be somewhere tomorrow, and I need to find Kayce before I leave town.” She’s got a look in her eyes like the horses do when something has spooked them.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s running from something.

But none of this shit is my problem. Kayce has fucked up again? Big surprise. That kid never knows when to quit, or how to keep his dick in his pants. If he isn’t too drunk for either of those things, of course.

The way this girl has shown up twice in the space of several months has my teeth on edge.

There’s only one reason girls like her come visiting out of the blue, needing to talk.

“If you could just tow me yourself—”

“Sorry. Even if I could get your vehicle down to the shop, the snow would be settled by then. Can’t risk getting stuck in town.”

“But… it wouldn’t take long…”

She’s looking at me with those fucking mossy green, pleading eyes, and bitterness lines my throat. This isn’t my problem.

“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t know what shit you’ve got yourself into with my son, but I’ve got a business up here and livestock to take care of. If I take you down the mountain, I won’t be getting back myself until the roads get cleared, and that could take weeks.”

Her face pales, and I see the way her nostrils flare.

Tough shit. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.

“Oh my god. This can’t be happening.” She’s mumbling and her fists are clenching and unclenching. It’s said more to herself than me. The next moment, she’s headed off toward the front door. I’m not exactly sure what the fuck this girl intends on doing, but it’s turned into a blizzard already out there in the time it took her to walk back up to the house.

“Hey,” I call after her. She’s either not listening, or is ignoring me.

Pinching my brow, I hesitate in the kitchen rather than follow after a girl I don’t even know. My son’s fuck buddy? Girlfriend? Jesus Christ. She could be a buckle bunny from his time on the rodeo circuit, for all I know.

Maybe she just needs a moment. Life out here is testing at the best of times, and right now, I’ve got to figure out what the fuck to do about having an unexpected house guest stuck under my roof until I can ship her off this mountain.

Jesus. Kayce really couldn’t have picked a worse time to disappear off with his buddies in town, could he? In my mind, I’ve already torn the useless little shit a new one.

I run my fingers through my hair and quickly turn over the mental checklist of what I’ve got in the house. Supplies are well stocked from my last run to town, the freezer is full, and I’m pretty sure at least one of the spare bedrooms has clean sheets. If not, it doesn’t really matter, she can sleep in the room Kayce has been using, since they’re obviously still a thing.

The thought quickly tightens my chest. That girl has haunted me since the day outside the gas station over summer.

Turns out she’s Kayce’s woman.

I’d shoved aside everything about our interaction months ago, but seeing her again, unexpectedly, has brought all sorts of memories flooding back.

The kind that need to stay buried the fuck away.

There’s a sharp howling noise, followed by a crash of the front door closing. What the fuck? I jog through to the foyer and see the outline of her shoulders disappearing down the steps into the thick flurries of white whipping around the yard.

She’s barely got more than a thin sweater and jeans on. Christ, does she have a death wish or something? Of course, Kayce would go for the crazy ones.

I grab my jacket plus a spare one from the hooks just inside the door and hurl myself outside, following after her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell into the wind as I shrug into my coat and boots. But she keeps heading down the steps like she’s got somewhere to be, and I have to lengthen my stride to grab her before she does something fucking stupid.

Catching up to her in the yard, my fingers wrap around her arm, but when I yank the girl around to look at me, the stricken expression contorting her features is instantly recognizable. There’s a mask frozen on her face I know all too well.

Shit.

Hands clamped into fists. Mouth hanging open like she can’t taste oxygen. There’s a glazed look to her green eyes and even though I’m standing right here in front of her, she’s not seeing me right now.

That much I know from personal experience.

“Come here,” I mutter and bundle the coat around her shoulders, but she’s as rigid as a plank, and it’s not due to the cold.

Panic attacks aren’t pretty at the best of times, but in the middle of a below-freezing snowstorm, having her locked up like this could be deadly.

I’m cursing my son with every unholy thought I can muster as we get safely back inside, setting her down on the armchair closest to the fire. Gently pushing her head to drop between her knees, I leave the room for a moment, going to rifle through the pantry and cupboards. Jesus, this is the last goddamn thing I need to be doing.

When I return, she hasn’t moved, and her tiny fingers are still cramped into the shape of claws. She’s making a desperate, gurgling sort of noise and as much as I’ve got the horses to look in on, and wood to stock, and storm warnings to check, I can’t leave her hyperventilating like this.

I do my best to soothe her, encouraging her to sit up now and pressing the paper bag I’ve just grabbed from the kitchen over her nose and mouth and slowly rub circles on her back.

It’s not a perfect solution by any means, but right now, it’s the best I can do to triage a crappy situation.

“You gotta breathe nice and slow for me. You’re ok.”

I see the bag inflate just a fraction, then hollow out.

“Slow. Deep breath. Again.”

We sit like that for a long moment. Me talking this stranger through a panic attack while planning multiple ways to murder my own son.

Her shaky, shallow breaths fill the bag a few more times, deepening one by one, until I see her fists begin to uncurl just a fraction. That’s enough for me to toss the bag aside and with my free hand, I take one of hers and then the other. Massaging the tense muscles, I help her fingers to straighten out.

As I do so, I feel her stiff frame ease slightly beneath my palm. Guiding her by the shoulder, I press a little, encouraging her to shift her body more upright.

“Count to four while you breathe in.” Her eyes won’t meet mine, and I’m not surprised.

It was the same for me. Afterward was always somehow worse.

Confident that she’s somewhat out the other side of it, I get up and head over to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. While there, I swipe a bag of gummy worms from the back of the pantry.

Returning to the lounge, I crouch down on my haunches, holding out the water. “Can you take a sip of that for me?” Nodding, she clutches it in two hands, bringing it to her mouth, grip more than a little unsteady.

“Good. Now eat these…” Removing the water, I offer an exchange and hand over two worms, setting the glass down on the coffee table beside her. “And don’t think about moving.”

A good fifteen minutes pass while trying to get a message through to Kayce. For now, the Wi-Fi appears to still be working. However, the asshole probably hasn’t charged his phone, so he won’t be checking his email. Of course, he hasn’t picked up or returned the call I put out to the radio fitted in his truck. I’d been nagging him about the forecast and the risk of getting stuck down in town, but of course, he still disappeared earlier today.

Now, I’ve got an even bigger problem, and she’s sitting in my lounge.

Whatever is going on with this girl, it’s bad enough to send her spiraling into a panic attack, and I’ve got a really bad fucking feeling about the trouble she’s got herself into.

There are too many old, familiar sensations buzzing through my veins right now. Memories of fluorescent lighting and the smell of disinfectant. Shoes squeaking along hospital corridors and the beep of machinery at all hours of day and night.

Wanting to crawl out of my own skin all because of a stupid fucking mistake I’d made at seventeen years old when I thought nothing could ever touch me.

How wrong I was nine months later when the consequences of one foolish decision arrived.

Inside my fist the radio crackles, and a familiar, deep voice distorted by static fills my postage-stamp-sized office just across from the kitchen. The place where I keep a computer, business shit, paperwork, all the parts of being a rancher that aren’t my forte, but that I have to deal with all the same. While the device in my hand might be considered old-fashioned technology to some, up here in the mountains it’s about the most reliable thing we’ve got.

It can be the difference between life and death.

“All good up there, old man?”

“Stôrmand,” I grunt in reply.

“Piss off with that Stôrmand bullshit, Wilder.”

A wry smile crosses my face hearing his growl. I’ve got young bucks I call in to help when I need it up here. Storm is about the only person on this mountain who I’d willingly sit down and crack open a beer with, though. He’s got a fucked up past like me and doesn’t talk much, and that suits us both just fine. He’s not a rancher, but he’s the only half-decent farrier who I trust with my horses, and the guy used to willingly climb on an angry bull for money back while he still had a pro career. Crazy son of a bitch.

When the roads are clear he comes and shoes the horses for me, keeps them in good shape with the busy summer season, and in return I help him out around his property if he ever needs anything.

He’s been up here a long time on his own, too.

However, after the shit he’s been through, I can’t blame him for being even more reclusive than I am.

“Snow’s already stuck good down here. Must be packed in solid already at the ranch?”

Storm confirms what I’d feared. If the weather has hit hard for him, then it’s a bitch of a front that has closed in… fast. He’s at a slightly lower elevation, but lives across the valley. We’re not exactly neighbors, but round these parts, our properties are close enough to one another to count.

“Mountain roads are closed. Spoke with Hayes a couple of minutes ago.” Storm continues on.

Sheriff Cameron Hayes is a good bastard. Another man I’d consider a friend and someone who I will happily grab a drink with and give the time of day to. Man works his ass off over winter to make sure the mountain is cleared as fast as possible, on top of everything required of him on the Hayes family ranch, and I can always rely on him to keep in touch to let me know how conditions are looking out there. Especially when we become cut off from the rest of the world here on Devil’s Peak.

I know he worries about the gruff old assholes like Storm and myself who live out in these parts on our own. Fucking mother hen that he is.

“Weather should fuck off quick enough, it’s only likely to keep snowing until tomorrow.”

“You’re all good for supplies over there?” I mean, the man might have spent a career hanging onto the back of a bull like a goddamn lunatic, but he’s particularly shit at taking care of himself.

Storm lives hard and fast, and more than once, I’ve wondered if he gives a damn about anything other than horses and finding his next one-night stand.

“Aw. Offering to saddle up, ride over here and tuck me in are you, sunshine?”

“Fuck you very much.”

He chuckles. “Still need a hand with the next cattle round-up?”

“Assuming you can get your ugly ass up here by then… you know I won’t say no.”

Having the likes of him as an extra pair of hands when I need them around this place is a godsend, even though the majority of the time I can manage by myself, some jobs just need a team working the stock. Storm can handle a horse and knows cattle like it’s in his blood. Plus, the other guys who help on the days I need it are young. Too fucking young. They might be good in the saddle, but Jesus, each year they make me feel older, and each year, they seem to get more baby-faced.

After exchanging a few more words with Storm—neither of us are exactly talkers, and that’s fine by me—he’s passed on the relevant updates I need to know from Hayes.

Despite the front bringing this heavy snowfall, it’ll pass quickly, which means the crews should be able to get a clear run to re-open the mountain. That should mean a long enough window of time to do a trip into town for restocking supplies, and also get this girl’s busted vehicle towed to a mechanic.

Considering where we are, at the very top of the mountain access road, that could be two weeks away, at best.

I can get her down on horseback tomorrow if she wants to go find accommodation in Crimson Ridge. That might be the best place for her while she waits until we can get her car off the mountain, but she won’t be driving for a while.

As for tonight… well, no one is going anywhere in this whiteout. Unless they’ve got a death wish.

I tuck the radio handset back in its cradle and return to the lounge. The girl hasn’t moved, like I instructed. Just stares at the flames dancing in the fire and looks completely wiped out. But at least she’s had some water and some sugar and seems warm enough.

“You ok?” I grab a couple more logs from the stack against the wall and start loading up the fire.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” A bit of a raspy edge colors her voice, sounding sexy as fuck, and the very, very wrong response my body has is to feel a rush of blood heading to my dick.

This girl is pale and shaky and has hardly pulled herself together, and I’m thinking about what that voice would sound like gasping my name in the dark?

Of course, that’s where my mind goes. Of course it does. Because I’ve thought about her way too many times over the past few months, and now I’m having all my fucked up daydreams, unexpected desires I’ve never felt compelled by before now, thrown back in my face.

Willing my self-control to at least put in an appearance—to make some sort of effort not to outright stare at her—I sit on the concrete mantle that spans either side of the fire, leaning on my knees. Focus locked on my hands, I study the creases of my knuckles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” My voice is hard. But then, I don’t know any other way to be, especially not with someone soft and pretty and so fucking young. She’s got to be close in age to Kayce, and that puts her in her mid-twenties at the most.

That puts her firmly in the too-young category.

Inwardly, I cringe. What the hell was I thinking that first day I saw her at the gas station? She seemed so much older and easy to talk to, and I must have had fucking heat stroke or something for even considering asking this girl out.

Out of my periphery, I see how she twists her lips and shakes her head gently. “It’s nothing. Just my whole life exploding in front of my eyes.”

The fire cracks and pops to fill the silence.

“Why the rush to get out of town?” I’m still not entirely convinced it hasn’t got anything to do with the fact she’s dating, or has dated, my son.

“My new job starts tomorrow.” She takes another small sip of water. “I’ve got bills and things owing, and without sounding like the useless idiot you probably think I am… I promise I work really hard. Just seem to have shitty luck.”

“Like when your card declines at a gas station.” My eyes sweep over her and she’s got her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. It’s a quick look. One I allow myself under the guise of checking that she’s ok. Nothing more.

I’m allowed to look at a person in need of my help, aren’t I? This is me being dutiful and caring.

She lets out a resigned sigh. “Exactly like that.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re out here hunting for Kayce.” I can’t help but glance at her stomach again. She doesn’t look pregnant, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…

“He and I—” The girl stumbles over her words before trying again. “We had a joint account, and I needed to withdraw my savings to cover some unexpected bills, until my next paycheck. But if he’s not here and I can’t get hold of him, I don’t know what to do.”

My jaw works. I don’t buy it, but that’s none of my concern. There’s no telling what shit Kayce has got himself into, but I’m certainly not letting him screw this girl out of her hard-earned money. At least she’s got a job and a plan for her future, which is more than I can say for my own kid.

“How much do you need?”

Those green eyes of hers glimmer with tears. Fuck. It’s that bad.

“You don’t have to fix this for him.”

“Let me handle Kayce, and I’ll front you the amount until he’s able to get his ass back up here and make this right.”

“It’s over two thousand dollars.” She blurts out.

“Will a bank transfer do?”

“You can’t be serious?” This girl is looking at me like I’m a lion, and she’s just been asked to stick her hand inside my cage.

“Deadly serious. Consider it done, and if you want some free advice, don’t open a joint account with a useless prick like my son.”

Her eyes nearly hang out of her head.

“Noted.” She dips her chin while still gaping at me.

Cracking my knuckles, I figure it’s best to keep her talking. “What do you do for work?” What I’m expecting her to say is: admin, or office shit, or marketing, or something that townie girls like her seem to do. But her answer surprises me a little.

“I’m a vet. But I’m only in training.” The second part is tacked on hastily. Like she’s quick to point out a perceived flaw.

A vet student on her work placements.

While hearing that puts some parts of this story into context, it still doesn’t explain the panic attack. From what I understand, their apprenticeship programs can span a few years of part-time work, nothing to warrant a dive off the deep end about.

“It’s Layla, isn’t it?”

She nods.

“Help me out here, Layla. You gotta give me more than that. From where I’m sitting, there seems to be a lot of rushing and stress for something that shouldn’t be as serious as all that.”

She looks defeated. Slumping a little against the back of the armchair. “I need to graduate in August, so in order to do that I gotta complete my apprenticeship hours as fast as possible. If I don’t get to my new job with Shipton Stables by tomorrow, they’ll give my position away, which means not only kissing goodbye to the hours I need to complete, but a paycheck I can’t afford to miss.”

There are layers to what she’s saying, but I can sense how carefully guarded her walls are.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of rather obvious news, but you won’t be in Shipton by tomorrow.” My chin jerks towards the huge window overlooking the ranch. The vista is solid white beyond the triple-glazed glass pane.

Her brief moment of composure starts to crumble.

This job is clearly important to her. Or maybe the money is important, who knows, but I can’t deal with her losing her shit again tonight.

Fuck.

My mouth is moving before I can stop myself.

“What do you need to satisfy the requirements of your apprenticeship?” I scrub a hand over my jaw.

Her big green eyes, brimming with a sheen of tears, bounce up to meet mine. “Um, I need a placement where my hours are logged professionally. Working with a registered business for a minimum of eight weeks. I’ve already done all my bookwork by distance learning, so it’s anything that involves hands-on experience with stock, horses, farm animals…”

Eight weeks.

I turn over that piece of information.

There’s a part of my brain screaming at me, but I ignore it. Because I can’t for the life of me let this girl be fucked over by crappy circumstances and whatever else it is that she’s not willing to tell me, yet.

I’m trying to make amends with my shit-head of a son, and make up for the years when I should have been there for him, but couldn’t be, thanks to my own crap and his idiot of a mother. But if I can’t make any headway with him, the least I can do is try to help his maybe girlfriend out.

So, I do the worst thing imaginable, considering the way my cock is more than interested in the young woman sitting across from me.

I offer her a job.