Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)

It’s pitch black outside and deathly quiet.

The house feels like it resents my presence just as much as its owner does.

Somehow, I fell into a fitful sleep last night surrounded by eerie howls of wind and floorboards creaking like the hull of a ship. Eventually waking up to nothing but silence and my phone screen proclaiming the time.

Four thirty a.m.

Rather than engage in any more futile attempts at sleep, I figured it was better to find some coffee and get my head around the day to come. Quietly getting myself dressed in yesterday’s jeans and sweater, before I splashed some cold water on my face, and made my way to the kitchen with only the hallway sensor lights casting a dim glow to see by.

Right now, I’m waiting in the dark for coffee to brew after trying to rummage around a stranger’s kitchen in order to find things without making a peep. I’ve found a spot to stand in where the Wi-Fi seems to be strongest, sending Sage a quick explanation of the chaos my life has become over the course of the past twenty-four hours. Bless her heart because she had replied to my voicemail last night, letting me know that she was going to see Aunt Evie today to check on her for me.

She’s also insisting on sending me every cowboy-related meme she can find.

At least one of us finds this situation humorous.

Meanwhile, I find it impossible to explain anything about the man who has so kindly taken me in and offered me work. So… I just… don’t.

For about the fiftieth time, I reopen my banking app and see that the money Kayce’s father transferred last night has successfully been paid to the finance company.

Holy fucking shit. I honestly still can’t believe how he just took care of it, without question. Even if it does leave me squirming a little that I didn’t exactly tell him the truth, but then again, I don’t need him fighting my battles with Kayce. As much as I’m still furious with the guy, there’s no need to spoil his relationship with his dad any further.

The stupid mistakes I made with my ex are most definitely not his father’s problem.

It’s only a few minutes before I hear heavy footfall approaching and the overhead lights above the kitchen island flick on. The next moment, Colton Wilder wanders in, with messy hair and eyes still fogged by sleep. Only, he doesn’t have a shirt on, and all I see is a broad chest and his jeans with belt undone at the buckle.

“Shit. Sorry.” He takes me in, looking a little stunned to see anyone standing in his kitchen, and ducks into the laundry area just off the hallway. As he re-emerges, he’s busy buttoning a flannel shirt, before rolling the cuffs to hit midway up his forearms. “I wasn’t expecting—” He stops abruptly and shakes his head. Not bothering to finish explaining his half-naked appearance, while I’m busy trying to look anywhere but the direction of his belt still hanging loose at his groin.

For some reason, that sight is winding a curl of heat low in my belly that has absolutely no right to be there.

This is my ex’s dad I’m staring at, as if I’ve never seen a man before.

It’s not even five in the morning.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Hearing the coffee stop running, I quickly grab the pot to pour into a mug from one of the cupboards. Sliding the cup across the counter to him, I figure he looks like a black coffee kind of cowboy.

“Here.” As I look up, I catch a glimpse of his veined hands threading the leather through his buckle and I’m glad for how soft the lighting is in here because my cheeks heat. I’m managing to make this all sexual and shit, while the poor man is simply trying to get dressed. After saving my ass last night and offering me a temporary job, the least I could do is act appropriately.

Christ, if he’s Kayce’s dad, then that means he’s old enough to be my father.

Although, this cowboy looks far younger than his years.

No. Nope. Stop it right now.

He accepts my offering, but as he raises the mug to his lips, he pauses before taking a sip, looking at me over the top with wariness in his expression. “You didn’t spit in this or something, did you? That’s the kind of thing Kayce would do when he’s had enough of my shit.”

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, shaking my head as I turn and reach up on tiptoes to grab another mug. Putting all my focus into pouring my own.

“No. Just coffee… I don’t really know how else to say thank you for everything yesterday, Mr. Wilder.” Considering I have no money, a busted car, and no way of getting out of here—oh, and add that to the fact he somehow got me through hyperventilating and feeling like I was on the cliff’s edge of losing my mind. There are about a thousand things I want to say, but I don’t know where to start, and honestly, his sternness and broodiness is kind of intimidating. He’s impossible to read and I don’t know how he’ll be now that we’ve both had a night to sleep on the events of yesterday.

Will he want me gone? I’d barely been here two seconds before he accused me of getting knocked up and coming searching for Kayce like some kind of gold-digging hussy. I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for how crude he was about the whole thing. But then he solved my financial crises on behalf of his son, and talked me down off the ledge of the worst panic attack I’ve ever experienced, so right now, I’m all at sea with this man.

Like I said, I don’t know what to expect once dawn breaks over Devil’s Peak.

“Christ, call me Colt… none of that Mr. Wilder shit. And don’t mention it.” Sipping his coffee, a long silence hangs in the kitchen while I secretly squirrel away the preening feeling that comes with being asked to call him Colt.

Not Colton.

Not Mr. Wilder.

Just, Colt.

It’s such a ruggedly sexy name, and my knees go a little weak. He’s doing all sorts of wonderful things to my body simply by standing in his kitchen nonchalantly sipping coffee at four in the morning.

Colt is intensely attractive, without seeming to know it.

“If I was a bit rude…” He juts his chin in the direction of my belly, and my already warm cheeks start to flame. One hand reaches for the hem of my sweater on reflex, tugging it down to make sure it covers my high-waisted jeans. Ok, at least he realizes he was an asshole about it, even if his apology skills could use some serious work.

As we stand across the large wooden island from each other, I feel the words bubbling up. Whether I stay here or not is still to be determined, but I can’t have him thinking things about me that aren’t even remotely true.

Plus, I’m already doubting he’s actually serious about any of this.

“Can I be very clear about something? I’m not pregnant and Kayce and I have been over for—well, it was never anything serious.” I set my mug down on the counter and twist my hands in front of me. I hate confrontation and this feels like I’m being the worst kind of imposition. “Look, I understand completely if you’ve changed your mind—”

“You said you are a worker, didn’t you?” He cuts me off and gives me a hard stare. Challenging me in the gray light of this kitchen that now feels about ten times smaller than it did a minute ago.

“Well, yes.”

“As of right now, that’s what I need. A worker. My son isn’t exactly reliable around the place—but I suspect you’ve seen enough of that yourself to know what I mean—and I won’t be able to get in any new help on short notice between the road shutting again and being this close to the start of the year.”

I shift on my feet. Somehow I still feel like he’s doing me a favor, and we haven’t even talked about money, and I just don’t know if this is a good idea.

Especially considering the way I can’t stop staring at his scruffy jaw, or the honeyed tint to his eyes, or barely restraining myself from watching the corded muscles flex in his forearm as he lifts his coffee to his lips.

“But, I couldn’t take your money and also take up space in your home.” It’s too much. What he’s suggesting seems like way more of an imposition on him.

“You said eight weeks, didn’t you?”

I nod. “That’s the minimum time for a placement to count, in order for my supervisor to sign me off.”

“In my book, that’s nothing. I’ve had a busted nose that lasted longer.”

“Just—” God, I don’t know how to explain this to him. I desperately need money, and I need to get certified, but I also usually work extra bar shifts to pay for Evaline’s care.

“Spit it out.” He’s got that impatience flaring again. I suspect this man doesn’t have a very long fuse, and for a moment, the girl from the cafe’s warning comes back to my mind.

You’re a bit young for him, ain’t you?

I hastily swallow a big gulp of coffee.

If the beasts up there don’t eat you, the wildlife might.

Oh, shit. What if Kayce and him don’t have a good relationship because he was abusive? What if this guy is a sadist or likes to prey on women who wander up this mountain all alone?

I already know he can gut a deer and carry a carcass across his shoulders like it weighs nothing.

There are a million places to bury a body up here.

Maybe I’ve made a horrible decision and should take him up on the offer of riding one of the horses down to Crimson Ridge instead. Who knows when Kayce will get back, and in the meantime, it will just be me all alone up here with…

He sets his coffee down with a thud, a suddenness which makes me jump. Spreading both hands wide on the counter, he fixes me with a gaze that could strip paint.

“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.”

God. This man is like riding a bronco. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on his mood, he flips on you.

“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.”

He’s quiet, and between the silence filling this kitchen and the way he’s studying me, I’m feeling wholly unnerved.

“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.”

I’m blinking at him like an owl. He moves around to my side of the counter and scoops both our mugs up, tipping the dregs into the sink before sliding them into the dishwasher.

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.

But even though I spend most of the day biting my tongue, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with the beauty of this place. The air is crisp and biting, with a thick layer of soft snow covering the ranch several feet deep in places.

I’m guessing there are more tasks to do today than usual, with the snowfall overnight, including things like shoveling the yard, salting it, and clearing pathways between the house and the stables.

The horses need fed and watered and 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.

From what I understand, I’ll be spending a lot of time here looking after the twenty or so horses. They’re the lifeblood of the ranch. Providing transport to the places up here that vehicles can’t reach, along with herding cattle. Some are mostly used when tourists come during summer to go on treks and trail rides around the property. Apparently, that is what occupies a big portion of Colt’s time over the warmer months.

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

I honestly can’t stop grinning to myself like I’ve won the lottery. If I’m getting my vet training hours ticked off, and I’m getting paid the equivalent of what I’d earn serving drinks in a scummy strip joint at one in the morning, I’ll happily shovel manure all night long.

Sweat clings to my lower back beneath the multiple layers safeguarding me against the cold. Shirt, sweater, heavy jacket, the thickest and warmest items I own bundle me up to keep toasty while working outside. 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. Their fluffy ear tips are speckled with white flakes, and a few of them let out bellows, looking mighty interested in what we have to offer.

They’ve got snow piled on top of their thick coats, a great sign that this herd is in optimal condition.

“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.

I lean on the wooden rail, with clouds of white forming on each breath, as he feeds out the stock in a wide arc until the bale has been distributed across the snow. The hay is still tinged with green on the inside and creates a stark contrast against the thick coat of white covering their paddock. The animals dig in quickly, enjoying having something to eat until a time when there’s enough snow melt for their grazing pasture to be exposed once more.

The sight of Devil’s Peak sits prominent in the backdrop and as I take a deep inhale through my nose, for just a moment I feel like this might actually work out ok.

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.”

I’m standing beside the cab with one hand on the door handle, stunned at his outburst.

Now I’m the puppy who’s just been spanked and has no idea what for.

With my heart in the back of my throat, I make my way on numb feet over to the gate. Something as simple as being told off about a latch shouldn’t make me embarrassed, because I’ve been on plenty of rural properties. I know the basics and I’m not stupid. It’s ranch-life and livestock 101. Always shut a gate behind you kind of common sense.

I reach the offending gate and see that he’s right, of course the grumpy prick is. 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.

Once I’ve triple-checked the damn thing, I stomp my way back to the idling truck, doing my best to rein in my desire to breathe fire all over the insanely hot, brooding cowboy behind the wheel. I need to focus on being a good worker and keep my eyes on the task at hand.

Job. Money. Apprenticeship hours.

My threesome of needs that this man is so generously providing.

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.