Jay scratched under his ballcap where his floppy mop of hair lay wet and sweaty against his forehead. He'd helped me haul water to the chicken coop this morning, and that pretty much took the wind out of our sails for the rest of the day. "I can try."
"Thanks. If you do that, I'll take care of chores tomorrow before I leave to take care of my patients." I swept one last look around my barn, and noting that several of the animals were drinking from their troughs, I allowed some relief to tugdown my shoulders. It was stressful enough to keep up with my veterinary visits to other farms and ranches without this water line shit, too. I had to work to help pay the bills on my ranch, but if I was working, Jay had a hard time keeping up with it all on his own. And I sure as shit couldn't afford another hand. Not unless I found some really decent donors.
Which I couldn't do because I didn't have time.
If I'd known what kind of deep shit this ranch would get me into—I paused that train of thought. It had been on the brink of closing when I'd bought it, and there were no other rescue operations in the area. Who was I kidding? I wouldn't have let it fail. And I couldn't let it close its doors now, either.
I gathered my worn canvas jacket closer to my body, shut off the lights in the barn, and headed back into the biting cold. As I followed the shoveled path back to my house, I shivered, glancing at where the water truck had been a few minutes before.
The landscape stretched out before me, frozen and blue in the darkness, and I took a moment to breathe in the pristine beauty of it. Winter in the Wasatch Mountains was barren in many ways, but taking in the towering mountains, glittering lights along the hills, and smooth, snow-bedded land, I couldn't help but let the vista steal my breath. No other place on earth could inspire fear and gratitude in my heart like this place could.
But if I wanted to stay here, if I wanted to save what I had spent years building, I had to make changes. I couldn't keep reacting every time something went wrong. I couldn't catch rainfall and drag buckets of water from my house to thirty chickens every morning without figuring out how my own ranch worked. I understood water rights on a basic level, but clearly, something was wrong here. I needed to hire someone to investigate.
The issue was, I didn't own my own fucking ranch. Spencer did.
Just thinking his name had my blood warming up. I couldn't let his name pass over my brain without my body reacting. Every time I thought about my legal husband, my heart jumped up in speed and my core warmed without my consent. I remembered his lips on my skin, his whispered, dirty taunts, and the secure way his hands had held my wrists above my head. I remembered the way he felt sliding in and out of me until I shattered into fractals of pleasure…
I shook my head, burying my face in my scarf. "Don't think about him," I chided. A violent cough overtook me as I climbed my porch steps, and I staggered against the white-washed post at the top. The same bruise I'd made earlier against the barn sent an electric shock of pain down my arm, and I cried out, falling to my knees. Breathing hard, I let my forehead fall to the porch.
This. Sucked. Thisreallyfucking sucked. I was tough as nails, but lately, everything had felt like too much to bear. It was heavy, and I couldn't breathe as a result.
I had to do something. Even if it meant callinghim. Even if it meant introducing the tornado that was Spencer into my life, I had totry. I couldn't put it off anymore. If I wanted things to improve, then I had to get the ranch in my name, find out where the water was going, and get funds for more ranch hands. It was the only way to get this place running smoothly and give me room to breathe again.
With shaking fingers, I forced myself to my feet and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was a struggle to navigate it with my gloves on, so I ripped them off, opened my front door, and staggered inside. Closing the door, I slid to the floor and tapped his name.
And I tried to ignore how my heart trilled at the prospect of hearing his voice.
Chapter thirteen
Spencer
Frost:
Hey, losers. Get out and come to my party. 8 at Swizzle. Theme is candy canes.
Reed:
PM?? That's my bedtime.
Frost:
You aren't even a tired old dad yet. How.
Rook:
I'm almost a dad. That's too late for me.
Frost:
Wait, what?
Reed:
WAIT WHAT. Does my wife know this?
Wells:
Is this a party or an orgy? I feel I need to clarify.
