Maybe my infatuation with the pretty, dark-haired secretary is just because I’m so lonely. Tugging gently on the reins, I ride along the fence line, looking for anything that needs repairing. I know there isn’t so much as a single nail out of place.
I’ve ridden this fence line yesterday, too, and the day before that, looking for anything and everything to keep me so busy that I couldn’t even imagine thinking of her…
I’ve failed.
I’ve thought of Lola-Mae every minute of every day I’ve been awake this week, and if I had to guess, I’ve thought about her while I slept, too.
I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t even know anything about her, and I’m too shy to ask. I bite the inside of my cheek and roll the skin back and forth as I continue to ride. I’ve got some shit I need to do today, and I need to focus on that.
I don’t need to think about Lola-Mae…
Except she’s all I can think about.
Shifting my focus to my task at hand, I take in the animals. The cattle look good. They’re all accounted for with plenty of food and water. Now I just need to head out to the gate I’ve been working on and get it finished.
When my grandpa was alive, this part of the property was just for the old barn and storage of large equipment. I tore the barn down about five years ago and have spent time grading and evening out the land, then planting grass for the cattle.
Now it’s time to get the gates operational so the cattle can roam here and give the other parts of the grass and soil a break to regrow.
And at least it will keep me busy for a while, so I don’t go after Lola-Mae.
Chapter Four
HARLAN
Standing at Lola-Mae’s desk,I look around, unsure of what to do. In just a week, she’s gotten this place up and running better than I ever could have imagined. I daresay she’s running it better than my mother.
It’s Saturday morning, and I thought about asking her if she wanted to go to breakfast, but it feels weird. Everything does—or maybe it’s me who feels weird. I would venture to guess it’s me.
But weird or shy, whatever the case may be, I can’t just do nothing. I also can’t just put myself out there. So instead, I grab a lime-green sticky notepad, the same one I wrote my cell number on at the beginning of the week.
Taking the pen out of the holder, I lean over, place my opposite palm on the warm wooden surface, and I begin to write… and draw.
I draw a stick figure with a cowboy hat. It looks like shit, but it’s what I’ve got going on right now. And the note—it’s a scribble—written in what I commonly call my personal chicken scratch.
Seeing you through the window makes me ache to press you against the glass.
-Cowboy
It’s the most daring thing I’ve ever actually written on paper. I start to pull it off the notepad to throw away. What a stupid idea. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out, looking down at the screen.
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I touch the speaker icon. “Cooper,” I bark.
He chuckles, though I’m not sure why. Turning away from the desk, I begin to pace in the office.
“I’m sitting here at the Yellow Rose, and a pretty little thing just walked in. Long dark hair, short, curves. Overheard her say that she’s working down at your place. And I thought to myself, no way did grumpy-as-fuck Harlan Blackmoore hire this sexy little thing to not only work in his office, but to live just a few yards from him.”
“She’s just my secretary,” I grind out. “I didn’t know what she looked like when I hired her.”
Unable to stay in the office, I let my feet carry me outside and toward the barn. I need to ride. Just knowing that this asshole is watching her, looking at her… seeing her. But I can’t say anything.
What if she wants his eyes on her?
If she does, then there’s nothing I could ever do to shift that sensation. I’m not a man who knows much about relationships. Who knows much about women in general.
I can’t imagine what I could offer her that Beckett Cooper can’t. He’s got three brothers and a ranch double the size of mine. He’s also not a recluse who prefers the company of his cattle over people.
LOLA-MAE
