“Just let me drive you home, Niamh. It’s dark, and it’s late. You’re tired. It’s been a busy night, I can see it all over you. Just let me drive you home.”
An exhausted breath slips from her lips. “Alright.”
With both of us working, it doesn’t take too long to get the bar into a more manageable state, and then I’m walking her to the door. The night air has taken on a chill; the skies clear with the shadows of the mountains looming over the town. Taking the keys from her, I lock up the bar and then, with a hand on the small of her back, guide her past her truck parked at the sidewalk and to mine across the street. Her eyes are sleepy as she settles into the passenger seat, and I’ve barely got the engine running and the heating on when she passes out, her head leaning against the door.
It hardly looks comfortable, but she doesn’t stir once on the short drive home or when I shut off the engine. Her soft face and slightly parted lips show the peace she’s found in sleep, the tension she carries gone as her chest gently rises and falls. I have a feeling this woman never truly stops. Early mornings and late nights and I can relate to that, but I also know the exhaustion that comes with it. The bone-deep fatigue that weighs down every step.
Gently, I pull her away from the door and then climb out, making sure I don’t slam my door before I head around the hood and open her side. She mumbles something and then rolls her head away, attempting to curl up. Keeping my moves slow and soft, I unbuckle her seat belt and tuck my arms under her, gentle as I slide her out of the car and hold her against my body. I freeze, my skin prickling, when she nuzzles into my neck, her warm breath whispering against my skin.
I feel my arms tighten around her, using my body to keep her warm and make my way to the house. Sincethis place is so far out and there are people always working, even through the night, I leave the place unlocked, which makes it easy to get inside. I know this place like the back of my hand, can navigate it blindfolded so I don’t bother with the lights as I walk us through the house and up the stairs, knowing exactly where to step and which planks of wood squeak on the way. Niamh doesn’t wake once, not even when I get to her bedroom and push through the door.
Her scent wraps around me, that floral, wildflower smell so strong inside here I wonder if I’ll ever get it out of the walls when she eventually leaves this place. She’s tidy, her clothes folded neatly on the vanity unit instead of in the wardrobe.
I lay her down on the mattress, watching as she curls onto her side and snuggles into the pillows. For a moment, I watch her, taking in the way her dark hair spreads across the sheets, the color seeming darker against the white. Her lashes rest on the apples of her cheeks, fluttering every few seconds in her sleep.
With a sigh, I reach for the boots on her feet and slip them off, but that’s as far as I go. She may have stripped in front of me earlier, but that doesn’t mean I have her consent to take off her clothes now.
The door clicks closed as I leave and head straight through to my own bedroom, lowering to sit on the edge of my bed.
I hadn’t planned on going to the bar tonight. After this morning, I’d planned on staying far,faraway from Niamh Calloway. So, I worked until my clothes were wet with sweat and my hands were blistered, but at the back of my head, I kept seeing her. The way she looked in the morning sunlight, how the rays had kissed her skin and the water rolled over her curves and how herface crumbled when she realized that the kitten was sick.
It’s dangerous.
This is meant to be a contract. I shouldn’t be remembering all the small details of her face or how the sun highlights red tints in her hair. If I’m doing all this now, how the hell am I meant to survive a year?
Yet as the day bled into night and the ranch fell quiet, the itch under my skin grew and I had found myself in my truck, on the way to her.
I hadn’t expected a knee to the dick though; that shit still hurts several hours later.
Pulling the hat from my head, I toss it onto the chair beside the bed and then groan as I stand, body still stiff from a day’s work on the ranch. No matter how long I’ve done this, some days are harder than others. There’s still a shit ton to do, with it being calving season and several of my heifers being due any day now, there isn’t a minute to spare and not enough hours in the day to get it done. We have most of them set up in the calving barn, but we still have another one to get ready for the rest of the cattle that are due in the next month.
It’ll be another busy day tomorrow, plus we have more horses coming in for training with Silas and his team.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I strip out of my clothes and head through to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. My reflection stares back at me, deep shadows under my eyes.
Despite it all, she’s still standing front and center. Niamh Calloway, my fake wife. I should not be fantasizing about a future that will never exist. With a shake ofmy head, I splash water against my face, running through the evening.
I thought you were someone else.
The words had caught my attention, red flags waving in warning.
Was there someone there tonight she felt the need to defend herself from? It’s a bar; it was busy, and I doubt she’s never run into trouble before, but it’s like I am missing something. I’d searched the bar, but nothing had stood out to me.
When I got up this morning, Niamh was still sleeping.
Now it’s past ten, the sun is beating down against my back as I shift bales, stocking them up beside the calving barn, and she still isn’t awake. Part of me wants to go check on her, make sure she’s okay, but I also know she could use the rest, so I ignore the instinct and continue with my work.
Any day now, the first calf will be born, which always adds a new level of pressure to our daily workload. Tourists will start coming in to attend the riding school we put on through late spring and Summer and our training facilities will get booked out, leaving little time to do much of anything else.
While February through to October are the busiest months, they’re my favorite. I don’t have time to think, don’t have time to stew on the past, the unanswered questions, or the ranch that sits on the plot across the road. None of it matters.
I won’t have time to fantasize about my new wife either, and even less time to follow her down to the falls to watch her swim. I should see it as a blessing.
As if the thoughts alone have conjured her, she steps out of the house, her long dark hair braided and pulled across her shoulder. She looks rested, bright, softer as she walks toward me.
“Morning,” Her eyes dip low, and her throat works on a swallow as she begins to fiddle with her ring, and I may just stand a little taller since it’s my body she’s checking out.
“You slept,” I state.
