Releasing a heavy breath, Colette shook her head, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Something suspicious was going on. Her instincts hadn’t been wrong, despite all Marshall’s reassurances.
First, someone was rooting around in Marshall’s office.
A few minutes later, the gate holding in this herd of cattle had been tampered with. She was no expert, but the lock looked like it had been cut.
Separately, these events could be brushed off.
Together, they added up to someone trying to sabotage Rosebud Ranch.
Colette just had to figure out why they were doing this.
And how far they would go to harm the King family.
CHAPTER 14
Here we go again.
Marshall walked the familiar path, exhausted. He crammed dinner in his mouth as quickly as he could upon his return home. Colette wanted a meeting. After one of the guys filled him in about the herd of cattle almost escaping, he was gobsmacked at hearing how she was the one to contain the cattle. And that somehow, Hank had played the hero. The dog enjoyed special slices of beef with his usual kibble as a treat that night.
If only he could figure out how to thank Colette that simply. She was here to do a job and somehow had been roped into herd management. Marshall still didn’t believe it.
Dr. Moore had reassured him that the herd was healthy. No cow had gone lame, which was one of their primary concerns. Quite a few of his cows were pregnant too, a harbinger of a good return on recent investments.
Investments that would go to waste if someone was tampering with gates and fences on the ranch. The first few times, it seemed like just regular maintenance. But he had studied the gate Colette had secured with her belt. He originally scoffed at the idea of someone tampering with the chain. Whenhis ranch hand, Chip, had shown him the damage, it was impossible to deny it. It wasn’t regular wear that made the chain break. They never used that gate, so the fact that it opened at all was mystifying. That old chain and lock had held the gate closed for ages. There was no denying it had been cut. The cut marks painted a damning picture.
Sabotage.
Colette was right. Someone was screwing around with operations at Rosebud Ranch, and he had no idea why. It was time he paid more attention to her warnings and tonight, he was going to tell her so. Marshall had no problem admitting he was wrong.
Huffing, he braced himself, ready to be kind and careful with Colette. She had endured a difficult day. Marshall would keep things light, have her repeat the story, since he didn’t even believe it fully yet. He would thank her for her service and hope to prevent her from packing up and returning to the city.
She had good reason to leave already.
Marshall would keep his heated gazes to himself, keep things professional and distant. Have a quick beer and a reassuring visit. She had been through a lot.
There would be no staring at her lips. Or ogling her clothing.
Absolutely none.
Not that he had done a great job of that during their horseback ride, but this time, he would really try.
He would ignore that she scrambled his brain, and how his words came out jumbled. Those captivating lips, the way her skirts and her jeans… He had almost forgotten about the jeans… How they hugged the curve of her hips, hiding what he imagined were legs he would love to wrap around his waist. All these things should and would be ignored in favor of a calm, dignified interaction.
Here we go again.
Clearing his throat, he walked up to the house, doing his best to clear his thoughts. Thoughts that reminded him again that he had been without a woman much too long. It was time for a fun night out with his buddy Evan Thomson. Evan would help him get over his hang-ups. No one played the field better than him. Marshall’s body and his mind were acting out. More distracted. His gaze drifted by the window as he walked up to her front step.
He was instantly justified in the warnings he had given her.
Thiswas exactly what he had cautioned about. Any creep could just casually walk up to her window and get an eyeful. His mouth dropped open as she slid the spatula beneath whatever she had baked and deposited it on a rack nearby.
Fuck.
Colette was baking cookies. Good thing he had stumbled upon her and not one of the other guys. His cousin Lachlan and the ranch hands were going out for drinks tonight. Watching her move to her loud music as she scooped the cookie dough, shoulders wiggling and that ass… That gorgeous round ass swaying behind the kitchen island, where it was just out of his sight line. And of course, she had another pair of pajamas, this time they were light pink and covered in roses. His mouth went dry. Unbelievable.
Marshall raised his eyes to the heavens, begging for strength. She was pure temptation. Her presence was stoking some part of him to life and though he resisted, it was pure torture. Ten years ago, if he had met Colette at a party, he would have had his way with her. That’s for damn sure. At the time, no woman could resist him, the star athlete. He made zero effort to resist them, either. But the hookup culture he had gotten used to left him feeling rather empty…and alone, once he wasn’t such a hotshot anymore. Rather than always having his arm wrapped around the waist of a beautiful woman, he was convincing himself to getout of bed each morning. Did any of those partners stick around? Hell, no.
He had hurt himself by not putting any effort into building a connection that was real. Not that any woman would have stuck by his grumpy ass during his recovery. He had been a miserable person to be around. Watching his athletic build go soft with his inability to walk well. To go from training seven days a week, to gritting his teeth in pain walking to the kitchen fridge. His family had helped him pull through by supporting him and at times—he gave Mumsy, his grandmother, full credit for this—telling him to get on with his life. How had she said it? Ah, yes, his melancholy was dreadfully boring. No one wanted to marry a wastrel.
