Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
I continue to chitchat in an attempt to avoid thinking my salacious thoughts. “It’ll be cozy in here, out of the elements. And I can check on you while I do my chores. I think you should try and rest a little.”
“Yes ma’am.” I grab the other blanket from the back of the barn and put it under his head to serve as a crude pillow to make his nap spot as comfortable as possible.
“Thank you again, ma’am. I do appreciate it.” He closes his eyes, starting to drift off.
“Darcy.”
He opens his eyes again.
“Ma’am?”
I smile gently.
“Ma’am is my mother. I’m just Darcy. Darcy Fields.”
He smiles at me. “Darcy then. That’s a pretty name,” he mutters before drifting off into a restless slumber.
Meanwhile, I gather up the dirty plates from the bench as quietly as possible and start to ease out of the barn. But I can’t help myself and stop at the door to take one last look at the man resting so easily on the hay. His broad chest rises and falls with steady breaths. His body, though currently relaxed, is the kind of body that could readily hurt or protect, strong and masculine. I shudder slightly at his raw power.
I wonder which one he’ll be to me. Someone who will hurt me or someone who’ll protect me?
I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts and slip silently out, closing the door on the mysterious cowboy now resident in my barn.
2
RANGER
Judging from the angle of the sun seeping through the partially closed barn door, I think it’s around seven o’clock in the evening. Outside, the cicadas have started to pick up, their noisy chirps echoing across the fields. Not far from where I’m resting, I can hear the cow munching on her evening oats, a sound that makes my own stomach growl in hunger.
You slept for about six hours, big guy. No wonder I’m starving.
Wincing, I sit up, bits of straw poking through the scratchy horse blanket. It’d been sweet what Darcy had done, making me this little bed, but floor sleeping makes for even more aches sometimes. I start to stretch but wince. Every muscle in my body hurts and it’s hard to say if it’s from the accident, the floor, or my wound.
Alright, let’s assess the damage.
I pull off the blanket wrapped around my hips in order to get a better look at the gash on my thigh. Carefully so as not to pull skin, I unravel the soft cloth that covers it. The cut stings a little but otherwise looks clean. There doesn’t seem to be any infection, since Darcy’s shirt seems to have protected it from most dirt and grime.
Damn fool. I berate myself over the accident.
It was true what I said about getting bucked off my horse. How embarrassing, especially since the damn stallion had just been broken in, too.
It was probably a mistake to ride him then. I shake my head at my own stupidity. I never should have let my brothers break him in because those fools never know what they’re doing.
Cocky bastard that I am, I thought the horse would be steady enough to ride, given that it was just a short journey we needed to make. But when that first bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, I knew I was done for. The thunder that followed scared the damn stallion like there was no tomorrow, and it reared up in terror. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my ass and all cut up, having landed in some kind of wood chippings. One of the large bits tore right through my jeans and I could fill the slivers of woods working their way under my skin.
At the sound of another boom of thunder, the damn horse was gone. Horse or no horse, I know better than to be caught in the open in one of these western squalls.
Stumbling through rain, I managed to make my way past a field and to the barn. In the darkness and blinded as I was by the torrential downpour, the cow near scared me to death when I first got inside. But as the night progressed, the old heifer brought me some comfort, because her presence meant that someone would be out early to milk her.
I push myself to sit up a little further, thanking God above that at least, for all the shitty things that had happened last night, my brothers hadn’t been here to witness my embarrassing lack of riding skills or my freak-out over a bovine.
Those idiots would have howled like hyenas if they had seen that stallion buck me.
I shake my head slowly as I think about my three brothers. Sometimes they call me ‘Slick’ as an insult, referring to fact that I’d gotten the hell out of dodge and went to live in the city for some time. My dad always said it was adolescent jealousy and nothing more, based on the fact that he had entrusted me with the corporate side of our business. I try to laugh it off like he does, but the truth is I don’t completely trust my siblings, which is why I’m sitting in this barn, cut up and in a pickle.