Page 17 of Hard To Fall
The skyover Hearts Bend turns mean fast. It seems to be a trend around these parts between the men and the weather. I was almost getting through to him. I knew Colt had a rough time at the doctor. I’m sure the doctor told him exact words I’ve heard before, too. And I know how I felt after hearing it, so I knew, for Colt, it would be that much worse. We were breaking down a wall, and I even thought he was going to kiss me.
I would have let him.
It most likely would have ended up badly. I’m working here, not staying, and he doesn’t even want me here to begin with.
Instead, I’ve been ignoring him for the last two days while I sit in the office and try to make heads or tails of the financials, all while establishing a new system for the Callahans.
One minute, it’s just wind, hot and dry, kicking up dust against the window like the arena is alive, and the next, the clouds roll in low, swallowing the last bit of sunset.
West Texas doesn’t do polite; it barely does warnings.
So when Will sticks his head in and asks if I’ve ever moved cattle in a storm, I tell him I'm his girl.
Standing and shifting all my papers into one pile, I say, “Is this your way of inviting me on a date?”
He chuckles. “Not unless you like mud and being yelled at.”
“Depends who’s yelling,” I say deadpan.
He grins. “We’ve got a gate down on the east field. If we don’t get those heifers pushed back before the rain hits, they’ll scatter, and we’ll be chasing them all night.”
“Okay,” I say, already standing. “Point me in the right direction.”
Will looks relieved and motions toward the back. “Colt’s out there.”
“And that answers my question on who’s doing the yelling.”
“Just yell back, you’ll be fine,” Will says as he jumps in his truck and takes off to the northeast side.
I run up the field and find Colt near the pens with a flashlight in one hand and a length of chain in the other, shoulders tense like he’s personally fighting this incoming weather. He sees me, and his expression immediately sours.
“Thought you had some sponsorships to win back,” he says.
I smile sweetly. “All handled. Now I’m here to play with the big boys.”
His gaze lingers on me. “Hope you can keep up.”
“For eight seconds? That’s what they all say.”
He snorts like he hates that I’m here. But he doesn’t tell me to leave, so that’s progress.
Will pulls up and points toward the east fence line. “Gate’s hinge is busted. We gotta get it closed and push the cattle in before the sky opens up.”
Colt swings his flashlight toward me. “You know what you’re doing?”
I raise a brow. “You want the resume version or the ‘I grew up doing this’ version?” He stares at me, so I add, “I grew up ranching and can swear creatively. I’ll be fine.”
“Atta girl,” Will laughs, and Colt turns away, but not before I see his lip twitch like he wants to join in.
His dad rides ahead, and we follow before dumping the truck a little bit away from where the gate is and head out across the field on foot. The grass is flattened in places from hooves and trucks, and the air smells like rain. A gust of wind, cooler than normal, whips my ponytail around, and Colt’s hand shoots out automatically, catching my elbow when I step wrong in a rut. He holds his grip on my arm until I’m steady, and only then does he let go. His fingers are callused and leave a sizzle feeling on my skin.
“Careful,” he mutters.
“Did you just,” I glance at him, “worry about me?”
He releases me instantly. “Don’t get cocky.”
I grin as we get to the gate and see that the hinge is half-snapped. Colt crouches with the chain. “Hold the light.”
