Page 16 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

As the sun dips below the horizon, I finish up my work on the tractor. The engine purrs smoothly. Another job well done. I wipe my hands on a rag, surveying the quiet ranch around me.

I spot Krystal in the distance, walking towards the cabins. Her hips swing confidently, shoulders set with determination. I can’t help but watch her for a moment.

My body reacts, a warmth spreading through me that I instantly try to suppress. It’s ridiculous. I can barely talk to the woman without her biting my head off. Yet I find myself drawn to her, noticing things I shouldn’t.

Like the shape of her eyes, the fullness of her lips, and the roundness of her ass.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve observed her at work. She’s fair, just like Kelvin said. The way she divides up projects shows she knows her team’s strengths and weaknesses. It’s impressive, though I’d never admit it out loud.

She must have liked how I handled that first tractor repair. It’s been the bulk of my work for the last three weeks. I don’t mind. Working alone gives me time with my thoughts, away from the complications of interacting with others. Especially her.

As Krystal nears the edge of my vision, she turns back. Even from this distance, I feel the weight of her gaze. An urge to go to her rises in my chest, but I squash it down. There’s no point starting something I won’t finish. I’ve got enough complications in my life without adding Krystal to the mix.

Still, I can’t deny the pull I feel towards her. It’s more than just physical attraction. There’s something about her strength, her independence, that resonates with me. It reminds me of the women I served with in the military - tough, capable, no-nonsense.

But none can match her beauty.

I force my eyes away, focusing on the tractor engine in front of me. The familiar smell of oil and metal grounds me. This is why I’m here. To work.

But even as I try, I’m hyper-aware of her presence on the ranch. It’s like there’s an invisible thread connecting us, pulling taut whenever she’s near. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and it unnerves me.

I’ve always prided myself on my control, on keeping my emotions in check. It’s what made me a good soldier, a good leader. But around Krystal, that control slips. I find myself wanting to know more about her.

Her thoughts, her scent, her taste.

It’s dangerous territory. Getting close to someone means letting them see the real you, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. There’s too much I’m hiding, too much of my past that I’m not proud of. And then there’s the matter of my family, of the life I left behind in New York.

How could I ever explain that to someone like Krystal?

A billion-dollar company, an arranged marriage, and expectations that feel like an anchor roped around my body, tossed into the depths of the ocean. An abyss no one deserves, especially her.

I glance up one last time, but she’s gone. The tension in my body eases slightly, but the awareness of her lingers. Then I notice Kelvin heading in my direction.

“Hey, Shane. What’s your status?”

I glance down at my work area. “I’ve checked my boxes for the day. Did KD add another to my list?”

Kelvin shakes his head with a smile. “Nah, man. The opposite. We’re done for the week.”

“Sounds good. Hand me that wrench, will you?”

He passes it over, and leans closer checking my progress. “Think we’ll get her running in time?”

I nod, tightening a loose bolt. “We have to. Can’t afford any breakdowns once the harvest starts.”

The urgency of the situation isn’t lost on me. Silver Creek Ranch’s survival hinges on the next few weeks. The cattle roundup and harvest season are make-or-break times for ranches like this. One bad year can spell disaster.

I’ve been here long enough to understand the rhythm of ranch life, but the stakes still surprise me. In New York, a bad quarter meant angry shareholders. Here, it could mean the difference between keeping the lights on or shutting down completely.

My hands move methodically over the machinery, checking connections and replacing worn parts. It’s precise work, not unlike field-stripping a rifle. The familiarity of the task is oddly comforting.

“How’re we looking on the other equipment?” I ask Tom, not looking up from my work.

“Tractors are good to go. Still need to check the balers.”

I nod, making a mental note. There’s always more to do. I wonder if Krystal will add those to my list next week.

In the distance, I hear the low rumble of cattle being herded towards the corrals. The sounds of shouting and whistling carry on the wind.

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