Page 1 of Hard Bred

1

BRADY

Gravel crunches under my boots as I step out of the old wooden barn, its weathered boards creaking behind me as the door swings shut. The warm summer evening has settled over my ranch, the air heavy with the scents of hay, horses, and sun-kissed earth.

Even after all these years, this view gets me every time.

For a moment, I allow myself to bask in the satisfaction of a day’s hard work. The land stretches out before me, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Horses graze contentedly in the distance, their tails swishing lazily at flies. The air is alive with the chirping of crickets and the far-off cry of a hawk. Everything is as it should be—peaceful, orderly, under control.

Then I see her, and my gut clenches.

Claire is kneeling by that damn flower bed she insisted on planting months ago, her hands buried in the dark, rich soil as she tugs at weeds. The evening light catches in her braided hair, turning the loose strands into a golden halo. There’s somethingalmost angelic about the way she looks, even though she’s up to her elbows in dirt.

She should’ve gone home an hour ago. Irritation prickles under my skin, but as I watch her work, something else stirs too.

It’s a hot and hungry feeling that I don’t want to name.

She’s humming softly to herself, lost in her task. The melody drifts across the yard, mingling with the evening birdsong. It’s a song I vaguely recognize—but on Claire’s lips, it becomes something else entirely.

Something that speaks of sweetness and possibility and all the things I tell myself I don’t need anymore.

Despite myself, I feel a familiar pull toward her. My feet want to carry me closer, drawn by an urge I can’t seem to shake. I clench my jaw and my fists, fighting it. But it’s impossible to tear my eyes away.

That flower bed has been a thorn in my side since day one. I never wanted it, told her flat out that a working ranch doesn’t need pretty landscaping. But Claire being Claire, she went ahead and planted it anyway. Now it’s thriving, a riot of color against the weathered wood of the fence. Blues and purples and yellows are all tangled together, as headstrong and vibrant as the woman tending to them.

It frustrates me as much as it draws me in, just like Claire herself. She’s been here a year now, and instead of fading into the background like I’d hoped, she’s only become more...everything.

More essential to the ranch’s operations.

More integrated into our lives.

More of a temptation I can’t afford.

My gaze drifts over her, taking in the tantalizing curves of her body beneath her work clothes. The worn denim of her overalls hugs her hips and thighs in a way that makes my blood rush where it shouldn’t.

Despite myself, I find myself wondering what her skin would feel like under my calloused hands.

The braid falling over her shoulder has come loose after a long day’s work, wisps of hair escaping to frame her face. There’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and my fingers itch to brush it away.

I clench my jaw even tighter and shove the feeling away. Heat coils low in my gut, sharp and unwelcome. It’s the same battle I’ve been fighting for months now, and I’m getting real fucking tired of the struggle.

But no matter how much I try to ignore it, my attraction for her burns hotter every day.

“Time to go home,” I call out, my voice gruff even to my own ears. I wince at how harsh I sound, but it’s better than letting her hear the want that threatens to bleed through.

Claire looks up, brushing dirt from her hands. A smile blooms across her face, warm and bright. My chest aches at the sight of it.

“I’ll head out soon,” she says, her voice lighthearted. “Just want to finish up here first.”

There’s a hint of playful defiance in her tone that sets my teeth on edge.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” I growl, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Oh, come on, Brady,” she says, laughing. “A few more minutes won’t hurt anyone. Besides, I thought you liked a hard worker.”

I exhale heavily, giving up. There’s no point arguing with her when she gets like this. Her stubbornness matches my own, but where mine is all hard edges, hers comes through in smiles and laughter.

It’s infuriating. And goddamn irresistible.

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