Page 5 of Hard Bred

She looks...different. Better than I’m prepared for.

The outfit she’s wearing accentuates her curves in a way that sends a rush of torrid heat through me. Her dress is a deep green that brings out the gold in her hair, a far cry from the dusty jeans and overalls I’m used to seeing her in. But it’s still her, with that familiar braid hanging over one shoulder.

The longer my gaze lingers on her, the less stable the ground feels beneath me.

The other guests pull my attention back, continuing to offer cheerful birthday wishes. I nod and smile, but my chest is growing tight. I know it’s only a matter of time before Claire makes her way over. And I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to act when she does.

When her turn finally comes, Claire gives me a warm, easy smile that sends my pulse racing.

“Happy Birthday, old man,” she says teasingly, her eyes twinkling with mirth. And then, before I can react, she leans in and wraps her arms around me.

The hug catches me completely off guard. We’ve never touched like this before, and the feel of her body pressed against mine is a shock to the system. Jesus, she feels good. For a split second, I let myself take it in—the plump softness of her, the way she fits against me, the fresh scent of her shampoo.

But then it’s too much, too real. I force myself to pull back, scrambling to regain my composure.

“Thanks,” I manage to croak out, my voice rough.

To cover my reaction, I turn to an old buddy of mine who owns the hardware store here in town. “How’s business been lately, Tom?”

But Tom is far more interested in introducing himself to Claire, pulling her into the conversation. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand to her. “I’m Tom. You must be the ranch hand Brady hired last year. How’s it been working out?”

Now I’m stuck, standing here with Claire, my pulse pounding in my ears like a stampede of wild horses.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” Claire says, full of enthusiasm. “I really appreciate how Brady doesn’t micromanage, and gives me space to do things my way.” She glances at me, a smile playing on her lips. “Even if he did grumble about my flower bed at first.”

“A flower bed?” Tom raises an eyebrow at me before turning back to Claire. “Sounds like you’re making quite an impact out there.”

“It’s just for fun,” Claire says. “It’s hardly necessary, but I couldn’t resist adding a little something extra to such a special place. What Brady’s done for those horses is amazing. I feel lucky to be a part of it.”

Heat creeps up my neck as I realize my own ignorance. All this time, I’d assumed it was just a job to her, but the passion in her voice is unmistakable. She really cares about the ranch—myranch. I’ve been so busy keeping her at arm’s length that I completely missed her genuine connection to the place.

Logan’s voice cuts through the moment. “All right, everyone! Let’s all take a seat for dinner.”

I move to the table, grateful for the distraction. The long table is decorated with vases of flowers—flowers that I recognize were cut from the bed Claire insisted on planting.

As I look at them, I have to admit they do add something nice to the place.

Throughout dinner, my attention keeps drifting to Claire. She’s at the far end of the table, laughing and chatting with the other guests. The sound of her laughter carries over the buzz of conversation, and for reasons I don’t want to examine too closely, I wish I was the one sitting beside her, talking to her.

I feel a pang of guilt, realizing that after all this time working together, I know so little about her. I’ve longed to get to know her better. But the risk of opening that door has always held me back.

At one point, my gaze strays again, and I catch sight of Claire holding one of Logan and Sierra’s babies, cooing softly. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing,” she says, her voice soft and warm and maternal.

The sight hits me hard.Waytoo fucking hard. And then my mind does something dangerous—takes a sharp turn down a path I never saw coming. Suddenly I’m imagining Claire pregnant withourchild, her belly swollen beneath one of my old work shirts, that same tender expression on her face.

The fantasy blazes bright and clear in my mind: Claire as more than just my employee, more than even a lover.Claire as my wife, the mother of my future children, the woman who will grow old with me as we run the ranch together.

The intensity of my fantasy stuns me. It’s one thing to be attracted to her, to fight the urge to touch her, kiss her. But this? This deep ache for a future together, for a family? It’s too much. Too dangerous. She’s young, beautiful, with her whole life ahead of her.

What the hell am I doing, dreaming about domesticity with a woman who deserves better than a gruff old rancher with too much baggage?

I force myself to look away, my heart hammering against my ribs. This has gone too far. These feelings, this longing—it needs to stop. Now.

As dinner winds down, Logan and Sierra start bringing out presents. I shake my head, insisting it’s too much, but they won’t hear it.

“Come on, Dad,” Logan says, pushing a wrapped package toward me. “Let us spoil you for once.”

I open each gift with polite gratitude, even as the sentiment makes me uncomfortable. Eventually, there’s just one present left. When I open it, I find a beautifully crafted leather journal inside. The gift takes me by surprise. Writing isn’t exactly my thing, but it’s a beautiful object, and I can’t deny the craftsmanship.

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