Page 34 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

"Do you promise?"

I sigh heavily. "Yes, I promise."

"Good. Now you have to apologize to her," she says solemnly. "You're supposed to say sorry to the person you've been mean to. You told me that last week, when I was rude to Dean about his cookies tasting funny. And Mrs. O'Donnell told Joshua to apologize to Abigail when he pulled her ponytail at pre-school on Tuesday."

I smirk. "Is that what they teach you at pre-school?"

"Yup."

Grace goes to pre-school in Cedar Falls twice per week for half a day. I'd thought about home educating her, but I don't want her feeling isolated. It's important that she knows how to make friends her own age, and it's good for her to mix with women and girls as well as us men. Also, when she goes to elementary school next year, and then on to high school in Silverton when she's older, it won't be such a big deal, and she'll have her friends from Cedar Falls for company.

There's another reason, too. Reed, Dean, and I don't exactly have the best reputation in town—something I fully blame on the other two, especially Reed. I don't give a damn what people think of me. But I don't want their opinions touching Grace. I'll beartheir scorn, their gossip, their judgment—as long as she's happy. She has to be happy. She's all I have left.

After dropping Grace off at pre-school, I head home, already mentally listing everything I have to do. Today's another heavy logistics day because I have to finish the end-of-year accounting our old accountant didn't complete before Dean fired him for pilfering. I need to recount the livestock, make a list of tools and equipment needing repairs, and check the horses we've earmarked for auction—make sure they're ready for the sale.

Thinking of the stables reminds me of Hailey—or Princess Ice Cream, as Grace calls her.

I wonder if Dean remembered to warn her about Buggy.

Most horses are easygoing animals. Some are more or less friendly, some are more or less intelligent, but usually you can find a way to get on with them. Occasionally though, like with people, you come across an evil bastard. Buggy is that kind.

In theory, he's always confined in his special stall... but he's been known to kick his door open and take off if it's left unbolted even for a few minutes. He's a jet-black stallion—a Colorado Ranger—not particularly tall at fifteen hands, but powerfully built, and very beautiful to look at… and he knows it. With his silky mane and those doleful eyes framed by huge, girly eyelashes, you'd never guess there's a demon inside.

He's a devious little shit too. He's especially good at luring the unsuspecting newbie into petting or feeding him—and then, when they're vulnerable, he lands a solid kick to their ass (or worse) and he's off, seeking his freedom and as many mares to breed with as he can find. He's already done it three times, and each time it's taken the entire crew all afternoon to get him back. We only keep him because he's so perfect for breeding. No one actually wants to ride him. Not since the last incident when he broke someone's hip. Now we tend to leave him in the bluestable—the separate stable to the main one—whilst we take the others out.

I can easily imagine him trying it on with Hailey. Perhaps I should talk to her. Warn her not to get too close—definitely not to turn her back on him—and to make sure she bolts the stall door securely after she's finished. Or should I ask one of the hands to help her? It's going over Dean's orders, but he's set her a lot to do for anyone, let alone someone less well used to this kind of physical work.

Besides, cleaning out horse stalls all day isn't educational or fun. Dean's only set her this task as a trial, to see if she'll follow orders, and to test her resolve.

No, it's best I talk to her myself, that way it won't seem like I'm interfering with Dean's orders so much.

My mind made up, I approach the main stable where I assume I will find her, preparing myself to see her again—and reminding myself of my promise to Grace. I hear noises near the entrance: faint shuffling, whispers. As I get closer, I hear more whispering. Gasps. Then a moan.

What the fuck?

We sometimes find hands fooling around. The mountain gets lonely, and we don't begrudge them finding a little love—or release—wherever they can. Dean has one rule: it can't be on his dime. After hours? Fine. During work hours? No fucking way.

I sigh, already dreading being the bad guy. But rules are rules.

I round the corner and ease the stall door open, just a little.

To my horror, it's not a couple of the hands fooling around. It's Reed and our new employee. Making out like they'll die if they don't inhale each other right this second.

Hailey straddles his thighs, her hands tangled in his hair, nipping at his lips before sucking on his lower one. Reed smiles against her mouth, murmuring something as he slows the kiss—making it deeper, slower, somehow even more sensual. His left hand is wrapped lightly around her neck, anchoring her to him. His right hand cups her left breast, squeezing and caressing her in time to the rhythm of their bodies. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, and she's slowly, sensuously grinding against him as he gasps and thrusts up into her.

I stand frozen, rooted to the spot like I've been struck by a thunderbolt, as Reed captures her mouth again, the kiss turning more desperate now. His tongue thrusts insistently into hers, and she responds just as wildly, her own tongue darting to meet him.

"Oh baby," he murmurs between kisses. "I want to be inside you so badly. I haven't stopped thinking about it. I need it again. Will you let me inside you, baby?"

"Oh God," she moans—and I almost do the same.

My hand fists tighter around the doorframe, splinters digging into my palm. My cock is harder than a fucking iron rod. Lust rages through my veins, searing my mind. It's taking everything I have not to reach down and start stroking myself right here like some desperate teenager.

I knew it. I knew she would be trouble.

She's a temptress—sent from hell, or from heaven, because surely nothing from hell could look this beautiful. She's driving me out of my mind, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of a cliff I swore I would never cross.

Since Georgia—my wife—died, I've never been with another woman. I never planned to. I made her a sacred promise, and I meant to keep it.

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