Page 9 of Wild As Her

Her truck is parked in the driveway, and I see a faint light coming through her kitchen window.

Love, her Heeler starts to growl and stops when she realizes it’s me. I lean down to give her scratches and whisper. “Hey, girl. You been keeping watch over your momma?”

I head up to the loft, shake my sleeping bag out, and settle in. I sigh with relief and drift off when I feel Love snuggle in beside me, resting her head on my arm. So much for watching out for her momma. I guess we’ll keep watch together tonight. She’ll let me know if she hears anything.

Chapter 4

Cami

Fall In Love by Bailey Zimmerman

The cool and crisp mountain air swirls through the valley as I get ready to head out for my morning ride to watch the sunrise over the mountain range. I live for these rides with Mouse and try to take them as often as I can because I don’t know how many of these I’ll have left when the ranch is gone. It’s the best time of day to clear my head and take in the fresh mountain air. I pack a thermos of coffee, apple treats for my favorite boy, and meat bites for my favorite girl.

I make my way to the barn and throw open the door, wondering where Love is. And then I freeze. Something feels off. Like someone has been here. Or is still here. I swing my shotgun up to my thigh and cock it, holding it to my shoulder. I clear the barn, one stall at a time, until I get to the last two stalls and tilt my head when I realize that it’s Pesto, not Mouse. Then I look over and see Mouse looking happy as if he’s proud that his buddy is here.

“What are you doing here, Pesto?” I coo as I reach over and stroke his head.

I turn and look around through the barn, so confused. Why is Jack’s horse in my barn? I look up when I see movement, and it’s Love’s sleepy head popping up over the loft.What the hell?

I wondered where she went last night. Usually, she comes inside, but last night, she refused, and I figured that after everything that went down, she was keeping a closer watch on things.

“What are you doing up there?” I whisper as she makes her way down the side steps and wags her whole body, happy to see me. I reach down and give her a scratch and then slowly make my way up the loft stairs, shotgun ready for whatever I’m about to find up there.

I lower the shotgun with an irritated sigh when I spot the oversized sleeping bag. The messy, too-perfect-for-his-own-good blond hair peeks out from under it. And then I see the boots sticking out.

He’s sprawled out like he’s in a damn Marlboro ad, flannel shirt half open, long legs tangled in the sleeping bag, his stubble catching the early light like he rolled straight out of a romance novel and into my barn.

His chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm, and his snores are just soft enough to be annoying. Peaceful. Relaxed. Smug.

I narrow my eyes and nudge his side with the toe of my boot. “Up, cowboy.”

His sharp green eyes fly open, disoriented, and he bolts upright with a rustle of nylon. “Shit. I overslept.”

His voice is gravely, and I hate how my stomach flips like he didn’t just spend the night uninvited not far from my own bed.

I cross my arms and pretend to be annoyed. “What the hell are you doing here, Jessop?”

I try to make it sound sharp. But it comes out breathless.Because, of course, he looks stupidly good just waking up, with his hair all tousled and his voice still wrapped in sleep.

Focus, Cami. Focus.

He blinks up at me, lips twitching like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Watching out for you,” he mumbles and stretches. “I smell coffee. Please tell me I can have some.”

“Not doing a good job of it if you’re sleeping.” I scoff. “I can look out for myself. And why do you have my dog?”

I turn and glance down at my traitor dog, and her head tilts as she looks up at me.

“I love that dog,” he says with a grin as he reaches over and scratches her ears, and she leans into him, closing her eyes and enjoying the affection.

“Get your own dog.” I glare, doing my best to narrow my eyes and pretend I’m not staring at his body.

He does nothing but give me a sexy, lazy grin in return as he stretches, and his shirt rides up, exposing his abs that also should be illegal. Dickhead.

He picks up his sleeping bag, throws it over one of the rafters, and heads past me, down the stairs.

“Take your sleeping bag, Jessop. You’re not staying in my barn,” I huff as I follow him down the stairs.

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