Page 24 of Sweet and Wild

“I thought I was the enemy?” Colt murmurs under his breath, and I glance at him wondering what the hell he means by that.

“Come on, Lemonade. We’re just giving you shit. We don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Wyatt says.

“Language, Wyatt.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

“Not that my sex life is any of y’all’s business, but Colt and I aren’t slipping back into our old ways. And the next time I do decide to sleep with someone, I’ll be sure to call June Baker—the town crier—so all of y’all get the message.”

I stomp toward the door as Wade says, “What’s she talkin’ about? June Baker’s been dead for ten years.”

Titters erupt behind me and I stalk up the stairs and slam my door, then lean against it for a beat to calm my damn temper. Whether I’m here for a little or a long while, that family down there is gonna be the death of me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lemon

Thunder cracks outside and I sit bolt upright in bed. It’s been a long time since the noise of the city hasn’t drowned out a storm and as the shutters bang against the windows, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. 3:03 a.m. I know there’s no getting back to sleep just yet, so I throw on my robe and head downstairs to make a warm cocoa. It’s bucketing down outside, and as I stand in the kitchen staring out on the ranch bathed in moonlight and lightning, the light from the barn catches my attention.

Colt’s been sleeping on a cot in the barn so he doesn’t miss Belle’s foaling. He must be freezing out there. I grab another mug from the cabinet and pour a little more chocolate and cocoa into my saucepan, and fire up the old gas stove. When the cocoa is hot, I pour it into the mugs and race upstairs to change. Then I take another blanket from the linen cupboard and tuck it under my arm before placing the mugs on a tray with a couple of Mama’s homemade double chocolate-chip cookies. I grab an umbrella from the stand by the back door and head on out.

Rain beats down on my umbrella and I’m glad I changed from my robe into jeans and boots as mud splashes my calves. As I approach the barn, I start to think this is a bad idea, but as Mama always said, it costs you nothing to be nice. So I forge on, knowing I may be shooting myself in the foot.

A horse whinnies as I pass and Belle releases a grunt, the closest a laboring horse ever gets to screaming. Colt glances at me and then turns his attention back to the mare, cooing, “It’s okay, Belle.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” he says gruffly.

“Couldn’t sleep. The storm woke me. Made you some hot cocoa.”

I offer the tray and Colt takes it carefully before setting it on the ground by the cot.

“Oh, and I brought you another blanket. It’s freezing in here. How’s she doing?”

“She’d be better if you stopped rambling,” he says, and then turns to me with an apology in his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m just running on no sleep.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. I am rambling.”

“Thanks for the blanket, and the cocoa.”

“No problem.”

“You should stay. She ain’t gonna be long.”

I must have seen twenty foalings or more growing up, but it always was my favorite thing about being on the ranch. When I was a teen, Daddy and I used to be the ones sitting out here waiting for a foal to make it safely into the world.It’s funny how everything’s so different now.

“Maybe I will.” I stoop and pick up both mugs of cocoa and hand one to him. Colt takes it and blows on the steaming drink as the storm batters the stables. I lean against the stable wall surrounding Belle’s pen and watch her. She’s lying on her side, rolling back and forth in the hay to shift the foal into position.

“You remember when you and your daddy used to camp out here?”

I give him a wistful smile. “I was just thinkin’ about that.”

“After you left, I started staying out with him.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I’ve been here for every foal since.”

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