Page 42 of The Devil in Blue Jeans
She looked to the sky again and sighed. “I miss the life I thought we had. I miss who I was when I was with him. I was unflappable, trusted without thought and had a clear vision of my future. This new me...” Her gaze fell to his, her mouth shutting like she was about to spill secrets to him she hadn’t mean to.
“This new you?” he pressed.
Her voice shook a little. “I don’t even know myself anymore.”
He turned onto his side, holding her stare. He’d never believed in the magic in the mountains or the legend, but as he stared into the fiery depths of Charly’s eyes, feeling things he’d never felt with any woman, he’d wondered if he’d been wrong. “You’re the woman who got on a plane and started a new life, no matter how hard it must have been. The same person who’s generous enough to celebrate women all so they can feel pride in themselves and yet rides a horse all day long with a bunch of foul-mouthed cowboys without complaining once—all to better understand people and make them happy. I’m just starting to get to know you, and I can’t take my eyes off you.” He wasn’t thinking, only acting on need, when he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, before looking her in the eyes again. “If you ever doubt how incredible you are, talk to me, I’ll set you right. I’ve never met anyone like you and I’m damn glad to know you.”
He waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, obviously stunned a little speechless, he smiled, probably cockily in the way she hated, and he settled in next to her, laying his head back against the saddle. He slid his hat over his eyes. “Good night, Charly.”
A long moment passed. Then her soft voice drifted over him. “Good night, Jaxon.”
Eleven
Charly had secretly wished that everyone overslept and woke up at a more civil hour the following morning, but that wasn’t in the cards. Despite her conviction that no one had set an alarm, Charly was proven wrong as everyone rose ahead of sunrise. While she shoved the blanket back into the bag, it suddenly hit her—she wasn’t a cowboy and would never be. She wasn’t built to wake up at this hour.
The journey back home took just as long as the ride out, although this time around Jaxon kept her busy by teaching her how to herd the horses that had strayed from the group. A task easier than expected since Thunder seemed to understand his job better than she did.
By late afternoon they had all returned to the ranch. She sat atop Thunder, watching as the cowboys herded the horses into a large pen. The more she watched them do their thing, the more Charly realized how hard cowboys worked. She had put in long days and nights at the bar and knew the difficulties of such labor. However, this kind of physical work seemed utterly exhausting. Fortunately, they had perfect weather, but even if it had been pouring rain, she knew these cowboys would have soldiered on without complaint.
She suddenly felt she was the enemy as she thought about the bar they no longer enjoyed. She and the girls had unintentionally taken away a place they had loved. She’d stripped the place of what made Timber Falls, Timber Falls. All the rustic elements she had thought were meaningless meant everything to them. And country music wasn’t only music to them, it was a way of life. She’d stolen away a place they could let off steam or just have fun with drinks and friends after their long day. Unknowingly, they had deprived them of something that made them happy.
Feeling about two feet tall now, she filled the two coffee mugs from the machine installed by Jaxon on his porch and then she walked up to him. He was standing near the sand ring with Eli, who was typing on a laptop beside him, and Gunner was clutching a clipboard of papers.
She handed Jaxon the steaming mug of black coffee. “Thought you might like this,” she said.
He looked at it and beamed gratefully. “Thanks, I do.” He took a sip and closed his eyes in satisfaction.
Her mind slipped away, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. She remembered the last time he had looked so contented, hearing his throaty groan in her ears as he spilled onto her. She cleared her throat quickly, her heart thudding against her ribs. “So, what exactly are you doing here?” she asked, settling in next to him.
“We’re picking which horses will stay here at the ranch for training or breeding and which ones will go up for auction tomorrow,” he explained.
From the two groups, all the horses looked pretty similar to her, but had different colors and markings. “How do you decide which ones to keep and which ones to sell?” she asked.
“We choose horses based on confirmation,” Jaxon explained, as if she should understand what he meant. She didn’t as he continued, “They need to have no structural flaws in their necks, shoulders, backs, or hips. Plus, their spines should be shorter than their underlines.”
She blinked. “I never would have guessed so much thought went into this.”
Jaxon hesitated, before hitting her with an emotion-packed smile. “My dad believed in quality horses that came from good breeding. It’s something I intend to carry on until the day I die.”
She returned the smile and stepped back, sipping her coffee, and observing them all working hard. The complexity of Jaxon’s business surprised her. Watching him work made her realize just how impressive the ranch was and, if his dad were around, she felt certain he’d feel nothing but pride for his son.
His strong character began to outshine all the captivating physical traits she couldn’t stop noticing.
As a few more hours whizzed by, Charly remained fascinated as all the horses were catalogued and turned into two smaller groups of horses. One group stayed in the large pen, who were happily eating hay that the cowboys had fed them. The other group was put in a large pasture where they’d stay until training or breeding began.
When the final horse was sorted, a catering company arrived, setting out salads and pulled pork sandwiches. The air wafted with the scent of charcoal, smoke, meat and spices, and Charly’s belly rumbled.
Jaxon left his place at the sand ring, and said to her, “Let’s go grab some grub, Kitten.”
The contempt she felt for the nickname yesterday had dwindled, perhaps due to the warm timbre of his voice when he said it.
Soon she found herself seated in the grass among sweaty, dirt-caked cowboys who were all smiling from ear-to-ear. The conversation was easy and lighthearted as jokes flew around.
Until Decker asked Charly, “How’s the bar going?”
Charly felt every set of eyes on her as she swallowed the food in her mouth. It surprised her this hadn’t come up sooner. “It’s going all right. Thanks for asking, Decker,” she replied.
“Good to hear.” He gave a slight nod and his lips twitched. “What are the chances of getting the pool tables back in?”
