Page 38 of Tame Our Wild

The muscles in my shoulder solidify, my hair standing on end as he enters the room. When he rounds the corner and sees me, he stops.

My eyes drag up and down his built frame in his sweatshirt and jeans, both of which are smattered with dirt and other faint stains. The cords in his hand flex around his travel mug, my eyes darting to those rough fingers only a cowboy can have from over a decade of riding and ranching for who knows how long. He looks so rugged like this.

So untamable.

God, those fingers alone shouldn’t have the power to hold my attention—any part of him shouldn’t.

It probably sounds crazy, but the way he’s standing in front of me now is different than how he looks on the circuit. Hard work has been written all over him in dust, scars, and premature age lines. I wonder how long he’s been up.

When my eyes fixate back on his, I notice they are leisurely raking over my body, making me aware of the little clothing I have on.

His raspy morning voice is a hymn I want to memorize. “Good morning.”

My heart thunders. “Uh, good morning. I was just—” I blow out a breath. “I can eat in my room. Wait, am I even allowed to do that? I mean, I can go grab my coat and eat on the deck if you want your space.” I go to grab my bowl and watch him move around the kitchen island to the coffee maker, stifling a laugh. My nervous rambling continues. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I used the rest of the strawberries. Do you need me to—I don’t know—make you breakfast or something?”

Colson smirks while he pours his coffee, the look irritating me more than it should. “What?” I nearly growl.

He shakes his head, chuckling. “Take a breath, dust bunny.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you expect of me.” I huff in frustration. “How are we supposed to navigate this, Colson? This entire thing is crazy, and it’s only the first morning! We’re kind of roommates now, so obviously I’m not going to eat all your food and sit around here like a housewife while you’re out there working on stuff.” He lopsidedly grins at that, and my expression shifts into a deadpan. “I’m serious.”

“My space is your space now; you can do whatever the hell you want. If you want to pitch in for groceries, you’re welcome to. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. If you’re worried you’ll go stir-crazy, I’ll put you to work if you want something to do. But there are no expectations, and I’m not going to make you do things you don’t want to do.” I narrow my eyes. That’s kind of hard to believe. It’s Colson Payne; he must be expecting something out of this arrangement. “I knew what I was getting into when I offered to coach you.”

I don’t believe that. I didn’t even know what I was getting into when I accepted it.

My lips roll in thought.

“Harlow, my home is yours now for the next five months, and it’s going to be a long season with you staying here if we don’t try to find some semblance of comfort around each other. Help yourself to anything you need, and if you can’t find something, I’ll give you my truck keys so you can run into town, or I can go get it for you. This doesn’t have to be complicated.”

I tilt my head, holding his eyes. “Everything about us is complicated.”

Something flashes in those turquoise pools before he lifts his mug to his lips. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Tampons?” I blurt. He side-eyes me. I have an IUD, so I barely have a period, but I want to see his response. “When it’s my time of the month, I’m moody and need sweets, which you must be against after looking at your pantry.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation when he says, “You say that like you don’t already have a mood whenever I’m in proximity. I’m used to dealing with them.” My mouth twitches, almost pulling into a smile. “Tell me what brand and I’ll get them for you when you need them, or I’ll start keeping the bathroom cabinet stocked.”

For a brief second, I forgot he said he has a sister. “Nope, I can stock my own stuff. And I have an IUD.”

His breath gets caught in his lungs for a moment before he sighs. “Figured you’d say that, but did I pass the test at least?”

“Not sure yet. Too early to tell.” The silence between us lingers a little too long. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

Colson lowers his coffee and sets it on the counter before leaning against it. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Had some fences that needed fixing before I move cattle in a few weeks.”

I nod. To most, it may sound boring, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. I’ll miss those early mornings working on our property back in Arizona, when the sun touches the horizon and the cool air seeps into your lungs like the sweetest relief. There’s something peaceful about being that productive in the morning.

A part of me wants to ask if he wants help, but I hold back. It’s too early to overstep. I need to ease myself into this with him.

We don’t want to risk burning out before we’ve even started.

SIXTEEN | COLSON

Water cascades over my head, creating a shield of wet hair that falls over my eyes. I turn, allowing my muscles to relax under the liquid heat rushing over my skin.

Harlow and I worked out in my home gym in the converted hayloft yesterday, and it was … competitive. A kind of unspoken competitiveness that silently flowed between us like a live wire. We started with planks as a warm-up, and apparently, she took the three sets as an invitation to start a contest with me, pushing to see how long we could last—both with our gazes and with our bodies. Which was fucking difficult, considering she was wearing a swooping neckline that exposed the valley of those soft breasts I wanted to ogle instead of those baby blues she tries to drown me in. That wasn’t the only thing that tested my control. It was also her ass in those leggings that clung to her curves like a second skin as she did squats. It was the way those droplets of sweat would drift and glide to places I shouldn’t want to explore.

Places my fingers and hands shouldn’t want to touch.