I won’t blanket blame like Dad because in the short time I’ve been working at Bridger Ranch, I’ve felt better. Stronger. Braver. Hell, even sexier.

I stand. Between missing lunch entirely and eating only two bites of my dinner, I should be hungry. But I’m too busy being angry.

“I will not quit. I’m a grown woman, and you can’t make me.”

“That makes you sound like you’re seven,” Dad counters.

I lean in. “How about this? No. Fucking. Way.”

Mom gasps. I walk—despite my desire to run like the child he accused me of being—to my room and close my door, resisting the urge to slam it.

I wish I could talk to Austin about this. Austin, who I still barely know but feel close to—the operative word being feel.

I wish I could leave Bayfield, except…

Austin is here.

And God help me, I don’t want to leave Austin. I want to see where it goes with us. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal, but a manmade orgasm and sex would be a good start.

I stopped crying a while ago.

But tonight, I cry.

Only a little, though, because a wave of determination sweeps through me.

I’m not quitting.

I love my father, but I’m not quitting.

Not on my job. Not on myself. Not on the chance of something with Austin Bridger.

11

AUSTIN

For two more days, Chance keeps Miles and me busy from fucking dawn to dinner. Fortunately, he had us riding the never-ending fence line on ATVs instead of horses. He knows our limits. The repair check is something that can be done in the winter when there are fewer chores, although the snow’s usually too deep, and it’s fucking freezing. It’s also something that can be done by ranch hands, not the property owners. But I’m thankful for the cowboy-warmup he’s given us. He could have had us turning bull calves into steers by castrating them, but instead chose something involving a hammer and nails.

He kept us so occupied that I haven’t seen Carly since our lunch break at the spring. Funny, we didn’t eat lunch. We just talked. Rather, I talked—while playing with her perfect tits—and she seemed content to listen. It could have also been the fact that I made her come on my fingers first and then got to play with her perfect tits.

It was heaven and hell rolled into one.

I have blisters on my hands—and not just from jerking off solo in the shower to the image of Carly—and my back aches. I may have lost five pounds from sweating. I still have the fading bruise on my jaw from Chance’s sucker punch the other night.

I need another opportunity to meet with Carly. Or an actual date. Anything where I can see her smile again. Watch her eyes go hazy with desire. Feel her nipples harden beneath my palms.

Neither Miles nor I pussied out with ranch work, so Chance seems to have some grumbling respect for us. Enough to invite us to head into town with him for supplies and a beer before another grueling round of fence repair.