Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

brIAR

B riar sat on the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling as she tried to piece together fragments of her dreams and memories, everything still tangled in a hazy fog. The sound of a soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts as Colt opened the door, ushering in Etta with a tray laden with food—eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and a steaming mug of coffee. The older woman's sharp eyes softened as she smiled warmly at Briar, setting the tray on the small table by the bed.

"Well, now," Etta said, her voice warm and laced with familiarity. "How about we get some food into you, sweetheart? You're looking much better, but you'll need your strength if you plan on wandering around today."

"Am I allowed to do that?"

"Why, of course you are. You're our guest, not our prisoner."

Briar grinned at Etta's friendly demeanor and the delicious aromas coming from the tray. The smell of the food made her stomach growl, a reminder that it had been too long since she'd eaten anything substantial. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until now.

Etta sat down in the chair opposite hers by the window, her hands folded in her lap as she watched Briar take her first few bites. Her presence was comforting, like an anchor in unfamiliar waters.

"Colt said the ranch is just outside of Austin," said Briar between bites of food. "This is delicious, by the way."

Etta beaned. "I'm glad you like it. Copper Canyon Ranch belongs to Colt and his brothers. They run the place, and it's home to the whole pack."

Briar blinked, setting down her fork. "The whole pack?"

Etta gave her a knowing smile. "Yes, those of us who work here." She tilted her head, studying Briar with a kind but assessing gaze. "I think you'll like it here. But you'll need to come out of this room to find that out for yourself."

Briar hesitated, her fingers curling around the handle of the coffee mug. The thought of venturing downstairs, of interacting with anyone else, made her stomach twist with unease.

As if sensing her reluctance, Etta reached out and patted Briar's hand reassuringly. "Take your time, darling. But you can't stay holed up in this room forever. You'd miss out on so much this place has to offer."

Briar offered a small nod, more to herself than to Etta. The ranch felt peaceful, even safe, despite the questions gnawing at her. Maybe it was time to step out and see what lay beyond the walls of this room.

After finishing the meal, Briar set the tray aside and wiped her hands on the napkin. Etta stood up, brushing invisible lint from her apron.

"Why don't you get dressed and head downstairs?" Etta suggested. "A bit of fresh air will do you good."

Briar hesitated, then gave a small nod. "All right."

Etta smiled, satisfied. "I'll be around if you need anything." With that, she slipped out the door, leaving Briar alone once more.

D ressed in simple jeans and a loose-fitting top she found in the dresser, Briar felt more like herself. The clothes were plain but comfortable, fitting her well enough, though she had no idea how they'd gotten here. She tied her curls into a loose braid and slipped on a pair of butter-soft cowboy boots before making her way toward the door.

Her fingers lingered on the knob for a moment before she turned it, stepping into the hallway beyond with a mix of caution and curiosity.

The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of wood settling and the distant hum of conversation downstairs. The morning light streamed in through the windows at either end of the hall, casting warm patches of sunlight on the floorboards.

Taking a deep breath, Briar started down the stairs, her hand trailing along the smooth wood of the banister. She tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her chest, telling herself it was just a set of stairs—nothing more. There was no danger here.

At least, she hoped not.

But as she rounded the landing, a woman appeared at the top of the staircase. Her sharp eyes raked over Briar, her lips curling into a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. She blocked the stairwell as if she owned the house, her posture radiating a subtle challenge.

"Well, well," Elle drawled, her tone sickly sweet. "If it isn't the little stray the storm blew in."

Briar stiffened, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. The tension was immediate, like two predators sizing each other up.

"You are?" Briar asked, keeping her voice even.

Elle's smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. "Elle, the ranking female."

Briar doubted that. She might have forgotten a lot about herself, but she was sure she'd dealt with Elle's type before, and showing any inkling that she might be intimidated wouldn't work well for her. Elle's eyes roved over Briar, coolly assessing her with thinly veiled disdain.

"Colt's been known to take in strays before. They usually don't last long."

Briar fought the urge to react, sensing the woman was testing her, waiting for any sign of weakness. She tightened her grip on the banister, keeping her tone calm and level.

"Well," Briar said, "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Elle's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't get too comfortable," she said in a low, warning tone. "Colt's got responsibilities. Big ones. He doesn't have time to babysit every lost little thing that washes up here."

The veiled threat in Elle's words was clear, but Briar refused to rise to the bait.

"Thanks for the advice," Briar said with a small, tight smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

Without waiting for a response, Briar stepped past Elle, brushing by her with deliberate ease, and continued down the stairs. She could feel the other woman's eyes burning into her back, but she didn't stop or look back.

T he moment Briar stepped outside, the fresh air hit her like a balm, chasing away the lingering tension from her encounter with Elle. The sun was bright, the sky an endless stretch of blue, and the scent of earth and hay mingled with the faint aroma of horses and cattle.

The ranch sprawled out before her, alive with quiet activity—ranch hands moving from one task to the next, horses grazing in the nearby pastures, and the distant sound of gates clanging open and shut.

Briar took a deep breath, feeling a sense of freedom she hadn't experienced in a long time. The pressure on her chest seemed to lift slightly, as if the wide-open space was coaxing her out of her shell.

She wandered across the yard, drawn toward the outbuildings and barns that dotted the landscape. The barn doors stood wide open, inviting her in with the promise of something familiar.

Inside the first barn, the scent of fresh hay and leather filled the air, and Briar found herself smiling for the first time in what felt like days. Horses whickered softly from their stalls as she walked past, their ears flicking curiously in her direction.

She moved slowly, running her hand along the smooth wood of the stalls, her fingertips grazing the edges of bridles and saddles neatly hung on the walls. It was quiet here, peaceful, and Briar found herself relaxing more with every step.

She paused by one of the stalls, where a palomino mare with a white blaze leaned her head over the gate, sniffing curiously at Briar's outstretched hand. The simple interaction made her heart ache with an odd sense of belonging, as if she'd stumbled into a place she hadn't realized she'd been searching for.

Briar stroked the mare's face gently, her smile lingering as she continued her exploration. For the first time since she had arrived, she felt like she could breathe, like maybe this place could offer more than just temporary shelter.

And if nothing else, at least here, surrounded by animals and open sky, she could find a sliver of peace. But deep down, Briar knew the quiet wouldn't last forever.

Briar made her way further into the barn, the comforting sounds of animals stirring around her—the soft nicker of a horse, the shuffle of hooves against thick shavings, the faint rustle of hay as it was munched. There was something calming about the routine noises, and she found herself wandering deeper into the ranch grounds, following the flow of the morning chores.

As she rounded a corner, she spotted a man working with one of the horses—a sleek, black gelding that sidestepped nervously as the man tried to adjust its halter. The man's easy grin, sandy hair, and relaxed posture told her immediately that this must be one of Colt's brothers.

"Hey there!" he called, catching sight of her. He gave the gelding a gentle pat on the neck, murmuring to it before leading the horse into its stall. Bryce leaned casually on the stall door, his grin infectious and full of mischief. "Name's Bryce. I'm Colt's youngest brother, and I run the horse operation here." He gave her an easy nod, as if they were already friends. "You like horses?"

"I do," Briar admitted with a smile, glancing at the nearby stalls. The animals seemed strangely familiar to her, as though they recognized her, too. One sorrel mare with a flaxen mane and tail in particular stretched her neck over the gate, huffing warmly against Briar's outstretched hand.

Bryce watched with interest as the animals gravitated toward her. Even the black gelding, who had been skittish moments ago, leaned curiously toward her, as if drawn by something beyond his understanding.

"Well, well," Bryce mused, his grin widening. "Looks like they've taken a real shine to you. That one there..." he nodded toward the sorrel mare "… she doesn't usually warm up to strangers so fast."

Briar smiled, giving the mare a soft stroke down her nose. The animals' affection felt natural, as if she belonged here among them, though she had no idea why. "They just feel... familiar," she murmured aloud, more to herself than to Bryce.

Bryce chuckled. "Maybe they know something the rest of us don't."

Briar gave a quiet laugh in return, feeling the tight knot in her chest loosen slightly for the first time in days. There was a simple joy in the presence of these creatures, a kind of magic that made her feel less like a lost stranger and more like someone finding her way home.

She spent some time petting the horses, moving between the stalls and getting acquainted with each animal. Every horse she touched responded with calm affection, even the more unruly ones, who nudged her hand or leaned into her touch as if they'd been waiting for her all along.

Eventually, she wandered away from the barn, letting her curiosity guide her deeper into the ranch grounds. The sunlight felt warm against her skin, and the distant hum of activity faded into the background as she explored further.

It was then that she stumbled across a small, overgrown garden tucked away behind one of the outbuildings. The wooden gate creaked as she pushed it open, revealing rows of raised beds filled with tangled weeds and forgotten plants. Vines crawled up trellises long since left untended, and a small fountain in the center stood dry and covered in moss.

Briar's heart gave a small, unexpected tug. The garden, despite its neglect, was beautiful in its own way—wild and untamed, but full of potential. Something about the place called to her, and without thinking, she knelt down beside one of the raised beds and began pulling weeds, her fingers sinking into the cool soil.

It felt good to work with her hands, to dig into the earth and uncover the life hidden beneath the tangle of weeds. There was peace in the act of gardening, a quiet magic that calmed her restless thoughts. As she worked, a small, round-faced cat padded into the garden, its orange-and-white fur gleaming in the sunlight.

The cat sniffed at her curiously, then plopped down beside her as if declaring himself her new companion. Briar smiled, scratching the cat behind the ears.

"Well, aren't you a handsome fellow?" she murmured. The cat purred loudly in response, his large body sprawling comfortably on the dirt beside her.

Briar found a weathertight box at the end of the garden. When she opened it, she smiled broadly—a full set of gardening tools and a wide-brimmed hat to keep the Texas sun at bay. The garden itself might be in rough shape, but the tool container had kept everything inside in pristine condition. She began working, clearing away dead plants and trimming the tangled vines from the trellises. It felt natural—second nature, almost—as though the garden had been waiting for her to return. The cat followed her every move, occasionally batting at stray weeds or curling up beneath the shade of a dry, stone fountain.

By the time Etta found her with a tray of lunch, Briar had made significant progress. The raised beds were cleared of weeds, the dry fountain scrubbed free of moss, and the overgrown vines trimmed back to reveal the garden's once-elegant design.

"Well, look at that," Etta said, beaming as she set the tray on a nearby bench. "You've done more in one morning than the rest of us have managed in years. I'm glad to see you found a hat. Colt would skin me alive if on your first day up and about you came back to the house burned to a crisp."

Briar dusted her hands off on her jeans, feeling a bit self-conscious but also pleased with the praise. "It just needed a little love."

Etta's expression softened, her gaze drifting over the garden with a hint of nostalgia. "This used to be Colt's mother's garden. She kept it up beautifully." Etta's voice grew quieter, tinged with a bittersweet fondness. "But after she passed, it fell into disrepair. No one's really had the heart to touch it since."

Briar glanced around the garden with fresh eyes, imagining a woman tending these plants with care, bringing life to every corner of the space. She felt a strange kinship with the garden, as if she understood its need for attention, for love and renewal.

"I didn't know," Briar murmured, reaching for the hat.

Etta gave her a kind smile. "You couldn't have. But I knew Colt's mama. She would be happy to see it getting some attention again. That was her favorite gardening hat; she'd like seeing it being used again, as well. Wasn't nothing wasteful about that woman."

Briar sat down on the bench, the cat hopping up beside her and purring contentedly as he curled against her leg. She reached for the sandwich and fruit on the tray, grateful for the meal and Etta's company.

"Feel free to putter around here as much as you like," Etta said. "No one will mind, least of all Colt."

At the mention of Colt, Briar's thoughts drifted to the man with the dark, intense eyes. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it difficult to think clearly whenever he was near.

"Thanks," Briar said softly, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Etta gave her a wink. "I'll leave you to it, then. But don't stay out too long, you hear? Colt likes to keep track of everyone—and everything—around here. He asked if you'd join him for a private supper out on his balcony. Prettiest sunsets in all of Texas can be seen from there."

"Um, sure, but I don't know what I have to wear…"

"Don't you worry about that. I'll find something pretty for you to wear and leave it on your bed."

Briar smiled as Etta headed back toward the house, the older woman's words lingering in her mind. She glanced around the garden once more, feeling a sense of quiet belonging settle over her.

She hadn't planned on staying here long—hadn't planned on staying anywhere long. But now... this place was starting to feel different.

With a soft sigh, Briar leaned back on the bench, the cat purring steadily beside her, and let herself enjoy the moment of peace. For the first time in what felt like must have been a long while, the urge to run wasn't gnawing at her. Maybe she could find a place for herself here after all.

Later that evening, Briar found herself standing at the door to Colt's private quarters, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. As she smoothed her hands down the borrowed dress—a simple sundress that Etta had found for her—Briar couldn't stop the nervous flutter that danced in her stomach. This was silly. Colt was just being kind, something that seemed to thrive here on Copper Canyon Ranch.

But that thought did little to settle her nerves. There was something about Colt that stirred her in ways she didn't fully understand. It was deeper than attraction or even arousal—an undercurrent she couldn't name, but it pulled at her fiercely. No one had ever made her feel this way before, like she was both grounded and floating at the same time. And it terrified her only a little less than it intrigued her.

She took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," Colt's deep voice rumbled from inside, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Pushing the door open, Briar stepped inside and found Colt waiting for her, standing by the open French doors that led to his balcony. The light from the setting sun bathed him in gold, accentuating the sharp lines of his face and the broad, powerful set of his shoulders. His dark eyes flicked over her as she entered, and the intensity of his gaze made her skin sizzle.

"Evening," Colt greeted, his voice warm and easy, though his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smile, and Briar felt her pulse quicken.

"Hi," she managed, feeling awkward under the scrutiny of his attention but unable to look away.

Colt gestured toward the balcony, where a small table was set with plates, candles, and a bottle of wine. "Thought we'd eat out here. It's the best seat on the ranch, especially at sunset."

"So Etta tells me. In fact, she proclaimed the best sunsets in Texas could be found out here."

Briar followed Colt onto the balcony, and the view took her breath away. The land stretched out before them, rolling hills bathed in the warm glow of the evening light. The horizon was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple, as if the sky itself had been set on fire.

"It's beautiful," Briar whispered, her voice full of awe.

Colt pulled out a chair for her, his hand brushing her shoulder lightly as she sat down. Even the brief contact sent a spark through her skin, awakening something deep inside her.

"Figured you might like it," Colt said as he sat across from her, his gaze steady. "I thought you could use a quiet spot to unwind."

Briar gave him a small smile, grateful for the gesture. "It's perfect."

They began eating, the easy rhythm of their conversation lulling her into a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. Colt wasn't just easy to talk to—he made her feel seen, like he was paying attention to every word she said without judgment or expectation.

After a moment of silence, Briar gathered her courage and looked across the table at him. "I found your mother's garden earlier today," she said softly, testing the waters. At the mention of his mother, something flickered in Colt's expression—something tender and bittersweet.

C olt paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Yeah? Etta told me you were out there."

Briar set down her glass, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She felt oddly nervous, though she wasn't sure why. "It's a little wild right now, but there's a lot of potential left. I was wondering... would you mind if I kept working on it?"

Colt studied her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "You want to take on the garden?"

Briar nodded, feeling a strange sense of purpose take root inside her. "I love growing things. It makes me feel... connected, I guess." She hesitated, then added.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "My mom felt that way too. It was her pride and joy." His gaze shifted to the horizon, the light from the setting sun casting shadows across his face. "After she passed... none of us could bring ourselves to touch it. It just felt wrong, like it belonged to her."

Briar's heart softened at the quiet vulnerability in his words. There was a depth to Colt that she hadn't expected—a tenderness buried beneath all the strength and dominance.

"I didn't mean…"

Colt laid his hand on hers. "You did nothing wrong. I think my mom would be happy to see someone bring it back to life."

Briar smiled. "If it's okay with you," she said gently, "I'd like to take care of it. Bring it back to life."

Colt's gaze returned to hers, and for a moment, the air between them thickened with something unspoken.

"You'd be doing me a favor," he said, his voice low and sincere. "It's time someone gave it some love again."

Briar smiled, relief washing over her. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it."

Colt's eyes darkened slightly, the flicker of something more—something deeper—passing between them.

The conversation drifted into quieter waters after that, the comfortable silence between them filled with the sounds of the evening—the chirp of crickets, the soft rustling of the breeze through the trees.

Briar found herself watching Colt more closely, noticing the way the candlelight played across his features—the strength in his jaw, the way his hands rested easily on the table, capable and sure. Everything about him stirred something inside her, awakening a hunger she hadn't known she carried.

She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the warm buzz of arousal coil low in her belly. It was an unfamiliar feeling, at least not in this way—not with this magnitude. She'd been attracted to men before, but nothing like this. This was different.

And the way Colt looked at her, steady and unwavering, told her he felt it too. But he didn't push. He didn't crowd her. He gave her space, even though everything in his gaze hinted at a deep, simmering desire waiting just beneath the surface.

"Sunset's almost gone," Colt murmured, glancing toward the horizon where the last sliver of the sun dipped below the hills, leaving the sky awash in twilight colors.

Briar nodded, though her mind was only half on the view. Her heart was racing, and her pulse thudded in her ears as Colt stood and began gathering the dishes.

"I'll walk you back to your room," he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Briar stood slowly, feeling the heat from his gaze on her as she gathered her courage. "Okay," she whispered.

As they left the balcony and headed back inside, the tension between them crackled like electricity, unspoken but undeniable. Colt didn't touch her, but the warmth of his presence pressed close, making every breath feel heavy with expectation. Whatever was happening between them, this dinner was only just beginning.