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Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

DAKOTA

D akota awoke to the first fingers of dawn caressing the horizon and the ranch stirring around her with the low murmur of life, weaving through the open window and carrying the promise of the new day. As she lay in the soft embrace of what she was beginning to think of as her bed, she considered the rhythm she had fallen into over the past several days.

Landon, with his quiet strength, had been as good as his word. Each afternoon, he'd either accompany her to the diner in town or entrust her with the keys to his prized fully-restored, vintage truck, its engine rumbling like a contented beast under her careful hands. Dakota found an unexpected solace in the steady thrum of the vehicle and the shared silences that stretched out along the miles between the ranch and the diner.

By morning, she roamed the expanse of Copper Canyon Ranch, offering her help where it was needed. It was during one of those sojourns that she fetched the satchel she had stashed out in one of the pastures. Her hands, unaccustomed yet eager, busied themselves with mending fences and feeding livestock, the tasks grounding her in ways she couldn't quite articulate. With each passing day, the hard lines of her past softened, blending into the edges of this new landscape.

The ranch hands were cautious but kind, their eyes clouded with curiosity rather than judgment as they watched her navigate the world they knew so well. She engaged them with a guarded smile, her words measured, revealing only slivers of the woman beneath the surface. Yet even these tentative connections wove threads of belonging that tethered her to this place.

"Morning, Dakota," Landon's voice cut through the tranquility, rich and warm as the earth beneath their feet.

She turned, her gaze lingering on the way his shirt clung to broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms corded with strength. There was a magnetism to him, a pull as undeniable as the moon on the tides, and she felt herself drawn in despite the walls she had built.

"Morning," she replied, her voice betraying none of the tumultuous thoughts swirling within.

"I was just about to check on the new calves. Care to join me?" His offer hung between them, fraught with an intimacy that went beyond the simple act of walking side by side.

"Sure." The word escaped almost before she could think better of it, and they saddled up and rode out together.

She followed him through the fields, her horse keeping pace with his through the dew-kissed grass. As they approached the pond, Landon's proximity became a tangible thing, the heat from his body brushing against her skin in whispers. As she leaned down to examine a calf, their shoulders accidentally touched, causing a surge of awareness to shoot down her spine. She caught her breath, the sound lost amidst the wind whispering down the canyon and the distant call of a hawk.

"Everything looks good here," Landon said, straightening up, his gaze locking with hers. There was a depth to his eyes, a silent question that seemed to see through to her very core.

"Y-yes, they seem healthy," she managed, her pulse quickening as she fought to maintain the distance between them, both physical and emotional.

"I think your family would have been proud of the life you’re making here," he murmured, and she wondered how he knew just what strings to tug inside her heart.

"Maybe so," Dakota whispered back, turning away to hide the sudden moisture in her eyes, feeling the weight of memories and the pull of desire, a dangerous cocktail that threatened to overwhelm her defenses.

They worked silently for a time, the air thick with things unsaid and the scent of sagebrush. Dakota's senses were acutely tuned to Landon, each shift of his body sending ripples through the charged atmosphere. She wrestled with the longing, the yearning to lean into the security his presence promised, even as her mind warned her of the perils of getting too close.

"Thanks for being here, Dakota," Landon said, his voice suddenly close, his breath warm against her ear. "You're fitting in more than you know, and more than one person has commented about how much help you’ve been."

"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "for making room for me."

With the sun climbing higher in the sky, casting its golden glow over the rugged land, Dakota felt the barriers she had erected tremble. Here, in the presence of this man whose humor and mystery beckoned her closer, she began to entertain the thought that perhaps she could find a haven in the vastness of Copper Canyon Ranch.

Dakota's fingertips brushed against the dusty volumes on the top shelf, her movements careful and deliberate as she inhaled the musty scent of antiquity trapped within the attic of Copper Canyon Ranch. Sunlight slipped through the cracks of the old wooden planks, casting dappled patterns across her face. The task, suggested by Etta, was simple enough—clean and organize a place forgotten by time—but it felt like an excavation of hidden histories, each object a fragment of countless untold stories.

As she sorted through boxes, Dakota's thoughts wandered to Landon, his image superimposed on every surface she touched. The way his eyes smoldered with an intensity that both unnerved and enticed her. She could still feel the ghost of his breath on her ear from earlier that day, stirring embers deep within her soul.

"Find anything interesting up there?" Landon's voice drifted up from below, pulling her back to the present.

"Mostly keepsakes and mementos," Dakota called down, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "It's like stepping into someone's memories."

"Memories can be powerful things," he replied, his words reaching for something deeper than the conversation at hand.

Dakota paused, holding a faded photograph in her hands, her eyes reflecting a wistfulness that mirrored the sepia tones of the captured moment. It wasn't just the attic that needed organizing; it was her past, too—sorting through the clutter of pain and betrayal to make room for new beginnings.

"Need any help?" Landon's offer was casual, but Dakota heard the underlying note of concern.

"No, I've got it," she responded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But thank you."

"All right then," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctance before retreating, leaving Dakota to the solace of her task.

The late afternoon light shifted, bathing the attic in a golden hue that seemed to wrap around her like a warm embrace. Dakota allowed herself to feel vulnerable, to lean into the comfort this work brought her. Each sweep of the broom, each carefully folded quilt, each box set aside for donation was a step toward healing, toward claiming a space for herself in this world that had so unexpectedly become her refuge.

And as the shadows lengthened, marking the end of another day, Dakota descended the attic stairs feeling lighter than she had in years. The air outside carried the crisp promise of evening, and with it, a silent acknowledgment that she was slowly becoming a part of the fabric of the ranch, woven into its legacy with every breath she took under its wide Texas sky.

The first light of dawn spread out across the ranch, painting a gentle glow over the grass that was still damp with dew. A gentle chill lingered in the air as Dakota stepped out onto the porch, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. The world was hushed except for the distant lowing of cattle and the rhythmic scrunch of boots on gravel.

Landon was already there, leaning against a fence post with a steaming mug in his hand, watching the horizon swallow the night. His presence was a solid, reassuring force in the ever-changing mosaic of Dakota's life. He turned at the sound of her approach, his eyes lighting up with that smoldering intensity that sent a thrill down her spine.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice rich and warm, like the coffee he offered her from a second mug.

"Morning," Dakota replied, accepting the drink. The steam rose between them, mingling with their breath in the cool air.

They made their way to the dining area where the others had gathered. The table contained a large spread of home-cooked food, and the atmosphere teemed with easy conversation and laughter. Yet, even amidst the camaraderie, Dakota felt an connection with Landon, a thread that pulled taut with each shared glance.

After breakfast, they set out to tend to the cattle, riding out side by side through fields tinged with the golden touch of sunrise. Dakota watched Landon move among the animals with an ease that spoke of years spent on this land. His hands were sure and gentle as they checked each beast, his movements fluid and confident.

"Want to try?" Landon asked, a playful challenge in his tone.

"Sure," Dakota said, her heart racing with excitement and a hint of trepidation. She mirrored his actions, her hands brushing against his as he guided her. The contact was electric, sparking a cascade of sensations that she fought to keep hidden beneath the surface.

"Like this," Landon instructed, his body close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. The scent of leather and earth enveloped her, intoxicating in its rugged masculinity.

"Okay, I think I've got it," she managed to say, despite the distraction of his proximity.

"Good job," he praised, and his approving gaze sent a surge of warmth rushing to her cheeks.

As they moved through their tasks, Dakota couldn't help but marvel at how natural this life felt. The ranch had become a place where the ghosts of her past seemed to lose their power. Landon, with his understated strength, was an anchor in this new reality.

And as the sun climbed higher, chasing away the last remnants of dawn, Dakota found herself lost in the rhythm of ranch work, the steady heartbeat of a world that was slowly becoming her own.

At the pond, Dakota's fingers trailed through the cool, rippling water, the liquid silk slipping between them. The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over the surface, fracturing light into a thousand dancing shards that mesmerized her senses. She was kneeling at the edge, sleeves rolled up to elbows, peering into the depths for the glint of scales that signified the hidden carp Landon had told her about.

"See any?" Landon's voice, deep and resonant, stirred the stillness around them.

"Nothing yet," she replied, not looking up but aware of his approach, the sound of his boots against the dry earth a percussion that set her pulse to an uneven rhythm.

He crouched beside her, their shoulders nearly touching in the intimate space as he leaned forward. His proximity pulled at her like a magnetic field, an attraction she felt with every fiber yet didn't fully understand.

"Here, let me show you where they like to hide," Landon said, reaching out to gently guide her hand beneath a cluster of overhanging reeds.

The brush of his fingers sent a jolt up her arm, igniting her nerves with an awareness that bordered on painful.

"Look closer, right there—" Landon murmured, bending further, his breath warm against her ear.

And then it happened—a shift, deliberate or accidental, Dakota couldn't tell. Their faces were mere inches apart, eyes locked and suspended outside of time. Landon's gaze held a depth that alluded to canyons and secret places, and Dakota felt herself falling into them, helpless to resist.

His lips brushed hers, a soft pressure that spoke of restraint and desire, a question and a command all at once. Her heart stuttered, pounding a wild rhythm against her ribs as the kiss deepened, more insistent now, coaxing her into a world where caution was forgotten and only sensation remained.

But then reality crashed back, a cold wave drenching her in sudden clarity. Dakota jerked back, breaking the contact, her breath coming fast and uneven. She stared at him, wide-eyed, the taste of him—a mix of coffee and untamed wilderness—still lingering on her lips.

"Sorry, I—" Landon began, but Dakota cut him off with a shaky gesture.

"No, it's... I'm just not..." She couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't articulate the turmoil inside her.

Landon watched her with a quiet intensity, his expression unreadable—the silence stretching between them like a chasm.

Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice low and tinged with something that sounded like concern. "Dakota, what brought you here? You're running from something; I can see it in your eyes."

Her throat tightened, the weight of unshared secrets pressing down on her. She looked away, focusing on the distant line of trees, the safety of evasion. "I needed a fresh start," she said, the words brittle and hollow even to her own ears.

"Is that all?" he prodded, unwilling to let the matter drop, his cowboy hat casting shadows over his intense eyes.

Dakota hesitated, torn between the urge to flee and the desperate need to unburden her past. But trust was a luxury she couldn't afford—not yet. "It's complicated," she finally admitted, the truth of it scraping raw against her soul.

"Life's complicated," Landon agreed, his tone softer now, a thread of understanding weaving through it. "But around here, we take care of our own. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here."

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like a blanket, offering warmth and refuge, allowing her to imagine what it would be like to lean on someone else, to share the load. But the moment passed, leaving behind a whisper of yearning and the echo of a kiss that promised both danger and solace.

She’d had the day off from the diner and the coppery hue of twilight bathed the rugged landscape as Dakota rode beside Landon, the sound of their horses’ hoofbeats silenced by the grass. Shadows stretched long across the terrain, reaching out like dark fingers, hinting at secrets that only the land knew—secrets akin to those curled tight within her own chest.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Landon's voice was soft, reverence lacing his words as he gazed out across the expanse of Copper Canyon.

Dakota nodded, her eyes lingering on the man rather than the view. "It's... overwhelming," she confessed, her voice barely rising above a whisper, the vastness of the horizon mirroring the depths of her untold past.

He looked at her then, his gaze as penetrating as the chill that had begun to seep into the evening air. "Sometimes, sharing the load makes it easier to bear. You don't have to carry it all alone," he said gently, his presence a steadfast pillar amidst the swirling eddies of her turmoil.

Taking in a deep breath, Dakota felt the dam inside her crack, the pressure of months—no, years—of silence too much to withstand any longer. She spoke of her grandfather first, the grizzled old man with love in his eyes and secrets of their lineage veiled behind stoic expressions. He’d been vague and yet emphatic.

“The night my grandfather passed, he told me I should go east to the wolves. I didn’t have a clue as to what he meant—I just figured they were the ramblings of a fading mind, but now I wonder. I wonder if he didn’t leave me with some kind of legacy to unravel.” And with that she began to share her last memory of her grandfather with him.

The room was dim, Dakota sat in an old wooden chair, its creak a gentle protest against her weight as she leaned forward, clasping her grandfather’s frail hand between hers. His skin was paper-thin, veins tracing a map of a life well-lived yet worn down by time. The shallow rise and fall of his chest matched the ticking of the clock on the bedside table—a rhythm that seemed unbearably fragile.

“Granddad,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His eyelids fluttered, the effort to open them monumental. When he finally managed it, his hazy eyes found hers, a flicker of the man she’d always known shining through the shadows of his weariness.

“Dakota,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “You’ve always been a beautiful wild child.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she forced a smile. “And you’ve always been my favorite everything.”

His cracked lips curved in a faint smile, and ever so briefly, she saw the spark of the mischievous man who’d taught her how to ride, how to shoot, and how to laugh even when the world felt heavy.

“You need to listen,” he said, his voice growing more urgent despite its frailty. “Go east.”

“East?” She leaned closer, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

His hand tightened ever so slightly around hers, surprising her with its strength. “To the wolves.”

Confusion clouded her expression, but she nodded, the weight of his words sinking deep into her heart. “Okay, Granddad. I’ll go east to the wolves. I promise.”

His gaze softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to say more. But the strength he’d mustered began to ebb, his body relaxing as if the burden he’d carried had finally been passed on. His breath slowed, each one shallower than the last, until the room fell silent save for the soft ticking of the clock.

“Granddad?” she choked out, leaning closer, her voice breaking. But there was no response, only the serene stillness of a man at peace.

Tears streamed down her face as she pressed his hand to her cheek, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The grief was a tidal wave, crashing over her and leaving her raw and aching. She felt lost, untethered, as though the compass that had always guided her had vanished.

Yet his final words echoed in her mind. Go east to the wolves. She didn’t understand them, not yet, but she clung to them like a lifeline, knowing they held a purpose she would one day uncover. For now, though, she allowed herself the space to mourn, to grieve the man who had been her anchor, her teacher, her family.

As the first rays of dawn crept through the window, painting the room in hues of gold and pink, Dakota sat by his side, her hand still holding his, promising herself she would honor his final wish—no matter where it led her.

Landon listened, the set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow conveying an empathy that went beyond mere politeness. He was a statue carved from understanding, a silent sentinel in her confession.

She hesitated before speaking of darker times; the man who had once promised her the world only to show her the inferno beneath his touch, the scars—that were more than skin-deep—from an abusive ex, and the sting of infidelity that followed like salt in an open wound.

"Enough," Landon said firmly, stepping closer, his hand brushing against hers, his strong voice halting the memories that threatened to pull her under. "You're safe now, Dakota. With me, you're safe."

The words were simple, but they resonated within her like a struck chord, vibrant and sonorous. His promise wrapped around her, seductive and warm, dispelling the ghosts that clung to her spirit. Trust bloomed, delicate and new, unfurling its petals within his vow.

"Can I—" Her words faltered, her throat constricting with the enormity of what she was about to surrender.

"Anything," he answered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones.

"Can I trust you?" It was both a question and a plea, the final barrier between her guarded heart and the vulnerability of desire.

"Always," Landon assured her, his hands framing her face, his thumbs tracing the high planes of her cheekbones with a tenderness that felt like reverence.

That single word was the flint that sparked the tinder of her restraint. Desire, coiled tightly within her, ignited, and she found herself leaning into him, her lips finding his with an urgency that left no room for doubt. Their kiss was a conflagration that consumed all reason, leaving only primal need in its wake.

Landon removed his shirt and laid it on the ground beneath the trees; then, after removing her clothes, he laid her down. Dakota knew she should say no or in some way resist the urge to give in, but she couldn’t—she didn’t want to. There was something about this that was as inevitable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

Strong, firm hands massaged her legs. His fingers teased her with each stroke. “Relax, Dakota. No one can see us.” The sound of her name coming from his lips solidified what she was feeling.

She let the sweet sensation of his touch take her out of her comfort zone. She melted like putty in his hands, and she heard him exhale as if he liked it just as much as she did.

He moved his hands upward slowly on her thighs, kneading his thumbs ever so gently, teasing her with those same skilled hands. Dakota closed her eyes and soaked up the sensations. Landon grasped her hips and pulled her to him in one swift motion.

She gasped and opened her eyes. Landon slid his hands up higher on her thighs. He moved his thumbs up and down, stroking close enough to feel the evidence of what his touch was doing to her.

He looked into her eyes, then pulled her in for a kiss. Not just any kiss. His lips covered hers. Instinctively, her tongue met his. His passionate caresses moved down her back. He kneaded and massaged, relaxing all of the tension her body had been holding for so long.

He lifted her off the ground, his hands cupping her ass. He angled her into a better position and leaned his rock-hard bulge against her sex.

“What are you doing to me, Dakota?” A low guttural moan escaped his throat.

She knew he meant what he said. She could feel it. Hear it. The way he looked at her and her body confirmed it. This gorgeous man wanted her, and she was no longer willing to deny how much she wanted him. He treated her neck with hot kisses, while his hands toured the contours of her body.

Dakota arched her back with every caress and allowed him to explore all of her. He slid his lips down her chest. He kissed her breasts; her nipples hardening as he sucked them into his mouth. The space between her legs throbbed. She feared she’d explode before he even had a chance to thrust into her.

With knowing hands, he cupped her breasts and teased her nipples between his fingertips. Arousal surged through her veins. She bit her lip to prevent a scream from escaping her lips. He teased the other nipple by tugging, pulling, and rotating his fingers around the sensitive tip.

Her hips swayed underneath him. Dakota could feel his enormous cock pulsate through his jeans.

His lips moved from her breasts and followed a trail of wanton desire to her navel where he swirled his tongue. The anticipation of having his soft lips tease her in ways she could never have imagined caused her to quiver with excitement. She was ready. She tried to reach up to unfasten his jeans, but he stopped her. He pinned her arms to her sides, using his lips, tongue and the edge of his teeth to kiss, lick, and nibble on her tender flesh.

“Nice,” he moaned. He let go of her arms and rubbed his full cock against her. “I can’t wait to have you.”

“Take me,” she begged. She’d never begged any man in her life, but this felt necessary. This was right.

A sly smile crossed his face as he stood, exposing a tight, muscular torso and perfect muscle laden arms. Landon removed his jeans. She couldn’t breathe. Goosebumps covered her arms and legs. Just the sight of his long, hard, thick cock was enough to make her drool.

Flipping her over, he pulled her up onto her knees while wrapping his arms around her, pushing himself up against her. Her whole body was alight with need and desire. He pulled her closer, kissing her neck and placing his hands on the back of her thighs and ass. He lifted her up with one strong arm and entered her in one quick motion, filling her with his massive cock.

Her breath caught in her throat. This was what she wanted. This was what, if she was being completely honest with herself, she’d wanted all along.

“You feel so good,” he groaned as he thrust in and out of her.

They moved in unison, desire wrapping them in their shared passion. His kisses were full of heat and desire. His hands moved all over her body. He teased every curve, until a powerful orgasm swept over her, and he began to pound into her in a frenzy of need. Over and over, he stroked in and out, harder and faster in primal need until he thrust deep, grinding against her as he filled her with his essence.

In the afterglow, beneath the velvet sky, Dakota's breath came slow and deep, her head resting against Landon's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—an echo of her own. Here, entwined with him beneath the canopy of the cosmos, the haunting melody of the past receded into silence, and for the first time in forever, she was content to simply be.

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