Chapter 4

Colton

The sun's just cresting over the horizon when I spot Sam striding across the ranch yard, her auburn hair glinting in the early morning light. She's wearing faded jeans that hug her curves and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, ready for work. It catches me off guard.

"Mornin' darlin'," I call out, trying to hide my surprise. "You're up awful early."

She flashes me a smile that makes something stir deep in my chest. "Thought I'd lend a hand with the chores today. If that's alright with you?"

I hesitate, not wanting to burden her with the hard labor of ranch life. But there's a determined gleam in her green eyes that tells me she won't take no for an answer. And isn’t that part of why I got a wife? For help? Still, I want to baby her and don’t want her working herself too hard. Not that I don’t think she can handle it. Just I have this innate urge to take care of her.

Because in my mind, she’s mine .

"Alright then," I concede, tipping my hat. "Reckon I could use the help."

We set to work, side by side, the silence broken only by the lowing of cattle and the creak of leather. I steal glances at her as she hefts hay bales, admiring the sheen of sweat on her brow and the strength in her arms. She meets my gaze and I quickly look away, feeling like a schoolboy caught staring.

As the day wears on, we find ourselves in the corrals, wrangling calves for branding. I watch as Sam picks up a lasso, a look of concentration on her face as she tries to rope a particularly feisty calf. She swings and misses, the rope falling short.

"Here, let me show you," I offer, coming up behind her. I cover her hands with mine, feeling the softness of her skin, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. Together we swing the lasso, letting it fly. It lands true, catching the calf around the neck.

"I did it!" she exclaims, turning to face me, her eyes shining with pride.

Suddenly I'm acutely aware of how close we are, our bodies nearly touching. I feel a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the Texas sun. She must feel it too because her breath catches and her cheeks flush pink.

For a moment we just stare at each other, something unspoken passing between us. I'm seized by the sudden urge to kiss her, to taste those soft, full lips. But I resist, stepping back and clearing my throat.

"Good job," I manage to say, my voice coming out rougher than I intend.

The moment stretches between us, taut and electric, before Sam breaks the tension with a laugh. "Guess I'm a natural," she jokes, but there's a breathless quality to her voice that sends a shiver down my spine.

We return to work, but the air feels charged now, heavy with unspoken desire. Every brush of her hand against mine as we work side by side feels like a jolt of lightning. I find myself watching her more and more, entranced by the sway of her hips, the curve of her neck, the fullness of her lips.

She catches me staring and holds my gaze, her eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes my blood run hot. I swallow hard, trying to rein in the desire that's raging through me. But it's like trying to stop a wildfire with a bucket of water.

As the sun starts to dip towards the horizon, we finish up the last of the chores. Sam stretches, her shirt riding up to reveal a strip of creamy skin. I quickly avert my eyes, busying myself with coiling up a length of rope.

"I'm gonna head in and start on supper," she says, her voice soft and inviting. "Care to join me?"

I hesitate, torn between the need to keep my distance and the overwhelming desire to be near her. But the thought of sharing a meal with her, of sitting across the table and watching the candlelight dance in her eyes, is too tempting to resist.

"I'd like that," I reply, my voice coming out low and husky.

We walk back to the house together, our arms brushing with each step. The tension between us is palpable, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

Inside, Sam sets to work in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she chops vegetables and stirs pots. I lean against the doorframe, watching her, marveling at the way she's brought life and warmth back into this old house.

She looks up, catching me in her gaze, and smiles. "Supper's almost ready. Why don't you go wash up?"

I nod, reluctant to leave her even for a moment. But I force myself to go, splashing cool water on my face and trying to calm the pounding of my heart.

When I return, the table is set with a simple but hearty meal. Sam's face is flushed from the heat of the stove, tendrils of hair escaping from her braid. She looks utterly beautiful.

We sit down to eat, the silence broken only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional murmured compliment about the food. But under the table, our knees brush, sending sparks of electricity through me.

"This is delicious," I tell her, meaning every word. "You're a mighty fine cook, darlin'."

She ducks her head, pleased and a little embarrassed by the praise. "I'm glad you like it."

We finish eating and I insist on helping her clean up, our hands bumping and grazing as we wash and dry the dishes. Every touch feels like a brand, searing into my skin.

Finally, the kitchen is clean and there's nothing left to do but say goodnight. We linger in the doorway, neither of us ready to part.

"Thank you for today," Sam says softly, her eyes searching mine. "I enjoyed working with you."

"I enjoyed it too," I admit, my voice rough with emotion. "But I should be the one thankin’ you. You were a mighty big help.” My brow furrows as I rush to add, “but I don’t want you taxing yourself every day. You got enough to do in here. I can handle the outdoors.”

Sam tilts her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You don't think I can handle it, Cowboy?"

Her teasing tone sends a rush of heat through me. I step closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. "I know you can handle it. You're the toughest woman I've ever met. But I also know you've got a heart as big as Texas, and you'll work yourself to the bone if I let you."

She laughs softly, the sound wrapping around me like a warm breeze. "You're not wrong. But I want to help, Colton. I want to be your partner."

I know she didn’t mean it the way my brain takes it, but the implication in her words makes my heart hammer against my ribs. I reach out, cupping her cheek in my calloused palm. Her skin is soft as silk, and I can feel her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips.

"Sam," I breathe, my voice rough with longing. "You are my partner. But you're also my wife. And I aim to take care of you, like a husband should."

Her eyes darken, the green turning to smoky emerald. “I can take care of you too.”

A groan rumbles in my chest. This beautiful, sweet thing is killing me. I've never wanted anyone the way I want her, with a need that goes soul-deep. "Darlin', you're doing just fine," I tell her, my thumb stroking the delicate line of her jaw.

Damn it all to hell, I’ve got to stop touching her, or I won’t be able to control myself.

One look into her eyes, and it’s clear she’s innocent as hell. She has no idea what she’s doing to me or the filthy thoughts running through my head right now.

I finally muster up the strength to take a step back from her. “Go on and rest. You’ve more than earned it. I’ll take care of the clean-up here.”

She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak before she closes it and nods. “Okay.”

She might not want to admit it, but I see the weariness in her eyes. Today wore her out. She’s not used to that kind of work. Hell, that kind of work wears the most seasoned cowboy out.

“Goodnight, Colton,” she tells me before she turns to head to her bedroom.

My throat is so tight as I watch her hips sway as she walks away from me, I can barely respond, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

My perfect yet untouchable wife.