18. Fable

Chapter 18

Fable

I study Colt King closely. He's an interesting person, very stoic and reserved, but I get the feeling he's not always like this. He feels very much like marble floors, like a roman temple, but also like black ink on old parchment. He feels like the smell of the earth after a good rain, before it gets too waterlogged and smells like mud, and also a perfectly designed garden. There's something very old about Colt, but he can't be much older than I am, a few years at most. Every facet of him feels like an oxymoron, but he doesn't scream that. It's more like a subtle feeling I get every time I'm around him.

"So, how long were you a cop?" I ask, as I help him put the puppies back in their kennel. Apparently, I'm going to get a lesson in dog training. I can't wait.

"Six years," he answers.

"You don't seem very old," I comment. "You must have been a young cop."

"I'm twenty-nine," he replies.

"Why'd you stop?" I ask.

He freezes, but it's only for a second. I might have missed it had I not already been looking at him. "Didn't agree with me," he offers as explanation. He gives no other information, so I let it go. Apparently, it's not something he wants to talk about.

"Come on, Annie Oakley," he says, directing me over to the other side of the door. "The other dogs have free range of the ranch when I'm home, so these are just where they sleep at night. They'll all be outside already."

We open the door and are met by a chorus of barks and happy woofs. Different types of herding dogs appear, border collies, bloodhounds, and a variety of other kinds I don't exactly know the name for. My eyes immediately go to a particular border collie that pushes up from the back. He's grey and black spotted, with all the white on his belly and legs. He's beautiful, so brightly unique among his black and white friends. His butt wiggles in excitement when I give him all the attention he's demanding and that's it. I'm hooked.

"Oh my god. You're so cute!" I tell him, giving him well-deserved love.

"That's Jethro," Colt explains. "He's a trainee, but he isn't doing too well. He's easy to distract. Ultimately, he may make a better pet than a workin' dog."

"That's okay," I tell Jethro. "You just have too much love to give is all." I ruffle his fur, and he jumps up and down happily. When I move, he moves with me, sticking to my side.

Colt frowns. "I've been trying to teach him to move like that for months."

"Maybe you're wrong then," I muse. "Maybe he's a great ranch dog."

Colt shakes his head. "He doesn't do that for me. But apparently, he likes you." He glances over at Dolly in contemplation, but he doesn't say anything more about it.

Jethro sticks by my side the rest of the morning, even when Colt takes me out to the field and releases a small herd of sheep. I'd met the sheep before thanks to Gunnar, so I don't embarrass myself by gushing over them. It's only a small herd of six, used for training only. I get a personal show of a few of the breeder dogs displaying their skills. I watch as the dogs herd them into gates, around different areas, as they respond to Colt's specific whistles. It's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. They all seem to respect Colt, coming over for their reward, and once the older ones show off, he lets the trainees out.

The trainees range anywhere from two months to a year old. The younger ones just kind of run around without knowing what they're doing. When they sit and wag their tails happily, Colt rewards them for their effort, even if they can't do what he wants them to yet. The older ones are more concise and know what their job is already. Those are the ones that will go to new homes by the end of the year.

"It doesn't ever hurt?" I ask. "Having to send them away after working with them for so long?"

"Sometimes," Colt answers honestly. "But we vet the homes they go to thoroughly. So I know they go to good places. That's what keeps me okay with it." He reaches down and scratches Dolly. "Besides, I'm always surrounded by their parents."

"Dolly sticks close by, huh?"

"Always. When I went to collect Rugby, that's the longest we've been apart since she was a puppy. She's my number one girl," he answers, smiling at the dog.

"Is she named after a particular Dolly?" I ask, smiling at the sight of the bond between them. There's just something about a man and his dog that does it for me.

" Duh ," Jinx declares. " Men with animals are hot. And this one is a cop and a cowboy? Sign me up! "

"She came with the name," he admits, shaking his head. "Steele Mountain has a fondness for silly names. Her registered name is Dolly Pawton."

I snort and giggle. "Dolly Pawton? I love that."

"You seem the type to," he says with a scowl, but the corner of his lips curl so I know he doesn't mean it negatively.

I stay out with Colt for most of the day and I enjoy every moment of it. When the working day is done, he walks me back over to my cabin so I can get cleaned up for dinner. He leans against the porch post, his hands in his pockets, as he watches me take the few steps up. I turn and smile brightly up at him, my heart full from a day of puppy kisses and cuddles. Despite his poker face, he's genuinely enjoyable to spend time with.

"Thank you for passing on your knowledge," I tell him, meaning it. While I may never train dogs to herd sheep or cows, he'd also showed me how to teach simple tricks like sit and stay. "I really enjoyed today."

He watches me, his eyes bright. "Feel free to join me anytime in the kennels, Annie Oakley," he says, his body completely relaxed.

He leans against the post in a way that makes me swallow, that does something to my insides. Shit. Do they just make men differently out here or what? Maybe they train them how to be sexy? That seems plausible.

"You mean that?" I ask.

He nods. "Can't say I'm not intrigued to see who you show up as next."

"You don't think it's silly?"

He straightens and closes the distance between us. Colt is taller than I am, but not nearly as tall as Trent. Still, he towers over me as he looks down into my eyes, getting a little closer than necessary. I don't move away. Call it stubbornness or interest, I don't know.

"On the contrary, I find you very interesting, Anny Oakley," he rasps, his eyes on mine before they drop quickly to my lips and then back up. I stop breathing but just when I think he'd going to do something I don't think I'll regret, he takes a step back. "See you at dinner," he says instead, his eyes flickering with bad intentions.

I open the cabin door and slip inside before leaning my back against it, my chest rising and falling rapidly as if I'd held my breath too long. Maybe I did. I don't know.

" Well, holy shit ," Jinx says from the untouched bed. " If you don't fuck him, I will. You know. . . if I could ."

I flush and laugh despite the ridiculous situation.

Jinx gasps. " You like him, don't you, Everhart! "

"What's not to like?" I ask, grinning. And then I look over at my sewing machine I'd set up on the table. "What should I be tomorrow? It's gotta be something impressive."

My eyes flicker over the pile of fabric and snag on a bright pink cotton.