Claimed by A Cowboy: Iron H Ranch by Dee Ellis

Author:Dee Ellis [Ellis, Dee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hummingbird Press
Published: 2023-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Wynn

Being a cowgirl might be the life for me.

Riding horses, mending fences, and feeding the goats and the few cows has been the best time of my life. As darkness falls, I am exhausted, filthy, but so fulfilled I want to spend a hundred days this way.

Watching Wylder with the horses is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. He joked about me being a horse whisperer with that one temperamental filly—look at me, talking cowgirl—but he is the real deal. He talks to them as if they understand him and I think they just might.

To be honest, watching that man do just about anything is special. It feels as if he has peeled back his shutters to give me a glimpse. A glimpse that he rarely shares with anyone else—one I feel privileged to witness.

“Lots of folks would give up on horses like Hyde,” he explains as we linger in the stalls at the end of the day.

We rode for hours together this afternoon. Being alone with him is worth a hell of a lot more than I bid for. He might be slow to laugh, but lord when the man laughs, his cobalt eyes light up and it’s a melodic sound. He smiles for me often, and I think I am luckier than most to get that smile.

“Here you go, honey,” he murmured softly when he took me to meet the goats. “Go slow, they want to let you in.”

His words felt very tongue in cheek. We have been flirting back and forth since last night. Whatever I thought about men was wrong. At least Wylder is proving me wrong. He is gentle, kind, patient, and so damn sexy just his touch sets me ablaze.

We talked about everything on our ride through the sprawling acres of the ranch. He told me about where he had grown up, the trouble he had gotten into, and how remorseful he was. When he told me where his scar came from, my heart broke for him.

Not because he was sent to prison, though that is reason enough. When he told me about coming home to nothing, my battered heart broke a little. His father had passed without him being there, his childhood home was gone, and all the people he had called friends had abandoned him.

For my entire life, I have been alone. I made friends with Jillian through work—my best friend is a travel agent who books most of my trips. If not for her, I would have no one.

To have no one hurts, it is an emptiness that seems so big and so deep when you let yourself sit with it. But to have a father, even if he was a bit of a jerk, and friends you trusted, and have them ripped away. That kind of pain surely cuts a lot deeper than any scar.

“They won’t hurt me will they?” I had responded, neither of us talking about the goats now.

“No, honey. They would never hurt you.

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