Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

“Where do you think I got it?” Black eyes twinkled at her from his perch on the next rock.

“Did you really know Roy Rogers?”

Bob puffed out a laugh. “It’s your dream. You tell me.”

“You’re not part of my imagination. That’s a fact.”

“Maybe.” Bob shrugged “Maybe not.”

“Well, let’s pretend the answer is ‘maybe not.’ Why are you here?”

“Maybe you’re crazy, Sophie.”

“You know, as a spirit guide, you suck.”

Bob laughed out loud. “Your spirit is just fine. It’s your heart that’s aching.”

“What?” She turned incredulous eyes to an empty rock. “That just sucks,” she yelled into the peaceful meadow. “Get back here.” But only the birds remained.

Sophie sat up in bed with a startled gasp. The pressure of saving the company must be driving her over the edge. “Damn it. Maybe I am crazy.”

She pushed snarled curls off her forehead and swung her feet over the bed. The cold wood floor forced a chill up her legs, and she darted to her suitcase for socks and a comfortable cardigan. Her eye caught the soft light filtering through the silk curtains—and the clock. She gasped as she noted the time—she’d better hurry. What did one wear to a branding party?

With a shrug, she donned dark jeans and a light purple blouse and grabbed a sweater in case the weather turned. A quick swipe of mascara and a clip to contain her curls finished her look. After pulling on her new boots, she secured the chief’s directions in one hand and darted out the door.

Once in the Jeep, she sat for a moment. With an irritated sigh, she jumped out of the car and back inside to grab her sketchbook. She was going to be late.

The directions were simple. Sophie drove through town and turned left at Rain’s Crossing. Soon enough, freshly painted white fences lined both sides of the road where horses ranging from light tan to colorful paints frolicked to the right, while steers and cows dotted the field to the left. She’d have to return when she had more time to sketch the placid scene of contrasting colors.

She pulled in behind a green Ford pickup beside a trio of large brown cows chewing grass in their large mouths. Sophie gave the three an uneasy smile before following the line of trucks up a slight hill. She stopped at the rise and surveyed the ranch below. To the left of a large two-story log-planked house, colorful picnic tables perched among the trees near a large bunkhouse. Several barns, paddocks, and fenced areas stood to the right, as did most of the crowd.

Her boots clomped a rhythmic tune down the hill, toward the sounds of hooting and hollering. Several people stood on or by a three-slatted white fence, shouting encouragement. She spotted Dawn standing on the bottom rail of the sturdy fence and made a beeline for her new friend. She had just placed one foot on the bottom rung when a cheer rose from the spectators.

“This way, Colt!” a man called from inside the square corral.

She knew that voice. Awareness fluttered in her stomach at hearing Jake’s deep baritone. She shifted up to see over the top rung.

Good God. The man was in chaps.

Actual chaps.

Jake’s worn cowboy hat perched atop a grimy forehead as sweat ran in rivulets down his dirty face. Mud and dust caked his black shirt, and light jeans poked through the deep brown chaps protecting his legs. He dug scuffed cowboy boots into the earth while twisting two large horns in his leather-gloved hands, rolling a massive steer to the ground. Jake’s face set into hard lines of determination as he battled the beast.

The steer bellowed when Jake shifted to press one firm knee into its neck, his hands pressing the horns to the ground, effectively immobilizing the animal’s body. Colton rushed in with a needle and inoculated the animal just before another man pressed a hot iron to its flank.

The stench of burning fur filled the air in tune with the steer’s protest. Jake released him and jumped back. The steer leaped to its feet and ran out a narrow side exit into another pasture. The beast had to weigh at least a ton, maybe two. Fortunately, the pen safely kept the spectators from danger.

Jake grinned at Colton across the dusty pen, his dimple winking through the grime. “It’s your turn to roll ’em to the ground.” He yanked off his hat and wiped his forehead with one muscled arm.

“But you’re so good at it,” his brother returned, his face caked with mud.

Sophie stood in shock as warmth pooled deep in her belly. She was so completely out of her element. Yet what a display. She had never seen such masculinity before.

Man against beast.

And man won.

He was filthy. Covered in dirt and who knew what else. The urge to kiss Jake again tempted her. Her mother would be shocked.

His dark gaze found her, and she forgot all about her mother. She may have forgotten how to breathe. Then he smiled and she forgot how to think.

“Well hello, Sunshine.” He pounded his cowboy hat on his chaps and dust flew as he stalked toward her. “You look pretty today.” Then his dimple winked again. “I like your boots.” He stopped just on the other side, eye-to-eye with her as she stood, riveted, on the fence rung.

“Me, too.” Warmth flushed her face. “They’re my favorites.”

“You wear them well.” Something unidentifiable flashed through his eyes. For some reason, his look streaked heat through the rest of her. “Are you going to eat lunch with me?” The dimple returned.

“I didn’t bring lunch.” Her eyes fixed on his mouth.

“I brought enough for both of us.” The sound of another steer prodding toward the pen echoed behind him. “I have about ten more to do before lunch.” He turned back just as the beast rushed into view. “Dawnie, tell Sophie the rules for watching,” he called over his shoulder, his attention on the animal.

Dawn tipped back her cream-colored cowboy hat and gave Sophie a big smile.

“Rules?” Sophie muttered.

“Oh yeah, there are always rules, trust me,” Dawn said with a practiced eye roll. “Basically, if a steer comes your way, take three steps back.”

“Why?”

“Well, we haven’t had one bust through the fence in a while, but it has happened.”

Three steps? Man, she’d run for the car. “Okay.”

“So how was your date?”

Now Sophie rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date. It was business.”

“Right.” Dawn straightened. “Colton, watch your left,” she yelled just as the steer turned its head.

Sophie gasped as Colton shifted to the left, narrowly missing being gouged. “Good thing you’re here to watch your brothers,” she said quietly.

Dawn nodded toward the third man in the pen. “I’m here to watch Hawk.”

“Hawk?” The name fit. Thick black hair was cut short above a face too sharp to be rugged. Deep green eyes watched the steer as he waited with the branding iron, his chiseled face fierce in concentration. He stood well over six feet and filled out his black shirt hard. “Can’t say I blame you. Though he looks older than you.”

“Yeah. This is actually his spread. He’s been Colton’s best friend since they were in diapers, and they’re only three and a half years older than me. Though it might as well be a million.”

“Oh. Sorry.” In love with her brother’s best friend? That did suck.

Dawn shrugged. “I’m of age. Next time he’s on leave, I will have graduated from college. Finally.”

“On leave?”

“Hawk’s in the navy, a SEAL. He’s on leave for a week and then he goes back. But,” she said, sadness creeping into the young woman’s words, “it seems like every time he comes back, he’s even further away.” She was quiet for a moment before perking up. “Though Jake was like that, too, and then he got over it.”