Chiseled - A Standalone Romance (A Super Sexy Western Romance) Read online

  I was preparing to sketch his hand stroking the horse when suddenly, he looked over at me and our eyes locked. My heart beat rapidly as he said goodbye to the horse and walked straight towards me.

  Crap! I couldn't let him know I'd been sketching him. I closed my pad rapidly and shoved it behind my back.

  "How long have you been standing there?" Colton asked.

  "I was just leaving the barn," I stammered.

  "You don't strike me as the type to hang out in musty barns."

  "I'm not. Brett suggested it would be the best place to store my canvasses while they dry, so I was just putting one away."

  "The one you've been painting of the house? It looks really good. It's like I'm out in the pasture, looking back at home."

  "Thank you." My cheeks colored at the compliment. "I didn't realize you'd seen my work."

  "Of course, I did. I've been watching from a distance," he said, and my eyes grew wide. Chuckling lightly, he continued, "Nothing creepy. I just mean I've seen you out in the field whenever I would pass by working, and I couldn't help but peek at your canvas."

  "It's okay." I flushed. "I have to stop and watch whenever I see someone else painting at SAIC."

  "Is that where you learned your technique? Your shadows and light are particularly good and create a true sense of realism."

  "You've studied art?" I couldn't mask my surprise.

  "Not really, but my roommate was dating an artist when I was getting my MBA."

  "You have an MBA?"

  "Does that surprise you?"

  "No. Yes. I mean, I guess it sort of does. When you think of cowboys working out on a cattle ranch, you don't automatically think of degrees in business strategy. I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound bitchy."

  "It's okay." Colton's eyes were dancing, and an easy grin creased his cheeks. God, he was sexy. "I feel the same way. I grew up on this ranch, and all I ever wanted to do was ride horses, work cattle, and be a cowboy. The last place I ever saw myself was sitting behind a desk analyzing spreadsheets."

  "So, why did you do it?"

  "My father needed me to. We live in a world of computers and the internet. Our ranch was going to wither away if we couldn't keep up with the times. Of course, it could wither away, anyway. But, I did what I had to do."

  "I'm sorry the ranch is in trouble. I understand if you need to cancel the contract your mother and I made for the paintings."

  "No." Colton shook his head. "My mother hired you to create five paintings, and I'll be damned if I'm going to fire you behind her back. We'll find a way to make it all work. Don't worry about that. I think this quarter we're finally going to show a profit."

  "If you're sure," I said. As much as I wanted this job, I didn't want be a financial burden to them. The Hutchinsons were good people, and I liked them.

  "I'm sure. I like having you around, and having the paintings will be something my family can cherish for generations."

  "Thanks." It had never occurred to me that the work I was doing could be hanging on their walls for that long, but I liked the sound of it. My hands dropped from behind my back to hang at my sides, and Colton saw the sketch pad I was still holding in my right hand.

  "Hey, what are working on now?" He reached for it, and I pulled it just out of his reach.

  "Oh, nothing. It's just my doodle pad. There's nothing in it," I squeaked. I couldn't let him see that I'd been sketching him, or he'd realize I had developed a crush on him.

  "Oh, don't give me that load of manure. I know that's where you draw your ideas before you paint them. What are going to paint next? Let me see. I won't make fun, I promise."

  "No. It's nothing. I'm blocked. I have no idea what I'm going to paint next."

  "Blocked?"

  "Yes. It's like writers block, only for artists. I have absolutely no idea what to paint next," I insisted. He looked back at the horizon and when he turned back and locked eyes with mine, I knew he believed me.

  "Blocked, huh?" he asked, and I nodded my head. His eyes softened, and he took my hand in his. Pulling me forward, he grinned. "I know just what you need to get unblocked."

  Chapter Four: Colton

  I pulled Bethany by the hand, away from the barn and towards the stables. A little gasp of surprise escaped her lips, and I marveled at how incredibly adorable she was. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, ever since she arrived on the ranch, and it was taking all my willpower not to pull her into my arms and kiss her right then.

  It had been a tough day at the office. Hell, it had been a tough year. I'd negotiated with the bank for another loan to keep the cattle cared for until they were big enough to take to the slaughterhouse, where several major meat companies would pay me by the pound for the beef they produced.

  I had Brett bring me the numbers on their growth so far, and by my calculations, it would be enough to cover the year's expenses and even have a little left over.

  Our books may finally be back in the black, but something was still bothering me. According to my reports, we shouldn't have needed the loan in the first place. We hadn't lost many cattle to disease, weather, or accident last year; so why did we have a deficit? We should have had a profit. I just couldn't figure out what I was missing.

  After my last phone conference ended at noon, I needed to get out of the office and into the fresh air for a little while. I closed up the little building and strolled out to see Whiskey. Talking to the beautiful quarter horse always made my worries disappear.

  Ever since I was a kid, I loved going out to stable to spend some time with the horses, just one on one. Only, this time we weren't alone. I could feel a pair of eyes on me, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. When I turned around, I saw Bethany Foster leaning in the doorway of the barn across from the stable, scribbling away on her sketch pad.

  Christ, she was beautiful. Her golden-blonde hair hung loose, down to her slender shoulders, and her face looked intense with concentration. Suddenly, she looked up and our gazes locked.

  I saw excitement in those blue eyes, but her expression quickly morphed into one of embarrassment mixed with fear as I walked up to her and she quickly closed her sketch pad. There was something in it that she clearly didn't want me to see.

  I chatted her up for a few minutes with casual banter. I liked talking to Bethany. She was clearly smart, but occasionally shy, especially when my brothers got noisy around the dinner table. She had an easy laugh, and her smile could outshine the sun. I wanted to see what was in that sketchbook, but she kept it just out of my reach.

  "I have absolutely no idea what to paint next," she swore, and my heart went out to her. Maybe her creativity really had frozen up. It happened to me when I was working in the office. I'd be trying to solve a problem and my mind would just lock up so nothing seemed to make any sense. There was only one cure for it, and I knew just what to do.

  "Blocked, huh? I know just what you need to get unblocked." I pulled her from the barn to the stable, and she stared at me with curious eyes as I got Whiskey suited up in her saddle and bridle.

  "Hop on up," I said to Bethany when Whiskey was ready. The horse whinnied happily, eager to go for a midday ride.

  "I've only ridden a few times, and I'm not very good," Bethany confessed.

  "I'll do all the work," I assured her. I gave her a boost onto the horse's back, then climbed on in front of her. She wrapped her arms around my waist timidly as Whiskey started off with an easy walk. Once we were out of the main yard, I urged her into a gallop and the horse let loose with a flurry of hooves. Bethany squealed with delight and hugged her arms around me.

  It felt good, and for the first time that day, I forgot about expenses and invoices, and I just felt free. We rode through the wooded land beyond the ranch, down the hill, and across the river. Finally, we came to stop under a huge apple tree that had been growing wild in the forest since before I was born.

  "That was so much fun. I've never felt so free," Bethany gushed happily as I helped her down f
rom Whiskey's back. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were dancing.

  "Nothing clears the mind better than a good ride," I agreed.

  "These apples smell delicious." She admired the old tree as Whiskey craned her head up high and took one, chomping noisily. I realized I hadn't had lunch yet, so I reached up to one of the tree's low-hanging branches and plucked several of the red and gold apples.

  "Want one?" I called out to Bethany. When she nodded her head yes, I tossed it to her. She caught it easily and took a big bite.

  "Oh my God. That's the best thing I've ever tasted," she said through a mouthful, spilling juice down her chin.

  "Don't they have apples in Chicago?" I teased. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached out with my finger to gently wipe the dribble of juice from her face.

  "Not like these," she marveled as I pulled my hand back away with chagrin. "Nothing in the city is like this. The sky out here is somehow bigger, the grass is literally greener, and the food is tastier. I guess life really is sweeter out in the country."

  She sat down in the tall grass beneath the tree, smiling wistfully, her apple almost entirely gone.

  "So why live in the city? Why not move out here to the country?" I asked, sitting down beside her in the cool shade.

  "Why? I guess because of my family.”

  "You have a big family?" I could certainly understand that and the obligations that came with it, but her response surprised me.

  "No, not at all. It's just my mother and me, and I'm not sure she even likes me."

  "How could your own mother not love you? And, what about your father?"

  "Oh, she loves me. She just doesn't like me, and my father is the reason why. He never wanted a kid, apparently, so when she told him she was pregnant with me, he wanted to leave. She talked him into staying a few years, but by my second birthday, he just couldn't take it anymore and split."

  "That's terrible."

  "Yeah. He went out for ice cream for my birthday party and never came back. When Mom got back home from the pizza parlor where all her friends had been waiting for him to return, she found he had packed up all his belongings and left a goodbye note on the table. That was the last we ever saw or heard from him, and she blames me for it."

  "You have to know that's not true. It's never the child's fault when a jerk isn't man enough to be a father. What he did was his fault, not yours."

  "I know that in my mind, but sometimes it's hard to convince my heart." Her eyes were full of emotion, and all I wanted to do was kiss her to make her feel better. Our lips drew close, but then I chickened out at the last moment and pulled back.

  Struggling to cover the awkwardness, I asked her, "Did your mother ever remarry?"

  "No. And I never had any siblings. It was always just her and me."

  "Well, siblings can be overrated. Believe me," I joked, and she laughed sweetly.

  "You say that, but I always wished I had a family. My childhood was very lonely. There were times I would have given anything to have four noisy brothers bickering all around the dinner table."

  "Well, family isn't all it's cracked up to be. They sound like a blessing, but they can also be a burden." I had been trying to comfort her, but the words came out a lot heavier than I meant them to.

  Bethany took my hand in her two small ones and stroked it softly. Looking me in the eyes, she asked, "I know you love your family, but I can see they put a lot of pressure on you. Your mother told me that you never had any choice but to do what you do. Do you resent working on the ranch?"

  It was a question no one had ever asked me before, and I thought about the answer long and hard. Finally, I said, "No, I don't resent working on the ranch. It's my home and I love it.

  “I resent being helpless to save it. I could be responsible for my entire family being homeless. It's a miserable position to be in and the guilt keeps me up at night."

  It was the first time I had expressed my feelings like that, and the relief I felt was amazing. Suddenly, I could breathe again.

  Bethany looked at me and said, "I understand. It's the same way I feel about my family. I feel guilty for my mother being left alone, even though I was helpless to stop my father from leaving."

  We spent the whole rest of the afternoon talking, walking along the riverbank, and sharing our feelings. Bethany told me all about her childhood, growing up alone in the city, and I told her what it was like to live on the ranch surrounded by four younger brothers.

  We were completely different, and yet very much the same. We both felt a responsibility to the ones we loved, even though we had no control over the things that happened around us.

  Bethany lit up whenever she talked about her art, and I admired how much courage it must have taken for her to go to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She'd worked her ass off to get there and had just graduated with a degree and applied for a prestigious internship at the Chicago Museum of Modern Art.

  "So, only a few students are granted the internship each year, and I found out that one of them is me."

  "Congratulations! That's fantastic." I was truly proud of her, and as I looked at her beaming up at me, I was moved to kiss her.

  This time, I didn't chicken out, and at the moment when our lips touched, my whole world changed. Her lips were soft and tender, and I circled my hands around her, drawing her closer to me as our kiss deepened. She opened her mouth to me and as our tongues caressed, a gentle moan escaped her throat.

  Finally, we broke apart and stood staring at each other breathlessly.

  "Sorry," I mumbled, feeling like a schoolboy after his first kiss. I'd been with plenty of women, but none of them had ever made me feel like this.

  "I'm not." Bethany smiled reassuringly. "I liked it."

  "Good. Because I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you, and there's a good chance I'll do it again."

  "I think I'd like that, too," she confessed. I took her tiny hand in mine, and we strolled back along the riverbank, hand-in-hand like a young couple in love, back to the apple tree where I'd tied Whiskey to the trunk. The sun was getting very low, and I felt a pain of reluctance as I said, "It'll be dark soon. We'd better get back."

  I boosted her up onto the saddle, and we rode home at a casual trot, in no particular hurry like we'd been when we first left.

  When we came up on the pasture, I slowed Whiskey to a walk so I could check on the workers just getting ready to end their shifts for the day. Brett was supposed to keep an eye on the new hires, but he wasn't always the most reliable supervisor.

  I saw one of them working on a hole in the fence line, and I felt Bethany's arms tighten around my waist with sudden force. I could hear her breathing draw in with a sharp gasp, and I pulled Whiskey up to halt.

  Looking back over my shoulder I saw that her face had gone white as snow.

  "Are you all right?" I asked, feeling worried that she might faint.

  "It's him," she whispered, pointing out at the worker in the field.

  "Who?" I asked, ready to protect her.

  She swallowed hard, and then said softly, "My father."

  Chapter Five: Bethany

  "Are you sure?" Colton asked from over his shoulder.

  The sun was very low on the horizon, and the dusky light made it hard to see. I squinted my eyes to sharpen my vision as I stared at the man. He was older than the man in the photographs I had kept in the bottom of my dresser drawer, hidden beneath a pile of socks, but I was sure.

  Swallowing hard against the lump that risen in my throat, I nodded my head and said firmly, "Yes, that's him. That's Frank Hill, my father."

  Colton nodded his head. "Yep, Frank Hill is the name of the laborer we hired last fall. He's been working on the ranch for the past ten months."

  "That's my father. I haven't seen him since I was two years old, but my mother had several photographs of him that I used to stare at all the time. I'd know that face anywhere – even if it is nearly twenty years older."

&nbs
p; "What are the odds of you finding him here?" Colton was amazed, and I had to confess truth.

  "It's not as big a coincidence as you might think. When I turned twenty-one, I hired a private investigator to help me find him. I figured I was old enough to learn the truth about what had happened. The investigator tracked him down to a P.O. box in Riverbend, so I started posting jobs looking for work in the area."

  "That's how Mama found the ad for you in the Penny Saver," Colton said as if he had finally solved a deep mystery.

  I nodded in affirmation. "When she called me up and asked me to come out to the ranch, it was the perfect excuse to come out and look for my dad. I looked all over town that first week I was here, but there was no sign of him. I finally gave up, and now it turns out he'd been working on the very ranch where'd I'd been staying for over a week."

  "Do you want to talk to him alone or do you want me to stay here with you, right by your side?" Colton's concern was evident in his eyes, and my heart fluttered.

  "Neither," I stated firmly. "Take me back to the ranch. I don't want to talk to him, at all. He abandoned me twenty years ago. It's enough for me now just to know where he is."

  Colton didn't question me on my decision. He didn't try to pressure me into meeting my father. He just silently took me to the ranch house and helped me off his horse.

  "Aren't you coming in for dinner?" I asked him as he took Whiskey by the reigns and started to walk away.

  "I'll be in soon. I have to get Whiskey out of this saddle and put her to bed for the night."

  "Just so long as you're not going back out to talk to Frank."

  "I might stop by his place when I'm done just to have a little chat with the guy."

  "Don't. Frank is my father, and when I'm ready to talk to him, I will. Until then, I don't want him knowing I'm here and I don't want anyone to know he's my father. It's nobody else's business. Got that?"