Conquering Love

by Willow Summers

  Noah made a face. “So…yes?”

  “No, here.” Christie grabbed the bag. “I got it.”

  “No, I better take this. Jake—”

  “Noah,” Christie’s voice dropped and a no-nonsense attitude crept into her words. “I got it. Seriously. Please let go.”

  Noah shrugged and splayed his fingers, letting Christie take the duffle. “If you say so, but I’m coming after you if I get in trouble.”

  “Just tell him I threatened you with death.”

  “Nah. I’ll tell him the truth—that I can’t say no to a pretty girl.” Noah flashed her a winning smile. Attraction bordering on lust sparked in his eyes.

  Uncomfortable tingles scratched at Christie’s bones. She forced a laugh and backed away. “Okay, Casanova. Settle down, now.”

  “Alright. Well, hey, catch me at the fire pit tonight, huh?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She waved him away, turning and increasing speed.

  “And don’t burn dinner!” he shouted from between cupped hands as the distance between them spread.

  Christie sucked in a deep breath of fresh, mountain air. She shook it out, belatedly realizing that Jake hadn’t bothered to grab the wagon. Granted, its future had been literally crushed, but it probably deserved a burial in the local landfill. Or at least a parting tear.

  The lounge in the main house for employees was just as she’d left it—still mostly bare and would seldom be used. The hallways were the same beige, and the woodsy smell tinged with a hint of mustiness tickled her nose.

  A smile crept up her face.

  She remembered her first year like it was yesterday. These walls greeted her as solace from her messed up life. All she wanted was peace and a bit of shelter. She’d needed some time to try and forget, if not mend.

  What she’d found was another family. A sane family, with morals and real expectations. With the owners, Dan and May, she’d even received loving support. They had embraced her as a person of worth regardless of her past.

  She walked into the room she would share with the other waitress and immediately veered right, ready to drop her bag on the floor and head for a hot shower. The designer luggage parked next to her bed stopped her up short. Running water from the bathroom announced her roommate’s presence.

  She had just about put the duffle bag down, but then jerked it back up. Whatever was seeping out of the bottom didn’t need to end up on the floor. Christie poked her head into the bathroom.

  A girl with a gazillion different colors of blonde streaking her hair was rolling a lint brush along her sleeve. She ripped off the paper and mumbled something under her breath as it stuck and then wrestled with her fingers. Finally she managed to get it in the trash can.

  “Hey,” Christie said.

  The woman jumped and turned toward her with wide eyes.

  Ho-ly shit, this girl was beautiful. Oval eyes at a slight slant, she had high cheek bones and a delicate nose. Overly full lips parted dramatically, lending a softness to her otherwise severe jaw. She stood shorter than Christie by a couple inches, but her breasts made up for any shortfall in height. The woman had an hourglass figure and knew how to accent it with perfectly fitting clothes. She was a little exotic and a lot gorgeous.

  “Oh my God, you scared me.” Her lips parted as she breathed out a laugh. Her manicured fingers lightly touched her chest before she turned back to the mirror and surveyed her face. The roller touched down on her other sleeve.

  “I’m Christie.” Christie stuck out her hand.

  “Oh, hi.” The woman’s eyes flicked downward, probably catching Christie’s movement in the mirror. She turned deliberately and gently took Christie’s hand. “Paige.”

  “Hi.” Christie beamed at her. “Hey, would it be okay if I take the right side? It’s a little sentimental for me.”

  Paige let the roller hover in the air for a moment before she cocked her wrist, making the object drift to the side. “Actually, I already set up my night creams.” She did a beautiful pout for dramatic effect. Her eyes dipped to Christie’s duffle. “Ew. Is that yours?”

  “No, I stole it off a hobo.” Christie bit her lip in a failed attempt to the catch the words before they clawed their way into the new girl’s ears. She laughed and increased the wattage of her smile. “Just kidding! No, I had an accident on the way here.”

  Paige’s gaze scanned Christie’s attire and zeroed in on her sweaty face. Her lush lips folded into a straight line that indicated she wasn’t impressed before she turned back to the mirror. “I’m almost done if you want to shower.”

  “Great, thanks.” Christie lowered her bag into the bathtub before grabbing one end and the zipper. She peeled back the sides and exposed the guts of the beast, lathered with different colors of liquid. The pink was the shampoo or conditioner—probably both—the blue was probably toothpaste, and oh yes, her expensive lotion was coating her work shirt. “Dang.”

  “You didn’t pack it correctly for the airplane?” Paige asked, leaning over so she could see.

  “It got run over.” Christie gingerly poked at various garments, trying to see if anything had survived without needing to be washed.

  “Weird. Anyway, all yours.” Paige sauntered out of the bathroom.

  Christie lightly shook her head and began removing the soiled garments. She’d had annoying roommates before; this one would be no different.

  An hour later Christie was standing in front of the washing machine with a roll of quarters and a sour look. Thick, gooey liquid coated her hands as she dumped clothing into the sink.

  “Oh, you’re back.” Florence, a large-bodied cook with an even bigger attitude, sauntered by with a surly expression.

  “Missed me?” Christie batted her eyelashes.

  “No.” Florence barely looked at her.

  “Yes, you did, liar. Admit it, you pined after me, didn’t you? It’s okay. I’m here now. Your prayers were answered.”

  Florence huffed as she turned the corner. “You got prep in fifty-eight minutes!”

  “And here I thought you weren’t counting the minutes until you worked with me again,” Christie yelled after her. Grinning to herself, she finished her task, washed her hands, and then made her way outside. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, sprinkling the ground in blotches of sunlight. She perched on a picnic table and just breathed it in, feeling her muscles release and relax.

  The crunch of boots on brittle grasses had Christie looking over her shoulder. Sweat stained and gritty, Greg walked up with a tired smile beneath a cowboy hat. He dropped a saddle beside her then leaned heavily against the picnic table. She expected a wave of bad smelling boy, but instead, a heavy but sweet smell tickled her nose.

  “Your deodorant is on overtime, huh?” she asked, scooting over.

  He took the silent invite and heaved himself onto the table top, sighing and leaning back. His T-shirt stretched across his torso, showing his well defined chest and hinting at bumpy abs.

  “I’m mad at you.” Greg tipped back his hat and wiped his forehead with his forearm. He settled back again.

  “You’re mad at me?” Christie gave him a quirked eyebrow while trying to hide her smile.

  “Yes. Raging.”

  “You sound like you’re raging. I almost clutched my pearls.”

  Greg gave a lopsided grin and nodded imperceptibly. “Why didn’t you call for a ride? From what I hear, you almost lost all your stuff.”

  “Oh, that.” Christie settled back next to him, easy and comfortable. Even mad, as he claimed, he was like a soft breeze on a mild summer day. He just fit, and the deep hum from his arm barely grazing against hers gave her a sort of grounding in the moment that she had come to expect from him.

  “I really think it was my fault,” she said, taking on a philosophical tone. “My poor wagon was a free spirit. A wild thing. I’d been caging it in all along, so when it got a chance at freedom, it ran with it.”

  “Rolled with it, more like.” />
  “Yes, correct. Rolled with it. Sorry for that slip. I was falsely speaking about it like a human instead of a free spirit of a wagon. Won’t happen again.”

  He was silent for a moment, clearly enjoying the day with her. In a soft voice, he said, “You could’ve been hurt.”

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have jumped with it, Greg. I would’ve watched it roll over the cliff in horror, and then kept trucking up the hill.”

  Greg let out a breath and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, breaking eye contact with her. The hum ceased, leaving a hollow behind that was filled with his displeasure.

  Suddenly defensive, she tried to shrug it off with a smile. “Seriously, Greg, I would’ve been fine. I doubt I would even have let go if not for waving at Jake. Not saying it’s his fault, but just that I was distracted and tired.”

  “I’m not worried about the wagon, Christie. I know you would’ve let it go.” He turned to her, his green eyes, wrapped in long black lashes, taking her in with a gravity she was unaccustomed to. “You shouldn’t have tried to walk that. You shouldn’t try to walk through the snow, either. It’s madness. Call me. I’ll help you.”

  The defensiveness kicked up a notch, trying to cover the weird pang of guilt. She got off the table and picked up a rock before throwing it up and catching it again. “You have a life. If I was that desperate I’d buckle down and buy a car.”

  Not that she had any money to do that.

  She growled in frustration, like a bear, and threw the rock through the trees. It skimmed the leaves before disappearing. A moment later, someone shouted, “Ow! What the hell?!”

  “Oh shit!” Christie ducked behind a tree trunk and shot a wide-eyed grin at Greg. She finished it off with a comical grimace.

  “He probably deserved it,” Greg said as a grin worked his lips.

  “Who was it, do you know?” Christie whispered.

  Greg shrugged. “A guy. We always deserve a rock to the head. It helps us think.”

  “What?” Christie laughed in confusion and then slapped a palm over her mouth. She shook her head, the earlier moment cleared. “Fine. If I need to walk up a huge hill with a freedom-loving wagon again, I will give you a call. I’ll let you pull the wagon behind your truck.”

  “And through the snow or a storm?” Greg’s eyes delved into her.

  “Maybe a particularly bad storm where I am concerned I’ll get chased by a yeti.”

  Greg’s brow rose as he minutely shook his head, looking off to the side. “The yeti are especially fierce during storms, I hear.”

  “Purse snatchers, too. A real nuisance.”

  Greg’s head moved in larger shakes now, this conversation clearly not going as he’d intended. He got off the table, the movement making his shirt work up his stomach, showing off his cut obliques and the line of his plaid boxers.

  “Plaid, huh?” Christie couldn’t tear her eyes away. Warmth seeped through her middle.

  As Greg stood, his shirt slid down, touching his smooth skin.

  “Oh heavens.” Christie fanned her face and thought about picking up another rock.

  “What’s up?” He took off his hat and scratched the top of his head. His bicep bulged.

  “Did you take steroids over the winter, or what? Why do you suddenly look like Fabio?”

  “Fabio?” Greg looked down at himself. “Christ, woman, you are really working on my self-esteem this afternoon.”

  “Sweaty Fabio without the golden locks.” Christie grinned mischievously.

  “That your only clean shirt?”

  Christy glanced down at the black, form fitting top. “Yeah. Literally the only one that survived without—”

  Greg stepped forward quickly and bent toward her, giving her a shock of fear. She flinched, covering herself, when his glistening forehead wiped across her sleeve and to her back.

  “Oh ew!” She laughed and danced away. “Gross, Greg!”

  He followed behind her like a bull with bowed head, getting the center of her back and then her other arm. After a moment he straightened and stretched out his arms. “Where’s my hug?”

  “Look at me!” She held her arms to the side, trying to find the streaks of sweat he’d smeared on her. “So gro—”

  His arms enveloped her, squeezing her into his hard body. For one moment, just one, all the air left her lungs and fire burned through her esophagus. Her eyes fluttered closed and her movement ceased, allowing him to wrap her up in his strength and his exotically sweet smell. For that one moment everything softened. The stillness didn’t drag out the tremors, the pain and the memories of horror. Instead, unbelievably, everything went away, and she just was.

  Confused, disheveled, she pushed away from him. Throwing on a smile as easily as one might a cloak, she shrugged. Then wiggled, trying to work up some kinetic energy.

  “Yee haw, cowboy. Anyway, gotta run.” She tried to wink at him, but that had never been her strong suit, so she ended up doing a strange squint in both eyes. “I have to go cook for the jerk sisters.”

  “I was just trying to further ruin—” He slipped his hands in his pockets. “Take it easy. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

  “No, I know. It’s cool. Yeah. Okay, bye.” Running her fingers through her hair—making any situation turn completely awkward was her superpower—she jogged toward the singular focus of cooking to lose herself in her job.

  Chapter 3

  Greg watched Christie walk away with a confused heart. He didn’t know what had just happened. They had been messing around, having fun, and then…she ran.

  He slid his hands down his chest. She’d let him hold her for a moment. Her body had relaxed in his arms before she squirmed away.

  He pursed his lips in contemplation.

  Was it a good relaxed, or a he’s trying to kill me, play dead kind of relaxed?

  “What the fuck, bro?” Richard burst through the trees and stalked toward Greg with pumping arms. He held out Christie’s rock. “Didn’t think I’d find you, huh? Well, I did!”

  “What’s that, Dick?”

  Richard’s face turned red. He threw the rock on the ground. “I’m warning you, Gibson. Stop calling me Dick!”

  “Sure thing, Dick. Sorry about that.” With a shit-eating grin, Greg walked back toward the saddle.

  Richard’s unibrow pulled in tight, furrowing the hair right above his nose. He pushed up his glasses with a finger. “That’s it. Let’s go. I can take you!”

  “Aw, now, don’t get upset. I was just having a little fun.” Greg put the saddle on the table and then laid heavy pats on Richard’s shoulder. “Just take it easy. Don’t get so worked up.”

  The young kid, barely nineteen, scrunched his shoulders as Greg started messaging them. “There we go.”

  “Cut it out.” Richard rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge Greg’s palms.

  “Easy, now,” Greg said, like he was talking to a spooked horse. “Easy, boy.”

  “Cut it…out!” Richard shook Greg off.

  “All right, bro. I gotta go.”

  Richard kicked at the rock. “Just be more careful next time.”

  “See ya ’round, Dick.” Greg snickered to himself as he grabbed the saddle and headed to the shed where Jake was waiting. The older man glanced at the sun, then moved further into the barn.

  “I ran into Christie,” Greg said by way of explanation for his tardiness. “She was sitting out behind the big house.”

  Jake picked up a well-oiled saddle and moved it to the side when Greg headed toward the feed bags to clear them out of the way so the seasonal help would need to fit in there later for the meet-and-greet.

  “That woman makes my head spin.” Greg hefted a bag of feed and moved it off to the side. “She bites off more than she can chew on a regular basis. Then, when most everyone else would either back down or spectacularly fail, thereby knowing to ask for help the next time, she makes it through. She somehow defies all odds.”

  Greg hefted anot
her bag. “And that just means she continues to do more than she should.”

  “It ain’t for you to tell a woman what she should and should not do.” Jake dropped one saddle onto another. “You tell her that, ’n she’ll give you a hard look, maybe a smile, and still do as she pleases. It can get dangerous with a girl like Christie. She don’t say die. Ain’t got it in her. She’s as wild as the mustangs running in the open. Fast and hard won.”

  “Some women do as you tell them.”

  “Them kind ain’t no fun.”

  Greg huffed out a laugh. He had to agree with Jake there. “She’s a city girl. She tries to apply that to the country life. It is dangerous, you’re right. But…” The sack of feed made a satisfying thunk as it landed on the others. “I don’t know. She doesn’t listen to me.”

  “She’s country in her heart, but she’s lost her herd.”

  Greg deflated. When Jake spoke, which was rare, he used analogies and riddles a lot, especially about girls. Girls were confusing enough. Add horses and herds and mustangs into it? He’d need a whisky, stat.

  “Been on her own too long,” Jake said in a low tone. “Don’t trust nobody. Don’t rely on nobody. She’s hard. Life has worn her down. Made her suspicious.”

  “So…” Greg straightened up and braced his hands on his hips. “What, then—I go to her? Because I’ve done that. I’ve walked away, too, thinking she’d follow. Mike told me what worked for him, but it was a no-go.”

  Jake huff-grunted and shook his head.

  “Really?” Greg yanked up another bag of feed. “I’m dumb, am I? I’m missing the great secret with women?”

  “No two women are alike. It makes them excitin’. The hunt. The chase. But when you finally catch one—” Jake snatched at the air, and then held the invisible item to his heart. “You hold on for dear life.”

  “I don’t know that I’m catching this one.” Greg’s heart dropped and he fell still. He’d never admitted that before. Not out loud. But as it drifted out into the world, he felt the reality of it. “It’s been a year. I’ve tried everything. She’s not buying it. Just when I think she might reconcile herself, she bounces back with a smile and a ten-foot pole. It’s me. It’s gotta be.”