One Hundred Choices (An Aspen Cove Novel Book 12)

by Kelly Collins

  He threw her a sideways look but took the mug and drank deeply. She might not be able to make good oatmeal, but she made excellent coffee.

  “I thought you’d be sleeping in.”

  Tom shuffled out of his room and pushed his way past her. She held up her cup so it wouldn’t spill.

  “Take it in the bedroom and leave the hallway free of your bullshit, Trinity.” He slammed the bathroom door behind him.

  “He’s a real asshole. What did you do to him again?” Wyatt asked.

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t do him.” She turned around and walked toward the kitchen. “Breakfast is on the table. I’ll be outside feeding the horses.”

  All he could think about was her first try at cooking for him. He ate every bite because she’d made the effort, but his stomach couldn’t take another round of Three’s creative cooking.

  To his surprise, what he found was a plate of apple spice muffins. He refilled his mug and swiped all three because Tom didn’t deserve any of her sweetness.

  He left the cabin and climbed inside his truck, setting the muffins and the mug of coffee on the dash. At the turn of his key, the passenger door opened, and Three climbed inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  She laughed. “If you can follow me at my job, I’m returning the favor.”

  “You afraid someone will be inappropriate? Are you trying to defend my honor?”

  She turned to face him while he pulled away from the bunkhouse. “I got your back. I hear you’re having an issue with a young flower.”

  “Violet is a pain in my ass. If you were like that as a young girl, I can see why everyone says you’re trouble.” He tossed her a muffin and grabbed one for himself. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome.” She peeled off the paper cup and traded him muffins. “If you think my oatmeal tasted awful, try eating the paper baking cup.”

  He took a bite, and at the turn on to the main road he stopped and looked at her. “Were you?”

  She grabbed his mug of coffee to wash down her last bite. “Was I what?”

  “Like Violet?”

  “I imagine in some ways I was.” She handed him his coffee. “I was a young impressionable girl. I had a crush or two on a handsome cowboy.”

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  “I wasn’t talking about you, but yes, I think you’ll do in a pinch.” She picked the raisins from her muffin and tossed them out the window.

  “That’s littering.”

  “I’m composting. It’s only littering if the earth doesn’t eat it in a timely manner. Give it one rain and a hot day, and those nasty things will disappear.”

  “Do you like grapes?”

  He could see her roll her eyes out of the side of his. “I’ve heard the argument before. I like grapes, but not a fan of them dried out. They remind me of guinea pig poop.”

  “But they taste better.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I don’t, but I’d say it’s a safe bet. Now back to you and those cowboys. Tell me about living your life in a bunkhouse.”

  “When I was born, my father was a ranch hand on the Mercer Ranch near Lone Tree. My mom took off when I was little. Their cook did a lot of babysitting. The day I could attend school must have been the happiest day of my father’s life. His second happiest was probably when I left McKinley Ranch.”

  “I doubt that. Now tell me how a girl survives the bunkhouse.” He wanted to hear her story. It couldn’t have been easy. He thought about his sister and what it would have been like for him to live with her in a house full of men. Anyone with a lick of sense would have pretended she didn’t exist if they didn’t want to die.

  She settled back and sighed. “Early on, it was easy. We had a cabin at the Mercer’s. It was in a group of cabins where the ranch hands stayed. Awesome digs, actually. You rarely live in a single-family home while working a ranch for someone else. When Mr. Mercer died, we found ourselves in a different situation because of the foreman.”

  “You left Colorado for Wyoming.” He turned on the country road leading to Lloyd’s.

  “They had bunkhouses. I always had the top bunk above my father, and my brothers’ bunk was beside ours. No one was getting near me. By then, I was a teenager, but I had all the parts of a woman.”

  “Trouble.”

  She nodded. “Yep, because I didn’t know what that did to men. My poor brothers had bloody knuckles for the first month on the ranch. It was okay for several years. There were guys that pushed their luck, but after a few of the cowboys sported black eyes, no one bothered me until Luke left. By then, I was in my twenties. That was when trouble started.”

  He parked the truck and turned to her. “You weren’t the trouble?”

  “No, I was a girl who attracted men without trying. I had the right parts. You stick twenty men in a room and put one girl in there, she could look like a toad covered with warts, and there would be problems. The rest is history. I never asked for their attention. I didn’t go out of my way to attract it. I never had a bad reputation until those three showed up. Two of them were harmless, but Tom, he was the instigator.”

  “He’s definitely not a fan of yours. Shall we go?” He grabbed his backpack. He’d filled it with canned meat and a package of burger buns the day before. He rounded the truck and met her on the passenger side. “Ready to be a cattle rancher?”

  “What are we doing today?”

  “Inventory. The books need to be straight.”

  “We’re counting cattle?”

  “Sort of. We’re tagging cattle. Lloyd invested in an RFID system.”

  “And my job?”

  “Since I didn’t know you were coming, we’ll figure it out as we go.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her into the barn.

  “Will Lloyd care if I’m here?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve never heard of someone complaining about free labor. Saddle up Red.”

  She moved like a lightning bolt to his horse. Red turned around and nuzzled her neck. “He’s a sweet boy.”

  “You are trouble. That horse doesn’t like anyone but me and now you.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me.”

  “Someone got a problem in here?” A deep voice came from the door. If he didn’t know what Lloyd looked like, he would have put Sam Elliot’s face to this drawl.

  “No, sir.” He moved toward Lloyd. “I hope you don’t mind, but Trinity Mosier is tagging along.”

  Violet walked inside the stable and rolled her eyes. “Does it matter if I mind?”

  Her father pointed to the stall with her horse. “Basil left an hour ago to set up the chute.”

  “Baz, Dad. He likes the name Baz.”

  Lloyd narrowed his eyes. “I like Elvis or Brad Pitt, but that ain’t my name.” He tossed a bag of supplies to Wyatt then looked at Three. “Can you ride?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m a horse trainer by trade.”

  Lloyd nodded. “Is that so?” He looked toward a stall at the end. “I might have a job for you. Whiskey has a biting habit. Think you might like to work with him?”

  Wyatt watched her eyes light up. “I’d love to.” She pulled the collar of her T-shirt over her shoulder to show a large scar. “I’ve got some experience with a biter.”

  Lloyd walked over to see the extent of her injury. “That’s some bite. What happened to the horse?”

  “After training, he never bit me again. I had him until two years ago when I had to put him down.”

  Lloyd nodded. “I’ll pay you fifteen an hour.”

  She smiled so wide Wyatt was certain she’d split her cheeks. “I would have done it for free.”

  “Free doesn’t buy you food or clothes,” Lloyd said. “Today, you’ll get ten an hour since it doesn’t take nothing special to tag a cow.”

  She shook her head. “Today, I’ll work for free since you weren’t expecting me.”

  Lloyd grunted and grabbed his sadd
le. In minutes, they were moving toward pasture six. It was closest to the house and easiest for Baz to set up the chute.

  Violet rode beside her father, but she threw murderous looks toward Three the whole way.

  When they arrived, they began the long task of tagging over three hundred head of cattle. Baz and Lloyd led them into the chute. Three calmed them with her sweet voice and gentle touch while Violet swabbed their ears. He tagged them and let them loose.

  It was well after lunch when they broke for a meal. The Lloyds headed back to their house. He and Three were invited to join them, but he wasn’t in the mood to share her with anyone and declined.

  “You hungry?” He climbed on top of Rex. “I know a great place to eat.”

  She mounted Red, and he led her to the copse of trees on the far end of the field. They found a patch of grass to relax on while he made them deviled ham sandwiches. Canned meat wasn’t anything special, but it was protein and traveled easily in his saddlebag.

  “Oh, Wyatt, you sure know how to treat a girl,” she teased when he handed her a flattened bun filled with pink mush.

  He made to swipe it back, but she rolled out of his way. “No way, this is my favorite. Spam comes in second place, but I like it grilled until the outside is crispy.”

  He held up a finger. “I also have dessert.” He reached into the bag and withdrew a package of peanut butter cups.

  “Oh. My. God. I’d do just about anything for one of those.”

  He lifted a brow. “Anything?”

  “Just about.” She bit into her sandwich and moaned. He’d do anything to hear that sound again.

  They chatted about horses and ranch life while they ate. He didn’t want to like Three as much as he did. Not that she was trouble; all women were in his book. Hell, she’d already stolen hours of sleep from him. Now she was working on stealing something else—his good sense. He desperately wanted to lean over and give her a real kiss, but they had to get back to the cows.

  They worked until the sun glowed orange behind Mt. Meeker. When they returned to the stables, they took care of the horses.

  “You did a great job,” he said.

  She smiled. “I love this life. I’d rather spend an entire day in the saddle than anywhere else. Serving beers at the Brewhouse is going to kill me.”

  “Me too.” He moved toward her so he stood close enough to feel the heat coming from her body. “You are trouble, Three. Big trouble for me.” He touched her shoulders and brushed his lips against hers.

  She glanced around. “Is Violet coming?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He stared at her plump pink lips. Her tongue darted out to wet them. Even at thirty, he was certain she didn’t fully understand her allure. She didn’t have sex appeal. She was sex appeal packaged in a cowgirl’s body.

  When her hand came up to rest against his chest, adrenaline coursed through him. He wanted this kiss like he wanted his next breath or beer or meal. She closed the distance between them and tilted her head upward. All he needed was to bend down and cover that sexy mouth with his. When he did, he was unprepared for the heat that burned inside him. When she let him in, everything turned molten. A quiet moan escaped her lips, telling him she liked the kiss as much as he did. Backing up, she hit the wall, but he didn’t let up his thorough exploration of her mouth.

  He growled as he deepened the kiss and tasted her in long, lush licks. She met him with equal vigor. With her hands roping around his waist, she moved until they were body to body. Awareness of her curves pressing against him created a need to touch every inch. His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist. Just as he was about to grip her back end, someone cleared their throat, and he stepped away from Three.

  “Get a room,” Violet said. She marched her horse to the end of the stable.

  “Ready to go home?” he asked Three.

  “Are you cooking dinner?”

  “I’ve got chili dogs and chips.” He slid his hand across her back and walked her to the truck.

  Before she got inside, she looked at him and asked, “Are you sure that kiss wasn’t because of Violet?”

  His palms pressed flat to the door on either side of her head, caging her in.

  “The first time I kissed you, I was faking it for Violet.” He leaned until her breath tickled his chin. “This time was for real—for me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  She opened her drawer to see a dozen pairs of underwear. It was the little things that made the biggest difference: a smile, a wave hello, a trip to Target, a day without seeing Tom. Those were the tiny nuggets of joy that made a hard life livable. There were also long walks with Wyatt. Stolen kisses in the stables and longing looks when he walked her to her bedroom each night before he turned to go to his.

  It had been almost two weeks since that first real kiss. Fourteen days filled with hard work, that were rewarded with kisses. Lots of kisses.

  She’d spent several of those days working with Whiskey. She figured his problem came from boredom more than anything else. He nipped at her a few times, but a quick lesson in respect had him behaving. A few minutes a day establishing personal space and defining the rules was all he needed. Too bad men weren’t as easy to train. She pictured taking a lunge whip to Tom each time he crossed the line. The vision made her laugh.

  She moved Whiskey back and forward, always keeping him questioning her next move.

  “You are a horse whisperer,” Violet said.

  It was odd to hear her speak anything but complaints. “He’s a good boy. I think he’s bored. You should ride him.”

  She shrugged. “He was my mom’s and hasn’t been ridden in years. She stopped riding several years before she passed away.”

  “I heard your mother was an excellent horsewoman.”

  Violet leaned against the split-rail fence. “Who told you?”

  She tied Whiskey to the rail and joined Violet by the fence.

  “Your sister, Poppy. She comes into the Brewhouse with Mark sometimes. I like her.”

  Violet lifted her shoulders. “She’s all right, I guess.”

  “What about you? What do you do in your spare time?”

  Like every other petulant teen, she rolled her eyes. “What spare time? I’m a rancher’s daughter. Even if I had free time, I’m under the watchful eye of my father and brother. I mean, how’s a girl supposed to get good at kissing if she can’t meet any boys?”

  Trinity laughed. “That is a problem.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You’d be surprised.” She checked the time. It was almost lunchtime, and she needed to meet Wyatt on the range, but she understood Violet and thought she could offer some words of wisdom. “You want to spend your lunch hour in town at the diner? My treat.”

  “Seriously? You're inviting me to lunch?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Violet kicked the dirt under her feet. “I haven’t been nice to you.”

  “We all have bad days. Ask your dad if you can go.”

  She sent him a text and got the go-ahead. “It’s a date.”

  “Can you follow me into town? I have to work tonight. After we eat, I need to go home and change. It will save me time if I don’t need to come back here beforehand.”

  “Sure, I’ll meet you at Maisey’s.” She cocked her head to the side. “What about Wyatt?”

  “What about him?”

  She frowned. “You guys disappear each day at lunch to do God knows what.”

  Trinity laughed. “We disappear to eat.”

  “Right. Code for—”

  “No code, usually peanut butter and jelly or canned ham spread.”

  She took the reins and led Whiskey into the stables. Violet followed her.

  “Gross.”

  “See, you’re doing me a favor and saving me from another sandwich.” That wasn’t the case, but something told Trinity that Violet needed her time more than Wyatt.

  Once Whiskey got settled, they climbed into the
ir cars and took off toward Maisey’s. Trinity called Wyatt on the way. He was disappointed, but the one thing she’d learned over the years was that men were a lot like horses. They were stubborn and often aggressive, and they’d push you to see how far they could go. But, in her experience, defining boundaries and setting the tone was important. It wasn’t wise to let a man manipulate anything, including her time.

  They entered Maisey’s and took a booth by the window.

  After ordering blue plate specials, Trinity said, “You know, Violet, I’m not all that different from you.”

  Violet made a sound like she was clearing her throat. “You’ve got Wyatt.”

  She couldn’t argue there. She had Wyatt or at least his kisses. “He was too old for you. He’s almost too old for me.”

  Violet’s eyes widened. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty, and Wyatt’s thirty-six. You should set your eyes on boys closer to your age. They’ll be more fun in the long run. Wouldn’t you like to be with a young man who likes what you do?”

  “I suppose.” She pursed her lips. “Besides doing the dirty, what do you and Wyatt do?”

  Trinity wanted to laugh, but she’d been eighteen once, and very little was humorous at that age.

  “Contrary to what you think, Wyatt and I aren’t doing the dirty, as you call it. I have too much respect for myself to jump between the sheets with just any man.”

  “He’s not any man. He’s Wyatt Morrison. Are we talking about the same guy here?” She leaned in. “Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, eyelashes wasted on a man, and lips that look pillow soft?”

  The laugh bubbled up despite her attempts to swallow it down. “Same man. Still too old for you.”

  She sighed. “You’re right. I know it, but it’s okay to dream, right? I mean it’s like watching a movie star. You know you’ll never date him, but sometimes the fantasy is almost as good as the reality.”

  Trinity had never been a big sister, but there were times she wished she’d had one. Poor Violet had four of them, but they were mostly absent.

  “Honey, the fantasy is always better than the reality.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like living on a ranch with a dad and a brother.”