Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)

“God, you are smoking hot. Ten out of ten, would bang.”

Sage leans across the center console and wolf whistles at me as I slide out of the driver’s side.

“Can you not?” I tuck the hem of my dress under my ass to make sure I’m not flashing everyone at graduation my underwear. “I will leave you in the car with the windows cracked, I swear.”

“Just saying. Offer still stands. You… Me… if we’re thirty-eight and still single…”

I lift my eyes to the puffy clouds scattering the blue sky, rolling my wrist at her to hurry up and get out so I can lock the car. “We’re going to be late if you keep staring at my tits.”

“They’re truly magnificent.” Sage hops out, slams her door, and then looks wistfully down, readjusting hers while standing on the other side of the hood. She’s not exactly small in the breast department herself, but I’ve always had a lot more cushioning going on with mine. No matter our age, my girls have always been more ample. Much to Sage’s chagrin.

“Come on. Bring your tiny titties, and let’s go do this.”

Sage gasps and clutches her invisible pearls, tossing her high pony over one shoulder.

We crunch across the gravel of the parking area, framed by grandiose iron gates and archway of the stables hosting today’s ceremony. It’s one of those old money horse breeding facilities and the grounds look like something straight out of a magazine. Immaculate hedgerows, lush hundred-year-old oak trees, fancy checkered patterns mown into the sprawling lawn.

But all I can think as we stroll past the fancy brickwork and a gleaming fountain set in the middle of the courtyard, is that this place doesn’t have a fraction of the appeal of Devil’s Peak Ranch. There are Bentleys and Audis lined up outside the manager’s offices, where I’m sure they strut around in designer cashmere and sip macchiatos.

Give me rugged mountain terrain and piles of firewood needing to be split any day. Give me hazel eyes, a scruffy beard tickling my neck, and the earthy aroma of black coffee.

Nope. Not the time, or the place for me to allow myself to start thinking about Colton Wilder.

Today is all about my graduation. About spending time with my best friend, who has flown halfway across the country to support me. This marks the first day of my future, wherever that might take me.

With a little push from Sage, I’ve even started to look at jobs in Ireland and Scotland. Maybe even Australia. At first, I protested that I couldn’t leave the country… couldn’t leave Evaline. But then she pointed out it would make no difference if I was two or twenty thousand miles away.

And as tragic as that reality is, of course, the smug little minx was right.

“Jesus. Do these people wipe their horse’s asses with dollar bills, or what?” Sage hisses. “It’s bougie as fuck.”

“Right? Isn’t it so extra?” A smile meets my lips. “But they sponsor the vet program every year and therefore host a graduation ceremony worthy of the Hamptons… so pipe your judgmental ass down until we get outta here, ok, Sergeant?”

Sage gives me a two-fingered salute at her eyebrow. “Not a peep. Oh, wait…” She clutches my arm. “Bougie photo op alert. These fuckers might be rich, but that view is to die for. Let me get a shot of you with those hills in the background.”

I pout, my eyes drifting to the rows of white folding chairs filling up with fellow graduates and their guests who are milling around.

“Do we have to?” I’m not exactly in the mood for taking photos, but at least the outfit I chose for today feels like me. Sage helped me find a forest green silky slip dress that makes my eyes stand out, and presented me with a brand new pair of the prettiest fucking boots I’ve ever seen as a gift for graduating. They’re the softest goddamn things, tan-colored with gold stitching and a little heel.

She’s got a matching pair in charcoal… because, of course, she does. Ever the black cat in my life.

“Ok. Just quick. Then you gotta go find your seat.”

Sage orders me around, living up to her childhood nickname. Insisting on a few different tilts of my chin to find the light. When we’re finally done, she’s grinning at my phone.

“Firstly, you gotta post that one real quick… Secondly, do we have time to go have a quickie in an empty horse stall? Because you, my friend, are doing things for me.” She flutters manicured hands in my direction and shimmies.

My cheeks heat at the mention of quickies and horse stables, and of course, that makes my body vividly remember the man who could hoist me against a wooden wall inside the barn and have me moaning within seconds.

Snatching the phone out of her grasp, I quickly swipe through the half-a-dozen photos and choose a few to post. “Happy?”

“Extremely. Now go get your gown, and if you hear uncontrollable sobbing, or wailing, please know it has nothing to do with me.”

Sage pecks a kiss on my cheek and shoves me toward the tent located off to one side of the stage where others are milling around to collect graduation gowns and caps from. There are a few faces I recognize among the others who are here to cross that stage today, but none that I’m friendly with. So I do that awkward smiling thing and get myself ready. Before I know it, we’re all seated in alphabetical order, and there is some lady in a matching cream blazer and pencil skirt, dripping with gold jewelry, standing behind the lectern, addressing the crowd.

The next hour all passes in a blur. I fidget in my seat and don’t really pay attention to anything being said by the important-looking woman up on stage.

There’s a prickling awareness as time drifts on, that I can’t shake—as if I’m being watched. It’s a ridiculous notion because Sage is the only person here for me at this ceremony. The rest of the crowd are friends and family of the hundred or so other graduates getting ready to do their walk across the dais.

Any insane ideas I’ve got in my head about a certain cowboy being here for me today, are just that. Insane ideas. My overactive imagination has gotten all riled up after running into Kayce last week, and now I’m being silly in even thinking that he might have mentioned anything to Colt.

I mean, I can only assume he spoke to his dad about it. Or maybe not. Kayce is out on the road competing, so he probably hasn’t been in contact with the ranch at all while he’s been doing his rodeo thing.

Not to mention all the everyday obstacles in the way of contacting Devil’s Peak Ranch, and its owner, on a good day.

People from the row in front of me start to get up out of their seats one by one, and I blow out an unsteady breath. Smile. Smile. Smile. This is everything I’ve worked for. All those long days and nights pouring drinks at shitty bars and times when I was certain my life was going to collapse.

I’m here.

I’ve achieved this incredible thing.

Me. Layla Birch. I did that.

Since I’m in the B section for the roll call of surnames, pretty quickly it’s my time to follow the girl seated to my left. I hear my name being called out, and everything condenses down into a tiny little tunnel of awareness as my feet carry me across to where the woman with perfect teeth and flawless makeup and soft fingers murmurs something, shakes my hand, and presents my certificate.

The ripple of applause continues as I smile and pose for the official, cliché hand-shake photo. That’s the moment, the split-second I allow my eyes to furtively scan across the crowd. I immediately see Sage giving me a one-woman standing ovation, and I can’t fucking help the quick flickering look I give the rest of the crowd.

My stupid heart deflates, because, for the tiniest moment, I don’t know… I hoped.

I hoped he would be here.

As much as I tried to pretend that glimmer wasn’t there, it was. That foolish, romantic heart of mine, combined with the way the back of my neck tingled for the duration of the ceremony…

But, no. Of course, the sea of faces staring back at me is composed entirely of strangers.

Hurriedly collecting my certificate, I’m off the stage in a blink and return to my seat, while the remainder of the ceremony passes in more of a whirlwind.

I nibble on my bottom lip. Maybe I’ll send him an email after all, to let him know I’ve graduated and show him a copy of my certificate. He was my boss, and helped me get to this very place.

God, he was so much more than any one thing to me. My cowboy, for a brief moment in time. Possibly even my lover? I feel like I can only consider what we had to be so much more than a singular, defining word.

An email. A few lines to say hello. That would be totally normal and not like a stalker, right? Just a quick, friendly message, thanking him for the work placement and recommendation on my resume.

However, despite those sentiments, my heart is a bird with a tender little broken wing. What would I even say? Colt hasn’t attempted to contact me at all, not even when it was my actual birthday, although the man gave me his hat as a gift and insisted I took it with me when I left Crimson Ridge. Which in all honesty, if our circumstances were different, that’s the cowboy equivalent of going down on one knee. So, while Kayce might have given us his blessing—and all the relief that comes with knowing he wouldn’t hate Colt forever if something more was to happen between us—I can’t deny that it leaves me feeling unsettled all the same.

At no time during the past five months has Colton Wilder made any move to communicate with me, and the tears that accompany my head hitting the pillow every night are threatening to make a dramatic entrance.

Blinking quickly, I fight it all back down. There is no way I’m ruining this makeup.

Although, if tears do escape, at least I won’t be the only one here today with running mascara. I can pretend they’re happy graduation tears.

“Now, can I ask that all graduates return to the stage, and we’ll take one last photo before you may all go celebrate with your nearest and dearest.” The woman leans into the microphone and joins the rapturous applause as the final person completes their walk.

We are all arranged into tiers, a photographer waves her arms around, making sure she can see all of our faces, and I wrestle my expression into a semblance of a smile. Shutters click. People cheer.

“Thank you, and happy graduation!” The rich lady dressed in cream and gold shouts while there are some quick hugs between myself and the strangers around me on stage, excitement finally spilling over.

It takes a moment to make my way over to the steps leading off the platform, and as I grab the handrail, my eyes lift to the large oak tree just off to one side of the area where the ceremony has been held.

Broad shoulders I would recognize anywhere.

Hazel eyes.

Roguish hair.

A black shirt with cuffs rolled up and dark jeans.

My fingers grip the railing so tight my knuckles pale. I feel like if I don’t hold on for dear life, there is every chance I might fall face-first down these steps.

Colt stands under the shade of the leafy branches, leaning one shoulder against the broad trunk, watching me descend from the stage. One hand is tucked in his front pocket, and in the other, he’s got something wrapped in brown paper.

Oh my god.

I’m floating, unsteady on my feet. My racing pulse and utter disbelief carry me across the grass. While I don’t want to immediately start crying at the sight of him, not wanting to look like I’ve been a complete and utter disaster without him, I can’t fucking help it. There is no way to fight back the surge of emotion rolling to the surface like waves thundering against a shoreline. By the time I close the distance between us, reaching the dappled shade and cool patch of grass, there are already hot tears rolling down my face.

“Hey, baby.” The rich, rumbling tone of his voice winds straight into my bloodstream. A smile creases the lines around his eyes, and he scoops me against his chest in a tight hug. My graduation cap tips off my head, falling onto the ground, and I don’t give a single fuck. His warm, secure palm cradles the back of my neck, while the other hand presses into my spine. My cowboy is here, and I’m a mess. Blurry vision. Silent sobs. The longer he holds me, the more that faint scent of leather mixed with cedar coats me, fills me, nourishes me back to life.

It’s like all the vividness of the world rushes back in, and for the first time in five agonizingly long months, I feel like oxygen has returned to expand my lungs.

“Angel, you look beautiful,” he says against my hair. Not letting me go. Keeping me tucked into his chest and the sound of his voice reverberates through every inch of my body. “Sorry I was late.”

I sniffle and pull back enough that I can crane my neck to look at him. His palm cups my cheek, and a thumb strokes my tears away. “How did you know…”

“Took me a minute to get here after you posted that photo.”

Blinking fast, my stare flits between his eyes and his mouth. Surely those were not the words he just uttered. How could this man have seen my photo? He doesn’t own a phone. Stubbornly avoids social media.

“You don’t mind that I turned up uninvited?” He’s still holding me tight and I’m clinging to the material of his shirt like he’s going to evaporate in a cloud of smoke if I dare loosen my grip, but there’s a line that forms between his brows. He lets his thumb glide back and forth, tracing my cheekbone, where dampness lingers as evidence of all my crying.

I shake my head. “These? These are happy tears.” The happiest.

“Thought it best to hang over here. Didn’t want to risk that you’d be puffy eyed for your photos… then while I was hauling ass to get here in time, I started to worry that maybe you’d see me and you wouldn’t cry, and then if that was the case I’d feel like a right asshole for crashing your graduation.”

My lips roll together. God, this man.

“Colt—”

“Wait, let me get this out, Layla…” He brings his thumb to rest over my lips, interrupting me. “I’ve driven all night rehearsing what to say. Do you know how many times over these past months I sat in my truck and nearly drove to find you? You’re right here, deep in my bones, angel. I can’t even tell you, having to physically stop myself from coming to hunt you down, it was hell. These months have been the worst fucking time of my life.

“I’ve been sitting in the truck all morning staring at this goddamn phone I’ve tried to learn how to use—and I suck at this shit by the way—figuring out how to even fucking find you, knowing that you were here and that it was your graduation. That it was going to kill me if I couldn’t see you achieve this amazing thing in person. Yet, all the time, feeling like I don’t deserve to be part of any of it, but that I’m hoping to fucking god you’ll let me. That you’ll let me follow you around this earth, wherever you want to go from here on out, because it doesn’t matter how much I love the land and the ranch, I love you more. More than I ever thought was possible for an asshole like me. You own my black fucking heart, and I couldn’t go another day without telling you how deeply I’m in love with you.”

My heart sits in the back of my throat as my cowboy pours his out to me.

“I love you, Layla. This thing struggling to beat inside my chest when you’re not near, is yours. Whether you want it or not, and I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again… but I had to give you the time and space to achieve this incredible thing you’ve worked so hard for… and I had to come and tell you, had to see your beautiful green gaze fall on me at least one final time, and tell you that every night, these emerald eyes are all I see… all I will ever see will be you.”

He pulls the hand that has been settled against my spine around to slide between us. Wrapped inside the brown paper, tied with rough twine that I instantly recognize as from the barn, are an assortment of wildflowers from the paddocks of the ranch. I can smell the faint traces of hay and pollen and they’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. They feel like home, dwarfed in the big, calloused palm of this man who I am entirely consumed by.

He feels like home.

“Colt?” I sniffle, tracing the edge of the paper and gently touching one of the soft petals, before returning his stare.

“Mmm?” His palm slides beneath my loose curls to cup the back of my neck. Fingertips playing against my skin.

“Kiss me, please.”

“Thank fuck.” He breathes, ducking his head to crush our lips together.

He tastes of mint and love, and all the parts of him I’ve missed so deeply. The wetness of his lips finds mine, and the tingling scrape of his beard against my skin is everything.

It’s soft like rain, tender, while also being just the perfect amount of rough. The epitome of Colt and the type of man he is.

He doesn’t press further. Although the blood singing beneath my skin wants nothing more than to throw my arms around his neck and climb him right here, there will hopefully be much more time for that later. God. I hope so. I hope this means he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

With a groan, he pulls back slightly and rests our foreheads together.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming right now?” he murmurs. Voice husky.

“Umm… hate to interrupt.” Sage’s voice drifts through, bursting our little bubble. When I tilt my head to look her way, a little sheepishly, she’s got a grin a mile wide and a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Hi… uhhh…” My throat bobs a quick swallow, and I reluctantly turn away from where I’ve managed to plaster myself against Colt’s front.

Sage’s dark eyes are bouncing all over the place, taking in the bunch of flowers, the sight of the cowboy behind me, and fix with lightning precision on the place where his palm covers my hip. I feel every fingertip outlined as the weight and heat of his hold seeps through the material of my dress, tugging me against his torso.

Thank god he doesn’t seem in the mood to let go of me, because I don’t think I’m capable of standing straight on my own right now.

“Crimson Ridge cowboy, I presume?” My best friend takes a sip from one of the glasses.

“This is my best friend, Sage.” I fluster.

“Colton Wilder. Pleasure to meet you, Sage.” I can feel the man behind me make a motion to dip his head in a nod. His strong fingers press harder into my hip, signaling that he has absolutely no intention of letting go of me, even if it must be taking everything in him to override his usual inclination to offer a handshake. But then, Sage raises her glass in return with a dazzling smile—her own version of a greeting right now, seeing as both of hers are full.

Colt’s well ingrained cowboy manners are let off the hook for now.

Except, my best friend narrows her eyes on mine as she cocks her head to one side. That grin turns wicked, and she lasers in on me with a look I can interpret without any words needing to be exchanged.

I scrunch my face up. I know. I know.

“Wilder… funny how that name sounds incredibly familiar.” Sage is absolutely never going to let me live this down. No doubt this moment will be held over my head forever, but my best friend is officially the gift I don’t deserve because she lifts one shoulder and looks back over at the crowd gathered by the hospitality tent. “Nice to meet you Colton… we’ve got a dinner reservation at six, so I’m going to go ahead and add you to our table… and while you two… uhh… catch up, I’ll be over there stuffing my face with mini quiches made with five types of gourmet cheese imported straight from France.”

“We’ll be over to join you soon.” I roll my lips together and then mouth a silent, thank you.

“I’m taking this, by the way.” Sage spins on her heel and waves the second glass of champagne that was meant for me but has now been commandeered.

Leaning back against Colt’s chest, I hear his quiet laughter. “Looks like I’ve got some explaining to do over dinner.”

“Sage is amazing, but I’m sorry, she will absolutely grill you like a steak on a flame.”

“Worth every moment.” Colt nudges me to turn back around, and I gladly do so. “Although, I don’t want to interrupt what the two of you had planned this evening.”

“Nope. Stop right there.” I reach up and touch his beard. “I want you to come join us.”

“You sure?”

I bite my bottom lip, hiding the world’s biggest smile. “Want to hear something, cowboy? I want nothing more than to eat your stew and lug firewood around and sneak bits of carrot to the horses. But I could do those things anywhere. The only reason I want any of that is because you are there. None of it matters if you’re not part of it, if you’re not part of my life.”

He studies me, brushing my hair back off my forehead with the touch I’ve been craving for months now. It’s a monumental effort not to whimper when his fingers glide over my skin.

Colt’s eyes are flecked with gold in the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves above us. “All my water glasses and coffee mugs live on the bottom shelf now. Every morning, I pour myself a black coffee in a cup that still feels like it has your fingers imprinted on it.”

“Your hat lives on my nightstand.”

That brings a twitch to his lips, and butterflies erupt in my stomach at the smile hiding there.

“You’re my miracle. The good that an asshole like me was never meant to know… I told you I couldn’t think of a word to describe what it felt like having you arrive in my life… and all I can think is that you’re my wildflowers after the winter, you’re the first crackle in the fireplace when it heats up, you’re the sun chasing away storm clouds. Baby, you’re my goddamn miracle.”

My fingers curl in the front of his shirt. “Keep that up, and I might never stop crying.”

He chuckles. The sound settles in my veins like honey. “God, I love you, angel.”

“I’m so in love with you, cowboy. You don’t even know.”