Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I glance over my shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, strands of blonde hair peeking out from under her knit hat. Damn her for looking so at ease, so content. “You think this is funny?”
She shrugs. “I think you’re not used to being out of control.”
My jaw tightens. She’s not wrong, but I don’t like her knowing it. “I’m just saying, maybe a cabin closer to civilization wouldn’t kill the man. There’s rugged, and then there’s stupid.”
“You’d get along with him,” she teases. “You both have the same sunny disposition.”
“Cute,” I growl, my mouth quirks at the edges. She catches it, I know she does, because she laughs softly beside me. The sound rolls through me like the warmest fire.
Just as the sky starts to darken, streaks of orange and pink bleeding into the mountains, we knock on the old wooden door. Granger greets us, gruff but grateful as hell that Indie came all this way.
“She’s laboring hard,” he says, his voice tight with worry. “Been at it since this morning.”
Indie wastes no time. “Let’s get inside.”
She steps into the cabin like she’s done this a thousand times. And maybe she has. But something about watching her in action, so sure of herself, so damn confident, stirs something deep in me.
The hours crawl by as I sit on the porch, the cold biting at my face and fingers. I’m not used to waiting. Not used to feeling helpless. Inside, Indie is working miracles. Every now and then, I catch glimpses of her through the cracked door—her calm voice, her steady hands, the way she reassures Mrs. Granger with a quick smile.
“Strong as hell,” I mutter, leaning back against the cabin wall.
And she is. I’ve known strong women before—my mom, Mrs. Steele, Betty, my brothers’ girlfriends—but Indie is a different kind of strong. She doesn’t just endure. She thrives. Even after everything she’s been through, she’s here, giving her all to a family that isn’t hers.
The door creaks open, and she steps out, her face lit up despite the exhaustion in her eyes.
“It’s a boy,” she says, a wide smile breaking across her face.
I push off the wall, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Everyone’s okay?”
She nods, wiping her hands on her pants. “Healthy as can be. Granger’s over the moon.”
“You look like you’ve been through it,” I say, though the truth is, she looks radiant. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, her lips tugged up in a way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.
“Thanks, cowboy,” she says with a smirk. “You always know just what to say.”
I grab her medical bag before she can argue and move down the steps. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
By the time we reach the ranch, the moon is high and the stars are so clear it feels like you could reach out and grab one. I head to the barn first to feed Copper while Indie heads toward the cabin. But instead of going inside, she stops at the porch, staring up at the sky.
When I join her, she doesn’t look at me, just keeps her eyes on the stars. “You ever think about how small we are?”
“Not really,” I admit, leaning against the railing. “Why?”
She shrugs, her arms wrapped around herself. “It’s humbling, I guess. All those problems we carry around—family, fear, heartbreak. They feel huge to us, but out here, they’re nothing.”
“They’re something,” I say, my voice quiet. “To you, they’re something. That’s what matters.”
She turns to me, her expression softer than I’m used to. “You’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be, you know.”
I huff a laugh. “Don’t let that get around.”
Her smile fades, and she looks down at her hands. “I know I’ve made a mess of things. With Chad, with my family, with you…”
“Indie,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “You didn’t make this mess. Chad did. Your family did. You’re just trying to figure out how to live in it.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering in the firelight. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you think I’m a mess?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I step closer, close enough that I can see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her breath catches when I’m near. “I think you’re the best damn thing to happen to this mountain in years,” I say finally. “And I think I’ve been a fool.”
Her brow furrows. “A fool?”
I nod, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I thought I was protecting myself, keeping you at arm’s length. But all I was doing was pushing away the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I can see the tears gathering in her eyes, but she blinks them away quickly. “King…”
“I’m not done,” I say, my voice low. “I don’t care about where you come from, or who your family is, or what kind of baggage you think you’re carrying. I care about you. Just you.”