“Don’t tell me what to do, Wyatt!” she screeches, her voice venomous. Her eyes are fiery as she looks up at me, her hot breath dancing on my lips as moisture slides down her face and mixes with her tears.

  “I am begging you,” I croak, treading carefully because she is a live wire I’m desperate not to trip. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. It’s not just you at stake here.”

  My hand twitches on her belly, and she instantly looks down at where I’m touching her as her chin trembles. I can see her mind whirling with this new information. Like she forgot she was pregnant for a moment.

  She steps away from me, moving back into the rain as her own hands replace mine. She holds herself protectively for a moment as she looks up at the sky, the rain pounding down on her face like she’s only now just realizing we’re in the middle of a bad storm.

  She never touches herself like this, and the sight of her embracing her belly with tears in her eyes, soaking wet in the rain, hair slicked down to her face, is soul crushing. I don’t just want to protect the baby at this moment. I want to protect her. I want to comfort her. I want to hold her. I want to burn the world to the ground for making her hurt like this.

  Her shoulders quake as she begins to cry. “I’m such a fuckup.”

  My chest concaves as I pull her back under the roof, my hand pushing the strands of hair stuck to her face. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am,” she bellows and jerks herself away from me. “I want to open my own animal sanctuary when I can’t even keep chickens alive? What the fuck am I thinking?”

  “Accidents happen,” I reply firmly, my hands itching to hold her. “This isn’t your fault.”

  She nods and bites her lip, sniffling loudly as she gazes out into the darkness. “I’m sure if any are still alive, the coyotes will have eaten them by now anyway.” She kicks her mud-covered boot into the ground and shakes her head. “I’m going to bed.”

  She moves to head inside, and I call out to her. “Can I do anything? Do you want me to come up? Or I can carry Reggie upstairs for you if you want? Would that help?” I sound like an idiot, but I want to do something. I feel fucking awful she was out here dealing with this all on her own. I will literally do anything. I’ll sleep on the damn floor with the pig if she wants.

  She shakes her head, and her tone is resolute when she replies, “He’s better off without me.”

  Trista

  The following morning, I wake to a wet nose in my face. I peel my eyes open, feeling crusty and strung out as I cuddle the little kitten, who must have known I needed some extra love today.

  “Good morning, Milkshake.” I drop soft kisses on her black-and-white fur. Milkshake seemed like a fitting name for her after I saw how she brought all the boys to the yard on that jobsite last week. She had Calder wrapped around her finger for sure.

  My chest aches as memories of last night hit me, and I glance at my phone to see it’s after nine, and I have three missed calls from work. It’s still raining outside, so maybe I can use the weather as an excuse. Mountain mudslide, perhaps? Seems a little dramatic, but it’s worth a shot. Either way, it won’t be the last time Earl threatens to fire me.

  I hop out of bed and rifle through my clothes for something clean to wear. I showered after the chicken massacre last night, so I can skip that step this morning, but my hair is a disaster from falling asleep with it wet. I throw it up into a topknot and brush my teeth. No time for makeup today.

  I quickly refill Milkshake’s and Strudel’s food and water bowls and clean out Strudel’s cage. These two are not getting along, so I’m afraid the bunny has to be confined to his pen for now. I’ll need to try to find a more permanent home for one of them sooner rather than later.

  I open the door to leave and glance down to see a brown bag on the step. Even after a middle-of-the-night coyote attack, Wyatt still doesn’t miss a breakfast. I glance inside, and my stomach rumbles when I spot a bagel and a yogurt. As I clomp down the wooden steps, I hear hammering outside of the barn and frown. Wyatt and his brothers should be long gone by now. Who’s here?

  I glance into the pens to see that Wyatt has fed and watered Handsome and Reginald. I pat Millie’s head and make my way out to the pasture, where the banging seems to be coming from, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear a familiar trill. I dart over to the stall on the end, taking in the chicken wire stapled up to the roof that was definitely not there yesterday, and look inside the pen.

  “Holy shit, Heather?” I exclaim and drop my breakfast to the ground to frantically open the gate to close myself inside. Hunching over, I chase the three chickens around the pen for a few laps, trying to get my hands on one of them. “And Rooster!” I squeal, darting for him. Rooster jumps and attempts to fly away just as I get my hands around his wings. I press them down flat and hold his light body to my chest, eyeing the third chicken, who’s been nameless since the day she got here. “How did you guys get here?” I cry, my eyes welling with tears. Honestly, I can’t believe I have any tears left after crying myself to sleep last night.

  “They were a bitch to catch,” Wyatt rumbles, and I look up to find him standing at the fence watching me. His fingers are laced in the chicken wire and covered in mud.

  “You caught them?” I croak, squeezing Rooster to my face as his little beak pecks at me.

  Wyatt squints and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. He’s wearing a tan Carhartt coat that’s damp along the shoulders from rain. His hair is soaked as beads of water drip down his forehead. He looks like he’s been up all night.

  “The rain let up for a bit around four o’clock, and I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come back out and look around to see if any of them had wandered back. Sure enough, these three were pecking around the barn, eating worms, I suspect.”

  “Oh my God,” I cry, my heart squeezing in my chest. “They came back?”

  “Yeah, I managed to herd them into the barn, but they would not go into this stall. I had to chase them up and down the aisle for a good twenty minutes before I could wrangle them. I can’t believe I didn’t wake you up. Gave Millie and Handsome quite the show. Reggie snored the whole time.”

  A garbled laugh erupts from my throat, and I clutch Rooster tightly to my neck. His pecking turns a bit more aggressive, so I set him down. Heather would have been the better choice, but she’s a fast bitch.

  “I can’t believe you did all of this.”

  He nods and exhales heavily. “I think it’s just these three that survived. I found some feathers in the woods that don’t look too promising for the rest.”

  My lips turn down at that, and he shoots me a sympathetic look. “These three should be fine in here until I fix the coop.”

  “You’re fixing the chicken coop?” I gasp and make my way out of the stall. “Wyatt, you don’t need to do that.”

  “I don’t think your chicken coop was the problem,” he says, making his way back out into the pasture. I follow him, the noise of the rain on the roof increasing in volume as we turn the corner, and he points at the area he’s clearly put a lot of work into already. “We just need some electric fencing up to protect it from predators. I’m going to look for something in town today.”

  My eyes water as I look at the nearly fully repaired chicken coop. It’s been reinforced with fresh lumber and looks a thousand times better than when I put it together. My chest aches at the gesture, but instead of telling him that, I elbow him playfully. “Don’t you have a job to get to?”

  “Don’t you?” He quirks a brow at me, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a shy smile.

  I shrug. “I’m always late.”

  “I’m early all other days.”

  Silence falls over us as we both stare out at the coop. I can’t imagine what a horrid mess I was down here last night when he found me crying. And when I saw Wyatt, I’ll admit, the weaker, more sensitive part of me wanted to fall into his arms and cry.

  But I didn’t because that’s not what I do.

  And now he’s done this.

  His voice is thick when he says, “I should have helped you build the coop before.” His clear blue eyes find mine, looking stunning against the nature backdrop behind him. “I was a dick about the chickens, but you’re not a failure, Trista. This is just a part of nature you can’t control. It took me years of hard lessons out here to learn that sometimes...the mountain wins.”

  His sweet, reassuring words comfort me in ways I didn’t even know I could be comforted, and I feel myself drawing closer to him, craving his embrace. His heat.

  Today is an off day.

  It’s morning.

  I’m late for work.

  He’s covered in mud.

  He’s been up most of the night...

  ...rescuing my chickens.

  I’ve never wanted him more.

  Without a word, I reach up and grab the collar of his damp jacket and pull him down to me. Our lips connect, and he makes a gruff, surprised sound before submitting to my will and kissing me back. He walks us backward, taking over the kiss as he presses his hands against the red barn, caging me in as his tongue thrusts deep into my mouth.

  He pulls away for a second, his voice hoarse as he says, “I’m filthy.”

  “I don’t care,” I gasp, out of my mind with lust. I grab his neck and pull him back to me, desperation throbbing in my groin.

  He moves his hands off the building and grabs my backside, squeezing me harshly and likely coating my ass with muddy handprints. The thought of it thrills me as I lift my leg and squeeze him into me, gasping into his kiss as the thick ridge of his erection presses into me. He grinds my ass into him, putting more pressure between us, and his denim catches on my clit, stoking the ache between my legs.

  Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe it’s the sound of the rain on the tin roof, maybe it’s the way the mountain seems so fresh and new after a storm. Or maybe it’s this selfless, gruff, thoughtful man ravishing me as if I’m everything he wants and needs. But I’m raw and spent, and I want to chase this comforting feeling of hope he’s blossomed back inside me.

  Fuck our sundown rules.

  Wyatt’s hand slides up the side of my shirt, cupping my breast over my bra. He growls into my lips before tearing away from me to drop his head between my breasts. He yanks the cup down and squeezes my flesh before his lips wrap around my nipple and suck deeply.

  “Wyatt,” I scream his name, feeling unhinged being out here in the open like this with the rain pounding down above us.

  I fork my fingers into his damp hair, squeezing the short tendrils for balance as I press him into my chest. The whiskers of his trim beard send a flurry of heat to my center, and I feel my panties dampen instantly.

  “God, I can smell your arousal,” he purrs into me, and I feel equal parts embarrassed and turned on.

  No shame.

  “I’m soaked for you,” I cry out, my hips undulating on his thigh, desperate for more.

  His voice is raw when he states, “I have to be inside you.”

  He yanks his coat off like a madman and drops it on top of a bale of straw next to the building. He turns back to me, and before he can say anything, I shove him down to a sitting position.

  His pupils dilate as he watches me kick out of my boots, jeans, and panties until I’m left standing there, half-naked in the pasture enclosure, mountain trees and storm clouds swirling behind me.

  Damp straw sticks to my feet as I climb onto his lap, fisting his silky, hard length in my hand and positioning him between my folds. Our foreheads press together, our breaths hot on each other’s lips as I notch his tip at my center and sink down on top of him. I mewl like an animal as I take his fullness in as deep as I can while his fingers dig into my hips.

  Once he’s fully inside me, I arch back and ride him, reveling in the tightness, the fullness...the absolute maximum capacity this man’s cock takes up inside me. It feels so good. I already dread his absence. If it were normal to walk around with him inside me all day, I probably would. I would get a mold of his cock and just hold him there for safekeeping because the pleasure he brings me when he touches my womb, my insides, when he thrusts up into the depths of my soul that is my innermost body...it is life-changing.

  His hands slide under my shirt to rub over my chest, ribs, and belly as I move myself on top of him, gyrating my hips over and over. “Every part of you feels so good it hurts,” he says with a groan before he grips my neck to pull me to his mouth. His tongue is aggressive and vengeful as his fingers slide around my throat to squeeze the roots of my hair at the nape, causing chills to cascade from my head to my toes.

  “I’m going to fill you with my cum,” he husks against my lips, and my whimper is inhuman. “Do you like that, Lucky? Do you like the thought of me fucking you like an animal outside in the dirt like this and spilling my seed into your greedy little cunt?”

  “Yes,” I cry out, his dark voice pushing my orgasm upward as I grind down on him.

  “Do you know what it does to me to know you’re carrying my baby inside you?” He bites his lip, his eyes reverent on me as his hands cascade over my stomach and tighten the shirt around my middle. His fingers tease the edges of my belly button. “You have a piece of me inside you, and I still want more of you. I can’t get enough.”

  “Wyatt.” I say his name like a prayer because he is a god to me right now. The hot air exchanging between us causes steam to rise up around us under this tin roof. “I’m going to come.”

  He moves his hand from my belly and slides it down between us, rubbing firm circles over my clit. I grip his shoulders harshly, holding on to him like I’m swinging on a rope over a canyon. With a sharp burst inside me, I freeze, my entire body going stiff as my muscles quake around his erection, my insides convulsing even more when I feel him empty himself inside me, his semen mixing with my own release like rain on the mountain. It’s beautiful.

  My heart thunders with the storm as I nuzzle my face into Wyatt’s damp neck, breathing in the scent of sweat, nature, and him. Just him. God, he feels good.

  Once he catches his breath, his hands skate softly up my back and pull some bits of straw out of my hair as his deep voice murmurs, “Imagine what I would have gotten if I saved all the chickens.”

  Chapter 35

  Weeks Pregnant: 19

  Animals on the Mountain: 9

  Trista

  “This is a bad idea,” Avery says with his arm shoulder-deep inside a ewe’s ass.

  “Better you than me,” I murmur under my breath as I watch him do something ungodly inside this poor pregnant mother sheep’s body. “I thought you had to feel inside to reposition the baby lamb.”

  “Not this.” He pulls his arm out, and the shoulder-length plastic glove he’s wearing is covered in stuff. “The part where you have sex with the guy who knocked you up.”

  I frown at the man who was literally just fisting a sheep. “It seems kind of logical to me.”

  “Tris, don’t be dense. You’re smarter than that.” Avery eyes me sternly as he yanks the glove off and checks his hand for any remnants.

  Gross.

  He moves over to his clipboard on the corner of the pen and makes a quick note before putting on his stethoscope and walking back over to the ewe to listen to her heartbeat.

  I wait for him to finish before I reply, “We have an end date,” I say, pointing at my belly. “The boundaries couldn’t be clearer.”

  “And what about feelings?” Avery asks, resting his hands on top of the sheep’s back and staring over her at me.

  “I’m a cow, baby!” I exclaim and gently mirror his pose, patting my farm animal compadre’s back, who’s taking this labor like a pro. I move over to her head and pet her wet nose before I add, “The fact that this guy’s biggest dream in life is to become a dad is exactly why I know I won’t catch feelings. I’m not about the family life. And I can detach with the best of them.”

  “But what if he catches feelings for you? I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

  The blood in my veins hums as a flash of Wyatt’s smoldering eyes on my body outside the barn the other day hits me. Ever since the chicken coop fiasco, we’ve kind of fallen off the every-other-sundown routine. This past week, it’s become a...whenever-the-mood-strikes sort of thing. And I can’t even place the blame on him. It was me who attacked him that morning outside the barn. And the other morning, after I woke up from a sex dream, I knocked on his door at 6:00 a.m. to demand satisfaction.

  He was so hot in his gym shorts, no shirt, and rumpled bed hair. We couldn’t kiss because he hadn’t brushed his teeth, and it was just this perfect kind of dirty, hot quickie that I was looking for. So much better than my vibrator.

  His big dick has ruined me.

  I clear my throat and shrug at Avery. “He’s just weird like that. Possessive or something. But that’s not like actual feelings. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me. They just randomly fuck girls like me.”

  “He chose you to have his baby,” Avery says loudly, and I shush him because the farm owner is literally somewhere in this barn located outside of Littleton. He narrows his eyes and adds a bit more quietly, “He clearly liked you enough for that.”

  “But that’s just because I’m a cow,” I repeat, and as if on cue, the ewe’s head swings over and butts me in the hip, clearly feeling left out of my barn animal analogy. “Once I have this baby, he’ll be over me and busy being a single dad. This really is just sex.”

  “And a baby shower with his entire family,” Avery huffs and shakes his head. “Look, Trista, I’ve known you a long time, and you don’t let people get close to you. Anytime I try to ask about your past, you clam up tighter than Dolly’s butthole on my arm.”