Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) by Callie Harper Page B

my horse a
good brush and some fresh hay and water, then went to check on a sick
calf. She looked skinny. You could see her back vertebrae and her pin
bones in the rear stuck out sharp. Most of the other calves seemed
fine, they’d taken to grazing grass with gusto, but not this one. I
checked her eyes: clear and not sunken, at least not yet. I changed
out the water, satisfied she at least looked stable.
    Then I decided I’d
head to the barn and make sure Bill had brought in the baler for the
night. He was getting forgetful, leaving equipment out, neglecting
repairs. The belt on that baler looked worn and if we didn’t watch
it, we’d be looking at a pricy replacement. I saw why Harlan had
hired me, why he’d taken a chance on a 21-year-old kid with a
checkered past. I had the drive and the brawn he needed.
    I washed my hands
before heading out. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I started over. And
then I stopped in my tracks.
    Kara was walking down
from her house up on the hill. The sun hadn’t quite slipped behind
the ridge and it reached its last rays out to light up her hair, her
skin. She wore a simple white sundress, sleeves and everything. Not
like some of the skimpy tops she tortured me with.
    Damn, but she looked
beautiful. All natural and glowing and fresh. It almost hurt to look
straight at her. I ducked into the shadowy barn before she could
catch me looking. That was the last thing I needed.
    She’d been mooning
over me, watching me while I worked, bringing out cold lemonade and
fresh baked muffins. I knew she was curious. I was like some kind of
space alien dropped down into her green pastures. And she was right,
we were from different universes. The three years separating us might
as well be three decades. That girl was as sheltered as they came.
She’d lived in the same house her whole life, surrounded by her
childhood art projects and family quilts. The girl kept houseplants.
They filled up the windowsills and in the mornings I could hear her
humming as she watered them, talking to them like they were her
babies.
    A girl like that didn’t
have any idea what it was like to have to move out of a place at 2
a.m., tiptoeing and carrying everything in one big trip so you
wouldn’t wake up the landlord. She probably couldn’t even imagine
a world where you had to lie awake all night waiting for a creak in
the floorboards, wondering who in your new foster ‘family’ might
be coming to try to hurt you and how. She’d never know that kind of
pain existed, and she never should.
    But all those
differences, all the many things separating and dividing us didn’t
matter, anyway. Bottom line was I wanted this job and her daddy would
fire my ass if I so much as touched a hair on her head. I didn’t
plan on being a ranch hand the rest of my life, but I liked the feel
of a ranch, the rhythms. I understood it, somehow, even though I
hadn’t grown up on one. There was a lot to learn on Harlan’s
ranch and, hell, I had a small, clean cabin all my own. I had enough
money for food, a pick-up truck, and Saturday nights down at the
local bar. Life was good.
    Shit, she was heading
into the barn. Quick, before she saw me, I ducked down behind the
baler. I needed to check the belt, anyway. It wasn’t like I was
hiding from her.
    She walked in, singing
to herself as all Disney princesses did. I wouldn’t have been
surprised if a few small animals came out to listen, maybe a bird
perching on her shoulder and tweeting along. That girl was too much.
    She was fussing about
something over on the bench. Safe behind the baler, I stretched out
to see what was happening. Looked like she was folding something, and
taking her time doing it. Not satisfied with the results, she shook
it out and then started over again, smoothing out the cloth,
carefully creasing the sides then bringing over the arms. It was my
shirt.
    Surprised, I somehow
managed to knock over a can of WD-40 with my foot. Kara gasped and
whipped around, her hand up to