Calamity Gene

Chapter 10

However good Gene looked in Fern's old chinks (and she looked mouthwateringly good) Trace was determined to not comment, to not stare, to not let her see he even noticed her.

Not so easy given the eye-popping red of her shirt with its matching (of course) bandanna. Red! Appropriate; it sure as hell gave serious red-rag-to-a-bull vibes—with him being the damn bull, in raging heat what was more. Not even the give-away flatness of her chest dampened the fire in his pants. A flatness that suggested a bare minimum of three ridiculously, flimsily inappropriate bras.

He laughed suddenly at the thought of those bras, which caused Barb to shy suddenly, which caused one of the calves to break rank on the way to the corral, which caused Cheyenne to shoot off after the calf.

Cheyenne dated a curious look at him as she brought the calf back into the fold, which Trace ignored as the heat of embarrassment spread across the back of his neck.

He had to get his mind on the job, keep it on the job. Things had been going smoothly but he knew from experience that all it took was a moment of distraction and a gentle herding of pairs could become a galloping chase with cows on a rampage, and a single calf breaking away, like the one he'd just managed to spook like a damn tenderfoot, was all it took to start things off.

Strictly speaking, Gene was the job. Gene, Llew, all the dudes were supposed to be on his mind. Which was why he'd delegated responsibility for Gene today to Fern and Avery. So he could concentrate on the group as a whole. Genes was so hopeless she needed more attention than any of the others and that was why he'd delegated responsibility for her and her sidekick, the longsuffering Llew, to Avery and Fern, both of whom were more capable in the saddle than he was and could dedicate more time to her than Trace had at his disposal. No one could have read anything personal into it: the dudes were routinely split into three groups every day after breakfast. Standard procedure. Nothing-to-see-here. He didn't have time to worry about her, that was all.

And yet... Dammit, he was worrying anyway. About her getting thrown or falling off Clementine all by herself, getting bitten, kicked, trampled. He was even worrying about the state of her inner thighs (he'd only just managed to stop himself asking her if she'd applied the ointment he'd left for her last night for Chrissake). The way he was feeling he'd be lucky if he didn't suffer a coronary by the end of the day.

At least a dozen times he'd started toward her as the cows and calves were being herded from the pasture, his heart in his mouth as she zigged and zagged on Calamity. But each time she teetered on the precipice of being unseated Avery magically appeared and Trace told himself he could breathe easily.

And yet... Dammit, he could not breathe easily. He was not breathing easily. He was...ah Jesus, territorial is what he was. He didn't want anyone else protecting her, didn't want anyone else touching her, not even Avery who seemed to Trace's jaundiced eye to be touching her every fucking chance he got. It didn't help to tell himself Avery was very clearly coaching Gene on her riding technique, which was exactly what Trace had asked him to do. He simply had no control over his eyes, which kept finding them, forcing him to note Gene's earnestness as she listened to Avery, the wash she  nodded happily, adjusted her reins, altered her posture, smiled and laughed and snapped photos of herself, of Avery, of the two of them riding side by side.

Avery should stop her taking the damn photos. She should be concentrating on her riding, which wasn't getting any better despite the expert tutelage being showered on her by the best horseman in the state. Within minutes after each one of Avery's interventions she did something that had Trace straining against an overwhelming urge to get over there. He wasn't needed. He knew it. Not only was Avery on the case, but so was Fern. Llew was hovering in the general vicinity. Emmett frequently stopped by to check on her. Even Buck made a point of riding close to her a time or two. It was as though Gene had her own personal protective detail. Hell, she was the most protected dude ever to grace Three Range.