We were in the shadows of the dark house now. Just feet from the door when she stopped walking. I was still marching forward so when she came up short I gave her a firm tug on her arm as she planted her feet.
“I get it. You’re upset with me, I just wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable. I’m sorry if it upset you, but this is my ranch. My home.”
She was so stubborn, so feisty. She didn’t see it. She thought the cowboys she had grown up with were rough enough that she knew how to handle her own, and she did. But she was still so sheltered. I could see the innocence in her eyes. She really didn’t know what she had done was that horrible. Had no one ever told her? Ever showed her just how beautiful she was?
I stared at her for a hard moment, just long enough she started to feel uneasy, second guessing herself as I watched as she crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight back and forth between her pretty bare feet.
“Darling, you in that cotton nightgown, it gives men ideas,” I growled and stepped forward towards her, feeling very much like the big bad wolf.
“Ideas?” her voice was weak as she looked up at me as I towered over her.
“Yes, ideas.” I pushed my body into hers and crushed her into the side of the house. Tangling one hand into the long strands of hair behind her head and planting the other on her hip as I pressed into her and took her mouth in mine.
The kiss was harder than I had intended it to be. I was harder than I had intended to be and I hadn’t intended on this happening at all. Amelia had barely begun to respond to me when I forced myself away from her. I stepped back and put one hand on the wall, bracing myself, tethering myself as I willed myself back into control.
“Houston?” she whispered after a few very long seconds had passed.
“Run inside Amelia, now!” I didn’t look at her, I couldn’t look at her, but I felt her hesitate for a moment before hearing her move down the rest of the path and the squeak of the backscreen door opening and the bang of it shutting as she went inside.
Damn I wanted her. I needed to be inside her more than I could ever remember with another woman. But I was Houston Callaghan and I had the ability to take what I wanted, when I wanted. No woman I had ever came across had fathomed telling me no.
I could teach Amelia things she had never dreamed of. I had the practice and I knew what I was capable of. I could make her body tremble and shake. Send her into an ecstasy that would ruin her for other men. And if Amelia knew what was good for her, she would keep me at arms-length. She would always tell me no.
Chapter Nine
Amelia
I slammed my hand over the racket of my alarm at four-thirty. Before I even opened my eyes, I was feeling grumbly and cranky, to put it nicely. Three and a half hours of sleep wasn’t enough on my best days, let alone the sun up to sun down work schedule I was keeping.
I had barely fallen asleep when the sound of the bikes rolling into the ranch yard woke me. Me being me, I had to go investigate and welcome them to the ranch myself. After seeing how Houston looked at me in the shadows, after he had kissed me like he had… it was a prescription for insomnia.
Last night after escaping back to the safety of my room, per a very unpleasant Houston, I stood in front of the full-length mirror next to my closet and examined the cotton nightgown. There wasn’t anything particularly appealing about it. It was covering so much a Southern Baptist preacher’s daughter could almost wear it. Damn thing fell near to my ankles, but boy had it pissed off Houston.
I finally crawled out of bed, only for fear of falling back asleep. Nothing about me wanted to face Houston. He was pissed I came out when he had instructed me not to, I was pissed he told me what to do. Oh, and we crossed the employer/employee line as well as the friends line last night with one very erotic kiss.
Houston knew the kiss was a bad idea, he all but screamed it at me last night. Normally, I would take offense to someone jumping back from me like I was carrying the plague, but not in this case. I knew that nothing could ever be between us besides one, hopefully very long and very riveting night. Not even the part of my brain that controlled my old teenage romance fantasies could see a way where the cowgirl and the biker prince lived happily ever after.
Either way I had to keep my hormones and my fantasies, realistic or not, in check. Sex could make things as messy as emotions, especially when both parties were packing heat and expected to have each other’s back while working infinite long hours together in the Texas sun.
Dressing quickly in my work attire I crept down the stairs knowing mom wouldn’t yet be awake and likely neither would Grandpa. Grams on the other hand, still got up at before I did to make the coffee and some breakfast.
“I got more than enough to cook for just you and Brad this morning. You should see if Houston and his men are coming in,” she suggested, as I poured myself a much-needed cup of black coffee, grabbed my Stetson from its place by the back door, and headed for the bunkhouse.
I marched purposely across the yard, flipping Brad the bird as I met him in the driveway, him coming up from the foreman house. I paused debating which entrance to knock on. No one had never used the front often, it was mainly there to suit the fire codes. The memory of feeling like a child as Houston escorted me away from the building ignited a petty determination in me.
But he told you his men were to be trusted, and you’re not in the nightgown anymore. He will just have to get over it.
I walked around back as calmly as I could and onto the small porch and knocked. The door opened about two seconds later. Tommy, a man I met the night before and placed in his mid-forties, and who looked a little road torn with his big burly beard, opened the door with a grin.
“No more nightie?”
“Oh, for the love of,” I started with an eyeroll. That’s the last thing I needed revived this morning. “I’m not exactly sure what Houston has given you as working hours, but I start at five. There’s breakfast at the big house, come through the back, kitchen will be on the right,” I told him and saw Houston emerge from the house, shirt and cut still in hand and push Tommy out of the way.
I can’t wear a full coverage nightgown, but he can walk around half naked? What a dick.
“Breakfast,” I started to tell him, but he cut me off.
“I heard. You two have five minutes to get to the house. I’ll be there, and you will treat it and Mrs. Charlon as if you were at Kristy’s Sunday brunch. With better volume control,” Houston barked and stepped back on the porch, pushing me in front of him.
“You know if you don’t trust your men, we can scrap the idea.”
“I trust my men just fine,” he grumbled and pulled his t-shirt on, his eyes found the coffee cup I held. “Bring that for me?”
“It was mine,” I sighed before passing it to him. “Take it.”
Houston sipped my coffee as we headed back towards the big house. I noticed that the clean-shaven face he had met me with a few days ago seemed to disappear more each time I saw him. His beard was coming in lighter colored over his dark skin and I absent mindedly wondered if it was from his desired style or just lack of caretaking.
“About last night,” he muttered as we made it across the ranch yard.
“There isn’t a thing to talk about. You told me not to come down, I did anyhow. I don’t take orders that well.”
“I meant about…”
“Stop. Just stop. It’s an unnecessarily awkward conversation. Whatever image you have of me in your mind where I am a weak naïve little girl, just make it go away. I’m not the kind of woman who needs explanations or to talk, over a kiss. And you’re the big bad ass King of the Nomads…”
“President,” he interrupted.
I smiled. “President, having this conversation, probably hurts your street cred.”
I rounded the corner of the house and headed in the back door. “Nobody says street cred!” He yelled behind me.
I laughed, happy that the awkwardness was already easing
up as I could sense Houston’s smile even in the low light of the early dawn. “Get your ass in here and get some grub!”
***
The day was long and hot. There was no sign of the rustlers, which was good. No more head was missing and I, along with a couple of my normal hands had moved the herds inland per Houston’s suggestion. Brad had gotten red-faced and pissy about the idea over breakfast.
Grandpa George had surprised me by being up to work the range this morning and it had taken him making his decision, to settle Brad back down and out of our screaming match.
All of which was good because Houston looked ready to come unglued. He had to learn to let me fight my own battles with Brad around the ranch. The men here, whether they be my ranch hands or Houston’s team, had to respect me and my authority. Houston rushing in like he had the day before and ending my fight with Brad just undermined all of that.
Houston had spent half his day with Josẽ and Tommy running the perimeter and the other half of it by my side. He had left the UTV with his boys and as he had no time to fix up Tate’s old bike, he was left back astride a horse.
I had been shocked at how well he rode. Somewhere along the lines someone had given him lessons and the rustiness he had rode with his first day had disappeared. He was still wearing his cut in the saddle, the black leather had to be hotter than hell, but I figured he would eventually take it off if it got to uncomfortable.
The next three days were much of the same. Houston’s other two men had rolled in. They were scary looking but had been nothing but respectful and polite around my family. Although Brad still detested them, and Gramps kept his distance, but Grams and Mom seemed to start enjoying their company around the place same as they had the other ranch hands.
Sticky and Speedy Jones had come in with rides for Houston’s men. Disappointed I no longer got to see Houston on horseback as it had given me something to smile about throughout the day. It appeared he didn’t need Tate’s old bike anymore. But four days after his men showed up, I caught him in the shed with a tool box, tinkering with it.
“The Jones’ brought you in something to ride. What you doing with that?” I asked handing him the coffee I had poured myself after dinner. By now I should have just brought out a cup to him as well, but I liked that he was always assuming I would be willing to share mine. There was something personal, something intimate about it.
“I know, but this was Tate’s,” he said after a moment staring at some fuel hoses.
“And Tate is perfectly fine, or so you tell me, and can come and fix it his damn self if he wanted to.”
“I’m not fixing it for Tate. Or for me.”
“Then who are you fixing it for?” I asked, almost scared of the answer.
“For you. Figured I’d teach you to ride it. Give you something to remember the Bastards that overran your life. When I go.”
When he goes… I wondered when that would be. We hadn’t been hit by rustlers since Houston arrived. I was annoyed by that. I wanted to catch them and extract my revenge. But I might have to settle with not losing any more head of cattle.
And if the rustlers weren’t coming back… then Houston would leave soon. I wasn’t too embarrassed to admit I had grown accustomed to him here. He spent most of his days by my side like a faithful ranch dog. If only he looked anything like a dog…
“Thought you would have some kind of meltdown about me suggesting you learn to ride something with two wheels,” Houston said when I didn’t answer right away. “Haven’t even been able to get you on the back of my bike yet.”
“No, that sounds like it could be a good idea. I’d like for you to teach me to ride,” something emotional caught in my voice. Oh, you got to be fuckin’ kidding me.
“Let’s go,” Houston said standing up and grabbing my hand.
“Go where?”
“Lesson one. Let’s go for a ride.”
Houston picked the helmet that had been hanging from the handle bars of his bike up, placed it gently on my head and tightened the straps. Then he swung his leg over his bike, kicked the stand up and offered his hand.
I looked at him for a long moment, mulling over what I was about to do. Finally, I took his hand and swung my leg over. The seat behind him was without a backrest, which my nerves would have preferred, for both safety reasons and the ability to keep just a hair of distance between my body and his.
“Keep your feet on the pegs and slide in to me, wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight,” he directed. I took a deep breath before sliding my body close to his. We were in complete contact, the front of my body and the back of his, without an air of separation once I wrapped my arms around him and laced my fingers together.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Just fine darlin’.”
Houston started the bike, and it roared to life as it vibrated, I found a new appreciation for Harley Davidson.
The “oh” I thought was silent must have slipped out, because I felt Houston chuckle as he turned on the headlights.
“When I lean, just stay neutral. I can handle the bike, just hold on and enjoy,” Houston advised, and I buried my face in his back the best I could with the helmet and we pulled out.
The racing of my heart had hardly calmed by the time we were out of the ranch yard and moving down the main road towards the highway but at least I could breathe again. Slowly but surely, I was beginning to relax and settle into the ride.
It had the same freeing feeling that riding horses did. The wind whipping around us, the empty road, just at a much higher speed and much greater power.
This was the closest I had been to Houston since our ill-timed kiss the night that Tommy and Josẽ had come into town. He had done a good job of keeping his distance, and while I understood the necessity, at this moment I preferred the distance that was currently between us.
I felt the leather on my face as I rested my cheek on his back and took a deep inhale. He smelt of leather and leather soap mixed with ranch smells and gasoline. There was no musk scent in a bottle that smelled as good as Houston Callaghan did.
I felt my core tighten as we took the first corner and I tried to remain neutral as Houston had told me to be. A few moments later we turned on the highway and he got his first real chance to open the bike up and I couldn’t control myself, I started giggling wildly. Slowly the fear melted away and I felt for the first time in ages like I was truly living. Like there was no pain or worry in my life. No fear. Just, alive.
We rode for half an hour before Houston pulled to a stop next to a little park on the outskirts of town, put the kickstand down and helped me off. I was a little wobbly on my feet, but he held fast to me as I found my balance again. I removed my helmet as he lit up a cigarette.
“Well Half-Pint, what did you think?”
I felt the knee-jerk reaction of my nose wrinkling. Tate used to call me Kid, and Half-Pint had the same feeling to it. I knew Houston said it in an endearing way, but it was still annoying. Not a name a woman likes to be called when she wants to rip your clothes off.
“I understand the appeal.”
“Uh, huh. Just the appeal? I could feel your excitement.”
“Like riding a more powerful, faster horse.”
“One that doesn’t leave piles of shit.”
“One that also doesn’t come when you whistle and isn’t loyal and loving.”
Houston grinned to the point I could almost see the small dimple I figured he tried to hide, in the dimness of the streetlight just above them. I guessed dimples weren’t standard outfitting for Bastard Presidents. “I’ll cave on the whistle part. This bike might be inanimate, but we have been through a lot together.”
“Is it the only one you have?”
Houston shook his head. “My sister and I have a storage locker in Sweetwater. I have a spare in it as does she. We also share ownership of our brother’s bike and our father’s bike. I have never ridden my father’s and only ridden Austin’s once since we lost h
im.”
“When we came to Homeland after we lost Dad and then the ranch, Tate managed to keep four horses from being sold off. The two we had, and then our parents. From the day Dad died until the day Tate left, he was the only one to ride Dad’s. When Tate left Axel still had to be ridden and worked. I let him go though, fielded him mainly. I couldn’t bring myself to saddle up that often. Especially since Axel only accepted one saddle and that was Dad’s. It got to where I only rode him once a month, when I needed to feel close to Dad, close to Tate.”
“You still have Axel?”
“He died two years ago. Somehow, he understood when Dad got sick, but I don’t think he ever understood Tate leaving. He wasn’t the same after that. When he got sick it was quick. I slept in his stall for those few days, and tried calling Tate, but as usually, he wasn’t easy to track down. He never asked in the handful of times I’ve talked to him since and I’ve never bothered to tell him.”
“I’m sorry Tate’s the way he is.”
I laughed. “No, you’re not. The way he is, it’s good for you. He loves his patch and his Bastards charter more than anything. He’s like you.”
“No, he’s not like me. Despite a small lapse in my life where I wasn’t being a good brother or a good man, I always came running when my sister called. When my family needed me. There is nothing more important to me in this world than my family.”
“Your patch family?” I asked, and Houston took the last drag of his cigarette and threw it out.
“For starters yes. But my real family. Destiny, Fabio, Aunt Kristy, Uncle Alec, Aunt Stella and Uncle Eric. They come first for me. They raised me, they are my blood or as close to my blood as I will ever have. My patch family, they’re like the extended family. The crazy cousins and the weird great-uncle at the family reunion. But I would still do anything for them. I would do anything for you.”
“For me?” I asked softly. Wondering how it was that I could be so important to this man. In such a brief time he seemed to value me and want to protect me, even more than Andrew had ever wanted to in all our years together.
Houston Callaghan: The Devil's Bastards MC Page 6