Damn him for reminding her that she had no willpower when he wore his ranch foreman duds—chaps, spurs, dusty jeans and well-worn boots, his hat shadowing half his face, the cuffs of his plaid western-cut shirt rolled up, exposing those ropy forearms.
He’d casually strolled in while she was at work and looked around. Seeing that no customers were in the store, he flipped over the Closed sign and ambled toward her. The chink-chink-chink of his spurs as he stalked her were the sexiest sounds of foreplay she’d ever heard.
But still, she tried to show some restraint. Not tackling him to the floor the minute she got a whiff of him—sweat, laundry soap, fresh dirt and the great outdoors—counted . . . right?
He moved forward; she moved back.
“Streeter. You can’t just come in here and expect—”
“Oh, sweet darlin’, I can, and I surely will, fulfill your expectations and then some.”
Goddamn him and this new cockiness that was entirely justified.
“If I want you on your knees, you know you’d drop to the floor in front of me right now.”
Chink-chink-chink echoed to her with his every bootstep.
“If I want a taste of your sweet cunt, you’ll scramble onto the counter without hesitation and pull your skirt up for me.”
Chink-chink-chink and they were past the counter and in the back room.
“But, baby, that ain’t how I need it from you.” He reached into his back pocket and dangled a pair of leather gloves between them. “Fresh off the rack. Never been worn. I need to break them in, and I know just how to do it.”
She managed to croak out, “How?”
“I’m more of the show than the tell type.” He pulled a glove onto his right hand with his teeth and then did the same sexy maneuver with the left glove.
Holy fuck. That was sexy enough to make her clit throb.
Streeter crooked his finger at her.
And in the next instant she was toe-to-toe with him.
He placed his left palm over her voice box, wrapping his fingers around her throat and sweeping his thumb across her chin.
The scent of new leather, the scent of him, the rough edges of the glove on her skin . . . talk about potent. Bailey was completely in his thrall.
“You haven’t gotten to kiss me when I’m wearin’ my hat recently, so I’m gonna hold this pretty face where I want it while we practice.”
“Streeter—”
He tilted his head and began kissing her in the patient, precise way he wanted, keeping to his word of restricting her movement.
She let go and let him lead.
He broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “Put your hands on my hips,” against her mouth.
Grateful for something to hold on to, she hooked her index fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and felt the smooth leather of his chaps brushing her knuckles.
Cool air drifted under her skirt as Streeter trailed his gloved hand up the inside of her thigh. The elastic in her panties gave way when he yanked them aside so he could slip his leather-clad finger inside her.
Bailey whimpered because she was already wet enough to take it.
He immediately added a second finger and thrust them in and out, growling in her mouth when he heard the squelching noises her body made as he finger-fucked her.
It was heady stuff, how much the sights, sounds, tastes and scents of sex affected him, and she’d gloried in his every discovery of what turned him on.
His kisses turned a little sloppy when he swept his thumb across her clit to the exact same rhythm as the slow stroking of his left thumb on the blood pumping through her carotid artery in her throat.
The tingling white noise started in her head much sooner than she’d anticipated, but her poor brain was on sensory overload. Giving him control of her body proved just how much she trusted him with every aspect of her pleasure. Her orgasm blasted her from all sides. She felt the pulsing throb in her lips, on her tongue, hardening her nipples, and the squeeze and release of her inner muscles around his stroking fingers even as her clit pulsed beneath his thumb.
She was panting against his throat when she came back to herself.
And as soon as Streeter felt her slump against him, he eased his fingers out of her and spun her around to face the wall, swearing a blue streak as he fumbled to get his jeans open while wearing new, stiff gloves.
Bailey didn’t offer to help him; instead she flattened her palms against the wall and braced herself for the hot, hard fucking that would follow.
Not only had he proven he could convince her to fuck anytime and anyplace, he’d made her come again wearing that damn glove. Spreading her pussy lips open with those leather-covered fingers. Pounding into her with such force that the rough-edged seam on the glove abraded her clit with each thrust of his hips. She’d had to sink her teeth into his biceps to keep from screaming as she tipped over the edge of pleasure laced with pain.
And after he’d come in a series of grunts and groans, he slowed to gentle, almost soothing pumps of his pelvis, his mouth homing in on her neck as he destroyed her with sweet kisses. “You okay?” he murmured in her hair.
“Sex-drunk again,” she managed through her dry throat.
“Same. Lord, woman. You are such an addiction.”
He hadn’t said sex was the addiction; she was the addiction.
That thought made her body—and soul—tingle more than any orgasm.
He moved his right hand and held it in front of her face. The leather was darker on the first two fingers, half of the palm, and the thumb pad, clear down to the ball of his hand.
She stifled a groan. She’d—her body had done that? “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now the leather conditioning is complete.”
A sharp nip on her shoulder brought her back to the present. She looked over at Streeter, still smirking at her.
“I spent all afternoon thinkin’ about our lunch break too.”
“Cocky much? I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“I know what you look like when you’re hot and bothered, Bailey, and it sure ain’t the scenery that’s makin’ your skin flushed and your nipples hard.”
“You are a dirty, dirty man, Mr. Hale, with a one-track mind.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Sergeant.”
Streeter slowed and turned onto a long driveway that ended at a big farmhouse, painted Dr. Seuss style. He parked, stole a kiss and jostled Olivia. “Hey, girlie. Time to wake up. We’re at Uncle Tobin and Aunt Jade’s house.”
Olivia yawned. “Okay.”
Bailey waited while he extracted Olivia from her five-point-buckle-system car seat. Olivia hopped down, snagged her backpack and happily skipped up the steps, barging into the house without knocking.
“She tends to make herself at home.”
“I see that.” Bailey also saw that Olivia had breezed right past the two adults standing on the top of the steps without stopping to say hello.
Maybe she had to use the bathroom really bad.
Tobin smiled at her as she ascended the steps with Streeter’s hand on the small of her back, guiding her. “Nice to see you again, Bailey. This is my wife, Jade.”
A trim woman with glossy black hair, topaz eyes and a beautiful smile offered her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Same.”
“Streeter has told me absolutely nothing about you. Olivia, however, has suggested that you might secretly be Wonder Woman.”
Bailey laughed. “Subversive flattery tactics to get her drum set back, I’m sure.”
“I believe you also met my grandma. She’s one of the Mud Lilies.”
She tried to remember if any of the ladies had mentioned Jade. Looking at her, she couldn’t decide which one it would be.
“Garnet. I ca
ll her GG,” Jade said helpfully.
“Ah. Garnet of the blue disco jumpsuit.”
Jade touched her nose.
“I’ll admit they kind of ambushed me.”
“Let me guess. They had some crazy story about why they were there, and bickered among themselves and then when they left, you were wondering . . . WTF just happened?”
She blinked at Jade. “That’s exactly how it played out.”
“What reason did they give for grilling you?”
“They were planning a surprise party for Harper.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “That is much lamer than their usual harebrained schemes. I’m guessing that someone”—she pointed at Tobin—“spilled the beans that you and Streeter were dancing at Buckeye Joe’s.”
Tobin blushed. “Hey, I was sleep deprived and GG was bein’ really sweet, askin’ about Streeter, so I might’ve let something slip.”
A little person zoomed out of the shadows and ran squarely into Streeter’s legs. He bent down and picked the child up, propping her on his hip. “This stealthy creature is my niece, Amber. Amber, say hi to Bailey.”
“Hi, Bailey.” She laid her pigtailed head on Streeter’s shoulder. “I wanna come wif you, Unca Street.”
“Another day, squirt. But I am leavin’ your cousin Olivia here for a sleepover.”
“K. I go find her.” She squirmed to be let down. But as soon as Streeter set her down, she headed for the enormous pile of toys in the corner of the porch.
“Two-year-olds have such a short attention span,” Jade said.
“She’s only two? I thought she was four with how well she speaks.” She sighed. “I’m a terrible judge of kids’ ages, though.”
“Me too!” Jade said. “When Tobin and I first got together, we ran into a friend of his who was babysitting her niece. I thought the girl was really articulate for being like . . . five. I felt like an idiot when her mom told me her daughter was eight.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Brianna Lawson?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“She’s my ‘assistant’ at boot camp. I couldn’t believe it when she told me that she’s twelve. She’s so—”
“Small for her age,” they finished at the same time.
Jade grinned. “Glad it’s not just me.”
“Listen to you two. Acting as if you’re both six feet tall, instead of your small statures of what . . . five foot two?”
Streeter snickered at his brother’s comment.
Bailey looked at Jade. “Maybe we oughta let these two big, blustering cowboys go on a date and you and me can stay here and play with the kiddos.” She leaned in and looked at the wide-eyed baby cradled in Tobin’s arms. “What’s this one’s name?”
“Micah.”
“Hey, Micah.” She stroked his cheek. “Bet you and my Angel baby niece will be schoolmates.”
He cooed at her.
“Lookit you, already charming the ladies like the men in your family.”
He cooed again.
“Oh lord, you’re tempting me. I haven’t had my baby fix in days.”
Then Bailey felt the weight of the silence and all of them staring at her. She met Jade’s gaze first. “Sorry.”
“You’re welcome to pop in and get your baby fix anytime, Bailey.”
“Don’t be surprised if I take you up on that.”
The screen door slammed. Olivia pushed her way between Jade and Tobin. She scowled at her dad. “I thought you were leavin’.”
“Maybe if you keep bein’ mouthy we’ll all just turn around and go home.”
She sighed and watched the toe of her shoe as she rolled her foot back and forth.
Streeter waited for her apology.
Neither Tobin nor Jade said a word.
Olivia looked at her dad. “Sorry. I wanna stay.”
“Then what do you gotta do?”
“Promise I won’t be mouthy no more.”
“Good. Now c’mere and gimme a hug.”
Olivia pressed her cheek into his stomach as her arms circled his waist.
“And what else?”
“I promise not to throw a fit.”
“And what else?”
“I promise I’ll follow the rules.”
“Which rules?” he prompted.
“All of the rules.”
“Okay. Have fun and I’ll see you in the mornin’.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She raced over to where her cousin played.
Streeter sent Bailey a look, as if she might be upset that Olivia had failed to say good-bye to her. Then she noticed Tobin and Jade looking at her the same way.
“That’s how she is,” she said softly, as if she needed to explain Olivia’s behavior. “I’d be really suspicious if she acted differently.”
“True. Have a fun date,” Tobin said. “Good seein’ you again, Bailey. We hope to see more of you.”
“Yes, we’ll have you all over for dinner soon,” Jade added.
Streeter took her hand as they walked to the car. He even opened the door for her. She said, “Gentlemanly date behavior, Mr. Hale.”
“It’s about the only gentlemanly thing about me, Sergeant.”
After he got behind the wheel, she said, “Shouldn’t we leave Olivia’s car seat with them just in case?”
His handsome face softened. “They’ve got an extra one from when Jade used to watch Olivia. But I’m glad you recognize the importance of her safety. Olivia’s grandmother accuses me of bein’ overprotective.”
“Better to be overprotective than filled with regret.”
He kissed her. “Come on, baby. Let’s get this hot date started.”
* * *
Apparently Streeter had been listening to her during TV talk or pillow talk. He took her to a sushi place instead of a steak joint.
She leaned across the table. “You sure this is where you want to eat?”
“Wouldn’t be my first choice, but I figure if I’m gonna try it, I’m in good hands with you since you can tell me what some of this stuff is.”
“You don’t hate fish, do you?”
“My experience with it is pretty much limited to frozen fish sticks and the crappies my dad and brother used to catch.”
“You calling fish crappy isn’t exactly filling me with confidence that you’ll like anything I’ll choose, Streeter.”
He laughed. “Crappies are a type of fish.”
“Oh.”
“If you paid more attention to the amazing flies your brother-in-law Bran crafts, you might know that.”
“I don’t want Bran to think I’m fishing for compliments.”
Streeter groaned. “Damn, do I love your puns.”
The waitress took their order and returned with two bottles of Sapporo beer.
They clinked their bottles together. “Cheers.”
“Happy date night.”
“You’ve met all of my family that I’m willing to claim; is there a chance I’ll get to meet your sister Liberty?”
“I don’t know. Devin is on the last leg of a yearlong world tour. Whenever they’re back in Denver they tend to be homebodies. Even driving to Muddy Gap is more traveling, which they’re thoroughly sick of.” She sipped her beer. “I’m a pussycat compared to my ball-busting sister.”
“You said she and Devin have a daughter?”
“Nikki. She’s three. And that girl would give Olivia a run for who’s more stubborn.” She shook her head. “Liberty was on assignment for two weeks right before this tour started. She came home and discovered that Devin hadn’t combed Nikki’s hair at all. Nikki had her daddy snowed that pulling the snarls out hurt her poor little head.”
Streeter snickered.
“So Nikki practically had dreads, her hair wa
s so matted. Which pissed off my sister because manipulation doesn’t fly with her, especially when it’s from her own daughter. She gave Devin and Nikki an ultimatum: either Devin combed out every snarl and learned not to pull Nikki’s hair, or they’d go to the salon and get all of Nikki’s hair cut off. Bear in mind that Nikki has beautiful dark blond hair that falls in damn ringlets around her cherubic face.”
“What happened?”
“Devin convinced Liberty to let his stylist detangle the precious one’s hair. Except Ravenna is this sassy black woman who doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Not her country music superstar boss or his precocious child. She combed the snarls out, but she made Devin sit and watch and gave Nikki running commentary about how lucky she is to have hair.” Bailey laughed. “Normally, I’d think . . . the kid is three? How can she understand about combing her hair? But like I said, Nikki is smart and resourceful, not to mention the only child of parents with polar opposite parenting approaches. She takes full advantage.”
“I shudder to think what kinda trouble Olivia and Nikki could get into.”
“Me too.”
The waitstaff delivered their order, beautifully arranged on Japanese serving platters, garnished with flowers crafted from fruits and vegetables.
Streeter leaned over and inspected each variety, poking at the seaweed edges with one chopstick. “Tell me what this is.”
She listed the rolls she’d ordered by main ingredient first, and then pointed out the dipping sauces, the wasabi and the sides of pickled ginger, cucumber and radish.
“This looks too pretty to eat. If I were a foodie, or on social media, I’d take pictures and post them online to show that I’m hip. But I’m not up on any of that stuff so I’ll just eat ’em.”
Bailey had selected a dragon roll, a California roll, a spider roll and a rainbow roll. “I planned to ask if you’d accept my Facebook friend request now that we’re fucking like bunnies.”
He choked on his beer. “Jesus, Bailey.”
“But you’re not listed on social media anywhere.” She looked at him. “Because of Danica?”
“Now? Yeah. I never did the whole Facebook thing. After her suicide I went to her page, thinkin’ maybe I’d find something that was a clue as to why she did it. But she never really posted on there either. Her Twitter account was all retweets. No Instagram account. If I’m not on any social media, no one can tag me. It’s a simple buffer, and I know that’ll change when Olivia grows up, but for now . . .”
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