Tie Me Down: Arizona Heat Book 1

by Douglas, Katie

  “Jake’s out getting tack for the horses.”

  This got worse and worse.

  “Fine. You round the other forty-nine up. Clay can get on the road straight away, and I’ll patch up this fence quickly so you and me can get out there looking for Daisy.”

  “Pretty sure Daisy’s here, boss,” Barrett teased.

  “As far as I’m concerned, every cow is called Daisy,” I replied with a chuckle. It was a conversation we’d had before. I got off the phone; we had no time to waste on banter. There was some barbed wire in the back of my truck from the last time I’d had to mend a fence. I opened the driver door and raised a brow toward Alana.

  “You got a hole in your fence,” she noted.

  “Ever mended a fence before?” I asked. Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

  “Never seen one up close, I don’t think.”

  “Well today’s your lucky day. Ever used a hammer on a nail?”

  “Yeah, I’ve put up picture hooks before.”

  “This is like that, only the nails are a funny shape and if they’re not hammered all the way in, somebody gets killed by a heifer.”

  Now it was her turn to raise her brows. I walked around and helped her out of the truck, closing both doors.

  “We got an escaped cow,” I explained.

  “And it’s an ax murderer?”

  “Nope. But speed limit’s pretty high in Arizona. Even on open range, people don’t always slow down, and if someone hits my cow at speed, the impact will probably kill them both.”

  “Would you get sued?” she asked.

  “No, but someone’d be dead or seriously hurt. Now, they’d be liable because that’s how it works here, and I’d be within my rights to ask them to pay for my cow but that seems like a dick move to me. Anyway, damned ambulance chasers would be on my tail to sue for something or other—psychological damage or whatever—and no one wants to have to fight that. I try my best to keep the cows off the road, but this fence looks cut.”

  I wasn’t sure she understood the problem, and she was a city girl, so trying to get her assistance might make this a longer job. Depended on how she reacted to being roped into helping.

  “What can I do?” she asked, and my heart filled with a warmth that was nothing to do with the hot mid-morning sun.

  “Put my hat on, so you don’t burn,” I told her, nodding at the truck where I had a spare Stetson. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit but her hair was quite bouncy so it might not fall down to her nose.

  She was gone for two seconds and when she turned around in my hat I just wanted to kiss her. I wished we didn’t have to hurry. Instead, I handed her my gloves. They were far too big, but they’d protect her hands.

  “Hold this roll of wire exactly where that nail is,” I told her, passing her the beginning of the barbed wire. “And don’t touch the barbs. The secret to handling this stuff is to only ever grip the wire between those sharp bits.”

  She nodded and did as she was told. I hammered the new wire into place, wrapping it around the post twice for added stability. We were missing the middle post, so I went to the next one that was still in place, where Alana held the wire again and I hammered it into the wood. We did the top wire just as quickly, and soon there was a physical barrier that would make most cows think twice before leaving. I’d fix it better once we’d found our missing Daisy.

  “Great job!” I told Alana as we got back into the truck. “Now, hold onto your hat because once we’re on asphalt I’m going to be driving fast. Take my phone and call Clay. Ask him which roads he’s covering.”

  I felt bad for ever doubting her. When she had clear instructions, Alana could help out on the ranch as well as anyone, and she’d really sped things up with that fence, although she probably hadn’t realized it. Best of all, though, she hadn’t gotten precious about being out in the sun, walking through the sandy dirt or dealing with the barbed wire, she’d just helped.

  Made me think the reason she hadn’t brought up the lack of hand cream in my bathroom was because she didn’t use the stuff. Maybe I had an unconscious idea of what women from the west coast were like, and if I did, I was clearly wrong when it came to her.

  * * *

  Alana

  This was the most interesting day in my life since I’d finished my art major. We’d driven painfully slowly off the grazing land because it was unpaved and very bumpy, but once we were on a real road, we’d raced off in search of the missing cow. I hoped we could get to her before anyone got hurt.

  It was such a world away from the dark and complicated life I’d led in Seattle, and I loved being in an environment where our hard work directly paid off. We were heading in the opposite direction to Clay. I’d called Barrett, too, and found out he was just finishing up driving the rest of the cattle into the cowshed.

  It was beautiful watching the three men work seamlessly as a team, keeping each other updated constantly as they went. I kept my eyes on the road in case I saw Daisy.

  “How will you know we’ve found your cow, rather than someone else’s?” I asked.

  “Ours have a brand on their butts with our Lemon Tree Ranch design. It’s pretty distinctive once you know what it looks like.”

  I nodded. Some things about farming felt a bit icky to me, and branding animals was one of them. I didn’t know how to feel about it, because I didn’t really understand it properly.

  We had been driving all of three minutes when we saw a longhorn calf at the side of the road looking like he was trying to hitchhike or something.

  “If we’ve lost a calf, that makes things easier. Wait here,” Lawson said, getting out to go look at the brand. When he’d gotten close enough to see the animal’s butt properly, he turned around, gave me a thumbs up, then mimed a phone. I understood straight away. He wanted me to call the others.

  I informed Barrett first.

  “I’ll be over straight away with some rope,” he said. Clay was a little further out but said he’d meet us as soon as possible.

  Under five minutes later, I watched Barrett park his truck, which had a cattle trailer hitched to it.

  “Catch!”

  Barrett threw some rope to Lawson and they both made lassos. The calf just stood there, totally oblivious, until the ropes landed around his neck almost at the same time.

  Suddenly, he was like a different animal. He jumped onto his front legs, kicking out his back legs, then jumped onto his back legs, rearing up, and repeated this movement as he shook his head from side to side and generally tried to fight the ropes that held him in place.

  The patient cowboys held steady, anchoring him to the spot. I covered my mouth with my hand and gasped in horror as I watched Barrett leap onto the back of the animal and bring him down. Lawson held the head in place, stopping those dangerous-looking horns from gouging any soft flesh, while Barrett tied off the feet.

  My pussy was soaked from seeing the two muscular men take down an animal that weighed at least five hundred pounds.

  Clay arrived just then, and between the three of them, they loaded the roped animal into the trailer Barrett had brought. The three men just lifted that animal by themselves. I was melting into a tiny puddle. Lawson got back into the driver’s seat.

  “Show’s over. Now we get to mend the fence properly and set up a camera to find out how it got damaged.”

  It didn’t take long to fix the fence because it just needed that central stake, which Lawson buried with concrete before attaching the wire to it. We found the concrete-clad stump of the missing stake, and it was clear someone had sawn it off.

  “Guess we’ll be getting an offer from someone to buy our land at some point soon,” Lawson remarked as we headed back to the farmhouse.

  “Why would they break your fence, first?”

  “If we get sued by someone with a good lawyer for something our cattle did, even if they lose, it damages our reputation and makes us look irresponsible. If buyers won’t buy from us, that puts us in a position where s
elling might be the only option. It’s a pretty standard tactic for dirty realtors looking to get some cheap land. Thought we’d scared them all off after the last one.”

  “But there’s so much land out here, why would they need yours?”

  “Because we’ve worked hard to get it in good shape and they can sell it for more money. ‘Specially with us bordering the river at one end.”

  The way people did business was plain weird to me, but it wasn’t really my place to say. Instead, I went into the house and helped Lawson fix our lunch, which we’d more than earned after our busy and eventful morning.

  Chapter 9

  Lawson

  I got a call from the doctor six days later. We were both in the clear. I was relieved, but this was one of those close calls that reminded me how dangerous even the sweetest thing—making love to a woman—could be.

  Things settled into a pleasant routine as I got used to having a woman on the ranch. Before she’d arrived, it had just been us four guys. We weren’t savages, but we’d definitely grown accustomed to some things that just wouldn’t fly now that we had a lady here.

  For one thing, us guys used to eat dinner whenever we were done working, and we’d usually eat together, taking turns cooking. Alana wasn’t a great cook but neither were any of us, and she seemed to like making an evening meal for us at the same time each day.

  She started doing other little things, too, and I guess that’s what our first disagreement was about. I came down one morning to find she had put flowers on the kitchen table. Cut flowers.

  “Is it a special occasion?” I asked, as I watched her making coffee.

  “Huh? I don’t think so, why?” She sounded confused.

  “You put flowers on the table.”

  “Don’t you like them?” She turned to face me and I felt bad for even asking.

  “They’re pretty, I just wasn’t sure why you put them there.”

  She sighed heavily. “Never mind!” Storming over to the table she snatched up the flowers out of the vase, sprinkling water over the wooden tabletop as she marched to the kitchen door and threw them out.

  “HEY!” I shouted. I wasn’t going to let her get like that for what still seemed like no reason.

  “What?” she snapped back. “Problem solved.”

  “No. Nothing is solved. First you found my mother’s vase from God knows where it was packed away, then you went outside and cut flowers and put them in the vase. Now you’re throwing them out like you could care less. None of it makes sense. I just want an explanation.”

  Yeesh. How did this get out of control so quickly?

  I grabbed her wrist to stop her leaving. “Do I need to spank you to get an answer?” I was trying to be funny, since we had no proper agreement in place regarding spanking, and we’d only ever used light spanking as a prelude to sex, but her eyes flashed with fury, sparks of resentment spitting out of her, as she regarded me.

  “If you spank me right now, I will get in my car and leave,” she said in an even voice.

  Oh boy, it was going to be a morning of misunderstandings, at this rate. Deciding this had to end, I gently scooped her up, taking great care not to harm her baby as I cradled her in my arms and held her to me.

  “You’re going to take a deep breath, or maybe five or six, and you’re going to explain what is happening between us right now.”

  She paused and breathed in. When she exhaled, she narrowed her eyes as though contemplating her options. After several breaths, during which I continued holding her to be sure she didn’t make good on her threat to drive off, she finally answered me.

  “I just wanted to do something nice. To pretty things up a bit.”

  “And why didn’t you say that in the first place? Why did you get so defensive?” That was what really didn’t make sense to me.

  “It felt like you were criticizing; like you were saying I needed a reason to put flowers on the table.” Her cheeks had gone pink. “I’m sorry.”

  “And after making all that effort to go get flowers and find a vase, you threw them away like they were nothing.” I didn’t like that kind of behavior at all.

  “I felt stupid and wrong and embarrassed that I’d tried to do something you didn’t seem to want, like or understand, and I just wanted to make it all disappear so you’d stop criticizing.”

  “I’m sorry you felt criticized. I didn’t say anything that was intended to make you feel that way. I really am a simple guy and I was just asking about the flowers. For all I knew it was some special day I’d forgotten about. I’m not happy about the fact you threw those flowers out in a fit of temper.”

  “Are you going to spank me?” she whispered, not looking at me, but I could see enough of her eyes to know they were sheened with tears. I’d never done this before as a punishment or any sort of domestic discipline vibe, but if it was what she needed, I’d do it for her. BDSM in the bedroom was usually as far as I went. I’d thought about going to clubs, but we were in the middle of nowhere, and the long drive was off-putting.

  “That depends,” I replied. “Do you need me to?”

  She sighed and I was sure I heard the inner struggle going on inside her.

  “Yes.” She spoke in such a small voice I almost didn’t hear her.

  “Then you need to ask me to do it.” I couldn’t do this if there was even the slightest doubt in her mind.

  “Please can you... uh... please can you sp-sp-spank me?” Her eyes were scrunched closed now, like that would make it easier for this conversation to happen between us.

  Instead of answering her straight away, I said, “Let’s take this discussion upstairs,” and carried her to my room.

  I placed her down on the bed carefully and I sat down.

  “Stand here.” I pointed to a spot on the floor in front of me.

  She got to her feet and obeyed. She seemed pretty contrite.

  “Tell me why you need a spanking,” I commanded.

  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I got mad and threw out nice flowers because of a misunderstanding.”

  “And what do you need to do next time?” I prompted.

  “Talk to you and figure out whether to be mad or not first?”

  It was good enough.

  “Getting mad is a normal emotion. Just be sure you’re doing it for a good reason, next time, and leave the poor flowers out of it. I’m going to spank you, and it’s going to be harder than when we do it in a sexy way. If it’s too much for you to take, you’re to say your safeword, red, and this stops.”

  “I will.”

  “I wish I could put you over my knee, but I don’t want to squash your bump, so instead I want you to get on all fours on the bed.”

  She climbed up and presented herself for a spanking. I flipped back the hem of her plaid shirt dress and slid down her panties. She didn’t move. Her ass had no signs of the last time I’d spanked her, which had definitely been light compared to this. I trailed my hand over her flesh, so pale from a lifetime in the darkest state in America.

  * * *

  Alana

  He stroked my skin for what seemed like ages before his hand finally came down on my cheeks. It was a lot harder than before, just as he’d promised, and made a sound that reminded me of a flip-flop slapping water. I pressed my lips together, determined to take this. As soon as he’d said the word ‘spank’, it had been at the front of my mind. The pain seared across my ass but I knew my skin had been extra-sensitive lately.

  His hand landed again, catching the place where my cheeks met and reverberating through my flesh, even seeming to dance around the opening to my ass. He focused on that especially sensitive area for a couple of minutes while I tried to breathe through the pain, which I had asked him to deliver and which I felt I entirely deserved.

  The emotions welled up inside my chest and as his hand kept coming down, I began to cry. At first, it was an explosive sob that sounded almost like a bark to my ears, but then it faded into cries o
f remorse as tears began trickling down my cheeks.

  That area began to feel like it was actually burning, which made it easier for me to get all the negative emotions out as I continued to cry. He widened his scope and covered the rest of my ass in hard swats, and just when I thought he might be done, he gave two hard swats to my thighs which made me yelp.

  “Are you going to do it again?” his voice was gentle.

  “No. Never,” I wept.

  “Do you think, if you did, you might be less hard on yourself and trust me to guide you?” The question surprised me and I had to think for a moment. That had been the crux of the matter, really; I hadn’t trusted him to not have an ulterior motive to his questions. I hadn’t trusted him enough to take his words at their face value.

  “I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’ll try my best,” I replied honestly.

  “Good. That’s all I can ask of you. Now, come here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and helped re-arrange me until I was lying sideways with my head resting on his lap while I nestled into his belly. He held me with one arm and stroked my hair with the other, while I settled down from feeling like I was in trouble.

  “Do you think I’ll ever need to do this again?”

  My stomach wavered for a moment and I wondered how to answer. “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want to have to chastise you. Especially not before breakfast.”

  I sighed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones.”

  “Maybe it was. And while they will make you feel all sorts of things, you need to not let them control your actions. It’s normal to have feelings about things, but you can’t just go around acting on them whenever you’re upset.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t had great examples up to this point.”

  I remembered my parents, who I hadn’t heard from since freshman year of college when they’d cut me off. Growing up, they’d constantly criticized everything I did and perpetually told me, “You can do better, Alana. You will do better.” And I’d tried and tried, but nothing had ever been good enough.