by Kim Fox
Sloth just stretched out further.
“You’re not getting a belly rub after that poor performance.”
The cat slapped her thigh with his tail.
“Oh, okay. Fine.”
She dug her fingers into the cat’s fur and started scratching.
“Why is there a big hairball in my drain?” Ryder asked.
Tempest grinned. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the tub while he took a shower behind her.
“Not sure,” she said as she looked at her nails. “Maybe Sloth has been using the shower. Is the hair red?”
“Nope,” he said with a huff. “It’s the exact same color as your hair actually.”
“Weird. I guess its a mystery that we’ll never solve.”
He grunted. “I guess so.”
Tempest swallowed hard and slowly turned her head, looking at the metal toilet paper holder. Ryder had no idea about this, but if you looked at the metal, you could see inside the shower a bit. Sure, it was distorted and blurry, and you couldn’t really tell if what you were looking at was a lion shifter’s hard ass or his hard head, but still, she kept looking.
And looking.
And looking.
“There,” Ryder said as he placed the second TV on top of the first TV. He had bought it off some guy on Craigslist for fifty bucks.
He sat with Tempest on the couch and they smiled as they were each now able to watch their own shows at the same time.
“We should have thought about this days ago,” she said with a smile. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth and then offered him the bowl.
He grabbed a handful and smiled at her. Baseball and stupid reality bullshit at the same time. It was a match made in heaven.
On second thought, it was more of a match made in hell.
But, they were both happy.
“I told you, I don’t want to go,” Ryder said.
God, he was so frustrating!
Tempest sat behind the wheel with her right arm crossed over her body and hanging out the window. The jerk who was attached to the other end was standing outside of the car, refusing to get inside.
“I need conditioner,” she said. “This is not an option. If my hair doesn’t get conditioner than bad things happen, okay? It killed a guy down in Texas once.”
He crossed his arms. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It split him in half with its split ends.”
“I’m not going in town and being seen like this.”
She looked him up and down. Was he getting more and more dressed up every day? It seemed like it.
“You look fine.”
He lifted his handcuffed wrist up, which lifted up hers as well. “Like this. We look like ex-cons.”
“We’re going to be ex-cons if my hair doesn’t get some damn conditioner in it stat. Okay? It turns lethal and you’re the one closest to it, so…”
Ryder shook his frustrating head. “No. I’m not going.”
Tempest shoved the key in the ignition with a grunt. “We’ll see about that,” she muttered.
“Wait, what are you doing?” he asked as she turned the car on.
She just straightened her rearview mirror and started driving.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, jogging alongside the car. “Tempest stop this instant!”
She hit the gas harder, making him run.
He was in a full sprint when she finally turned to him. “Do you want to come with me now?”
“Yes! Now stop the car! Please!”
He was out of breath and sulking when she stopped and he hopped in the passenger seat beside her.
“And I forgot my purse,” she said with a grin. “So, you’re paying.”
The fire was roaring in the fireplace as Ryder and Tempest curled up on the couch and watched Braveheart. It was his favorite movie and Tempest had never seen it.
“This is my favorite part,” Ryder said as Mel Gibson crept through the forest on the bottom TV. The top TV was off. They had finally agreed on something to watch.
“I didn’t like him,” the crazy Irishman said on the screen. “He wasn’t right in the head.”
“I love that part,” he whispered. Tempest didn’t even react.
He looked down at her and smiled when he saw her eyes closed. She was curled up on his arm, sleeping soundly.
Ryder gently, slowly, ever-so-carefully, reached over and grabbed the blanket that was bunched up on her legs. He pulled it up, right to her shoulder and breathed in her scent that he couldn’t get enough of.
His lion purred happily inside him. He seemed to like this annoying girl, who over the last few days was getting less and less annoying.
She was still as annoying as ever, but instead of getting annoyed and frustrated, Ryder found himself smiling, laughing, and watching her more and more, wondering what she was going to do next.
A nice warmth flushed through his body as she moaned in content and squeezed his arm a little tighter. Ryder smiled, put his cheek on the top of her head, and watched the rest of the movie.
Chapter Seven
Tempest
Five days after she first stepped foot on the ranch, Tempest and Ryder finally had their groove down. They danced around the kitchen in the morning, grabbing bowls and cartons of OJ like two graceful figure skaters who had been practicing for years.
“Hand me the—”
Ryder was already pouring milk in her cereal all the way up to the brim, exactly how she liked it.
“Would you—”
She already had his toast out of the toaster. He liked it when it was a perfect golden color. Not too burnt and not too raw.
They smiled as they carried each other’s breakfast to the table.
He opened the newspaper and handed her the Arts and Comics while he read the Sports and the Editorial section.
They were a well-oiled machine.
She ate her cereal, glancing up at him every few seconds, watching as he bit into his toast. She loved how his masculine jaw looked when he chewed in the morning, the stubble not shaven off yet.
“What?” he asked without looking up from the paper.
“What are we going to do today?”
“Hopefully catch a bad guy and become millionaires.”
He took another bite of his toast and chewed. God, I could watch that all day. Is that weird? It’s weird.
His robe was open, showing off his big tattooed chest. Tempest’s fingertips starting tingling when she pictured running them down his skin.
“But if G.H. doesn’t call with a location? What do you want to do?”
He lowered the toast and turned to her. Her heart started to beat a little faster with his sexy brown eyes on her.
“Have you ever tried ax throwing?”
She laughed, not expecting that.
“I can’t say that I have,” she answered. “I almost dropped an ax on my toes once, but that’s about the extent of my ax throwing experience.”
He chuckled. “Well, just be careful.”
“Don’t worry. I will. I like my toes and don’t want to lose any.”
“It’s my toes I’m worried about,” he said with a sexy grin.
“You’re a shifter,” she said. “Can’t you guys heal?”
“Heal, yes,” he said, turning the page of his newspaper, “but unfortunately we can’t grow back body parts. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.”
“That’s a shame,” she said as she took a large dripping bite of cereal. “For any shifters who are lacking toes, I mean.”
He winced as he looked at her. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross.”
She opened her mouth wide to show him everything.
He turned back to his paper, shaking his head with a big smile on his face.
“So, that’s how you do it,” Ryder said after he showed Tempest how to throw the handheld ax.
She winced as she stared at the ax that was sticking out of the plywood tar
get. It was sunk in deep in the middle of the bullseye.
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “It doesn’t seem very safe.”
“Well, it is ax throwing,” he said with a deep exhale. “How safe did you think it would be?”
“I don’t know,” she said, suddenly feeling nervous. Whenever Tempest started throwing sharp things around in the past, bad things happened. Usually to the people within throwing distance. Once in high school, she was in Art class and threw a pair of broken scissors into the garbage. It somehow landed in her teacher’s thigh. He completely overreacted and she got a D.
“If you’re going to be a bounty hunter,” Ryder said as he picked up another ax from the pile, “you’re going to have to get comfortable around weapons. All kinds of weapons.”
Tempest shifted from foot to foot. “I was thinking I could be the kind of bounty hunter who convinces her marks to come in using rational thinking and logical thought examples.”
“There’s a name for that kind of bounty hunter.”
Tempest perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah, they’re called broke ass bounty hunters.”
Her shoulders slumped forward and he laughed. “Come on,” he said, gently taking her arm. “I’ll show you.”
Her body tightened and the air seemed to stick in her lungs as he pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his cuffed right hand around her to be close to her cuffed left hand. They had been close several times throughout the past few days, but never like this.
His chest was pressed against her back, his strong hands were on her arms, and she could feel the warm breath on the back of his neck. It was making every single tiny hair back there come alive.
“Hold it,” he said in a low gravelly voice. She wrapped her hand around the hard wooden handle and took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart.
She shifted ever-so-slightly backward until her ass grazed against his zipper. Was that a little groan that came from his throat?
His heart was pumping as hard as hers was—she knew that much—she could feel it against her back.
“Keep the ax up,” he said. God, his lips were right next to hers. “Perpendicular. Right. Like that.”
She took a deep breath and raised her arm like he showed her and threw it. It sailed through the air, doing deadly cartwheels until it sunk into the wood with a satisfying thunk.
Right in the bullseye.
“You got!” he said, spinning her around with an excited smile on his face.
The excitement and thrill of it overcame Tempest and she jumped on him, throwing her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist.
The smiles melted from both of their faces as they stared at each other with a long charged look. Her wavy brown hair had tumbled down on his shoulders and their lips were dangerously close to each other.
He held her like that—her breasts pressed against his upper chest, lips hovering over one another—for what felt like an eternity before he slowly put her down. It felt like a long stretched out moment, but why did it have to end so fast?
“Okay,” he said, swallowing hard as he finally released her. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”
There was only one thing she wanted to do again, and it didn’t involve any axes.
He picked up another ax from the pile and handed it to her. This time she didn’t even make the target. Or the next time. How could she concentrate after that?!?
Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t see straight.
Ryder gave up after she missed a few dozen in a row and let her off the hook.
She was barely paying attention anymore—her mind still focused on that moment in his arms. She wondered if he was thinking about it too.
There was something going on between them. There was definitely something there.
Tempest knew now that it wasn’t just her feeling it. She had an inkling—extra little touches, long sideways looks, flushed cheeks, smiles that lingered a little too long—but now her inkling had exploded like an octopus blowing its inky load.
He liked her. He would never admit it, but he did.
Tempest always had a knack for wearing people down. She was horrible at first impressions, but she was good at wearing people down.
He got her a chair and she sat down as he practiced throwing them at the target. This was better. Sitting there admiring him as he focused on the target—God, he looked sexy when he focused—and then lined up the shot and threw it.
“Ah, it’s so hot out here,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. “Isn’t it so hot?”
Ryder shrugged. It wasn’t that hot, but she was trying to throw some subliminal messages his way. Eventually, it worked and he took off his shirt. Half of Tempest and Ryder’s shirts now had slits down the side with buttons sewed on since that was the only way they could get them on and off with the handcuffs.
Tempest swallowed hard as she looked up at him. There was a thin coat of sweat on his skin that was shining in the sun, making him look like a tattooed god. His abs were just asking to be licked.
She loved the way his arm flexed when he held up the ax to line it up. It showed off the deep curves of his round triceps and got her shifting around in her seat, suddenly hot between her legs.
Tempest had never had too much luck with guys before. She dated here and there, but more often than not the guys stopped calling or just seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. Not answering their phones anymore or their Facebook messages, which Tempest often found weird because in some cases they were still updating their newsfeeds. She always thought that the little red number in the top right-hand corner was impossible to miss, but somehow, the guys who she was dating always seemed to miss it.
Most of the time, she just shrugged her shoulders and moved on. Life was too short to be ruined by immature dicks. She had her own fun, enjoying her days as best she could—entertaining herself by singing and dancing—and she didn’t need a man to complete her.
But for the first time, she was wanting one. Really wanting one.
She didn’t want this little adventure with Ryder to end. She was having too much fun.
And so was he, even though if he would never admit it.
He had seen the real her over the past few days. Not the prim and proper display of a nice, respectful girl that she often showed her dates. The real her. The real disruptive storm that Tempest could be. And not only was he still around—the fact that he had no choice was of little concern to her—he seemed to be liking her more and more with every hour they spent together.
Spending time with him had been the best week that she had in a long time. In fact, she tried to think of a time in her life that she enjoyed more and was coming up with nothing.
Thunk.
He turned and gave her a proud smile. The ax was wedged between the others in the spray painted bullseye.
“Nice shot,” she said, looking him up and down as he turned back to admire his work. Nice ass too.
“Thanks,” he said. “Want to try again?”
She shook her head, not wanting to give up her view. “I’m good here.”
“Good but can you do me a favor?” he asked with a grin.
“Anything.”
“Come with me so I can go another round?”
She laughed and got up, walking with him to the plywood target to retrieve the axes. He pulled one out of the bullseye and showed it to her. It was different than the others. It had a golden blade and a beautifully carved oak handle.
“I was given this one by the Redemption Creek Fire Department when I tracked down an arsonist that was causing havoc for them.”
“Cool,” she said, taking it from him and inspecting it.
“Every true Bounty Hunter should have a throwing ax,” he said, wrapping her fingers around the handle. “It’s yours.”
She jerked her head back as she looked up at him. “I can’t take it. You earned it.”
“You earned it
,” he said. “I saw you take down that freak of a shifter. That bear shifter beat up all of my friends, including Mack. And nobody beats Mack. Nobody.”
She started to feel her cheeks heating up.
“You took him down all by yourself,” he said. “And you would have had him if I didn’t barge in and screw it up for you.”
She opened her mouth wide to say something, but he put her finger on her lips, shutting her up.
“I’ll admit that I was wrong, but please don’t rub it in.”
She closed her mouth with a smile and he took back his finger.
“Believe me, Tempest,” he said with sincerity in his voice. “You’re one hell of a badass bounty hunter and I want you to have that ax.”
She squeezed her fingers around it and clutched it to her chest as her eyes welled with tears. She was touched beyond belief.
Never had she received such a perfect gift. All of her old boyfriends had never understood her. Even when they tried to be nice and give her a thoughtful present, it was always off the mark. What the hell was an aspiring bounty hunter supposed to do with flowers or high heels or jewelry? But Ryder got her. He understood.
“Thank you,” she whispered as they stared at each other with heated eyes. “For everything.”
He gave her a little wink and a smile. “Just don’t drop it on your foot.”
“I promise,” she said with a laugh.
“Or mine.”
She grinned as she looked down at it once again. “I can’t promise that.”
He laughed as he started gathering the axes for another turn. She just stood there, clutching the golden ax, and watching him—thinking one thing over and over again.
I’m fucking him tonight.
Chapter Eight
Ryder
The new client G.H. hadn’t called with a location that day and Ryder was glad that he didn’t. He was enjoying his time with Tempest and wanted to stretch it out a little longer.
That sounded crazy to him. How could the girl who almost made him shove chopsticks into his ears a few days ago have grown on him so much?