Gruff Ass in Love

by Sasha Burke

  Is it crazy that I want him in the same way? Just as uncontrollably. Just as relentlessly.

  It’s a long while before either of us lets the other come up for air.

  When we finally do pause for a bit to replenish our oxygen supply, my overloaded senses are so hazy and floaty that I almost, almost miss hearing it…

  The tiny unmistakable little snick of metal clicking into metal above me.

  I gasp, knowing immediately that one of my wrists just got handcuffed to the headboard.

  He gets up off the bed, slowly, reluctantly, and I look at him in sheer disbelief. He wouldn’t.

  “You may not need me to keep you safe, honey, but I need it. This is the only way I can possibly get any work done tonight. I just plain can’t function without knowing you’re safe.”

  When he puts it like that, it’s hard not to be too outraged with him. But I manage. “Cade, if you leave me like this, you better find some full body armor before you come back,” I warn him.

  Obviously, he couldn’t have predicted or planned for everything that happened before the cuffs. That’s not the part I’m so out of sorts about. It’s more the fact that he stopped.

  That he stopped for this insane plan makes it ten times worse. I give him a vaporizing glare.

  My temper falters a bit soon after though when I hear the deep, ragged breath he takes before he gravels out coarsely, “God damn, walking out this door is harder than I thought it’d be.”

  Suddenly, I’m not minding the cuffs so much. Frankly, he looks more shackled than I feel at the moment. “If you don’t want to go, then why are you leaving?”

  He curses quietly. “I have to. Got a badly injured foaling mare I need to keep an eye on all night. And the only way I can do that is to make sure I don’t need to be worried about you as well.”

  “Cade, I swear, I won’t go back to get my bag.”

  “That’s just one of a hundred ways you can get yourself into trouble out here; I’m not taking any chances.” He heads to the door and gives me one final, searing look, that gets cut short by his ringing phone. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, sweetheart. A few hours, tops.”

  And with that, he shuts the door behind him.

  Unbelievable. The second he’s gone, I start snooping around the nightstand and find the second drawer empty except for one thing. The keys to my cuffs.

  Huh. So maybe I won’t have to maim the man after all.

  I get myself free and pocket the cuffs and key without a second thought. I’m not usually one to think payback is the right way to go in life, but in this case, it’s absolutely warranted.

  My next stop is of course the door, which I discover is locked from the outside.

  Throwing my head back in exasperation, I stumble on the note he’s left for me on the ceiling: You’ll get a crick in your neck if you do that too much.

  Fight it though I try, I can’t help but crack a smile.

  After that, I go on a hunt for more notes around the room from the nutty lunatic.

  The man was thorough, I’ll give him that. Food and drinks. Even magazines in the attached bathroom. He went out of his way to make sure I’ll be well taken care of.

  In the other nightstand, I find a tablet and another note: I know how much you like reading, so I loaded up the e-book library.

  That’s an understatement. I thumb through the dozens of geology e-books he downloaded, seeing that he definitely did his homework on which ones to get.

  But it’s the last totally-out-of-place book in the bunch that has me melting.

  Dummy’s Guide to Rocks

  And it’s already been read halfway through.

  Knowing that he’s been studying up on rocks has me completely thrown off balance. So, I hop back onto the admittedly comfy bed. Needing to do something to settle down my buzzing brain, I grab the remote and find one final note taped to the back of it: In case you’re asleep before I can come up to say goodnight, don’t worry, you can kick my ass over breakfast in the morning.

  Goodness gracious, how the man manages to be utterly certifiable and unexpectedly charming at the same time is beyond me.

  9

  | Cade |

  It’s almost midnight and I’m ready for a break.

  The injured mare I told Katelyn about had one of the toughest weeks I could imagine. The vet wasn’t sure how she even managed to survive, let alone keep the foal stable in her belly after the run-in she had with the heartless driver who’d left her for dead on the side of the road after he hit her head-on.

  Luckily, my guys found her before she could bleed out. Took a lot of surgeries and some touch and go days all week, the last twenty-four hours especially, but she made it. Now, she just has to get strong enough to make it through the delivery—should be any day now.

  I tag in one of the guys to keep an eye on her for a few hours so I can go check on Katelyn. She didn’t call my cell, and I didn’t see anything thrown out of the upstairs window last I checked, so I took that all as a good sign and focused on work.

  Not going to lie, watching the vet tend to the mare’s injuries after hearing Katelyn’s story about her own car accident was rough. All I could keep thinking about was how the mare at least had us, while Katelyn had had no one. That sad truth has been friggin’ gutting me all night.

  I’m barely in my front door when my cell phone starts buzzing. Since the two-way walkie talkie is how the guys contact me for emergencies, I know any message on my cell isn’t pressing, but I check it anyway. It’s a text from my ranch foreman Jonah.

  Expecting company tonight?

  For a second there I’m thinking he means Katelyn so I glance up the stairwell to see if the spare bedroom door is still closed. It is. Though I wouldn’t have been surprised if it weren’t. If anyone could find a way to sweet talk her way out of my little imprisonment, it’d be her. And I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that my own men would be the ones to help her break out. Every last one of ‘em would give up a spare organ, even their favorite testicle, to be her knight in shining armor.

  Before I can ask who Jonah’s talking about, he sends a follow-up text.

  Got a redhead in a convertible trying to come up the driveway saying you want her here.

  Fuck the hell no.

  I don’t sugarcoat my response.

  Get rid of her.

  Sort of in the same way giraffes developed those long necks on account of evolution, I’ve also had to evolve over the last couple of years to adapt to my new life away from the city.

  Out here, I’ve become a full-fledged, no-expectations, no-exceptions, one-night-stand man.

  Now, before anyone passes judgement on me, to clarify, this doesn’t mean I’m the kind of guy that sneaks out of a woman’s bed before sun-up because he’s an ass, but rather, that I’m the kind of guy who gets his ass up at the crack of dawn to run a ranch. Plain and simple. Ranch life is tough. Which is exactly why I make it clear what’s what with every woman I sleep with.

  One night. Just sex. And we part on friendly terms.

  Usually, it works out great. No harm, no foul. No tears, no drama.

  That is, unless the woman knows I’m that Cade Walker.

  I don’t know why these women insist on getting it in their heads that if they sleep with me, I’ll just up and quit being a rancher to go back to my former life as the CEO of some of the most next-level smart tech security systems created in the last decade. But let me tell you, they get pretty damn pissy when they wake up the next morning and discover that I was dead serious when I told them they’d have to help muck some stalls if they insist on overstaying their welcome.

  In the case of the redhead Jonah’s dealing with right now, she did not take that well. Not only did she throw the mother of all tantrums before I’d even had a chance to get my morning coffee, but she went and called my current life a waste and my crew a bunch of broke losers.

  Seems Miss High and Mighty only sleeps with men of a certain net worth since she ‘has sta
ndards’ and that I had to ‘treat her the way she deserved’ if I wanted to see her naked again.

  After that speech, I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere nice for breakfast—my treat.

  She of course lit up all smug-like and got buttery sweet again. Until I tossed her a twenty and showed her the door, giving her directions to a diner that serves the best biscuits and gravy around to make good on the nice breakfast part.

  When she then proceeded to get even nastier with her shrill insults, I just threw her shit out on the driveway and went on with my day.

  Call me a dick all you want over how I handled that, but she’s the one who put a price on her time; I simply countered with my own appraisal, making appropriate adjustments for factors like her personality. As far as I’m concerned, the twenty bucks—which she took when she stormed out, I might add—was more than fair.

  I’m half way up the stairs when I get another text from Jonah. Good news, this time.

  That chick was a little psycho, but she’s gone now. All clear.

  Hallelujah.

  It’s times like these I can’t help but compare Katelyn to the other women I’ve come across in my life. Yeah, she’s eccentric when it comes to her rocks, but she’s sweet. And genuine. And the first woman I’ve met who seems to appreciate my ranch like I do.

  Or at least the rocks on my ranch. Which is still something.

  Fact is, I’ve got no business starting anything up with someone like her. For those and a whole host of other reasons. But frankly, I just don’t think I have any say so in the matter anymore.

  I’ve been doing my best to resist the crazy chemistry we’ve had from the start, I really have. For months now. But after what happened between us earlier, I’ll be lucky if I’m able to keep my hands off of her long enough to do my usual ‘just one night’ spiel.

  I honestly have no idea how she’ll respond to me suggesting something casual and temporary. In fact, I don’t even know what’s waiting for me on the other side of this locked door.

  I get my answer, surprisingly, quicker than I expect.

  An index card slides out from under the bedroom door, skidding to a stop at my feet.

  Is the mare doing okay?

  I knew she’d make use of those cards somehow. She’s always got a stack of index cards and notebooks in her bag for notetaking when she’s out studying rocks. That’s why I made sure to buy a bunch of both in different sizes just in case she found something interesting she wanted to take notes on in those ebooks I downloaded for her.

  “The mare’s doing okay now,” I reply as I grab the key from the nearby cabinet to unlock the door. “One of the other guys is watching her for the next couple of hours.”

  Another card slides out to join the first.

  Did you get anything to eat tonight?

  See? So damn sweet. The kind of sweet a man could get addicted to.

  “Not yet,” I reply, frowning when the door won’t open. I jiggle the handle more. It’s definitely unlocked. Just…stuck.

  Her next index card sheds a little light on the situation.

  Save your strength. I’ve got a chair wedged against the door.

  I stare at the note in surprise for a beat before I bust out laughing. This woman’s just full of surprises. “What’s it going to take for you to un-barricade the door?” I ask.

  A card shoots out before I’m even done with my question.

  I’ve got a list of demands.

  Who knew playing hostage could be so much fun? “Name them.”

  You let me stay here with full daily access to your rocks for a week (along with another couple bags of this kettle corn you found) to make up for the emotional distress I suffered from this entire ordeal.

  I chuckle quietly. Hearing the TV in the background and her munching on what sounds like potato chips on the other side of the door, it’s clear her distress is significant.

  All things considered though, it’s a reasonable request. But, I didn’t make my billions being an easy dealmaker. “How about a weekend instead? I’ll take you around myself.” I counter.

  One. Full. Week. Big letters, all underlined. And thank you, but I can navigate myself.

  Stubborn woman. Good thing she can’t hear me smiling. “A weekend plus a weekday.”

  As she grumbles to herself on the other side of the door, I cross my arms and wait in anticipation for the next card.

  Seven days straight, and I’ll tell you where I stashed the meatloaf I made for you tonight.

  Wait, she made food for me? Well that changes things completely. The guys are always going on about how great a cook Katelyn is, but I’ve never gotten to taste anything she’s made.

  Of course, if you aren’t hungry, I’m sure the guys could take the meatloaf off your hands…

  Evil woman. My stomach is all but ordering me to surrender. Okay, if she wants to play hardball, I can, too. “Five days. Fully supervised, of course. And if you end negotiations now, we can continue where we left off before I cuffed you…and see to that orgasm you were begging for.”

  I can’t tell if that was a gasp of outrage I just heard or a whole different kind of sound, but that’s some furious scribbling I hear going on against the door. Hell, she’s fun.

  Her next mutinously-written index card knocks me on my ass.

  Just for that, it’s TWO weeks now. No babysitters! Or else I let the guys eat the entire meatloaf right in front of you. And by the by, what makes you think I didn’t “continue” on my own right here on this bed after you left?

  Holy. Shit.

  My imagination goes ballistic.

  And now I’m so damn hard, I’m seriously lightheaded. “You don’t play fair at all.” I grouse in response, with nothing less than the utmost admiration she deserves.

  I hear her laugh softly on the other side.

  Says the man who thought THIS right here was a good idea.

  A little handcuff doodle punctuates the end of the sentence with a few exclamation marks.

  Grinning, I pick that one up as a souvenir. “Okay fine, you’ve got a deal. Two weeks. Semi-supervised with check-ins—no arguing with me on that part. Now are you going to come out of there and have some meatloaf with me?” Hell, I’d settle for her letting me in and talking to me face to face. This negotiating through a slab of wood thing isn’t working for me.

  She flings open the door with an ear-to-ear grin. “The food’s in my SUV. We can eat in your truck on the way to my place—I’ll repay you for gas. It’ll be quick; I just need to pick up more clothes and tools.”

  She races past me down the stairs, practically buzzing with excitement. “Oh, and if you haven’t guessed, I want my two weeks to start right away.”

  10

  | Katelyn |

  The entire ride to my apartment, I’m on cloud nine. Two whole weeks on the ranch. I still can’t believe he agreed to it.

  Just then, I hear Cade groan out loud from the driver’s seat. Again.

  Okay, maybe I can believe he agreed to it. Boy, that man really loves meatloaf.

  “Seriously, what’d you put in this?” asks Cade before taking another big blissed-out bite to finish off his second serving of meatloaf. I kid you not, I had to tuck the rest of the pan out of sight in the backseat to stop him from eyeing it on my lap between bites and swerving on the road.

  “One of my secrets is stuffing it with little balls of crisp apple wood bacon and smoked cheddar,” I answer after we’re safely off the main road and pulling into my apartment building, away from other cars and pedestrians. “Also, I cover the pan with an apple cider-steeped hickory plank instead of foil when I bake it, and add some bourbon in the sauce for even more flavor.”

  I don’t know if a guy as burly and brusque as Cade is even capable of sighing in pleasure, but if he were, I imagine it’d sound like the deep, rough wild-animal-purring sound he just made.

  “I’ll make another loaf for you again soon,” I offer, pleased he liked it so much. “In fact, why
don’t I cook for all of you the two weeks I’m there? Earn my keep a little.”

  “Jesus, don’t let the guys hear you say that. They get by with making breakfast foods and sandwiches for every meal, along with some mostly edible culinary experiments every so often. If you started cooking for them regularly, I’m pretty sure they’ll want to keep you hostage forever.”

  I’m just about to slide a handcuff joke in there (I tell you, I’m never going to let him live that one down) when he chuckles and adds, “You’ll go and break their hearts when you leave.”

  Suddenly, I’m hit with the all-too-fanciful idea of my never actually doing that—leaving the ranch, that is.

  A girl can dream.

  At my silence, he reaches over to squeeze my shoulder gently. “Hey, I’m just kidding. If you want to cook, go for it. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to. You’d be our guest.”

  I smile, determined to make the most of this amazing gift, and not focus on the temporary aspect of it. “How about we meet in the middle? I’ll cook, but only a couple nights a week. And I’ll just be sure to make some extra dishes with the ingredients or at least extra portions so you guys can refrigerate it and heat it up the nights I take a break.”

  Incredulous laughter is his immediate response. “That’s so cute. You really think they’re going to leave uneaten food in the fridge. These guys have bottomless pits for stomachs, and zero self-control. I still remember the time they found a jar of herbal liniment the vet had me make for one of the horses. Apparently, they all thought I’d turned into Martha friggin’ Stewart and made some chip dip for them or something—it was summer; clearly the heat was making ‘em loopy. Anyway, they ate the whole damn thing and all had diarrhea for a week.”

  Yep, that sounds like the guys. God love them. From what they tell me, they need to take a few pick-up trucks to bring back the food from their bi-monthly grocery runs, during which time, Cade gives them free reign to buy whatever they want so long as they can get it in the shopping cart within a half hour. Evidently, the cashiers at the nearest market all try to take their breaks the second they see the guys pull into the parking lot. And the big warehouse store they go to insists they come an hour before opening so as not to freak out the other customers.