by Em Petrova
“You want me to lose my cool.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not all the time, no. You don’t want to be portrayed as the angry brother. But I just wanted to tell you that we loved what we just saw.”
Jesus. This is so fucked up, down and sideways that I have no idea how to respond.
He cupped the crown of his hat and lifted it a fraction off his head. “Have a good time editing it to make me look more menacing.” With that, Buck spun and headed outside, his hackles rising at the chuckle that followed him. The fact that his life had been reduced to this scalded him. But he had no choice now. He was in until the end, and hopefully then he’d have his cut of the money needed to save their ranch.
By the time he’d retrieved his bag and tossed it into the back of his truck, he had a cameraman trailing him again. Resigned to his fate, he gave the young kid a half smile. “What’s your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Seems as if we’re going to see a lot of each other. Nice to know you. Where you from?”
“Uh, upstate New York originally.”
“Been there once. Too crowded. I’m heading out. Are you riding with me?” He rested his hand on the door handle of his truck.
“Yeah, that’s great.” Andrew ran around and jumped in the passenger seat. After they got rolling onto the open highway, Andrew texted his manager that he and Buck were heading on to the next venue. And Buck started firing questions at the kid. How much footage did they need for an episode? How long would it take to compile the footage?
In other words, when was he going to get these people off his ass so he could live his life?
“How long have you and Channing been together?”
Buck tightened his lips. He didn’t want to discuss her, but she was part of the show and they needed this information. “’Bout six months or so.”
“So she was with you after your dad passed.”
That little light blinked on the camera, which rested in Andrew’s lap, the lens pointed Buck’s direction.
“Yeah, she was. She was a rock for all of us.” He used the hipster’s description of Channing because it fit so well. “She really comforted all of us and helped us get through the ordeal.”
“And afterward when you found out about the will, how did she react?”
Buck searched his memory for that time. “She was concerned for all of us, especially Ma. Wondering how we were holding up. Her friend works in the courthouse and Channing had her do some snooping to see if Ennis could be wrong about the will.”
“Ennis is your cousin?”
“Yeah.” Buck swallowed half a dozen words like dirt-bag and douche-nozzle.
“But the will isn’t wrong, is it? The Calhoun ranch, the ranch that your father built his entire life, doesn’t belong to your family.”
Buck’s throat closed off. “No, it doesn’t. But we plan to remedy that, which is why we’re working so hard to win the money.”
“Except you lost last night in Waco. How does that make you feel?”
Like punching out your little blinking lights, Andrew. He released a slow breath and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “What I said to West holds true. You can’t win ’em all. In that arena we’ve got a split second to decide where to throw a rope. Or how to move to keep your seat on the back of a bull. The rodeo ain’t like real life in that way.”
“What do you mean, Buck?”
“In the rodeo you can’t go back and fix your mistakes.”
* * * * *
Channing stomped her boots before coming into the Calhouns’ kitchen, a basket of eggs in hand and her hair streaming into her eye. She glanced up to see a camera aimed right at her.
She stopped for a split second, taken aback. When had the crew shown up? Glancing up at Mrs. Calhoun, or Ma as she wished to be called, Channing saw the amusement written all over the woman’s face.
Ma still had some good years left in her. Maybe someday, long after she’d mourned her husband, she’d find someone to share her life with again. Her silvery-brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that made her appear younger than she was. And her eyes were bright with life.
“Got a lot of eggs this morning. Seventeen.” Channing set the basket on the counter and lifted a hand to tidy her hair. American viewers were going to see her as a disheveled mess. People would wonder what a hunky cowboy rodeo star like Buck saw in her.
Nothing. We aren’t a couple.
“Seventeen!” Ma stormed across the kitchen to peer into the basket, counting silently, her lips moving. “I didn’t think my chickens would put out that many at this time of year. Good thing, though. I just got word from Ryder. They’re on their way home.”
Crap. The past few days of peace Channing had stolen here at the ranch had allowed her to lose track of time. Or maybe she’d just poked her head in the sand and ignored the world. After selling her car and half of her possessions and then showing up on the doorstep of the ranch…
She shook herself. At least Ma had taken her right in. With her warm, motherly ways, she’d made Channing feel welcome. “Of course you must stay with us, sweetheart. You’re part of the family!”
Except she wasn’t. Not really. As soon as Buck got around to telling her this, his ma wouldn’t be so generous or gracious with her hospitality.
Channing gave the camera a weary glance and moved to the sink to wash her hands. That damned piece of hair tumbled into her eye again. She scraped it back, trying to staunch her rising annoyance.
Truth was, she’d been on edge since coming home to find Luke at her apartment, rifling her stuff for cash. She’d slammed the door and he’d jerked his head around.
“Sis. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“No?” She walked right up to him and slapped his handsome face. “Damn you, Luke. This is my home.”
“I-I know. I’m so sorry. I just…” He collapsed on her sofa and dropped his face into his hands. She hadn’t realized he was crying until his shoulders began to shake. Then her heart had broken for him and she’d gotten the story.
The people he owed the gambling debt to wanted a big payment to show them he was serious about paying it back. Only Luke had hocked all his possessions already. Their mother had long ago written him off and refused to help at all. And that left Channing.
“They’re going to tie a cement block to me and toss me in the Mississippi. They’re going to fuck up my face. Or take one of my hands as down-payment.”
She gaped at him, shock seizing her. Her baby brother. No.
At that moment she’d made a couple phone calls, sold her car and invited a few friends to come look through her place for anything they may wish to buy. Then called her landlord and begged out of her lease. She promised her brother this month’s rent money and the funds from the sale of her car when they came in.
Slapping five-hundred bucks in cash into Luke’s hands scared the hell out of her. What if he didn’t pay the debt and just lost the whole wad at the horse races again?
In the end, she’d put the notion from her mind and done all she could do for herself—which was find a place to live.
“Sausage’s in the pan on the range, sweetheart. Why don’t you grab a plate and I’ll fetch you a cup of coffee?”
Coffee. Thank God for that. The only thing keeping her alive the past few days. She felt dead on her feet and knew stress was contributing to her desire to crawl into bed and sleep for days.
“You still seem tired,” Ma said as she poured dark brew into a huge mug one of the Calhoun men could drain in seconds. Buck especially adored coffee, and the hotter the better. She’d seen him gulp down liquid so hot it blistered her tongue without blinking an eye.
“I am.” Channing accepted the mug with a grateful smile, pushing Buck from her mind. She’d see him soon enough. They’d be thrown together in front of the cameras. Or we’ll be avoiding them, sneaking off for a secret romp.
Dammit, her life really was a mess. She sipped her coffee and reluctantly nib
bled a bit of sausage. Ma sat across from her, talking about which Calhoun had won and lost at the recent competitions. Wynonna, her pride and joy, her only daughter, had cleaned up with another record.
“You raced too, didn’t you, Ma?” Channing asked. Anything to steer the conversation away from the one person she didn’t want to hear about. She’d up and left Buck with only a note to explain herself.
The cameras zoomed in around her and Ma as the story was related. Peggy had been a top pick on a national level back in the day before she’d fallen for a handler. Buck Sr. had swept her off her feet and installed her on his ranch with a son in her belly as quickly as possible.
“Did you regret leaving your dreams behind?” Channing asked, aware that the film crew was eating this up.
Ma looked at her surroundings—cozy kitchen and a huge table that seated their large brood. “Not a bit. I took on new challenges is all.”
Reaching across the table, Channing patted her hand and they shared a smile.
“Someday soon you’ll have this too, sweetheart. Buck’s bun in the oven and the love of a good man.”
Channing fought a rising lump in her throat, but it was no use. Tears scalded the back of her nose. Pushing hastily to her feet, she said, “Of course. Thank you for breakfast. I just remembered I forgot to water the chickens.”
She fled the house. Once on the wide front porch, she sucked in big gulps of air. How was she going to continue with this lie? Ma needed to know the truth about her and Buck. Lying to her was no repayment for her good graces.
Soon she’d sit down with her and break the news even if Buck got upset by it. What did she owe him anyway?
The thought had barely skittered through her mind when a truck door slammed. She looked up to see a young film guy climbing out of Buck’s truck. Her heart rocketed into her throat, choking her. She wheezed in more oxygen but it was no use. Buck had spotted her.
And God, did the man look good. Even scruffy from a long drive, he was beautiful. Dark hair shadowed his jaw and upper lip and his jeans seemed to sag around his hips more than usual. Had he lost a pound or two? He couldn’t afford to—he was all lean, ropey muscle. The notion that he hadn’t been eating either…
She snapped to attention as her gaze met his. Sparks zinged between them. If someone walked into the crossfire, he’d be shot down.
He started toward her, his shoulders rolling with each step, his arms swinging loosely at his sides but his gaze burned through her like a match to a dry twist of grass. She pushed the errant tendril of hair from her eyes again and quaked in her boots.
Behind her, the screen door opened and she knew the camera crew was here to witness their exchange just as the young guy who’d ridden here with Buck was filming.
But this wasn’t an act—was it? He looked as though he wanted to eat her up and throttle her all at once. She backed up a step but a firm hand on her back stopped her.
“Go into the yard,” the cameraman said.
Unable to think, she obeyed. Her feet carrying her across the porch and down two steps before Buck was smack-dab in front of her, his chest a wall of muscle she wanted to hurl herself against repeatedly.
With his brown eyes glittering, he loomed over her. Head bent, lips inches away from hers. She sucked in a breath that might as well have been her very first.
Man, leather, musk, mint. Why did she have to be so damn in love with him?
His rough fingers closed around hers, linking them more closely. Her heart pounded. When he brushed his thumb repeatedly over her engagement ring, the camera zoomed in on the action.
Ignoring it all, Buck murmured, “There are things we need to discuss. One of them is you do not leave my bed until I’m damn good and ready, darlin’. And I wasn’t ready.”
A shiver ran through her—emotion and lust and so many other things she couldn’t put a name to. Her fingers convulsed in his hands. As if thinking she was trying to pull away, he tightened his hold. Then he looked deep into her eyes and kissed her.
She unraveled at his caress. Every pass of his tongue sent her into spasms of need. She tore her hand free of his grasp. It floundered in the air a brief moment before latching onto his nape. She drew him closer as he lifted her off her feet.
“Well I see Buck’s home,” his ma said from the porch.
They pulled away and Buck set her back on the toes of her boots. But only for a brief second before he grasped her around the hips and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed, a grin breaking over her face. This was the Buck she wanted—needed.
But was it all for the cameras?
He stormed the porch as if his boots were on fire. Then stooping, he planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. Channing kicked her feet to be set down but he clamped a hand on her ass, holding her firmly in place. Ribbons of need curled and knotted her insides. His declaration that he hadn’t been ready for her to leave his bed had ensnared her far more than she wanted to admit.
When he sent the screen door flying open, he said, “Duck.” She dropped her head to avoid bashing it on the doorjamb. He didn’t take a moment to look around his home after being away—he just strode through the house and entered his bedroom.
Where he stopped dead. Letting her slide down his body, he seemed to stop breathing. She tried to figure out what was bothering him but his graveled tones reached her. “Darlin’…you moved your stuff in?”
“I…” Shit. Now was the time to admit what was going on with Luke and tell him about her reasons for dumping her apartment. But his touch on her ass still seemed to brand her skin, and her pussy throbbed for the things his kiss had promised.
She smiled into his eyes. “Surprise?”
With a growl, he grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. She barely had a moment to gather her bearings before he bore her down with his bulky muscles and his hot, tormenting kisses.
“Put your legs around me, darlin’. Fuck, I need you.”
He did—his erection dug into her mound, feeling larger than ever. She made a noise of surrender and wrapped her legs high on his hips, drawing him down where she needed him most.
* * * * *
How was it possible that Buck wanted Channing more now after two orgasms? She sat on a comfy overstuffed chair giving an interview about their first dates, first kisses and when she’d realized he was “the one.”
Hell, he couldn’t get harder. And he wanted to smooth that honey-blonde hair out of her eye and kiss her swollen lips. Did the others even notice how swollen her lips were? He’d kissed her until she’d come around his cock before she’d slithered down his body and wrapped her pretty mouth around his length for mind-blowing minutes.
That was round one. Round two had involved much, much more. He couldn’t get enough of her.
“When Buck gave me this…” She turned tear-bright eyes on the camera and twisted the engagement ring around her slender finger, “I didn’t need time to think about it. I knew he was the one for me.”
His throat closed off. Sure, she’d felt like that in the beginning—it was written all over her face. But did she feel the same now?
He didn’t think she was acting for the sake of the cameras. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he let his mind follow a natural path leading to a happy ending. What would happen if she really did marry him and the season finale wedding wasn’t a show?
One thing was certain—she hadn’t faked a single minute in his bed.
The producer opened his mouth to fire one more question at Channing, but Buck waved a hand in front of the camera. “Cut.”
Channing looked up in confusion, but the crew just watched as Buck pulled her to her feet and rushed her from the living room. Lane looked ready to puke as he took his place in the interrogation chair.
Buck snorted. Poor bastard. At least it wasn’t him. Yet.
For now, he was going to get Channing far from the prying eyes.
“Where are we going?” She threw him a look over her shoulder that had his balls cle
nching.
“Get in my truck.”
She made a noise but a minute later she was seated beside him as he swerved around too many vehicles parked in his driveway. They roared down the gravel lane but at the last minute he took a detour, bouncing across the field.
“Buck!”
He shot her a look. “Hold on, beautiful.”
She curled her fingers around the holy shit handle as they barreled across the field where no cattle grazed. This patch of the ranch was untouched. It funneled down into a group of trees and the high grasses were uncut. Perfect for hiding with a woman.
When he braked to a stop, she relaxed her hold on the handle and looked at him. A heavy silence strung between them.
“Why are we here, Buck?”
He lowered his eyelids and raked his gaze over her flushed cheeks and her cleavage spilling from her plaid top. The ends of that top were tied at her waist and he’d been itching to work the knot free and feel the smooth, warm skin of her midriff.
“You know why. Get out of the truck.”
* * * * *
Channing’s skin felt ten times too hot as Buck stripped her completely. His callused hands were driving her insane. And she swore he was purposely brushing his knuckles over her nipple every so often.
“You have no reason to have…your hand there. You already have my top off.”
“Don’t I?” He crouched at her feet and urged her to lift each leg so he could remove her boots. As he let each drop and then worked her skinny jeans, panties and socks off, she quivered with anticipation. When Buck got this way there was nothing to do but go along with him.
As if I want to do anything else.
He knew it too. He was in total charge of her, from taking off her clothes to her final scream of pleasure.
Reaching out, she waited for his touch but it didn’t come. Instead he gripped the handle of the tailgate and lowered it. Then giving her a smoldering look, he said, “Bend over.”
She sucked in a breath. “What?”
“You heard me. Bend over that tailgate.”
Oh God. She slowly turned and placed her palms on the truck bed. The metal was still warm from the sun.