“Just pullin’ your strings,” he said. “Of course I’ll buy what you need. Where’s your list?”
“I don’t have one. Give me a minute.” I looked down at my empty hands and at his, also empty. I needed paper. A pencil. I raised an index finger then dashed into the house.
Pencil. Paper.
I dug through kitchen drawers. None.
I ran to my bedroom. I knew I had some there. In one of my boxes. But which one?
I faced Mount College Crap and ripped open the top box. Books. Books. Books. No paper. Shit.
I shoved that box off the top. It hit the floor, thud. The second box was full of useless crap too And the third.
I heard a chuckle from the doorway, and a little jolt of electricity sizzled up my spine. Did the man ever knock? Or did he enjoy sneaking up on me?
“Need some help, darlin’?”
“No. And my name is Morgan. Remember?”
“All right, then. I’ll just wait.”
He was waiting. Right over there. I could feel his presence. It created a warm sensation on my back. And prickles at my nape.
I shoved box three off Mount College Crap and dug into box four.
“What’re you lookin’ for?” he asked.
“Paper. Pencil.” I lock of hair flopped over my eyes and I finger-combed it back into place, tucking it behind my ear.
“Well, if you’d asked for some, I would’ve given it to you.” He stomped away, heavy boots clomping down the hallway, stopping somewhere in the house then returning to my door. “Here you go.” He rammed his arm at me, hand curled around a pencil and piece of clean, white paper.
“Thank you.”
“For future information, living room. Desk drawer.”
“Of course.” I did a mental head smack. Of course that was where the paper and pencils would be, the desk. Why was I so flaky today? Overdose of pheromones? Or brain damage from yesterday’s crash?
I plopped down on my bed and started scribbling down a list of the barest essentials I would need for the next few days. When I handed it to him, I said, “Thank you. I’m assuming you have a company credit card to pay?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I guess that’s it.”
He turned to leave. “Be back in a few.”
My eyes went straight to his bluejean-clad butt.
“Looking at my ass again?” he asked, as if he could tell exactly what I was doing.
Jerk.
My face flamed. “No!”
He turned around. His grin was wider than the freaking Grand Canyon. “Gotcha!”
I wanted to slap him. But I didn’t. For one, he was doing me a huge favor by going to the store for me. And two, I didn’t need him crying employee-abuse. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Once Clay’s truck had skidded out of its parking spot, sending a cloud of dust into the air, I went back outside to see what all the other men were up to.
As much as it pained me, I had to make some cuts. I couldn’t afford to pay this many men. Not the way the ranch was going now, barely making enough from the meager lease payments it was collecting from neighboring farmers for the back acreage and the little it would get when we sold the beef cattle in the fall. There wasn’t a way to make more money. So I had to spend less. A lot less.
My eyes scanned the landscape.
So gorgeous. Lots of rough terrain. Hills and valleys.
Oh, and the land was pretty too, but not as glorious as the boys working for me.
How would I decide who should stay and who should go? And once I did decide that, how would I tell the ones I had to fire that they didn’t have a job anymore?
Being a business owner sucked.
I watched a few mount horses with ease and gallop off to move the herd from one pasture to another. I watched others working the land where the kitchen garden would go. And others busied themselves with various pieces of equipment—tractors, mowers. I caught sight of one guy with grease up to his elbows.
Aha! A mechanic. Now, he would come in handy.
I donned my best friendly-boss face and moseyed up to him, admiring the flex of sinuous muscle in his shoulder as he fought with a tight bolt. “Excuse me,” I said. “When you get a minute I’d like to talk with you.”
He lifted his head, revealing striking blue eyes, a set of chiseled cheekbones and a big black smudge of grease across his forehead. “Sure.” He smiled, displaying a set of blindingly white, straight teeth.
“Thanks.”
Stepping away from him, I continued to watch the other men. They all looked busy. Most of them were doing things I couldn’t. Like patching the roof of the barn. There was no way I’d climb up there.
It looked like everyone had a job to do and was doing it. How would I decide who should stay and who should go? It was going to take some time to figure it out.
“’Scuse me, ma’am. You wanted to talk to me?” my grease monkey asked, his blackened hands gripping a rag as oily as they were.
“Yes.” I motioned to my car. “I was wondering if you could take a look at this. I couldn’t get it started yesterday.”
“Sure.” He stopped at the front. “Go ahead and pop the hood.”
I reached inside and pulled the lever, unlatching the hood. Then I watched his biceps flex as he lifted it. Not a bad sight at all. I lost sight of him once the hood was propped open.
“What’s it doing?” he asked.
“Turning over but not starting,” I answered, standing next to the open driver’s side door.
“Okay.”
A few rattles and clanks followed. Then, “Go ahead and try it.”
Shocked to hear he was ready for me to try starting it already, I ran back to the house, grabbed the keys, and plugged them in the ignition. The car turned over once, twice, three times and then the engine sputtered to life.
Was it that simple? He hadn’t changed a part.
“It started!” I shouted as I circled around to the front. “You’re a magician.”
“No, just a mechanic, ma’am.”
“A mechanic who performs magic,” I confirmed. There was no way this man was getting away from me. There were far too many machines on this property to keep running, beyond my piece of crap car. “What’s your name?” I asked, extending a hand.
“Mike.” He accepted my offer and gave my hand a firm shake.
“Mike,” I said. “And in case you weren’t aware, I’m Morgan, the new owner of Silver Sage Ranch.”
Smiling, Mike gave a quick nod. “I was aware. Welcome.” He released my hand then made a face and handed me a rag. “I think you need this now.”
I laughed and checked. Sure enough, a black smudge darkened my hand. “Thank you.” I wiped off the grease and returned his rag to him. “Well, I’d better let you get back to your job. Thanks again.”
“No problem.” He loped back to the tractor he’d been working on while I leaned against my running car and tried to decide if I there’d been any spark between us.
The answer: not really. And I didn’t understand that. He was definitely good looking.
And he could do amazing things with his hands.
He was polite. He didn’t leer at me like some guys—make that, a certain guy—did.
He didn’t make me feel like he was undressing me with his eyes.
God help me, was I one of those girls? The kind who could only be attracted to the bad boys—the ones that would crush my heart over and over?
Chapter 4
I knew Clay was back before I saw him. The energy in the air changed. Electricity crackled, like before a thunderstorm. It was so appropriate. Because wherever Clay Walker went, lightning struck.
He hauled several grocery bags inside the house.
Trying to pretend I didn’t know he was nearby, I continued with my chores. My pitiful breakfast wasn’t holding out. Once again my stomach was voicing its anger at being empty. I had no choice. I gave in and went inside. I found him in the kitchen, unlo
ading bags.
He waved a package of tofu at me. “You owe me for this. I had to drive all the way to Riverton to get it.”
“That far? Why?”
“In case you didn’t notice, people around these parts like their meat. This vegetarian shit isn’t fit for human consumption.”
He was doing it again, pushing my buttons. I knew it. So why couldn’t I just ignore his needling comments? “Have you even tried that ‘vegetarian shit’?” I countered before I’d been able to talk myself out of it.
“No. You wouldn’t catch me dead eating that shit.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “When was the last time you ate something normal?”
I took inventory of the spread on my table.
Greens. Avocados. Berries. Tofu. He didn’t consider those normal?
“I ate an egg this morning.” Surely eggs were normal, right?
“Besides the egg?” He clucked his tongue when I shrugged. “How the hell do you live, eating this rabbit food?”
“It isn’t rabbit food.”
“I tell you what, you owe me for driving all the way to Riverton to buy that shit. So you can do something for me.” Evil glitters sparkled in his eyes.
My gut twisted. Here it came. The sex demand.
What would it be this time? A hand job? A blow job?
I had news for him. This girl was not getting close to that dick ever again.
Never, never, never.
No matter what.
No way in hell.
Maybe if I ignored him, he would drop it.
I grabbed my tofu and stuffed it in the refrigerator.
“Dinner,” he said. “Tonight.”
What’s this? He wants dinner? Not sex? I whirled around to give him don’t-shit-me eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“Catch?” He blinked. “There’s no catch.”
“There has to be.” I grabbed the carton of berries and waved it at his extremely guilty-looking face. “There’s always a catch with you. You’re the king of catches.”
“I’m glad you think so highly of me,” he said, a warm chuckle echoing through the room. He gently removed the carton from my hands. Our fingertips brushed and a tiny stream of heat skittered up my spine. “A king. King of catches. I like it. I’m one hell of a catch.” He reached behind me to put the carton in the refrigerator, caging my body between his bulk and the open fridge.
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” I declared to his broad chest.
He cupped my chin, forcing it up until our eyes met. Heat whooshed through me. “Now, don’t try to take it back.” He flopped a thick arm over my shoulder, and another wave of heat pulsed through my body.
I glared at him and shuffled to the left. “Hands off.”
“I don’t have any hands on you... yet.” He stepped closer, trapping me again. This time it was worse. His big, burly chest was now smack dab in front of my nose and I had to crank my neck way back to meet his gaze. His heat warmed me. Everywhere.
My face. My breasts. Lower. Between my legs.
This was not good.
I angled back, pressing against the shelves in the refrigerator. The cool air blowing on my nape made my skin pucker into goose bumps. That wasn’t any better. Now I was hot and cold. “And you never will,” I declared with more conviction than I felt.
Truth be told, my heart was racing. Heat was pulsing. I was alive, on fire, and God help me I was liking this feeling. The thrill. The tension.
He shifted closer still. “We’ll see about that.”
I jerked up my chin. “No, we won’t.” Brave words there. Words I didn’t believe, really.
“Oh, come on. The last time was good, wasn’t it?”
Good? Hell no! It wasn’t merely good.
It was mind-blowing, earth-quaking.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point, I reminded myself, was that it had been a mistake. A massive mistake that I still regretted. So why would I ever do it again? “No,” I murmured.
“No?” His Cheshire smile couldn’t get any wider. Nor could he get any closer without our bodies melding together, my curves smooshing against his hard angles. Male and female, molding together. “No? I recall you screaming, ‘Yes, yes, ohmygod yes’ at the top of your lungs.”
Did he have to remind me?
A hot blush bloomed on my cheeks. I jerked my gaze from his. “Well, I was a little caught up in the moment at the time... but...”
He thumbed my chin, lifting it until my eyes met his again. His were smoldering, dark, fathomless. “Maybe you’ll ‘get caught up in the moment’ again.” He tipped his head.
Oh God, he was going to kiss me.
My breath hitched. All my thoughts evaporated, like mist on a hot summer day.
Yes. Oh, yes.
No.
No!
I planted my hands on his granite chest and shoved. “No.”
He smiled into my eyes as he took a step back and dropped his hand. “You say ‘no’ now. But you won’t later.”
Arrogant jerk.
Throwing his cocky response right back at him, I said, “We’ll see about that,” and shoved him again.
He turned, threw a smoldering look over his shoulder and loped out of the house, leaving me there, breathless, dizzy, and needing to knock some sense into my head.
I’d almost like that big dickhead kiss me! What an idiot I was.
Why couldn’t I feel that kind of electricity with a nice guy? Like Mike? Why?
I had no answer a half-hour later, after I’d whipped up a quick lunch and ate.
Nor several hours later, after I’d worked myself into a near coma, cleaning out the old storage shed.
But something good came out of all that hard work. I’d found several unused pieces of equipment I could sell. The extra money would help keep the ranch afloat for a while. And I wouldn’t have to fire anyone.
All the boys were gone by four o’clock. All the boys except for Clay. He stuck around, looking busy. I tried not to notice him as I worked. I failed. Every time I caught a glimpse of him, I had to look. No matter what I was doing. My eyes just had to track him. I couldn’t stop them.
By five o’clock I was done. I was filthy, like I’d never been before. My hair. My face. My hands. My clothes. Covered in dust and dirt. And my shoes—caked in shit. I was starving, but before I would allow myself to eat, I had to get clean. I smelled like shit. Literally.
Shower.
I stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor and jumped under a stream of cool water. Absolute bliss. The water pattered against my body, massaging my aching muscles and chilling my overheated skin. The water at my feet ran off brown and muddy. I scrubbed until not an inch of skin had been left unwashed, shampooed my hair twice then cut off the water and wrapped myself in a clean towel.
I stepped out into the hall to find Clay standing in my kitchen, arms crossed.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“You. Me. Dinner. Remember?” He shouldered the wall.
Dammit. I had forgotten, having been so exhausted and grimy from all the work I’d done. All I could think about was getting clean. “Oh. Crap. I forgot.”
“No problem.” His gaze slid south, to my breast region, and my nipples hardened. I tugged the towel tighter around myself, hoping he wouldn’t see them. “You can go throw on some clothes... or not... and we can head out.”
“You know, I’m really tired after today—“
He stepped closer, head shaking. “I knew you’d try to get out of it.” He continued to prowl nearer, eyes focused on my face, expression intense.
The way he moved, looking at me like that, reminded me of a big jungle cat, hunting down its prey.
Me. I was the prey. And I wanted to run.
But, just like a big cat, I knew my running only triggered his chasing instinct. So I stood my ground as he crept closer, closer still. Before I knew it, my towel-clad body was within inches o
f him. And he was glowering down at me.
“It’s either we have dinner, or...” His gaze raked down my body, and a spark of dark male hunger ignited in his eyes.
I knew what that or meant. Sex.
A little quiver quaked through me. “No ‘or’. No.” I shoved on his chest, pushing him away for the second time today. How many times would I have to do this in one twenty-four hour period? In a week? In a month? Would this guy ever get the message?
What happened that day, years ago, was a mistake and I had vowed never to repeat it. I meant to keep that vow. No matter what.
The towel gripped in one fist, I pushed past him. “Fine. I’ll get dressed. Give me a few minutes.”
“Damn, I was hoping you’d go for option two.”
“Not a chance in hell,” I shot back.
His laughter followed me into my room.
Adrenaline pumping, blood rushing, heart throbbing, I slammed the door.
Why, oh, why did I have to feel this way about such a jerk? What was causing this disconnect between my brain and body?
As irritated with myself as I was with the jerk in question, I gathered my hair into a messy, soggy knot on top of my head, stomped into a long cotton skirt, yanked on a T-shirt and shoved my feet into a pair of tennis shoes. Then I grabbed my bag.
“Ready to go,” I announced.
Next to the door, Clay pulled it open and waved me out first.
I felt his leering gaze on my ass as I stormed down the steps.
What the hell was I doing, going anywhere with this jerk? Favor or no, he was my employee.
This was wrong. And stupid. And totally unnecessary.
And it would not happen again.
Ever.
Because I was done lusting for the bad boys. Done.
Chapter 5
When Clay had told me we were having dinner tonight, I hadn’t known what to expect.
This was definitely a surprise.
I mean, true, the restaurant options were extremely limited out here in Nowheresville. It was a long drive to find anything remotely decent—as in, served food on genuine plates instead of paper wrappers. But I had still expected, and dressed for, a dinner out. At a restaurant. With tables. And people. And service.
Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance Page 3