by Cara McKenna
There were few things to be done about it. Few things aside from making sure I wear nice underwear, that was. She poked through her drawers. Unless you were willing to look desperate, preparation was the only course of action. She found a matching set and put them on, then her default jeans and a black tank, plus a jacket for until the morning chill relented.
Time would tell who’d be peeling all these layers off her at the end of a long shift tonight, but she hoped it wasn’t her own damn self. She checked her reflection and shook out her damp hair, took a long breath and blew it out slow.
“Don’t make me beg, cowboy.”
***
No workday had ever lasted this long before. Thirty hours had somehow snuck in between dawn and noon, Miah was sure of it. Thirty long-ass, grueling hours, filled up with too many thoughts.
That incident with Alex may have snuffed his lust last night, but it had been creeping back into his body and his mind the moment he’d stepped into his boots that morning.
She was all he could think about. Raina. The taste of her lips, the hungry feel of her hands on him. All the things he’d come so close to experiencing for real—the sight of her body and the words she’d say, the heat of her mouth around him or the taste of her sex as he did the same to her. Every tiny, hypothetical detail clawed at him, begging to be known.
Sadly there was no goddamn way he could sleep in tomorrow morning—he was lucky to have gotten what little reprieve he had today. That left less than four measly hours between tonight’s last call and the ringing of his alarm clock.
But men have suffered far worse than a bit of sleep deprivation in the name of sex. Men dueled and died over this shit.
So Miah made a plan. Work his ass off, finish by five, sleep, eat dinner, sleep, head to Benji’s around midnight and see if Raina seemed as eager to pick up where they’d left off as he was.
And so the day plodded along, the temperature rising, peaking, ebbing, and his patience growing increasingly frayed. It felt like he’d been at it for three days straight when he finally handed his horse off to a junior hand and hauled his ass inside for a shower.
“Were you upstairs?” his mother asked when he emerged for dinner at eight.
“Yeah. Stole an hour’s nap.” He’d probably only managed fifteen minutes’ sleep though, thanks to nagging thoughts of Raina, hopeful and horny ones alike. He took a seat on the big bench at the kitchen table and rubbed his face.
“That’s not like you.” His mom set a basket of rolls before him—not homemade or anything, as she worked just as hard as him and his dad, only indoors for the most part. She handled the thankless crap—balancing the books and making sure Three C got paid, plus keeping on top of all the stock’s medical issues. Seemed like every time Miah turned around she was on the phone with the vet about something or other.
“You’re not under the weather, are you?” she asked, concern on her face. Miah had her eyes, her black hair and brows, and her long, athletic build, but on the whole he was the spitting image of his dad. “That’d be nasty timing,” she said. “Can’t have both of you laid up.”
“No, just have some plans tonight. Want to grab some sleep while I can.”
“Oh?” She looked up from setting the table, her curiosity as transparent as the air between them. Is it a woman? that look demanded.
“Just going downtown. See if Vince is at Benji’s.” That was half true.
She went back to puttering, hopes dashed. “Must be nice to have him back again. Tell him to come by some night for supper this week.”
“I will.”
“Beer?” she asked, pouring a glass of wine for herself.
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
They chatted about their days until his father emerged from the office with slow, wincing steps, using the walker he’d been given after his hip surgery.
“We ought to strap you to a dolly, like Hannibal Lecter,” Miah told him.
His dad just rolled his eyes, then submitted to his wife’s fussing as they got him arranged on a special cushion. He grilled Miah about the day’s activities and the stock, clearly missing the grind. He had his own news to share—some local gossip he’d heard through a contact on the water board. Seemed some developers had their eye on Fortuity, in a most unexpected way.
Miah ate quickly and told his mother that dinner was delicious, though an hour later he couldn’t have said what she’d even made. His brain had filled back up with thoughts of Raina. She was the only thing he cared about tasting tonight.
After another nap, he got busy with preparations, should the evening go as he hoped. He needed blankets and firewood, matches and pillows and a camp lantern. He tossed it all in the bed of the pickup and got everything arranged, then headed back to swap vehicles. The night had him feeling restless and a little wild, and he wanted to feel his old ’79 Bonneville between his legs on the way into town. And he wanted to feel Raina’s arms around him later, as he rode her to the little scene he’d set up. He felt a shiver at that, and chalked it up to the darkening night.
No point getting your hopes up. Plan for the best, but don’t go expecting it. It wasn’t as though he was courting the most predictable woman in town—pretty much the opposite.
He stomped on the Triumph’s starter and headed downtown.
Fortuity was quiet, and he pulled into a near-empty lot in front of the bar. The ranch hands had a lot to do with that—one of his youngest employees turned twenty-one today. A keg had been procured and a disused barn offered up for the festivities, with the caveat that they not burn it down if possible. Miah was too old for keggers these days. Plus the last time he’d humored his employees and made an appearance, he’d suffered an awkward, drunken pass from one of the women, and decided that such parties were best left to the young.
He hung his helmet on his handlebar, and with the noise of the bike gone, he swore he could hear his heart pounding as he crunched across the gravel to the entrance. His was the only bike, which meant Vince had other plans—maybe some overdue quality time with his mom, or maybe round two with whatever woman he’d woken up with. A peek in the front windows told Miah he’d have Raina nearly all to himself. That scared him as much as it excited him.
He couldn’t say which breed of intimidation enclosed him as he walked inside—the pressure of his phobia, or the gut-dropping sensation he felt when he spied her. Both had his clothes feeling way too tight, the room far too hot. She was filling a pitcher for the party of four playing pool, and only two other drinkers were stationed at the bar—guys who worked at the quarry, to judge by the gray dust caking their boots. Miah took a seat on the other side, wanting privacy when she came around to him.
She rang someone up for the pitcher, and turned. Her expression changed in that instant, a smile brightening her face, eyes narrowing. “Well, well,” she said, crossing to set a coaster before him. “Wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing you so soon.”
“That’s funny. I knew it the second I drove away last night.”
“Beer?”
“Just a shot.” Just a little something to feed this fire, keep him edgy. Beer would only make him drowsy, and nowhere in his plans did sleep have any place tonight.
“Quiet one,” he said.
“Busy afternoon, then yeah, crickets since nine, basically. Haven’t seen a single one of your hands, I don’t think.”
“And you won’t—I blew off an invite to drink warm keg beer in a barn in honor of one of their birthdays.”
“Aren’t you mean?”
He waved the thought away. “Let them party without the boss watching. Plus I had a better offer.”
“Oh, did you then?”
“Best one possible.”
“What, me and this empty bar and the same old songs on the jukebox?”
“That’s only how it starts out.” He smiled, and she set a whiskey before him. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, for alleviating the boredom. My book’s getting really dreary.” Sh
e nodded to the paperback sitting beside the register.
Behind her, the two quarry guys stood and zipped up their sweatshirts. Raina turned at their good-nights and waved. “Thanks, boys. See you soon.” But after they disappeared through the exit, she rolled her eyes and pretended to collapse against the counter.
Miah laughed. “Not your favorites, I take it?”
“Swear I’ve been hit on twenty times in the past two hours. Picking up on female disinterest is clearly not their strong suit.”
“They work at Petroch?”
She nodded. “All those guys are shameless. That’s where Vince ought to get a job—he’d fit right in.”
“He did work there, for about a month, remember? Think he got fired for goading somebody into a fistfight.”
“Oh God, that’s right . . . Still, it’s just about the only game in town, job-wise.”
“For now, maybe.” Miah felt his mood cool, but only by a degree.
“For now? What do you mean by that?”
“Dad just heard something today. Sounds like our new mayor wants to hold a referendum about this massive casino development some California outfit’s looking to build, someplace up north. He wants Fortuity to try for it. Huge fucking thing.”
And a terrible fucking idea. It’d be a nightmare for the ranch—all that construction, all that traffic, and they might even want to run a new road through the open range, and then Miah’d have tourists driving through en route from Utah, causing no end of trouble.
“Casino, huh?” Raina asked, looking thoughtful. She’d spent a few months in Vegas last year, and come home looking like whatever had happened there was welcome to stay there—and not in a fun way.
“I’d like to think there’s no way in hell it’d pass,” Miah said, and sipped his drink, “except folks are hard up for work.”
“No kidding.”
“Plans sound fancy. Not like the rinky-dink slot parlors they have in Elko, but a big-ass resort-type deal.”
Raina snorted. “Like they’d pick Fortuity—not if they’re looking for class.”
Miah smiled and nodded, though he wasn’t so sure. Fortuity as a town wasn’t much to look at, but parts of it were quaint, if you squinted, plus the mountains that bordered them to the west were stunning. They had the room, and they needed the jobs and the tax breaks. Miah just prayed his fellow locals valued their town’s character and peace and the stability of the cattle industry over the draw of all those flashing lights.
He looked around the old bar—those big wooden beams, fat boards lining the walls and floor. It had been a grocery store called the Trading Post originally, from the thirties until the late seventies, and many of the aging locals still referred to it as “the old Post.” Miah couldn’t guess what sorts of accompanying businesses a casino might bring to town, but surely bars and restaurants would be among them. Nightclubs, even. He glanced at the four pool players returning their cues and finishing their beers. Benji’s might be in trouble if competition came to town, though he wouldn’t tell Raina so, not tonight. He hadn’t come here to be a downer. He’d come to sweep her off her feet.
But of course this was Raina Harper he was dealing with—she’d only get swept by a man if she goddamn felt like it.
“Night,” she called to the exiting party, then turned to Miah. “Look at you. One-man private party. Thank goodness you came, otherwise I’d be feeling awful unloved.”
“Can’t have that, now.” He glanced at the clock above the register. “Twelve thirty . . . So tell me—if nobody shows up in the next half hour, will your boss let you close early?”
She smiled at that. “Maybe. Though she’s kind of a bitch.”
“Can’t hurt to ask.”
“Well, hardly anybody shows up after one, and if they do it’s not usually somebody I feel like seeing. So okay—deal. Nobody shows in the next half hour, and I’ll close ’er up.”
Miah grinned at that, unable to hide it. “Good.”
“Why?” she asked, smirking. “You got plans for me, Jeremiah Church?”
“Maybe.”
“Like what?”
“You’ll have to wait and find out, once that front door’s locked.”
“What a tease.” She poured herself a ginger ale and they swapped local gossip. Miah tended to hear the big news first, things like the casino, but Raina caught all the tiny little particles of small-town dirt, like who was cheating on their husband, who’d just been kicked out by his old lady, who was pregnant or fired or on pills or had wrecked their car. Miah didn’t care much about that crap, but he cared a whole lot about listening to Raina’s voice just now, and soaking up her undivided attention, so he happily nursed his whiskey, then a second, and feigned interest in the latest scandals.
At one precisely, he smacked the bar with his palm. “Okay, that’s it. Closing time.”
She checked the clock. “You win, cowboy. Lock that door for me.”
Was it just Miah, or was Raina going through her end-of-the-night tasks quicker than normal? Bills flashed in her hands as she settled the register. Her foot tapped as she waited for its receipt to print, and she ripped it free and stapled it to another paper with more aggression than the task seemed to warrant. Miah grinned to himself, thinking she was as eager for tonight’s do-over as he was.
As he put stools and chairs up, he half wanted to rush into that party out at the ranch and tell his young employees that this was how you wooed a woman. You showed up in person, chanced looking too eager, stitched your heart to your sleeve. No texting, no status updates, no dick pics, for Christ’s sake. Just show up like a grown-ass man and make your interest known. Clearly he was high on anticipation, testosterone making him punchy. No matter. No better night for it than this one.
“Ready?” he asked when Raina reappeared from the back room.
“I’d say so.”
“Grab your coat, then. And your helmet.”
She laughed. “I’ll remind you I have a nice, soft, warm bed upstairs. Unless I’ve misread this proposition, and you’d been inviting me to go zip-lining all this time.”
“Just humor me, Harper.”
Her shoulders dropped in overdone defeat. “Fine. Hang on.”
She disappeared and returned with her jacket and motorcycle helmet. “I hereby turn myself over to your intentions for the evening.”
Miah held the door for her. “Really? That doesn’t sound like the Raina I know.”
“Guess we’re both full of surprises.” She relocked the bolt from outside and they walked together to his Bonneville. In all their years as friends, he’d never had her behind him on his motorcycle. Other girlfriends, sure, but she’d had her own bike for almost as long as he had. She was due for an upgrade, actually; that old beater she rode was on its last legs. Miah imagined this fling surprising them both by turning into something serious, and maybe finding her a replacement, as a gift.
Raina wasn’t normally the type of woman who let herself get shuttled by a man, and that fact made Miah’s pride swell as she climbed on behind him. She was taking off a little of her armor tonight—maybe not all of it, but a piece here and there. The part that guards her heart? he had to wonder. Maybe not, but she trusted him. He felt that fact threefold when she locked her arms around his waist to the sound of his engine rousing.
“Ready?” he shouted.
“If you are.”
And am I? Ready to take things too far with one of his best friends on the planet?
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Four
Everything was hot and cold.
Chilly wind biting Raina’s bare knuckles; heat forming a perfect circle between her wrists and arms and shoulders and chest—every inch pressed flush to Miah’s warm body.
He felt exactly right, the contact explicit even through two jackets, two shirts, two pairs of jeans. His trunk was hard and lean, flexing as he angled them into the turns, out on the pitch-black rural route that led to the ranch.
&nb
sp; She’d never, ever seen Miah’s bedroom. She’d been to the farmhouse any number of times, even crashed on the Churches’ couch her fair share during her teen years, but she’d never glimpsed where this man slept. How big was his bed? she wondered. Did his room look like that of a grown man, or did he have more important things to worry about than décor, the space still peppered with remnants from the past? Did he keep his windows open in all weather, to quell his claustrophobia? He did that at the bar—grabbed a table in the front, hauled the windows up even with the AC fighting the summer heat or the thermostat running on a winter night. Or he had, before he’d taken to stationing himself at the counter. It had driven her crazy, but now all she could imagine was how it might feel, under Miah’s covers, pressed to his warm, naked body, with a cool breeze caressing her face or arm. She shivered at the thought before melting back into the present, back into the closeness of his capable frame.
In the distance, the lights of the ranch appeared and grew. But he surprised her—they rode right past the big Three C gate and front lot, continuing on down the road.
“Okay,” she shouted. “Now I’m intrigued.” And just a little nervous. The last time she’d followed a man out into the badlands, alone at night, she’d been assaulted. Though tonight’s circumstances were different in every way, she couldn’t help but remember.
“Almost there,” he announced, turning them onto an access road. He had to slow way down, the packed dirt rutted and uneven, but Raina didn’t mind. The more tightly he steered, the more restless and reactive his body felt in her arms.
Finally, miles from the nearest streetlight, he brought them to a stop. Raina got off first, and Miah knocked his kickstand down and followed suit. He opened the storage box behind his seat and flipped on a flashlight, then killed the bike’s headlamp.