“But then you could have your own practice. Ted said your old boss told him you were the most skillful employee she’s had.”
“Maybe. I honestly haven’t given my future much thought. I guess I’ve got this year on the ranch to think about it.”
“True.”
We reached the dining hall and Brody unlocked arms from me, gesturing up the stairs. “Ladies first.” I waited for him at the door to the dining hall, assuming he’d want to be the one to open it.
Which he did, without skipping a beat. As we made it through the vestibule, but before we were in sight of the team, his arm wrapped around my waist, his hand pressing into my lower back.
There was no denying it this time. Brody Jenkins was staking a claim on me in front of the other cowboys. I tried to ignore the heat that was traveling from my lower back into my lava core. How was such a simple gesture so utterly erotic?
Turning my face away from Bethany’s seemingly crestfallen one, I smiled at Alice as we approached the table. Same as at breakfast, the head of the table was open, as was the seat next to it.
For the king and his queen—okay, maybe I was jumping the gun a bit.
Brody pulled out my chair, watchful eyes upon us, then had a seat at his own. The chattering died down as Brody held up his glass—of iced tea—and cleared his throat. “I propose a toast. To the best darned roundup day CLAS has ever seen!”
“Hear, hear!”
“To clean living and sunshine!”
“To you, Brody!”
“To Boss Man!”
The team called out many cheers, then began clinking glasses together. Brody clinked mine first. Bethany excused herself from the table.
“What’s with her?” I whispered to Hayes, again seated on my right.
“Don’t mind her. Bethany can be a touch… moody.”
“Oh. I feel like she doesn’t like me being here.”
“She’s just not used to having girls her age around, besides Louanne. And Louanne and Mama have taken a liking to working with one another, so Bethany is feeling left out. That’s all.” Hayes smiled, reassuring. “Hope you’re hungry. Memaw made her fried chicken.”
“And mashed potatoes. My favorite.” My gaze wandered over the tabletop, unsure how it managed to hold the weight of all the food. In addition to the high pile of chicken and huge bowls of whipped potatoes, there was cornbread, buttered corn, and green salad.
“Save room for dessert. Memaw made cobbler, and Hayes made his homemade vanilla bean ice cream. We only get it when he ditches class now that he traded ranch life for dorm life,” Brody said.
“Yeah—Hayes is a pain, but we still tried to get him to drop out just because we missed his ice cream so much,” Colton interjected.
“Don’t worry, fellas, I made a few pints for the deep freezer. I hid them under the broccoli, so no one would find them,” Hayes said.
Everyone piled their plates high with food. I somehow managed not to let my eyes dole out the portion size so I could take up Brody’s advice and save room for cobbler. Once the last plate was passed, I picked up my fork, ready to dig in.
That was the horrified moment I realized everyone had their hands in their laps and their heads bowed. I quickly laid down my fork with a loud clank, then bowed my own head. Awkward.
Brody’s husky voice filled the quiet hall. “Lord, I thank you for a successful day and the safety of our team and cattle. I pray that you bless Memaw and this delicious food that she had lovingly prepared for the nourishment of our bodies. And thank you for bringing Georgia Hamilton to join us here at CLAS. Amen.”
There was a chorus of ‘Amens,’ and then people began to chat and eat.
Brody leaned in toward me, whispering, “I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable. I always bless the food before dinner.”
“Um, err… no, that’s—totally fine.” My plate suddenly demanded my full attention and so I kept my gaze downward. The scoop of mashed potatoes I shoved in my mouth was divine.
After dinner, Brody asked me if he could walk me home.
I answered the same way any girl with a libido would have. “Yes.”
When we reached the front door, I turned to face him. The moonlight shone down on us, the stars twinkling in the night sky.
“It sure was nice having you at dinner with us. I’m glad you came to the ranch, Georgia.”
“Me too.” Was he going to kiss me? Oh, my God—he’s getting that look in his eyes. He’s leaning forward, he’s leaning forward. Oh. My. God.
I closed my eyes, puckering my mouth. To feel the gentle press of his lips on my… forehead.
Damn. The surprisingly sweet yet dreaded ‘friend zone’ forehead kiss.
“Goodnight, Georgia.”
“Goodnight, Brody,” I said, leaning against the frame of the door as he turned to go.
I didn’t get the kiss, but I did get a consolation prize. The way those jeans moved over his muscular glutes as he went away—hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave.
* * *
That night after dinner, I sat down at the little desk of the cabin with my computer, a sheet of paper, and a pen. I’ve never kept a diary, or even a calendar for that matter. But so much had gone on in the last twenty-four hours and I needed to work through my emotions on paper. Logging into my computer, I googled, Is he into me.
Dear Diary,
(Okay, so this isn’t really a diary. Just a single sheet of notebook paper.)
Tonight, I googled, Is he into me, and came up with an article on a dating site called, Is he into you? Here’s 8 telltale signs he is. I’ve taken the quiz and will now document the answers. Here goes:
He calls you. Does coming to your door morning and night count? I think face to face is even more telling. Don’t you? Into me.
He asks you to go away with him. He did ask if he could walk me to dinner. Check!
He asks you to spend the night, even when you aren’t having sex. He invited me to live with him! Check, check, checkity check! Okay—not technically with him and it is for a job…
He makes plans with you. Again, asked if he could walk me to dinner. Last night, he made plans to take me to the dining hall to make me wash dishes and spank me. Hmmm. I’m going to say, check!
He remembers what you say. He did call me Gee Whatever twice, after I had been stammering when trying to introduce myself. Wish I could have said something cuter that made an impression. Check.
He offers you help. Many times. Help to make me stop lying, swearing, the list goes on. Though I’m sure the article wasn’t talking about the type of help Brody was offering me—hand to ass—I’ll say, check!
He introduces you to his family and friends. Check!
He talks about your future together. Hmmm. He did require a one-year commitment. Does that count? The only mention of the future though was him telling me I should go back to college. Which would require me leaving the ranch… and him. So, no check?
Maybe this quiz isn’t a good fit for my unique situation. And maybe it’s too soon to be taking quizzes like this?
Going to bed, I’ll check in later.
Signing out,
Gee Whatever
Chapter Five
Eight days later, I returned to my desk, pulling out my sheets of notebook paper from my desk drawer.
Why can’t romance be straightforward, like numbers? Or animals? Those I can figure out.
The problem is—where the hell do I stand with Brody Jenkins?
I had officially been on the ranch for ten days. All with a delicious tension running between Brody and me every moment we were together. But he had not kissed me on the mouth. Ten days may not sound like a lot, but on the ranch everything moved slower and faster at the same time. I felt like I’ve been here for months, not days, and like I’ve known Brody forever.
So where did we stand?
More than an employee/boss relationship (hint hint, bosses don’t spank their workers) and more than friends. For
example, Ted never kissed my forehead or put his hand on my lower back, or threatened to spank me for that matter, Though Ted is not a spanking man so that’s neither here nor there.
Maybe I could figure out what was going on between us if I put it down on paper.
Dear Single Sheet of Notebook Paper,
Let me review my timeline on the ranch and examine all developments of relationship with Brody:
Less than Day 1—Wednesday night when I arrived on the ranch
Brody spanks me. Spanks me. A few hours after meeting me. Then holds me against his amazing chest while I cry. Tucks my head under his chin and says, ‘Perfect fit.’
Swooooooooooon.
Day 2—Thursday, roundup day, first full day on the ranch
Comes to my room in the morning. Tells me he only spanks girlfriends. Puts his fingertip underneath my chin like a freaking romance movie. Kisses my forehead. (How freaking sweet is that?) Puts a hand on my lower back when introducing me to the team. Lowers his hand to my bottom in what seemed like a warning. Very intimate move. Seems a touch possessive of me. Oh, and calls me pretty, walks me to dinner, walks me home, and… another stupid but incredibly sweet forehead kiss. Wow—that’s a lot for one day. He’s totally into me!
Day 3—Friday
Walks me to breakfast and dinner. Very busy day so don’t see him much otherwise. (Brownie’s femur was broken BTW so that took precedence over spending day flirting with boss.) Forehead kiss… Not into me? Not enough evidence this day.
Day 4—Saturday is still a work day on the ranch, it turns out
Walks me to all three meals. Tells everyone what a wonderful job I’m doing. Threatens to spank me if I don’t take a lunchbreak (was hungry so didn’t get to get spanked, sigh) Taught me a new game called Bocce Ball and the whole group played after dinner. Patted me on the butt when I won! Forehead kiss. Felt very much like a day with a boyfriend. Into me!
Day 5—Sunday, church day (which I slept through, but no one blamed me since it was my first week on the ranch)
First off, Brody tells me I look stunning. (Yeah! Thank you, Rag & Bones skinny jeans and my deep conditioning hair treatment, restoring life zapped by Wyoming’s dry climate.) Brings me a hot chocolate chip cookie fresh out of Memaw’s oven in the afternoon. Teaches me how to shoe a horse.
This is where it gets good. We were both kneeling by America—this amazingly gorgeous Palomino horse—when I accidently hit my finger with the hammer and shouted, “Damn it all to hell!” My finger was throbbing like crazy.
Brody took said finger in his hand and kissed it.
Then, this happened.
Brody: How would you like help with that dirty mouth of yours?
Me: Something along the lines of, umm, err.
Brody: I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’
In five seconds flat, he had one of his knees off the ground, his foot planted firmly, creating a bench out of his huge muscle of a thigh. His hands grabbed my waist and still on my knees, he guided me over to him, bending me over his thigh. My ass was in the air, my hands pressed into the ground—my injured finger completely forgotten about.
Brody: What’s a nice little girl like you doing talking like a sailor? Didn’t anyone ever wash that pretty little mouth of yours out with soap? (He called my mouth pretty!)
Me: more umms and errs
Brody: A good old-fashioned spanking is exactly what you need to help you get control of that wild tongue of yours. (Of course, at this point I’m am thinking of all the things ‘my wild tongue’ could be doing to a certain cowboy—then all thoughts popped out of my mind as he started to spank me, hard)
Me: lots of ‘ouches’ and ‘ows,’ and a few yells of ‘Brody!’
But he kept spanking me. Not as hard as the spanking in the Mess Hall, and this time instead of focusing on the center of my cheeks, he spanked all over my bottom, every inch of it. Creating a warm tingling that perfectly balanced between pleasure and pain. The sensation traveled straight from my bottom to my pulsing pussy. And his words had the same effect.
Brody: Young ladies shouldn’t talk so dirty. Should they, Georgia?
Me: No, sir.
Then, his hand moved to the place where my bottom met the very tops of my thighs. He was spanking just hard enough to create a tingle, but instead of pain, a delicious wave of desire ripped through me. I almost started grinding against his thigh.
Brody: Is this spanking getting through to you?
Me: (holding back a moan of desire) Yes, sir. (At this point I didn’t know if I wanted the spanking to continue or stop. I did know the spanking was making me want the cock of the Boss Man to be slamming inside of me.)
Brody: Good girl.
He flipped me up, gave me a kiss on the forehead, then went onto the next step of horseshoeing like nothing had happened!
He has to be into me. That spanking was hot as hell! But, then there was the casual return to horseshoeing. Hmmmm.
Day 6—Monday
Crazy busy day, which was to my advantage because Brody was running errands off the ranch and I would have really missed him at meals. Tried to talk to Bethany at lunch in Brody’s absence. Got snubbed. Brody didn’t get home in time to walk me home from dinner but did stop by to say goodnight. That’s a pretty big deal, right? Sat on the porch talking till midnight about everything. From our favorite movies to funny childhood stories—even a sad story about when his dad died. Afterward, I felt incredibly close to this man and it hasn’t even been a week!
I don’t know if he is into me, but I am into him.
Day 7—Tuesday
I swear Bethany hates me. I can’t prove anything but on this day, I think she passed me the pepper instead of salt at dinner.
Brody took me horseback riding that evening. Just the two of us. Across the breathtaking Wyoming landscape under the pinks and reds of the setting sun. It was literally the single most romantic night of my life.
Even though it ended with a, you guessed it, forehead kiss. Hmmmm… maybe I should start tilting my head up and, ooops, forehead kiss hits my lips?
Day 8—Wednesday
Brody snuck into the barn as I was wrapping up my checkup on how the calves were doing post-weaning. It was Hayes’ last night on the ranch before he had to go back to college, and Brody invited me riding with him and his brothers. He even packed a picnic of leftovers and a red and white checkered blanket for us to eat on.
Note: Bethany was not invited.
Into me?
Day 9—Thursday
Brody was out of town overnight taking Hayes back to college. Sigh. Wondered what Starla and Gregory were up to.
Day 10—Friday (today)
Brody got back in town too late to say goodnight. Now I’m missing the forehead kiss so much I feel bad for even complaining about it.
Tally of intimate exchanges between Brody and me:
Spankings: two
Threats of spankings/warning of spankings: quite a few
Very sweet, but very platonic forehead kisses: lost count
Real kisses: zero
So that’s it. And I have no more clarity than when I started writing on this page.
Goodnight!
Gee Whatever
Looking over the paper made me exhausted. I shoved the ‘diary’ into the desk drawer and crawled under my covers.
* * *
Saturday, day eleven of my new Wild West life came with the same beautiful sunrise as the other days. Brody was back from taking Hayes to college. My heart felt full when I heard the knock on my door just in time to walk to breakfast. I opened the door and there he was.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been so glad to see someone. He smiled that dimpled smile and said, “Georgia, I’ve missed walking with you.”
Brody flirted with me all day, even playfully swatting me on the ass—twice.
Unfortunately, the next day, after church, the ranch was opening back up for ‘the summer season,’ as they call it here. We would no longer have
all three hundred and eighty-five acres to ourselves. Parties, weddings, lessons, vacationers looking for a taste of ranch life; it was about to get busy.
I was savoring every minute of the walk home from the Mess Hall with Brody, in case it was the last one in solitude, just us and the stars and the crickets and cicadas. Last walk before strangers were wandering around at night, thinking they owned the place.
As always, Brody offered me the crook of his arm, and walked me back to the bunkhouse. And as always, after saying goodnight, he kissed my forehead.
But this time, my mouth—perhaps due to excess energy from being underused—took on a life of its own.
As Brody drew back from me, preparing to clomp down the stairs and head home, I blurted out, “What the hell?” My hands instantly flew to my mouth, covering it up in shock of what I had just uttered out loud.
Brody turned back to me, raising a dark eyebrow. “Excuse me? You need to go back out to the barn for that mouth?”
No. I wouldn’t take it back. I would not apologize for a little bad language when he was putting me through a constant tug and pull of he likes me, he likes me not. I was going to clear up the blurred lines of our relationship, right here, right now.
Straightening my spine, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I. Said. What. The. Hell.”
He took two intimidating steps toward me, anger radiating off him like heat. Apparently, Brody disliked being cussed at even more than he disliked cussing. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you spank my ass, kiss me on the forehead, walk me into the Mess Hall for every meal—with your hand pressed into my lower back, I might add—”
“I’m sorry, did that offend you? I was trying to be a gentleman and escort you to meals, so you wouldn’t feel awkward being new on the ranch.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Silence.
Brody ran a hand through his hair, his gaze leaving mine and lowering to his boots.
I continued my rant. “There is only one reason a man puts his hand on a woman’s lower back when escorting her into a public place—and that’s to mark his territory. Look at me, Brody Jenkins,” I demanded.
His Ranch, His Rules Page 11