His Ranch, His Rules

by Shanna Handel

  “Morning.” He leaned in, the piney aftershave tickling my nose, and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. My skin tingled at the memory of our night together.

  “Morning,” I managed to murmur back after he pulled away, my knees weak.

  Grabbing my hands in his, his gaze looked me over, head to toe.

  “You look like an angel,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you in anything but denim.”

  “Thank you.” I said as I—no surprise—blushed.

  “I had a wonderful time last night.” The grin that made his dimple show slowly spread across his face as his thumbs brushed over the backs of my hands.

  “Me, too.” The best night of my life, in fact.

  Leaning in, his hands left mine and wrapped around my lower back. His lips pressed mine in another slow kiss. I was trembling when he pulled away.

  “We’d better get going. You don’t want to be late for Memaw’s Sunday pancakes. You missed last week’s.”

  I wanted to say, ‘Actually I’d love to miss Memaw’s pancakes, and church, and have you throw me on the bed and do to me what you did last night,’ but instead, I said, “Okay.”

  A few minutes later when we arrived in the dining hall, holding hands, there was a hushed wave of whispers. Bethany was the first one I laid eyes on. She took a big gulp of her water, then looked down at her lap as if she was going to be sick. There had to be something going on there—I would have to talk to her about it eventually.

  Alice’s eyes shined, as she smiled politely. But Memaw hooted and hollered as Brody pulled out my chair.

  “You two move fast, don’t ya.”

  “Stop it, Memaw,” Colton groaned.

  I would have preferred to keep things under wraps and not held hands on the way into the dining hall, but Brody insisted. “Marking my claim,” he teased, reciting the accusatory words I had thrown at him the night before.

  After a huge breakfast of pancakes, sausage, and fruit salad, we loaded up on the bus. Brody and I sat beside one another in the front. As people filed onto the bus, no one took the row beside us.

  Colton was the last one on, he took the driver’s seat and off we went.

  I looked at Brody, keeping my voice down so Colton couldn’t hear me. “Why do you make your employees go to church?”

  “I don’t make anyone do anything. I simply offer a free bus ride and suggest they join us. Bethany used to live on the ranch and she didn’t come and I have no hard feelings with her.”

  Just hearing Bethany’s name on Brody’s tongue, and the fact that she lived on the ranch at one point, made my nose scrunch up in distaste.

  Brody chuckled. “Why that face? Do I smell bad?”

  “No—you actually smell amazing. Like pine and nature and—masculinity.”

  “Thanks. Good to know. You never know how you smell—you’re the one person that can’t smell yourself. So why the face?”

  “I just… I just get the feeling that Bethany doesn’t like me very much.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why? I haven’t noticed that. She hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

  The words ‘said anything to me’ made a tiny jealous tinge pierce my heart. And enflame my temper. “Why would she? I haven’t done anything to her.”

  “Whoa. Calm down.” Brody pressed his hand gently into my thigh. A warning? I took a deep breath.

  “You know that first time you walked me to the Mess Hall for breakfast and you did that thing where you put your hand on my back?” I asked.

  “Staking my claim,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Marking your territory. Anyway, the first time you did it, she looked really upset. Then, when you made the toast and clinked my glass first, she left the table!” I said.

  “You think Bethany left the table because I clinked glasses first with the person to my right?” he asked.

  “Yes! She did.”

  “She probably had to go to the restroom or maybe she was ready to go home. She and Louanne don’t always eat on the ranch.”

  “Doubt it,” I said huffily, crossing my arms. “Why are you taking her side anyway?”

  “Georgia, has Bethany done anything overtly to show you she’s upset with you?”

  “I think she passed me the pepper instead of the salt.”

  Brody furrowed his brow at me.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud… but there have been a lot of mean looks.”

  “Mean looks?” he asked.

  “Yes. Girls can detect that kind of thing,” I said.

  “Well, you know one thing cowboy men can detect?”

  “What?”

  “Unnecessary jealousy.”

  “I am not jealous, Brody Jenkins. I am just observing facts.”

  “Cowboys also have a sure cure for the ‘j’ word,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  His hand tightened around my thigh. “Yeah. A good sound spanking. On a bare bottom.”

  Holy cow, I hoped this church-bound gang of ranchers hadn’t heard that. I sat in silent shock.

  “You know what else cowboy men can detect?” he whispered in my ear.

  I shook my head.

  “Damp panties.”

  Hiding my head in my hands, I held in a squeal as his fingertips wandered up my skirt. They made their way to the crotch of my silky floral panties. He pressed gently—just enough to drive me wild. Leaning over my shoulder, he whispered, “Naughty girl. One mention of a spanking and you’re all wet.”

  “I can’t believe you,” I hissed through my teeth. I turned my head to make sure no one was paying attention to us—thank God no one was in the seats across the aisle from us and Colton was completely focused on driving. “How can you be doing a panty check on the way to church!”

  Brody flashed me a devilish grin. “I’m your man, now.” His finger slipped underneath the elastic band around my thighs. I shuddered as he dipped it within my slick folds. Holding my breath, I willed myself not to make a peep as his fingertip made slow, firm circles around my clit. “I can do what I want when I want.”

  The back of my head hit the headrest and my eyes closed. “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

  “Let’s not take the lord’s name in vain. It’s Sunday after all,” he murmured as his finger plunged within me.

  His finger stayed inside me as his other hand moved on top of mine. He picked up my hand, moving over his—the one that was currently fingering me—and pressed down.

  My eyes shot open wide and I looked at him incredulously. “You want me to—”

  “Guide me.”

  This was so naughty. Somehow even though my hand was over his, I felt exposed as if was touching myself in front of him.

  On the church bus.

  With his entire family behind us.

  He slipped a second finger within me. I pressed his hand harder into me. As he moved his hand back and forth, I controlled the speed as his fingers dove into me again and again. My hips gyrated in the seat while I was careful to keep my upper body from moving—didn’t want to clue any passengers behind us that Brody’s hand was currently up my skirt and stroking me into ecstasy.

  His thumb pressed into my clit. My free hand flew to my mouth, my teeth biting into it to keep from screaming as my pussy clenched around his fingers, my hips raising off the seat and I came in a burst of flames.

  “Good girl,” he murmured into my ear. My head fell against his shoulder, my body slumped in the seat. And I was out like a light.

  I woke up to Brody patting my leg, whispering in my ear, “We’re here.”

  Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I looked out the window.

  The bus pulled into the very full gravel parking lot of the world’s sweetest little white chapel.

  “It’s precious,” I said, adjusting my skirts underneath me. “Is there where your family always went to church?”

  “Since we moved onto the ranch. Little Peak Baptist church. The best—and only
—church in town.”

  “You come here every Sunday?”

  “Just about.”

  “So, between this and saying the grace, are you like… super religious?”

  “Want to know a secret?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I come to keep my mama happy. She’d be broken-hearted to hear I’m not ‘super religious’ as you put it. Also, I like the music.”

  “And the grace?”

  “A couple of years ago I noticed that a few of our employees were silently blessing their meal before dinner. It was awkward for them and I took note of it. I just started saying grace. I figured those who wanted to pray should have a comfortable environment to do so, and those who didn’t could just ignore me if they want but give the others a moment of silence.” Brody shrugged his shoulders. “And it never hurts to take a second and recognize you are grateful to have a hot meal in front of you. Does it?”

  If I wasn’t already completely and totally smitten with Brody, he had just sealed the deal with his beautiful, humble speech. Well, that speech and the incredible orgasm he had given me on the drive.

  He held my hand, helping me up out of my seat. We were the last ones off the bus.

  The congregation was gathered in front of the church, chatting as they waited for the service to begin. Most of the gathering was over the age of seventy, which I guessed to be the average age of the population of Little Peak. There were many curious churchgoers trying to catch a glimpse of the woman who held the hand of the elusive bachelor, Brody Jenkins. I heard one whisper over the others, “Lucky girl. What’s it been? Two years?”

  “At least, and that one only lasted a few months.”

  “Well, this one is prettier. And I heard from Al down at the feed store she’s real spunky. That’s what a Jenkins man needs.”

  “The Jenkins brood do have a unique way of caring for their women, don’t they?”

  Brody gave me a quick grin over his shoulder as we made our way past the crowd. He had heard them too. The older gossipers seemed to be speaking louder than they thought they were. Seconds later Brody was torn from me by a group of blue hairs, promising they were dragging him away ‘just for a minute, honey.’ Giving me an apologetic look and a shrug, Brody disappeared.

  I fell back, joining the team and entered the little church. There were rows of pews on either side with a carpeted aisle running down the center to a small altar. Above the altar, sunlight poured through a huge stained-glass window. Our group took up three whole pews. I sat on the aisle side next to Alice, reserving open space between me and the end of the pew for Brody—if he was returned to me.

  The group of women I recognized as the ones who had stolen my boyfriend appeared in a doorway by the altar. Wearing white choir robes, they filed to the front of the church, forming two lines. Last out was Brody, also wearing a floor-length white gown. He walked in front of the two lines, stepping down to the center of the group, shooting me an apologetic gaze.

  “He sings?” I whisper-hissed at Alice.

  “Shh, just watch,” she said, smiling and patting my hand. The proud glow of motherhood shone on her face as the organist plucked out the first chords of what I assumed was a gospel hymn.

  Then Brody began to sing.

  His clear baritone swelled through the church, sending chills down my spine. The words, “I need thee, every hour, I need thee,” rang through the church.

  The choir joined in.

  The man could sing. And spank. And fuck. And run a ranch.

  My back pressed against the pew as I strained to focus on Brody’s voice among the others.

  Twelve days in and I was falling in love.

  Chapter Six

  Two months later

  August 15

  Dear Diary,

  Hello. Nice to meet you. I am Georgia Jenkins—oops, I meant Georgia Hamilton. My mistake.

  But you can call me G. Or Gee Whatever. Or baby girl, which—excuse me while I swoon—my boyfriend, Brody Jenkins, has taken to calling me.

  It’s been two months since we became ‘official.’ Around two and a half months since I arrived on the ranch. And too long since I kept up with my diary.

  Though you are no longer random sheets of paper in a desk drawer.

  Brody, having stumbled on my sheets of paper depicting our early relationship, bought me you—a proper, leather-bound diary made of gorgeous gold gilded creamy paper. Complete with the elegantly scrolled word on the front, Diary. Brody made me promise to keep those sheets of notebook paper folded in the back of you and so I will. He thought they were ‘adorable’ and ‘a keepsake.’

  I will keep them. For our grandchildren to read. Is that jumping the gun? Sorry.

  There is so much to fill you in on. But I promise from here on out to write in you every day. Please don’t take it personally that I haven’t written in so long—ranch life is incredibly busy, and a lot has been going on.

  Guess how Brody stumbled upon those sheets of paper in the first place?

  He wanted the bunkhouse to resemble a real house for the rest of my year here. He said that he couldn’t have his girlfriend living with two bunkbeds in her room. I think it might have had more to do with his comfort, being six feet two and us knocking boots in the bottom bunk on a twin mattress, but it was a sweet gesture all the same.

  Alice helped. White lace curtains now hung from my windows. The bunkbeds have been replaced by a brand-new queen-size bed. A family heirloom patchwork quilt was spread over the bed, completing the rustic look.

  It was a tad awkward having Alice decorate the new room, knowing full well her son would be fucking me in the bed till midnight every night—but I pushed the feeling aside and enjoyed having the feeling of her doting on me.

  Brody was replacing the little desk with a slightly bigger one. That’s when he found the papers. The next morning, he brought you to me, little diary.

  Other than the room redo, things have been blissfully ordinary. We have fallen into a wonderful, predictable routine. Which has been fabulous. I feel like I walk on cloud nine, going between work I love and the man I’m growing to love.

  The only bad thing in my new life is the tension between Bethany and me. We had a little run-in at one of the events she was hosting—I was supposed to have my supplies out of a side shack on the barn she was using for a tea and lemonade table, but I was running late. We exchanged a few heated words and Bethany made it clear she does not like me, or in her words, ‘see the need for me on the ranch when we can just call Dr. Pat.’

  Louanne overheard the whole thing and finally took pity on me, and told me that when Bethany had first worked on the ranch, it was during the summer season and she had lived in the bunkhouse, instead of at home. Apparently, oblivious to Brody, she had developed quite a crush on him, but it was not reciprocated. Then I showed up, and within hours of living on the ranch had garnered more attention from him than he had shown Bethany in years. Thanks, Louanne.

  Other than my run-in with Bethany, I’ve somehow managed to stay out of trouble since we became official. Apart from one little thing… an incident involving the Jackrabbit 2000.

  A week after our declaration of ‘like’ of one another, Brody approached me for a very awkward conversation. It went like this:

  Brody: Now that you are my girlfriend, if you have any needs at all (his fingers crawled up my leg while he nibbled on my neck and whispered in my ear) I am the one who fulfills them. (Then, his hand pressed through my jeans, you-know-where, and he rubbed.) The only one.

  Me: (whimpering and grinding my hips into the bed where we were sitting) I told you, I’m a one-man woman.

  Brody: I mean, the only one.

  Me: …

  Brody: …

  Me: Oooooooh… I get it.

  Brody: I’m going to need you to dispose of that pink and purple monstrosity you brought with you. The one in your duffle bag.

  Me: (blushes scarlet)

  Brody: Baby girl (in his warning voice
that makes me so horny)

  Me: Okay, okay! I will, I promise—just don’t stop rubbing. (insert orgasm here!)

  After Brody left that night I reached into my nightstand, pulling ole Jack out. I had such fond memories of him. But Brody was right. I didn’t need him anymore. I had a very nicely sized and shaped real cowboy cock at my disposal. A tug of nostalgia made me put the dildo back, telling myself I would get rid of it in the morning.

  Mistake.

  The next morning, Brody came to walk me to the Mess Hall for breakfast, as he always did. Instead of standing on the porch like usual, he made a beeline straight for my nightstand. All I could think was ‘uh-oh.’ I didn’t even make an excuse. I just stood there watching, horrified as Brody turned around with Jack in his right hand.

  “You care to explain what this is doing here?” he asked me.

  I did not.

  Brody came over to me, turning Jack on, waggling the vibrating dildo in front of me. “You still need this thing, baby girl?”

  “No. I just—I’ve grown attached.”

  “But you were told very clearly to dispose of this thing. And you didn’t. Which in my book should result in a spanking. But first, let’s give this guy a farewell he won’t forget.”

  Oh, shit. Using a vibrator on yourself is one thing. Your man using it on you—well, let’s just say my pussy was pulsing.

  I was wearing my dusty rose dress, as it was a church day. Brody was on his knees in front of me and had my panties down around my ankles before I knew what was happening. A breeze blew up my skirt, making me shiver. When I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, my heart skipped a beat at the naughty grin he gave me. My knees felt like jelly as his fingers found my pussy and parted my ‘down there’ lips. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for his touch. I groaned as his tongue found my clit, the tip of it flicking and circling my bud. His mouth was on me, licking and sucking. My hands went to his hair and I was moaning as spasms went through my body, my knees growing weaker and bending as if they couldn’t hold my weight…