by Em Petrova
First, the tack shop and then the feed store. Both places they ran into the couple, and true, this plan had been all her doing, but she wasn’t so sure if it was worth torturing herself.
The look on Jake’s face when he saw Noah curl his hand down around Maya Ray’s hip while in the aisle, though… Okay, it might be worth it. Jake’s glower and the abrupt way he turned away told Maya Ray that he wasn’t so immune to seeing her with another man.
Not that it mattered—she would sooner take a pig to bed than allow Jake back into her life. Keeping up the ruse hadn’t involved as much acting as she originally guessed, either. She and Noah seemed to play off each other pretty well, considering they hardly knew each other.
Of course, she knew him knew him. Which was different from knowing him.
She closed her eyes and drifted for a few minutes. As soon as the ache in her temples started to diminish, her phone rang. With a groan, she sat up and searched in her handbag for it.
The strange number and the name attached to it jolted her. She brought the phone to her ear. “Noah.”
“Hey, Maya Ray.” Damn. That drawl was the stuff women dropped like flies for. Suddenly, she could almost feel his fingers curling around her hip, the tips mere inches from the crease between her thigh and pussy. She had to admit in the moment, Jake’s dark thunderous look hardly mattered to her, because she was too busy battling tingles of desire from Noah’s touch.
“Um, hi. What’s up?”
“Somethin’ came up with my family. I can’t meet you tomorrow at noon as we planned. We’ll have to meet at the fairgrounds later.”
“That’s fine.” It gave her more Sunday to herself.
“Four?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Should we wear our matching shorts?”
She burst out laughing. “I can’t picture you wearing shorts let alone some plaid ones like Jake had on.”
“Douche bag.” Amusement tinged his deep tone.
“It’s not a half bad idea to plan our outfits, though. What color T-shirts do you have?” She pictured Noah’s wide expanse of chest with cotton stretched across it. Her stomach gave a little flurry of interest that reminded her how amazing the sex had been and how much better it would be without tequila.
“Got white and black.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You really are a basics sort of guy, aren’t you?”
“Do I wear basics? Yeah. Am I basic? You’ll have to decide.”
She wasn’t sure by his tone if he was still amused or she’d offended him. “Wear the black. We’ll go Johnny Cash for the first day of the fair.”
“All right.” He paused, saying nothing more, and leaving her wondering what he wanted to say but wasn’t. After several seconds, he said, “Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Yes. Tomorrow. Bye, Noah.” As soon as she ended the call, she stared at the screen, wondering if this really was a good idea to continue with their ruse. After all, their exes wouldn’t be the only people to believe they were a couple. They’d flaunted themselves all through Stone Pass’s busiest shops today, and tomorrow were bound to see every old friend, his uncle and his pet goat at the fair.
She stifled a giggle and tossed her phone aside, curled up on the sofa and closed her eyes again. When she massaged her sore eyes, she caught a hint of Noah’s cologne on her skin. Pressing her hand to her nose, she inhaled. Yes, Noah. Pure Noah.
Suddenly, she realized she hadn’t showered after the party and had done the walk of shame in the clothes she’d worn the night before. A fact she hoped wasn’t lost on her ex. But now, she needed to jump in the shower and get the smell of Noah Wynton off her. Soon enough, she’d be covered in that light, earthy sandalwood cologne again.
Shower. Now.
In the bathroom, she stripped off the sexy top and skirt. With the water running, she stood naked in front of the mirror and sucked in a gasp of shock. Why didn’t Noah tell her that he’d left a red scruff mark on her throat? Or her belly?
Oh my God. Not the thighs.
She’d been feeling the light burn on her inner thighs all day, but she just thought… thighs rub. Planting her hands on her legs, she parted them a bit and stared into the mirror.
“Hot damn, Wynton. You’re good.” The pink streaks of his rough loving the night before were evidence that she’d had a good time. Had she marked him too?
She strode naked into the living room to grab her phone. After one ring, he picked up. “What’s up?” he drawled.
“Did I leave any marks on you?” she demanded, hand on her bare hip.
“What?”
“Marks. Hickies. Bite marks. Do you have any marks on your body from last night?”
A beat of silence followed. Then he said, “I assume you do.”
“Yes!” Why did her stomach give that little thrill to accompany her answer?
“I’ve yet to shower, Maya Ray. If I have any, I’ll let ya know. Okay?”
Now she got the impression that she might not have given as eager a performance as he did. Damn her competitive spirit for wanting to match him. She never did things by halves. In school, if she studied, she studied until she knew every last word. If she was baking cookies, she baked two batches instead of one and handed out packets to the neighbors. And if she was getting into bed with a stranger, she wanted to give her all too.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“Is it the thighs?” His question had her pussy clenching.
“Yes.” She sounded breathless. “The thighs. Dammit. I’ll see you tomorrow, Noah.”
“Bye, Maya Ray.” The smile in his voice projected clear across town to her and embedded itself under her skin.
“Ugh!” She stormed back to the bathroom. The space was filled with steam, but that didn’t stop her from seeing the pink streaks from Noah’s rough beard on her inner thighs. And he knew he’d put them there too.
God, that was hot…
* * * * *
Noah thrust a hand out from under the tractor he was working on. “Hand me the wrench. The big one.”
His brother Ross placed the tool in his hand, and Noah grunted in thanks. While fixing things around the ranch, all the Wynton family members communicated in a series of grunts. The women of the family often made fun of them for it, but he’d been in the kitchen with his mother, sisters and aunts enough to hear their own language, usually half-finished sentences or frantic gestures to tell someone to stir a pot on the stove.
Noah set the wrench onto the bolt and cranked it to loosen. Rust and other crud from underneath the tractor flaked off in his face, and he cussed.
“All good, bro?” Ross’s face appeared to the side of the tire.
“Yeah, it’s stuck and crap’s gettin’ in my face.”
“I’m sure there’s some cow shit under there too.”
“No doubt.” He set his teeth into his lower lip and wrenched harder on the bolt. It loosened, and he grunted with relief.
“You were supposed to work on this the other night. I waited for you in the garage. What happened?”
A sexy woman with wavy brown hair and a pair of thighs that hugged a man to perfection happened.
He only made a humming noise in his throat in response.
“It’s not like you to skip out on plans. You’re usually the guy making the plans. In fact, pretty sure you did.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up.”
“What kinda something?” Ross crouched at the big tire, and there was no escaping his brother’s stare.
“Got caught at a party.”
“Party? Only party I know of was that dingus Jake Robinson’s rodeo kickoff party. You went to that?”
He grunted.
“Thought your ex was datin’ that guy.”
“She is.”
“So you went to the party to what? Stir up trouble?”
“Somethin’ like that.” He wished Ross would stop talking and put him
self to good use—by leaving him alone to fix the tractor.
“So what’s your excuse for not showing up this morning?” Ross pressured.
“Had a date.”
“Looks like you had a date with the worm at the bottom of a bottle.”
“That too.”
“So my perfect, honorable, studious little brother went to a party, got drunk and then got laid.”
He inwardly groaned. The last thing he wanted to discuss was Maya Ray. Things were beyond complicated there, starting with the fact they’d slept together—great sex, by the way—and then spent the day stalking their exes’ every move around town just to be assholes. Nobody in his family would equate those actions with Noah.
“That right, bro?” Ross’s teasing drawl got on his nerves.
He dropped the wrench, nearly bashing himself in the teeth. “Yes, dammit. Now leave me alone.”
“Wow.” Ross bounced on his haunches like a little kid who just heard Santa Claus was coming. “Wait till I tell our brothers. Actually, pretty sure Silas attended that party too. Maybe he can give me some more dirt on you.”
“You’re a”—he forced the next bolt off—“dick, ya know that?”
“Been told that a time or two. But I’ll let it drop—if you’ll do somethin’ for me.”
He grunted. “What do you want?”
“Need an extra security guard on duty at the fair. The rodeo bigwigs arrive tonight, and contract states we need to provide security.”
More than worth his time if Ross let it drop.
“Fine. You got guys positioned at the east gate? You know people always try to sneak in that way without payin’. Could pose a problem to the big stars too, if someone wants to give them trouble.”
“Yeah, it’s covered.”
“’Kay.”
“So about this girl you slept with—”
He issued a low growl of warning. “You’re about to lose a security guard, brother.” The rusty tractor part dropped into his palm, and he set it aside to fit the new piece into place.
“Kiddin’.”
The low country music that always seemed to be playing in the garage filled the silence as he worked and Ross passed him tools. His brother could do this himself, but he hated working on tractors, and since Noah was good with his hands, he typically took the job.
After a few minutes, Noah slid out from beneath the tractor, gained his feet and set his hands on his hips. “Try the engine.”
Ross mounted the big machine in order to twist the key. The engine roared to life.
He and Ross traded a look. “Runnin’ a little rich. I’ll have to adjust the carburetor now that the new piece is on. It’s more efficient.”
Ross shut off the engine, and they both circled to the front to lean over the open hood. When Ross pointed to a cracked hose, Noah grunted. Ross went to the workbench littered with junk and spare pieces and parts, locating a clamp. He brought this back, and Noah took it wordlessly to clamp around the cracked hose to hold it in place until they got a replacement for it.
“Thing’s fallin’ apart,” Ross said.
“It’s old enough.” He shot his brother a look. Did his own face really look so much like Ross’s, Boone’s and the rest of the Wynton men that Maya Ray had recognized him simply by his appearance? The dimple gave it away, sure. But plenty of men had dimples. Maybe not in Stone Pass, but it wasn’t such a small town that everybody knew everybody. Before that night at the party, he’d never set eyes on Maya Ray in his life.
“What’s happening with the pre-rodeo festivities?” he asked Ross. “We always have a big chicken roast and everyone comes up. That still on?”
“Dunno. Ma said something about some of the aunts and uncles not being able to make it this year.”
Noah removed his hat to rub at his hair. “Whattaya mean? We can’t just forget about the chicken roast. It’s tradition.”
“Take it up with Ma.”
“What about the cornhole competition?”
“Dude, I don’t know. I just show up where and when I’m told.”
What a screwed up month. He was already feeling like a cow tipped on its side after Shana ditched him and now his family wasn’t even putting importance into the rodeo festivities. Rodeo week was everything in Stone Pass. They looked forward to celebrating all year, and family came from all over Montana to sleep in the bunkhouse, camp out on the living room floor and even pitch tents in the back pasture to join in the fun.
He let the heavy steel hood of the tractor drop shut with a bang.
Ross eyed him. “Look, I’m sure you’ll get your fun, Noah.”
“Forget it. Nothin’s the same anyway.”
Without saying another word, he strode out of the garage. What did he give a damn about the festivities anyway? Tradition only meant something to the people participating, but he couldn’t even claim that to be a fact anymore. He and Shana had joined in together and none of those moments counted toward their lifetime bank of memories. She’d pulled the plug on that piggy bank and let everything flow out, leaving him empty.
He reached the house and whipped open the screen door. Hell with traditions. Shana didn’t have fun in the cornhole competition, which he always thought got better the more beer they drank, but maybe he was wrong. She was vegan and didn’t eat the roast chicken either. In the grand scheme of things, none of it had made any difference to their relationship. They were minutes that amounted to nothing.
He stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. He needed a shower so he wasn’t covered in engine grease and rust flakes when he did security duty at the fair.
As soon as he stripped down, he remembered his fake girlfriend’s call earlier to tell him he’d left red marks on her. He sure didn’t mean to—guess he got a little enthusiastic last night. He could blame it on the tequila, but fact was, she was worth getting excited over.
After kicking his jeans into a wad on the floor and whipping his shirt off, he took a moment to check his reflection. He hadn’t checked his body for marks the way she asked him to. He didn’t think he bore any. What were the chances—
Twisting to the side, he froze. There, on his flank, was a light pink score. From a fingernail? Couldn’t be. He must have scraped it sliding under the tractor.
Leaning over the bathroom vanity toward the mirror, he peered closer. Damn. Might be a fingernail scratch.
Was he really planning to report to her? What did it matter anyway? They meant nothing to each other—were only acting in order to rile their exes and give them a noxious dose of their own medicine.
He switched on the shower and waited for the hot water to reach full temperature. Now that he knew where the pink scratch was, he could almost feel the sting. He would not look in the mirror again, though.
When he stepped toward the shower door, he stopped, turned and stood in front of the mirror. That light line shouldn’t be making his cock hard, but dammit, he couldn’t deny the twinge. Hell, now he was stiffening rapidly. Another five seconds he’d be fully hard.
Son of a bitch. Didn’t even take two.
Seeing her fingernail score on his side fucking turned him on, and surely that was wrong when only weeks ago he’d been hoping to get down on one knee and ask Shana to marry him.
With a low growl of annoyance, he jumped into the shower. He’d be smart to stick to basics, like they talked about. Jeans, T-shirts, boots and hat. That was what he wore on the surface. Inside, his life was full of family and traditions and hard work—basics that kept him going.
Right now, he didn’t know jack about what he was doing with his life. He wasn’t getting married anytime soon, and it wouldn’t be to Shana. Hell, he didn’t even know if he’d be eatin’ roast chicken or throwing cornhole with family before the big rodeo days. All he knew was he planned to wear a black T-shirt—like Johnny Cash, Maya Ray said—and hit the fair at four o’clock tomorrow evening to walk around with a beautiful woman he was pretending to like.
But he also
wore her scratches from a crazy-hot night of sex.
Chapter Four
Maya Ray put a hand to her eyes to peer into the sun. She hated being kept waiting, but of course her new fake boyfriend didn’t know that about her.
She shifted from boot to boot, aware of a group of guys staring at her as they entered through the fair gates. One’s gaze latched onto her legs in her miniskirt, and she hoped like crazy he didn’t make any overtures to talk to her. After her long relationship—and breakup—she wasn’t really interested in dating. Besides, things were complicated enough with faking a new love and learning all the places to show up and bug their exes.
When a tall drink of water appeared through the crowd, she rolled onto her tiptoes to look closer. The black Stetson caught her attention first, and then someone stepped out from in front of him, and she saw black cotton stretched perfectly tight across a broad chest she was all too familiar with using as a pillow.
Her stomach picked up and set down again, like a dog flapping its tail in interest. Over the heads of the people surrounding him, he spotted her. A slow smile crept across his face, as if he was reluctant to let anyone see it, and he excused himself to a woman as he stepped around her to reach Maya Ray.
She craned her neck to look up at his face. Shadowed by the brim of his hat, his eyes appeared darker.
“Sorry I’m late.” His lips hitched higher, carving a crease into the corner.
For a second, she forgot her purpose. Then remembering she was supposed to hang all over this cowboy, she hooked her arms around his neck. His grin broadened as he ducked his head to plant a kiss smack on her lips.
She poked her finger into his dimple. “So cute. C’mon. They aren’t here yet.”
When she turned from him, she was surprised to feel his big hand envelop hers. She tossed him a smile over her shoulder and led him up to the concession stand to purchase tickets.
“I’ll get them.” His deep voice reached her over all the high-pitched cries of kids in the crowd. He handed some bills to the teen selling tickets and tipped his hat to her when she gave him change.
“You know how to charm women of every age. How is it that you weren’t snatched up as soon as Shana dumped you?”