by Skye Turner
I must have made some small sound because he glances over at me. “You ok over there, darlin’? You’re looking a little… hot.”
Turning my head, I smile at him. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m just fine. Don’t you know a little salt compliments sweet?!”
Falcon throws his head back and laughs. “If you say so. Tell you what, darlin’, when the heat gets to be too much, you just let me know. I’ll be certain to get you some ice water and something to wipe your face. Can’t have you melting in my truck.” He shakes his head and laughs again. He mumbles, “Damn, pig headed woman.”
I will never tell you that I’m suffocating over here. I’d rather die from a heat stroke and have you panic first!
You have no idea how pig headed I can be.
Maybe I should just start stripping…
There’s an idea…
I stare at his profile as he continues to drive and check the fence, muttering. “You worry about you. I’ll take care of me.”
He snorts and says nothing.
We drive and the country music fills the cab while I pray for a breeze to kick up and come through the windows… any breeze. I really am starting to feel faint.
Falcon suddenly stops the truck and I jerk forward as the tires stop in a rut. I look over at him in alarm and he points ahead. “We have a breach.”
My eyes widen as I look where he’s pointing. I see several wooden slats that appear to have been chewed through on the ground and the jagged pieces left behind on the posts. Falcon reaches behind the seat and pulls out a rifle.
I gasp as my eyes widen. “Um, what…”
He mutters, “Coyotes… I need to fix the fence, but we’ll also need to find them and take care of them before they get my cattle.” He grabs the long range walkie talkie from the console and presses the button. “Walkie Check… Breaker 1-9.”
Almost immediately another voice comes through the speaker. “Good check. Duke here. Copy, boss man?”
Falcon sighs as he pushes his hat back and presses the button again. “Copy that. Break in the perimeter fence on the left flank. Pasture one-twenty-six. Looks like coyotes. Chewed fence. I’ll repair. Take a team to search. Copy? Over.”
It’s like a different language.
Within seconds, the walkie is crackling with a response. “Copy that. Affirmative. Ten-Two. Report on what we find. Over and out.”
Falcon hands me the walkie and cuts the engine. He opens the door and leans on the window to look at me when I stay on the seat. “Well, come on. Clip that to your belt. We need to hear the communication. But, get your ass out here.”
I look at him in alarm. “What? You want me to get out? What about the coyotes?”
He waves the rifle. “That’s what this is for. They’re probably stalking the cattle, which is why I just dispatched a kill team. But, should they come back this way, I’m ready for them.” He tips his hat back and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Clip the walkie to your belt, or set it on the hood, and come help me. We have to repair this fence before anything else decides to just stroll on in.”
Is he serious? He wants me to get out of the truck and come help him fix a broken fence… when a coyote can sneak up on us and eat me?!
I don’t know how to fix a fence!
I screech. “I don’t know how to do that, Falcon!”
He smirks and his eyes crinkle. “Well, now’s as good a time as any to learn. Don’t ya think?!” He sets the rifle against the side of the truck and turns to the back. Turning, I watch him through the back window. He grabs some wood and a hammer, walks to the side of the truck and sets them down, and looks back at me again. He sighs. “I can do this myself, but it will go much faster if you help me. I’m sure not even you can screw up holding a board in place while I nail it.”
Oh, of course I can hold a freaking board.
Growling, I open the door and jump out, making certain to slam it behind me. Falcon doesn’t even look up. He just grabs a box of something and a crowbar before walking back to the fence. He pulls some leather gloves on, that were in his back pocket, and uses the crowbar to remove the broken pieces of board.
Setting the walkie talkie on the hood, by the windshield, I walk over to him and set my hands into my back pockets, uncertain of what he wants me to do.
He doesn’t turn around as he jerks his chin toward the ground. “Grab a pair of gloves from the tool box in the back of the truck and toss those boards and the one’s I’m removing into the back of the truck. Once I’m ready. I’ll have you hold the new boards in place while I secure them.”
Oh really? He just expects that he’ll order me around and I’ll do what he says?!
I glare at him, but he never even acknowledges me. Like he just assumes I’m going to follow his orders.
Finally, I roll my eyes and stomp to the back of the truck to find some gloves. No sense in ruining my hands and getting a splinter!
Once, I find a pair that fits reasonably, though they’re still too big, I stomp back and reach for the rough wooden boards on the ground. The weight of if surprises me and I stumble as I stand back up. My boot heel digs into a tuft of grass and I start to lose my balance.
Oh, hell no. I am NOT falling in front of Falcon Donovan again!
I refuse!
I wiggle and shake to try to find my center of gravity and with a lot of effort, I manage to remain standing; though my knees are turned in, my ass is poked out, and I’m certain I look like a bow-legged chicken. But, I’m still standing and I still have the stupid board in my hands.
Ha!
Eliza – 1
Stupid Bumpy Texas Ground – 0
Glancing at Falcon, I let out a relieved sigh that my undignified act seems to have escaped him.
I hoist the board and consider swinging it into the side of his head before walking to the back of the truck to toss it in. As it hits the worn bed, the resounding thump gives me a deep sense of satisfaction and I jump up in the air with an excited, “Yeah!”
Now, just five more to load up!
Falcon
I can’t let Miss Fancy Pants see the broad grin on my face as I rip the last of the boards from the fence posts.
She almost wiped out again and I’m not sure just what that dance she did to remain standing was, but it was some entertaining.
I also didn’t miss the quick look she sent my way to make sure I didn’t see it.
Oh, I so did.
And, it was great.
She was some kind of proud of herself for throwing a board into the back of my truck.
Turning, I pick up three of the boards from the ground and sling them over my shoulder to dump them into the bed of the truck. Eliza’s eyes narrow on me and she leans down to pick up two of the larger pieces of the broken boards. She grunts and I grin as she struggles. “How about you stick to one at a time and let me handle the heavy lifting?”
Her eyes flash at me and I allow my eyes to travel over her. She’s a mess. Her hair is wild and pieces are sticking to her cheeks, neck, and chest. Her cheeks are a deep pink from the heat and the effort it’s taking her to do the manual labor. Her shirt is sticking to her and I can see that it’s wet, thought the plaid pattern hides the actual sweat spots. Her chest is heaving with her deep breaths and her jeans have that “stuck to you” look to them.
She slaps her hands on her hips and then pulls her shirt up to wipe at her face. It causes her stomach to show and I can see the curve of her hips. My throat tickles again at the sight.
Once she’s wiped her face, she peels the gloves off, throwing them to the ground. She sets her hands on her hips again and glares at me again. “Look here, Donovan. I may not be as strong as you and I’m damn sure not used to this heat or this kind of work, but I’m out here doing it! Am I complaining? Have I been sitting in your damn truck painting my nails?! Am I watching Days of our Lives and eating cucumber sandwiches?!
“No, I’m out here, same as you. I’m doing shit I have no idea how to do.” She holds her hands up at
me and glares at her nails before trying to melt my face off with her eyes. “I’m messing up my fucking manicure. I’m getting heat stroke and I’m probably going to need a goddamned IV of fluids later, but I’m out here… picking up boards, doing what you demand that I do, like some goddamned tyrant… all while listening to you insult me.” She flips me off and I’m so shocked by the gesture that I blink. “Screw off, you cocky son of a bitch! You can kiss my ass!” She bends down to grab another board and stalks to my truck to fling it in there, forgetting her gloves on the ground. She screams in rage as she pulls her finger to her mouth to bite out a splinter. She grabs it and flings it to the ground before and glaring at me harder while she sucks on her wound.
Well, shit.
Now she has me feeling like an asshole. I wanted to goad her, but I never wanted to actually harm her.
And, she’s right. She’s out here… helping…
Picking up the last board, I bring it to the back of my truck and reach for one of the canteens of water. Removing my gloves so I can open it, I hand it to her. “You ok?” She nods. “Clean it with that. There’s a first aid kit in the truck. I’ll grab it.”
She just stares at it in my hand before reaching out and taking the water. She takes a huge swallow before she mutters, “I don’t need a damn first aid kit. It’s just a little splinter and I got it out.” Tipping her head back, she takes another hard swallow. Some of the cold water drips down her chin and I can’t look away as the drop travels down her neck, over her chest, and disappears beneath her neckline.
Her hands reach out unintentionally to rub the cold liquid into her skin in an attempt to cool herself.
I’m mesmerized.
Godammit!
Eliza McCormick is too sexy for her own good. My brilliant plan is backfiring. Instead of goading her, all I’m managing to do is incinerate my insides with desire for the fancy woman from Los Angeles.
Reaching out, I take the canteen, my fingers brushing against hers in the process, and take a deep swig to try to extinguish the fire burning inside of me. It doesn’t work.
Cracking my eyes open, I see Eliza is watching me like I imagine I was just watching her.
Without thinking it through, I take a step toward her. She’s already right beside me, so the single step has me directly in front of her. Leaning forward ever so slightly, I touch her chest with mine and she gasps as she tries to step back. Only, there’s nowhere for her to go. Her back is at my truck. She swallows as my hips align with hers, but neither of us says anything.
My eyes lock on hers and I see her pupils dilate beneath the brim of her hat.
Oh, she wants this, too.
There’s no sense in denying it.
My head angles and I pause just as my lips reach hers. I breathe in and she exhales. The wisp of air from her mouth on my lips awakens the beast within. My mouth covers hers and my tongue takes advantage of her parted lips. Her lips are soft and supple beneath mine though her tongue is a direct contrast. She pauses for only a split second before her hands curl into my shirt and she yanks me even closer. It knocks her hat from her head. Her tongue slides against mine and within seconds, her head angles to allow me to deepen the kiss.
For every thrust of my tongue against hers, she parries and then slides her own against mine. The water has made both of our mouths cold and it’s directly opposite from the heat of our bodies as we kiss feverishly. My hands settle on the bed of the truck to stop myself from feeling her up like a fourteen year old sneaking a kiss, with the preacher’s daughter, in the church balcony.
Her palms flatten against my chest as she moans into my mouth. I moan back and the sound fuels the fire even more. My hands leave the truck and settle on her hips, pulling her against the throbbing erection straining to break free from my denim. Her nails rake my skin through the fabric of my shirt and she thrusts against me, as if she’s attempting to get closer to me.
Chapter Eight
Eliza
I’m on fire. I’m burning from the inside out. Falcon’s kiss has me ready to spontaneously combust. I saw it in his eyes. He’s just as aroused as I am.
God, he’s so fucking sexy.
Take me. Take me against the side of this truck. Make me yours.
No one but you can quench this thirst.
His hands squeeze my ass before he slips his finger past the waistband of my jeans to rub the curve of my ass.
It’s not enough. I want my ass to fill his hands as he takes me.
I rub against him as I moan like the wanton whore that I currently am. He groans into my mouth and his lips leave mine to nip at my chin. His tongue trails over the spots he nips, to soothe the delicious ache, and I shiver in anticipation. Nudging the neckline of my shirt aside, he nuzzles my cleavage before lapping at my skin with his velvet tongue. His hat bumps into my chin as I moan and try to watch him, so, my hands knock it off. It falls to the ground, forgotten at our feet. He creates a wet path over the globes of my heaving breasts, with his mouth and tongue, as his fingers continue to clutch at my ass and he thrusts against me with his delicious steely length.
My own hands leave his head to yank his shirt from the waistband of his pants. My palms flatten over the molten heat of his naked abdomen and I moan as my fingers find pure ridges of muscle.
I gasp as the metal of his belt buckle cuts into my stomach.
Every inch of my body is aflame and I feel as if I’m going to explode.
His hands leave my waistband and I groan in despair before sighing as he pulls my own shirt out of my pants and his hands grip the soft skin of my sides. Reluctantly leaving the heaven of his waist, my hands travel over his stomach and chest, before grabbing his head, yanking it back up to mine. He growls as he captures my mouth in a bruising kiss and my stomach quivers.
My hands slide back down his neck and chest before frantically try to open the buttons of his shirt. I need his naked skin against mine.
His fingers dig into my sides as I pop button after button and my tongue dances with his in the same rhythm of our hips.
Suddenly, he freezes and I moan in frustration. He kisses me on the mouth quickly and then pulls back, breathing heavily. My hands are flattened on his bare chest and his shirt is wide open. Opening my eyes, I look down. I can clearly see the magnificence of his pecs and abs. I once again try to pull him back into me.
Nooooo. Why are you stopping?
Don’t you dare stop.
I’m ready to throw caution to the wind and take this bull by the horns.
He grabs my wrists and huskily says, “Darlin’ wait… I hear something… the walkie…” His voice is gravelly and unsteady but through my haze of desire, I jerk back.
He’s rejecting me right now?!
What the hell was that?
Dear God… what the hell were we just doing?
And… WHY were we doing it?
The heat has made us both crazy!
Crazy or not, I want Falcon Donovan. I’m more turned on right now than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
My vagina is cussing a blue streak at the interruption.
Jerking my hands from his, I try to skirt around him in a blind rage at his rejection. He doesn’t release me to allow me to move. Instead, he pins me in place with his eyes. I glare at him while he just looks at me and then, I hear it, too.
The walkie is crackling and someone is talking.
He heard that over the roar of his want?
I couldn’t hear shit except my own voice in my head screaming at me to peel off my panties and let this cowboy sink into me. My body is raring for a rough ride.
The walkie crackles again. “Falcon, Copy? Breaker 1-9. Do you copy? Over.”
Falcon inhales deeply and with a resigned sigh, he removes his hands from my waist and steps back from me. His dark chocolate gaze has me under his spell. They’re saying far more than I want to see. He mutters, “We’re coming back to this, darlin’.”
Oh, are we now?
Coming b
ack to what exactly? The animal magnetism we both just acted on? The fact that in about five more seconds, I’d have let him take me against the side of his truck in the middle of a pasture during the day? Or the fact that regardless of the fact that I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me, and I never do things like this, I’m still thinking about making sure that exactly what was just prevented from happening happens…
Leaning down, he swipes his hat from the ground and slips it on his head as he keeps his eyes on mine, as if he’s daring me, while striding to the hood. He grabs the walkie while still watching me. “Affirmative, Duke. Copy. Over.”
His shirt is still hanging open and his chest is freaking fantastic. I just want to lick it and play it like an accordion with my tongue…
Looking at him with the glare of the sun bouncing off his bronzed muscled glory a flicker of something tickles in the back of my mind. I feel like know something but I can’t figure it out.
Duke’s voice is full of static. “Found the pack. Eight of them. They got a calf, but only one. Six taken care of but two escaped to the southwest. Two in pursuit, but no sight of them. What’s your twenty? Over.”
Falcon’s voice is frustrated as he pushes his hat back so he can pull at his hair. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and cusses. “Shit! Damn, bastards.” The beep sounds and he speaks into the walkie. “Copy. Still at the breach. Pasture one-twenty-six. They’ll probably try to get out the way they came in. We’ll wait here for them here.”
What? We’re going to sit here and wait for coyotes that just killed a cow? How big is a coyote?
No, no way. I am not going to sit here and wait for some coyotes to come find us. There are two of them. Falcon has one gun. I don’t know how to shoot.
What if they eat him? What if they eat me?
No, waiting out here to be eaten by a wild animal that can kill a cow is just not going to happen.
I’m too pretty to die like this.
Oh, God… I’m not even supposed to be out here.
Duke apparently radioed back, but I missed it, because Falcon walks back toward me and sets the walkie on the seat of the truck through the open window. I slap his chest roughly. My hand bounces off the firm muscle. He stops with a start and turns his incredulous gaze on me. “Why in the hell are you hitting me again? If it’s because of what happened before we were interrupted, I’m not apologizing for that.”