Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders)

by Lorelei James

  Unbelievably hot, how strongly she affected this strong man.

  He came in near silence.

  But afterward, when he held her, the words came. Sweet words sometimes. Raunchy words others. Words that were a near confession and scared her as much as thrilled her.

  Like now.

  “You’re mine, jungle girl,” he whispered against her throat. “Only mine. I’m never walking away from you again.” He sealed his mouth to hers, preventing a response.

  But Rory didn’t know what to say anyway. The more she held back, the more determined he became to hold onto her.

  Dalton gradually broke the kiss. “It’s early yet and I just…needed you.”

  Not wanted. Needed. She’d begun to understand the differences in those two words.

  “Go back to sleep. I’ll make coffee and let Jingle out.”

  After he left Rory’s place on Wednesday morning, Dalton eyed the No Hunting signs hanging from the barbed wire fence on either side of the gate as he fiddled with the lock. Despite the rust and grime from constant Wyoming wind, the paddle lock opened easily. He unwound the four feet of chain and tossed it in the back of his truck.

  After he pulled through, he pushed the gate shut. An open gate was an open invitation. Especially if the gate had remained closed the last three years. He needed time to sketch out his plans and he wasn’t in the mood to explain them to his brothers or anyone else who might happen by.

  In his truck he spread out the oversized copy of the land plat. Four years ago they’d bought two parcels of land totaling five hundred acres from neighbors whose marriage had hit the skids. Initially he and his brothers had intended to use the acres closest to the McKay ranch to run more cattle. Since a house and barn had been included with the property, Tell and Georgia had asked if they could move into it.

  At the time, Dalton hadn’t minded living in a trailer. But it had bugged him that he’d fronted every penny for the land purchase and it was just expected that all five hundred acres would be absorbed into the McKay ranching operation. He wouldn’t have anything to show for all the money he’d put into it except joint ownership—split three ways.

  So Dalton had consulted his cousin Gavin—beings he was a real estate guru—and Gavin suggested Dalton not give the entire section in a gesture of family largess, but personally retain a portion of the acreage, specifically the acreage that bordered Gavin’s land.

  Dalton had agreed even though it dragged out the official paperwork an additional two months. By then, he’d started dating Addie and his brothers assumed that he’d build a house on that section for his wife-to-be. Strange to think he hadn’t even considered that option.

  Once Brandt and Tell had taken possession of three hundred acres with creek access, they didn’t ask what Dalton intended to do with his section, since it was less conducive to running cattle. And during the years Dalton was gone, they’d never asked permission to do anything with the land—neither had Gavin.

  And now Dalton knew exactly what he’d do with it.

  Two hundred acres wasn’t much, but in this situation it’d be ideal because the elk herd could easily be contained by a combination of fencing and natural barriers. Much as ranchers lamented the lack of water in high plains desert, this was one instance where the lack of water would be a benefit. Hauling water meant he controlled placement of the tanks. It also meant animals wouldn’t wander off in search of water because they’d know exactly where to find it.

  Putting his truck in drive, he followed the tire tracks downhill, stopping every once in a while to mark off where the sections of fence would need to be higher.

  The topography was a mix of rolling hills and deep crevasses. He’d have to get out at some point and study the raised ridge. But for now he stopped to add notes to his crude drawings and returned to inching across the landscape.

  After traveling the last three years and living in the mountains for over a year of that, he’d forgotten the sparsity of the area. Several clumps of trees grew at the lowest points of the draws, providing more diversity in vegetation than he’d remembered. Also a point in his favor for an elk habitat.

  Dalton spent hours traversing the land, checking the condition of the fences and possible problem access points. When he finished he understood how labor-intensive this project would be—work he’d be one hundred percent responsible for. But what else was he supposed to do with his time? Hang out in the hospital? No way. Or tag along opening fences for his brothers as they did chores? No way on that, either. He didn’t have a burning desire to raise elk, but he did have a burning desire to convince Rory they were meant to be. That meant living here.

  He flipped through the pages of regulations. No new surprises—he’d studied up on other states rules. There wasn’t a huge difference between Montana stipulations and the proposed regulations in Wyoming.

  As he headed back, he tried to take in anything he might’ve missed on the first pass. At the gate he installed the new paddle lock with the heavier, shorter chain and locked it up.

  On the drive back into Sundance, his thoughts strayed to Rory. Sweet, sexy, funny insatiable Rory. They’d burned the sheets up and then some the last five days. As much as he loved that her desire, need, passion and obsession almost matched his, he realized he needed to slow things down. He had to show her this relationship was so much more than just hot sex.

  Which reminded him that first lunch date he’d sworn to romance the hell out of her. And what had he done besides the candlelit seduction?

  Not. A. Damn. Thing.

  He needed to rectify that.

  But how?

  Then the perfect idea occurred to him.

  She’ll think it’s lame. How can you even consider that romantic?

  Better to try and fail than not try at all.

  Dalton made a mental note for the additional items he’d need from the hardware store.

  Four sharp knocks sounded on Dalton’s door at three fifteen.

  At least the kid was prompt. Dalton yelled, “Come in,” and pulled his box cutter out of the yellow and brown linoleum before he rolled to his feet.

  Kyler stood by the front door, ill at ease and Dalton couldn’t fault him. Even before Dalton had left town, he and Cord’s oldest kid hadn’t spent time together besides attending McKay family gatherings. The odd thing? The age gap between him and Kyler was the same age gap between him and Cord.

  “Hey, Kyler, what’s up?”

  “Not much.” He looked around, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I walked. My mom gets done around six so I gotta be at her massage studio then so she can give me a ride home.”

  “No problem. I’ll leave it up to you if you want me to drop you off or if you wanna walk. We’re workin’ in the kitchen.”

  “Should I take my boots off?”

  “Not unless they’re covered in cow shit.”

  Kyler ditched his coat. “Wearing shit covered boots to school—not cool.”

  Dalton returned to the kitchen. “When I went to school some guys wore their barn boots to class, tryin’ to prove they were real cowboys.”

  “Still got a few of them guys. It’s worse when ranch kids try to be gangsta. Give me a freakin’ break. Nothin’ gangsta about livin’ in Wyoming.”

  “You want a soda?”

  “Sure. If it’s no trouble.”

  So polite. But he didn’t expect less from Cord’s kid. Dalton passed him a can of Coke and cracked one open for himself. “So, I have to ask what you told your dad about why you’re helping me out.”

  Kyler grinned. “A version of the truth. You gave my truck a jump and when I asked how I could repay you, you mentioned needin’ a little help over here.”

  “Smart.”

  “Besides, Mom and Dad bust me every freakin’ time I lie so it’s not worth it. Most of the time.”

  “But this girl?”

  He grinned again. “She is so totally worth a
lie or two thousand.”

  Dalton laughed. “I remember them days. Hell, I remember them girls.”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t think my dad remembers what high school is like. He’s got all these crap rules.”

  “I’d guess the crap rules are in place for you because Cord remembers exactly how he was in high school,” Dalton said dryly.

  “That’s what Hayden thinks too. I swear my dad and Uncle Kane are way stricter than Uncle Cam is…and he’s a cop.”

  “I imagine it doesn’t do you any good to complain.”

  “Mouthing off just gets my phone and my truck keys taken away so I’ve learned to have all the arguments in my head. That way, I always win.”

  “I might’ve saved myself a lot of grief if I’d adopted that attitude at your age.” Except Casper saw silence as an admission of guilt. He saw arguing as defending guilt. Dalton had been screwed either way. He noticed Kyler staring at him, waiting for further instructions. “We’re stripping linoleum today. Don’t know if we’ll get to the point where we can move the appliances. I’ll warn ya it’s tedious stuff.”

  “Dang. I was hopin’ we’d be bustin’ cabinets with a sledgehammer or something.”

  The kitchen flooring had three layers of linoleum. The second layer had been glued on the first layer, which meant the flooring had to be removed in small sections, a layer at a time. Dalton showed Kyler how he wanted it done, handed him a box cutter and let him be.

  After half an hour or so of zero conversation, Kyler sighed.

  “Bored already?”

  “Nope. But don’t you listen to music while you’re workin’?”

  “Sometimes. Why?”

  “It’s kinda quiet in here. Music makes the time go faster.” He shot Dalton a grin. “Might make us work faster.”

  Dalton pointed to the living room. “Sound system has an iPod dock. Or if you flip on the TV there are satellite music channels in the seven hundreds.”

  “I’ve got my iPod.” He pushed to his feet. “But I don’t wanna screw something up so maybe you’d better show me how to run the system.”

  Dalton needed to replace his blade anyway. He gave Kyler a basic rundown of the system, suspecting he was way more tech savvy than him. He watched Kyler dinking with buttons on the remote. Damn kid looked so much like Cord it was spooky. Even his mannerisms were the same.

  No one had ever said that about you and Casper.

  “Done. Now we can crank some tunes.”

  “I ask that you don’t play any of that—”

  “Rap?” Kyler supplied.

  Dalton shook his head. “I don’t mind rap. I’m not crazy about that hipster, emo, boy-band crap.”

  “Me neither.”

  Kyler left the tunes at a reasonable decibel. The music made him work faster and apparently loosened his vocal cords because he started asking questions. Lots of questions.

  Thing was, Dalton had spent so much time by himself in the last few years, he welcomed interest in where he’d been and what he’d done. Even his brothers hadn’t taken much interest.

  He hadn’t seen Brandt or Tell since he’d stopped going to visit Casper every day, but he did talk to them. Dalton explained his absence from the daily hospital duty as he’d run into serious snags with the house remodel—not a total lie. But it was obvious they considered it bullshit. Neither of them had bothered to show up and offer a hand to fix those snags.

  Might’ve been nice to have the company and the help, but Dalton reminded himself he didn’t need it.

  “Got big plans for the weekend?” Dalton asked.

  “Football game Friday night. We’re playing Gillette. They’ve got a bunch of big guys so I’m pretty sure I’ll end up on my ass a lot.”

  “What position do you play?”

  “Quarterback.”

  “Hello?” echoed from the front entry.

  Rory.

  Dalton stood and hoped it didn’t look like he’d leapt to his feet. “In here.”

  “I heard music. Thought maybe you were having a party.”

  “Yep. With strippers and everything. Except we’re the strippers.” He kissed her. “Linoleum strippers.”

  Kyler snorted.

  Rory smiled at him, then at Kyler. “Hey, Kyler. How’d you get roped into helping with this?”

  Kyler gave Dalton an odd look.

  “Let’s just call it McKay community service,” Dalton said with a straight face.

  The kid snorted again.

  Dalton reached out to run his hand down Rory’s hair, but he caught a glimpse of his dirty fingers and dropped his hand by his side. “Kyler was telling me he’s got a football game this weekend.”

  “I heard the people in the office talking about it,” Rory said. “It’s the big district playoff game. You ready to take the team to victory, superstar quarterback?”

  Kyler blushed. “If we win, it’ll be a team effort.”

  “He’s so modest.” Rory draped her arm over Dalton’s neck. “What Kyler hasn’t mentioned? He’s been the starting quarterback since his freshman year and he’s taken the Sundance football team to the state finals the last two years.”

  “We’ve made it to the finals but we haven’t won,” Kyler pointed out.

  “He’s also been named to the all-state team. The western U.S. all-conference team and he’s in the top one hundred on the national who’s who list of high school athletes. College scouts are sniffing around too.”

  Kyler blushed even harder and stood. “Where’d you hear all that?”

  “Sierra. I talked to her last night. I’m pretty sure she was doing herkeys while she was bragging on your athletic prowess.”

  “Sierra exaggerates. Anyway, it’s just high school football. Not like I’m a professional athlete like Chase. Or a professional poker player like Dalton, which is way cooler and takes a whole lotta skill and strategy.”

  Dalton tugged on Rory’s hair. “See? Kyler knows Texas Hold’em requires skill more than luck.”

  Rory rolled her eyes.

  Kyler looked appalled. “Dude. Seriously? She thinks it’s a game of…luck?” He said luck as if it were a dirty word.

  Dalton shrugged. “I’ve tried to explain it but she won’t change her mind. Anyway, good luck with your football game this weekend.”

  “Thanks.” He skirted the breakfast bar and snagged his iPod. “I’d probably better get walkin’.”

  “You don’t want a ride?”

  “Nah.” Kyler slipped on his coat. “Since we didn’t have football practice today I need some cardio. I’ll get plenty of lifting exercise when I start chores.”

  Dalton moved in front of Kyler as he shouldered his backpack. He dug thirty bucks from his front pocket and held it out. “I appreciate your help today, Kyler.”

  “But…I didn’t expect this.”

  “And I don’t expect free labor. Now you’ve got a little extra to take your girl out and show her off.” He grinned. “Or to put in a new battery in that truck of yours so you don’t get busted again.”

  “Thanks, Dalton.” He folded the bills and tucked them in his pocket. “You want me here next Wednesday?”

  “If it doesn’t interfere with football practice.”

  “It won’t.” He leaned in and said, “Maybe you oughta follow your own advice. Take Rory out and show her off, ’cause man, she is totally hot. You are so lucky to get with her.” Kyler stepped aside, gifting Rory with a smile to rival the devil’s. “See ya, Rory.” He slipped out the door.

  Rory sighed. “There’s the first in another generation of devastatingly handsome and charming McKay males.”

  “He’s a good kid. Sounds like Cord’s got a tight leash on him. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when Kyler breaks that leash, ’cause we all do at some point.” Dalton turned around and Rory was right there. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself, cowboy.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” He kissed her sweetly, lazily, letting the simple pleasure
of kissing her whenever the hell he wanted wash through him. He ended the kiss with soft brushes of his lips over hers.

  “I liked that. Do it again.”

  “In a sec.” He gazed into her beautiful eyes. “I need to clean myself up. Then what would you like to do tonight?”

  “I’d like you to take me to bed.”

  “Besides that.”

  Rory’s eyes turned thoughtful. “I don’t know. What is there to do? Since I’ve been back in Sundance I either worked at the Twin Pines or I stayed home. I’m not in the mood to hang out in a bar, are you?”

  “Not really.”

  “What would you be doing if you were in Montana?”

  “If I’m bored I head out and shoot practice rounds. Not much else to do in the woods except improve my marksmanship.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Sugarplum, why you lookin’ at me like that?”

  “It’s just weird. I know you’ve hunted since you were a boy and you must be a good to be a professional guide. But in all the years I’ve known you, when we played Tarzan and Jane, pirates, and pioneers, we never played cowboys and Indians, or Bonnie and Clyde; I’ve never seen you holding a weapon—for real or pretend.”

  Dalton bristled. “It bothers you that I’ve held a gun and a bow and killed animals with these hands?”

  Rory lifted his hands and traced the outside of his fingers. “No. I love your hands. I love your hands on me. You’re so gentle, tender and thorough. You’re also rough and exacting.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing. My poorly made point is that there are things we don’t know about each other. Like how we spend our free time.”

  “Aren’t we past the testing phase? Where we each have to list our likes and dislikes?”

  “You’re missing my point, Dalton.”

  “You’re missing mine, Rory. I want to fuck you twenty-four/seven. And we pretty much have been doin’ that since Friday night. But that’s not enough for either of us. We need to make sure we like each other out of bed, too. Which is why we’re gonna do something else tonight besides fuck each other’s brains out.”