BuckingHard

by Darah Lace

  Bucking Hard

  Darah Lace

  All her life, tomboy Bradi Kincaid has wanted two things—a career as a veterinarian in her hometown of Grayson, Texas…and Mason Montgomery. Problem is, he’s her best friend and, according to him, she’s “one of the guys”. Convinced he’ll never see her otherwise, Bradi comes up with a sure-fire plan to get over Mason—flirt a little, dance a lot and get laid.

  What Mason imagines doing to Bradi is just all kinds of wrong. But the woman on the dance floor isn’t the girl he grew up with. She’s hot and sexy and turning him on. Him and every other man in the bar. She’s also had too much to drink and is unaware of the trouble she’s inviting. He does what any friend would—he steps in, then sets out to teach her a lesson.

  But before the sun rises, Mason discovers Bradi has a thing or two to teach him.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Bucking Hard

  ISBN 9781419932526

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Bucking Hard Copyright © 2011 Darah Lace

  Edited by Jillian Bell

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication February 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Bucking Hard

  Darah Lace

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  A&M: Texas A&M University

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  ChapStick: Wyeth LLC

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha (Toyota Motor Corporation)

  Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc.

  Ninja Turtle: Mirage Studios, Inc.

  PRCA: Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association, Inc.

  Toyota: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha (Toyota Motor Corporation)

  Chapter One

  Mason crested the hill overlooking the creek and reined in Rocky, his favored mount for riding the range. He’d heard the bawling calf a quarter mile away and figured he’d find it stuck in the mud. He hadn’t expected to find Bradi Kincaid. In fact if he’d known she’d already ridden to the rescue, he would have headed the other way.

  But here she was not ten feet away, ass in the air, up to her knees in green slime and mud, her arms around the struggling calf’s neck, and she still managed to light a fire in his gut. And dammit, that was just all wrong.

  They were best friends, for Christ’s sake. Practically raised from the cradle together. They’d fished and hunted side by side, ridden drag to bring up the tail end of cattle drives. And they’d gotten into more trouble than a switch could whip out of them. She was his best bud, one of the guys.

  So why did his dick suddenly become a divining rod every time she was near?

  She wasn’t unattractive. But Bradi was nothing like the women he preferred. She wasn’t sleek or polished or sophisticated. Her fingernails were cut close to keep the dirt out instead of long and meticulously painted to match her outfit. Her dirty blonde hair was either in a ponytail or a braid, and as far as he knew, had never been streaked, colored or cut to the latest fashion. And she might carry ChapStick in her front right pocket to ward off the blistering Texas sun, but that was the extent of her makeup.

  Bradi was Bradi—natural, earthy and blessed with athletic grace that made ranch work look easy—and more often than not these days left him wondering what that lithe and flexible body would be like in bed.

  “You gonna sit there all day, or are you gonna help me?”

  Leaning forward to rest his forearm on the saddle horn and hopefully hide his growing erection, he tilted his head to one side and smirked at the picture she made. “I don’t know. You look like you’re doing just fine on your own.”

  She blew wispy bangs out of her green eyes and gave him a withering glare over her shoulder. “Throw me a rope.”

  “Where’s yours?” He looked around for her horse but the only other animal in sight was a cow waiting for Bradi to rescue her calf. “Wait, don’t tell me. You were riding Dahlia.”

  That damn horse had a habit of leaving Bradi high and—his gaze wandered over her again—not so dry. Covered in muck, the front of her faded yellow T-shirt was wet and clung to her breasts. Breasts he’d known she possessed but never really noticed until two weeks ago. His gaze locked on the words peeling across the chest. Not that he cared what they said with her nipples prodding so diligently through her bra.

  Mentally castrating himself, Mason sat up and reached for the coiled rope attached to his saddle. “When are you going to take that piece-of-shit horse to the glue factory?”

  “Just shut up and throw me your rope.”

  Ignoring her demand, Mason swung the lasso and sent it sailing over the calf’s head. He pulled the rope taut, wrapped it around the saddle horn, and directed his horse to back up. The bull calf cried louder as the mud slowly relinquished its hold. As soon as the calf’s legs found firm ground, he dug in, resisting the pull of the rope.

  Bradi laughed and reached for the calf just as it wrenched to one side and kicked. Twisting, she dodged a hind leg, but her feet were still stuck in the mud and she went to her knees. Another kick and brown sludge splattered her chest and neck. “Shit.”

  Mason chuckled. “Yep, I imagine so.”

  Shooting him another scathing glare, she struggled to stand. “You’re an ass.” Able to finally extract one leg and then the other, she trudged out of the creek toward the calf. “Give me some slack.”

  He signaled his horse forward and Bradi deftly slipped the rope from the calf’s neck. The bull bolted for its mama and together they ambled up and over the high bank then disappeared. Looking back at Bradi, Mason wished he hadn’t.

  She’d moved up the creek and knelt in a spot of grass to wash the mud from her hands. Tight, faded denim hugged her heart-shaped ass and his hands itched to palm those mounds. She stretched to wet a bandana, causing the waistband of her jeans to dip lower, and a strip of hot-pink lace played peek-a-boo between it and her shirt.

  His jeans tightened as his cock strained against his fly. He’d never thought about what kind of underwear Bradi wore—she was naked in his recent fantasies—but if he had consciously thought about it, he wouldn’t have figured her for the lace panty type. Last time he’d seen her in her panties, she’d worn white cotton with a Barbie logo. They’d been six and he’d wanted to brag about his Ninja Turtle briefs.

  As she rose, he looked away to gather the rope. He stowed it behind him and turned to find her standing beside his horse with her hand out. Fuck. She wanted a ride. And god, he wanted to give her one.

&
nbsp; “Well?” She thrust her hand higher. “Give me a hand up.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He hadn’t thought this far ahead when he’d decided to stick around and help, and his brain certainly wasn’t working now. All he knew was he couldn’t have her sitting behind him, her tits rubbing his back, legs spread… Fuck. “You’re covered with mud.”

  “Um, yeah. I kinda noticed that.” She stared up at him with expectant green eyes. Why hadn’t he ever noticed the flecks of gold or the ring of black that reminded him of the sun coming through shadowed forest trees? At his lack of response, her hand fell to her side. “You’re going to make me walk?”

  “I don’t want that shit all over me.” Damn, he felt like an ass. He was an ass. He couldn’t let her walk. He’d just have to survive the ride home…and make sure it was a short one.

  Before he could offer his hand or an apology, her eyes flashed with anger. And maybe a bit of hurt? “God, Mason, when did you turn into such a pussy?”

  She spun around and the metallic whir of a zipper crawled up his thighs and into his balls. Lust rose high but panic shifted into overdrive. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Taking off my clothes so you won’t get dirty.”

  Oh, hell no! There was no way— Shit. She hooked her thumbs into the waist of her jeans, starting the downward motion that revealed a hint of one cheek.

  “Just get on the damn horse.” He pulled his foot from the stirrup and stuck out his hand. “But I can’t take you home.” His place was closer. “I have things to do.”

  A long second passed, then the zipper made a return trip up. His dick jerked in disappointment as she latched on to his hand, shoved her boot into the stirrup and swung herself onto the horse behind him, mimicking his irritated tone. “Things to do.”

  The warmth of her body seared his back as she settled into place. His gaze dropped to one side, taking in the slender thigh nestled close to his. The thought of those long legs wrapped around his waist made his balls ache. If she had any idea what she was doing to him, she’d be glad to walk home. Hell, she’d probably run.

  But Bradi wasn’t wired that way. He doubted she ever thought about sex. She’d never dated in high school and she never talked about anyone in particular at A&M. The only conversation they’d had about sex was short-lived when he confided his loss of virginity to Katrina Forbes and Bradi made it clear right away the subject of sex was off-limits.

  The odds of her still being a virgin at twenty-five were slim, but somehow he couldn’t imagine her having sex with anyone.

  Anyone but him.

  Mason’s hips rolled with every sway of the saddle, and a different kind of moisture dampened the already-wet crotch of Bradi’s panties. After years of fantasizing, she finally had him where she wanted him—between her legs. Too bad he was facing the wrong direction. And had on clothes. And didn’t know she was of the female persuasion.

  He’d be a good mount. She’d heard enough over the years to be sure of that. Hell, she knew just by watching him walk. The man did more than walk. He sauntered and swaggered and strutted and… God, with every step she could imagine that same strong, sure rhythm pounding into her.

  Her pussy clenched and she groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” His deep voice vibrated from inside his chest, tingling her taut nipples.

  “Nothing.” She leaned into him under the pretext of getting more comfortable. If she was going to seduce Mason, she couldn’t come at him like a freight train. “I swear you always ride a bony-ass horse.”

  He shook his head, and Bradi let go of the back of the saddle to reach for the chestnut waves below his hat. Her hand stopped short of sampling the hair overlapping his collar. She curled her fingers into her palm.

  “What are you doing out here anyway?”

  Oh, just stalling. “I needed to talk to you about something. And since you won’t return any of my calls, I was coming to see you. That thing does work, doesn’t it?” She patted the cell phone holster on his hip and laid her hand on his thigh as if it were the most natural place for her hand to land and that touching him didn’t make her fingertips tingle.

  The hard, thick muscle covered in soft, faded denim tensed beneath her fingers, and Rocky shifted off the trail. Mason corrected him with a slight nudge with the opposite leg. “I’ve been busy.”

  Bradi frowned, but resisted the urge to thrum her fingers on his thigh. Not exactly the reaction she needed to boost her courage. She hadn’t actually set out to seduce him today. If she had, she wouldn’t have chosen this lousy scenario. Finally telling him how she felt about him was the original plan. But now that she’d thought about it, seducing him first might be easier. I love you might sound better after hot and sweaty sex.

  Easier, my ass. She’d known him all her life and not once had he ever looked at her as a woman. And maybe she wasn’t when she left for college seven years ago. But she’d changed.

  Away from home, she didn’t have to constantly compete with the men on the ranch or work twice as hard for their respect and approval. In the city, and while focusing only on school—well, there were a few parties—she’d been educated in other ways. She’d learned to embrace her femininity. Hell, she’d reveled in it. Problem was, she couldn’t be a woman in Grayson. Every time she came home, she fell right back into old habits and a lifetime of insecurities.

  After a couple of semesters it became “more economical” to get an apartment near the university instead of commuting. She’d made the argument of how hard it was to drive back and forth and still find time to study when in truth, it just got too hard to be one of the guys. Harder still to watch the parade of women in Mason’s life. It seemed as if one woman slid out of his bed as another slipped in. And each was like a burr under Bradi’s saddle.

  She’d tried to move on, dated other guys, even pushed herself to explore sex, hoping a physical connection with another man would prove her longing for Mason was just a juvenile crush. She’d learned a thing or two about who she was and what she wanted in a lover. But the ache never subsided.

  So it was now or never. She had a decision to make about her future, and Mason was the deciding factor. He’d either see her as a woman or he wouldn’t, and she’d know once and for all that loving Mason Montgomery was a lost cause.

  Resting her chin on his shoulder, she ached to strip away his shirt and bite the smooth, tanned skin beneath, then oh so slowly lick away the sting. “Busy, huh? I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Ever since I got home, you seem busy.” Laying her cheek against his back, she closed her eyes and inhaled. Sweat, leather, soap and Mason—damn, she’d missed his scent. She’d missed his friendship more.

  Bradi wiggled closer. Solid muscle resisted the pressure and flattened her breasts. The seam of her jeans stimulated her swollen clit. Heat built low in her belly.

  She eased her hand higher on his thigh. “Have you heard from Granddad?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Setting her fingers at a steady thrum of impatience, she waited for him to elaborate. His grandfather was in Wyoming, visiting his brother. At least that’s what her mom had said. Bradi really missed the old man who’d played grandfather to her and both mom and dad to Mason after his parents’ death. “Well, how’s he enjoying his stay?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  Bradi rolled her eyes. He was never what she’d call talkative. Neither of them were. But he’d never seemed this reluctant to spare a few words. “You going to Clay and Lindsey’s engagement party tonight?” And are you taking a date?

  “Yeah.” He switched the reins to his left hand and propped his right hand at the crease of his thigh between her hand and her target. His elbow bumped her arm, knocking her hand away and forcing her withdrawal. “I want to talk to Bill Shipley. Rumor has it he’s selling off that bull of his and I want it.”

  Blocked but not giving up, Bradi let go of the cantle completely, place
d both hands at his waist and waited for another opening. “Bill’s selling Mack?” So named because he was built like a semi truck. “Is something wrong with him? Want me to go check him out before you make an offer?”

  “Nah, Doc Harper says he’s healthy. Checked him out last week. That’s who I heard about it from.” He smiled at her over his shoulder, melting her with those sultry brown eyes, then suddenly scowled and looked straight ahead again. “Doc’s excited about getting you settled at the clinic. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

  “Yeah.” Guilt washed over Bradi, yanking her out of their comfortable chatter and reminding her how many lives would be affected by her decision. Since the moment she’d made up her mind to become a veterinarian, Doc Harper had taken her under his wing and promised that when she was done with school and ready to intern he’d have a spot for her. And when he retired, he’d turn over his practice to her. The plan was ideal and her future was set.

  But over the last few months, she’d almost dreaded the idea of coming home and settling down, which made the job offer to intern with the PRCA more enticing. The professional rodeo circuit was never in one spot for long, offered a variety of experience, and was nowhere near Mason.

  “You going to the party?”

  Bradi shrugged, suddenly more depressed than horny. “I’m supposed to help decorate later, but I don’t feel much like sticking around.”

  The ranching community was widespread but tight-knit. Everyone knew everyone and the party would probably be fun, but Bradi couldn’t think past the man in front of her and what he’d say when she finally worked up the nerve to spill her guts.

  “Mom said Catie went a little overboard with this shindig. I think she’s excited to see her brother finally find someone. And Lindsey being her best friend…” Just the thought of seeing Clay with Lindsey and Catie with her husband and all the other happy couples made Bradi want to throw up. But Catie was depending on her.