Boss Of Her Heart (Dirty Texas Love Book 1)

by Shanna Handel

  I had, in fact, locked myself out last year and done this very thing to crawl into the back-storage closet with the broken window latch.

  Dragging the ladder from his garage, I hauled it out back, leaning it against the house under Mr. McAllister’s curious gaze. I carefully climbed up the rungs, tugging at the frame of the window.

  “Seriously,” I hissed through my teeth. The landlord had finally gotten around to fixing the window latch—the day they changed the locks and evicted me. Go figure. As I gave the window one final tug in my dismay and discouragement, I tugged too hard, upsetting my balance.

  “Oomph!” I fell from the ladder, landing on one foot. It was only a few feet drop as the house was a one-story ranch, but as I stood fully, a sharp pain shot though my ankle. Pressing my hands against the side of the house, I shifted my weight to my uninjured side.

  “Bella? You okay?” A startled Mr. McAllister placed a heavy worried hand on my back.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but as I tried again to stand on my hurt ankle I knew it was a lie. “I just need to go in your house and rest.”

  Mr. McAllister raised his brows to me, looking me over as if making a decision. “I think we need to get you to that big, strong, cowboy boyfriend of yours, little lady. I can’t do much for you, but he sure can.”

  I gulped, tears forming in my eyes from the pain and the shame. How had I not asked for the money? How had I let things get this far—being kicked out of my house, then hurting myself by trying to break into the property I had just been kicked out of.

  But beyond being worried about what Garrett would say, the scolding I would receive, or even God forbid, the disappointment I would hear in his voice, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a crushing desire to see Garrett’s face. To have him hold me in his arms.

  “I’ll call him.” Reaching into my jeans back pocket, I pulled my phone out, only to find the battery had died. “Oh dear, I don’t know his number by heart—I’ll have to charge it. But my charger is in my house. Do you have one?”

  Mr. McAllister shook his head. “I don’t believe in those new-fangled contraptions. My phone is stuck right to the wall and needs no charging, but it’s no help if you don’t know his number.”

  I sat down on the damp earth and began bawling. I mean, really crying harder than I had since my divorce. Head in my hands, legs crossed underneath me, I cried and cried while poor Mr. McAllister looked on dumbfounded and anxious.

  “Hang on, girlie, don’t move.” I barely noticed his absence as I wailed, absorbed in my sadness and pain and disappointment, longing for my love.

  What had to be only a few moments later, a Buick sedan pulled around onto the soft grass leaving muddy tire marks in its wake.

  Hopping out of the car and grabbing the crook of my arm, he asked, “Think you can walk?” Slowly I raised up on my left foot. Hopping and hobbling with the help of my elderly neighbor, I somehow made it to the car. Sliding in the smooth leather cushioned seat, I sank my head back on the head rest.

  Mr. McAllister climbed into the car. “Your boyfriend’s the one that owns The Lonestar Cattle Company, right?”

  “Yes. He and his brother. Garrett lives in the smaller ranch house behind the big one.” The fact that I had never been inside his house had not crossed my mind until just now. On top of my nerves of having to admit to my eviction, I now added the thought of showing up unannounced after never being invited in the first place. And to add to my angst, the pesky thought of why my boyfriend, who told me he loved me, had never invited me into his home. My ankle throbbed, my head ached from my wandering mind, and my eyes felt tired and sore from crying.

  I sat quietly as we drove. My neighbor pulling to a full and complete stop at each sign and red—or yellow for that matter—traffic light. I was grateful for the slow driving as I sat in my anxious state. I felt nervous and a white heat of anxiety flushed my face as the Buick pulled up the long gravel road to the ranch. Passing the big ranch house, we pulled into the short drive of the smaller, renovated bunkhouse on the back of the property.

  The porch light was on as Mr. McAllister put the car into park. “Sit tight, girlie,” he said, giving me a firm ‘don’t you go anywhere’ kind of look. I gave him a nod and after considering my face for a moment, he exited the car. I watched as he walked up the concrete walk to the front porch. Rapping on the door with his knuckles he put his other hand on the back of his hip as he waited for a response.

  The door opened and there stood Garrett—my boss and my boyfriend---wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants hung low around his hip bones. His tanned, muscular, chest was broad and smooth under the soft glow of his porch light.

  I could just make out his facial features as his eyes narrowed in concern when he recognized my neighbor as his unexpected evening guest. His gaze quickly flashed to the Buick. His brow gathered anxiously. He bent down, and I sat up further in my seat to see over the dash as to what he was doing. Pulling a pair of sneakers onto his feet he jogged over to my door.

  I held my breath as he pulled the latch opening the car door.

  “Bella?” There was nothing but concern, worry and love in his voice as he said my name. Stooping down, his eyes locked on mine. My lip trembled at the sight of his worried face.

  “You okay, baby?” His hand smoothed down my hair. The gentle touch and the sweet term of endearment, he had never before used for me, made the waterworks well up once again in my burning eyes. To my utter shame and dismay, the uncontrollable sobs racked my body once again as I blubbered out my story. “I got an eviction notice and I didn’t have the money and I kind of forgot to ask you for it—or didn’t want to ask you for it—and then they changed my locks and I fell trying to break into my house and…”

  “Shh.” The gentle hushing and continued stroking of my hair was not what I had anticipated. Gathering my breath in short, hiccupped bursts I stared at his concerned face. Sniffling and wiping at my tears and nose with the back of my sleeve, I smiled shyly.

  “I’m a wreck,” I managed to say.

  “It’s okay, now. I’m going to take care of you, baby. You don’t have to worry about a thing. First things first. Let’s get you inside. Shall we?”

  I nodded with childlike enthusiasm. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with Garrett, receiving the tender loving care I could tell he desired to bestow upon me.

  Gently reaching around me, Garrett unlatched my seatbelt. I tried not to be distracted by the warm, bare, muscular chest that pressed against my thinly covered breasts as he unbuckled me.

  Sliding one of his strong arms between the seat and my lower back, he slid the other underneath my thighs.

  “Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said softly but firmly. I happily did, tightly winding them together and squeezing him into me.

  “Not that tightly, Bella,” he gasped.

  “Oops.” I released my hold—but only slightly. I wanted him breathing but I also needed to be as close to him as humanly possible.

  Carefully he slid me out of the seat, picking me up in a cradled position and holding me tightly to his chest.

  I lay my head against him as he carried me to the front door, where Mr. McAllister stood waiting and holding it open for Garrett.

  Entering his house, I was taken with the simple beauty of the decorating. Smooth polished wood carvings hung from the walls, the furniture was all creams and grays. The place looked more like a model home or a magazine spread than a bachelor pad. Walking me through the entryway to the big open living room, Garrett delicately placed me on the cream-colored couch that faced a stone fireplace. Within was a roaring wood fire. Perfect for this uncharacteristically cool spring night.

  Pulling a soft, gray, knit blanket over me, Garrett placed a tender kiss on my forehead before walking Mr. McAllister to the door. I called my thanks to my sweet neighbor, and he gave me a relieved wave in reply.

  I sat waiting for Garrett’s return, gazing around what I could see of the house and trying to piece
together Garrett’s taste. The décor was simple, intriguing, and looked—expensive. The place was spotless. There was not a hint of clutter in sight.

  Garrett returned, pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he did.

  “Don’t.” The word was out before I thought it.

  Flashing a devilish grin, Garrett said, “You prefer me without the shirt?”

  “Yes.” I watched as the sweatshirt went back up and over, was folded neatly and placed on the back of a chair. As he walked towards me, I enjoyed the view of his tanned, bare chest, flat stomach and arms toned from hours of working on the ranch.

  Sitting down on the couch by my feet he pulled the blanket back, saying, “Let’s take a look at this ankle.”

  His brow knit with concern as he pressed lightly on my ankle. There was a little pain where he put pressure, but not much.

  “Does that hurt?” he asked as he stopped pressing.

  “Not so much.”

  “I don’t think you need ice. There’s no bruising and little swelling. I think we just need to keep you off it until we can get the doctor up to see you tomorrow. A mischievous look came to his eyes as they flashed up at me. “Want me to kiss it better?” he asked.

  My eyes widened as I nodded. Leaning down, his lips met the sore part of my ankle. He kissed it gently, then ran his fingertips over it lightly. I trembled at his touch.

  Garrett rose, coming over to me and kneeling by my head where I was propped up on the arm of the couch. His hand moved to the side of my face, gently pushing my hair from my eyes. His palm rested on my cheek as his thumb brushed over my lips.

  His dark eyes locked on mine, shining with emotion. “You know I’ll take care of you, right?”

  Holding my breath, I gave a little nod as the light touch of his thumb sent shivers down my spine.

  “I’ll always take care of my baby,” he whispered. Closing the space between us, his lips moved to where his thumb had been. I kissed him back with an abandon I had not before known. His proclamation had me desiring him within me more than even his white-hot touches.

  But all the sweet words and gentle touches could not erase the nagging question that plagued my mind. In between heated kisses, I murmured, “Garrett, why have you never invited me here before?”

  Pulling back from our embrace, a surprised glint in his eyes, he said with a shrug, “Your house is cozier.”

  I laughed in disbelief. “I thought you hated my dirty house.”

  “I do. It’s messy and dirty and to be perfectly honest, the decorating is pretty tacky. But its cozy where as my house is more…” he paused, searching for the right word.

  “Perfect?” I asked.

  “Yes. Too perfect. It can be a little… stark.”

  “I think it’s beautiful.”

  His brow wrinkled in thought. “Come to think of it, it doesn’t feel stark at all with you inside of it. Maybe you are what made your house feel so cozy.” Leaning in to kiss me again, he asked, “I don’t want to risk putting any pressure on your ankle. Think it’d be okay if I moved your leg?”

  I gave another nod having no idea what he had in mind but not wanting what he was doing to stop.

  Instead of his hands moving to my leg, they went to my waist. I sucked in my breath as his long nimble fingers unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. Pulling my jeans and panties down as one piece over my hips, he carefully moved them down my legs, lifting my right ankle when slipping them over and off on that side.

  Then he gently took my injured leg by the calf, moving it up and over the back of the couch. I was laying on my back, head propped up on the edge of the couch, one leg straight down the center of the couch, and the other sky-high bent at the knee, the back of my knee resting on the top cushion and my calf and hurt ankle straight along the back of the couch as well.

  I felt vulnerable, shy and embarrassed as my legs lay spread open in clear view of Garrett. The lights weren’t even dimmed, and it was difficult to watch him looking over my body in the full lights. Then his eyes met mine and the desire I saw there melted away any inhibitions I had. Kneeling on the couch in between my legs, I could see the telling bulge in his thin pajama pants.

  He leaned down over me, pressing his hands in the cushions on either side of me, his arms straightened, careful to support his weight. My hands wandered over his smooth chest, around the tensed muscles of his shoulders, his back. I could feel his eyes watching my face as I did.

  “My God, Bella. You are such a beauty.” Kissing my forehead, then each cheek, lightly in turn, he mused, “A natural beauty.”

  His weight shifted to his left hand as his right hand lifted from the cushion, moving down towards my waist. I felt the tip of his finger slip into my damp curls. Sliding up and down my dripping slit, I mewed as my hips ground into his couch in the most un-ladylike manner. Then his finger slipped inside me and I gasped as he whispered in my ear, “Nice and wet.”

  Pulling back from me, he knelt on the couch again. I gazed upon him in all his glory, as his hands slid down his bare chest, towards the waistband of his pants. Slowly, he lowered them, freeing his hardened cock as it sprang out above the pushed down elastic of the waist of his pants.

  I’m sure my eyes widened at the sheer size and perfection of his member because a small satisfied, humored smile crossed his lips.

  Leaning back down over me, his hands pressed back into the cushions at my sides. He teasingly pressed just the tip of his cock against my weeping, begging entryway. I moved my hips down trying to get him inside of me. With another smile he moved back slightly until he was no longer making contact with my sex. I gave a little crying noise and a pout, whispering, “Please.”

  “Please what?” he asked a glimmer in his eyes.

  “Please put it in me,” I begged.

  “Like this?” he murmured as he shoved the head of his cock into my entrance, then paused.

  “More!” I begged.

  “Don’t you mean pretty please?”

  “Pretty please with a cherry on top!” He plunged his full length inside of me, pausing, then pulling back almost all the way out before plunging in again. My eyes closed, and my head leaned back and to the side. My lower back arched as he pumped inside me. With a mind of their own, my hips moved up and down, bucking hard, meeting his pelvis in animal like abandon.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asked with a dark chuckle.

  “Oh, so much better. I can’t even feel it. Keep doing what you’re doing. I think it’s healing me.”

  “What if I go harder, would that make it feel even better?”

  “Yes. Harder and faster and I think I will be cured.”

  “You’re adorable, you know that,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

  “Just fuck me, Garrett. Hard.”

  Throwing his head back, he laughed as he obeyed my commands—a first in our relationship.

  And thank God he did. After only a few moments of his hard thrusting, my fingertips were clawing into his shoulders as our bodies curled against one another in an explosion of mutual bliss.

  The next morning over homemade pancakes and sausage, I rested my ankle on top of Garrett’s coffee table. Sipping at my second cup of sugary French vanilla creamer with a splash of coffee, I sighed with utter and absolute contentment.

  Seeing the doctor out after stuffing him with pancakes, I heard Garrett shutting the door. After clearing up my dishes and placing fresh ice over the ankle—doctor’s orders—Garrett sat down beside me on his couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

  I snuggled into the cozy nook his arm and chest created.

  “Bella.”

  “Yes,” I said, giving another contented sigh.

  “Would you move in with me?”

  I sat up, surprised at the proposal. All the hard, bossy edges were gone from Garrett’s handsome face. His eyes were warm and sincere, and something I had never seen before—pleading.

  “I just want to take care of you and it’d be easier to do if you were
here—not somewhere else. And besides I hate being away from you.”

  “And I have nowhere to live,” I chimed in with a cheeky smile.

  “Not because of that, Bella. I could get you another apartment if that’s what you wanted. I just—I want you close by me. Always.”

  I looked down at my lap twiddling my fingers nervously. “I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to live with someone that I’m not…”

  “What?”

  “Engaged to.”

  A devilish grin spread across his handsome face. “Have I not proposed, yet?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  My breath caught in my throat as Garrett Love, my boss and my boyfriend got down on one knee in front of me.

  With a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “Bella Buchanan, I am proposing…”

  “Yes?” I asked with baited breath, my eyes widening and my heart thumping against the cage of my chest.

  “I am proposing… to propose one day, soon.”

  “What a dirty trick, Garrett!” I cried slugging him in the shoulder. “Dirty rotten trick.”

  Laughing he took his seat next to me on the couch, throwing a relaxed arm around me. “Do you really think I would propose like this, in my living room, still wearing my pajamas from last night? That’s no story for a bride to be to share with her girlfriends.”

  I sat, pouting.

  Leaning in, his tone more serious, he said, “But a proposal is coming, Bella. That I promise. I’ve been planning.”

  “You have? Planning what?”

  “The rest of my life. With you by my side. You remember when I said Evan inherits half of what is mine?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s because the other half goes to Bella Buchanan. I decided weeks ago it was time to start thinking about asking you to marry me. But I wanted to talk it over with Jessica and Ray first. Be sure they understood and that I had my business in order before I asked you to promise the rest of your life to me. So—you see—it is coming.”

  Speechless, I sat frozen on the couch, my mouth hanging open dumbly. He had done that for me? Planned to give me half of his inheritance? Told Jessica and Ray of his plans to propose?