Hand Me The Reins (Bachelor Auction Book 3)

by Vanessa Vale

  Claire scooped up Sandy and hugged her close. The puppy wriggled, then licked her face, making her giggle.

  It was impossible not to smile at a five-year-old with her first dog.

  “Did you get her a dog bed?” I asked.

  She looked up from Sandy and shook her head. Her blonde hair was in two short braids that swung back and forth. “She’s going to sleep in my bed. And read with me.”

  I fake frowned. “I thought you read with me.”

  “You’re silly, Uncle Thatch. I also read with Daddy and now Sarah.”

  While Sarah had her own house downtown, she’d spent every night since she and Huck worked things out here at the ranch. I’d thought Alice would not be thrilled with the two of them sharing a bedroom, but she hadn’t said a word. In fact, she’d whisked Claire off on errands often enough so the lovebirds could have alone time.

  Like now, Alice had dropped Claire off at my house, the converted barn beyond the stable, saying Huck and Sarah were napping and that Claire could visit with me so the house was quiet. Alice had said that with a miraculously straight face, although she’d given me a wink over Claire’s head.

  “Daddy loves Sarah.”

  They’d dated years ago. He’d loved her then. Still did. I was happy for them and Sarah was going to keep my grumpy older brother on his toes. And satisfied in bed. And most likely a daddy again soon enough if they took enough naps.

  “I think you’re right, Sprout.”

  “I love Sandy,” she added. “What about you?”

  I scratched my head. “I love Sandy, too.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “No. Do you love the lady person who bought you? Daddy loves Sarah and Seesaw loves Miss Kelsey.” Kelsey had been Claire’s preschool teacher for a few months. “So you have to love who bought you.”

  I thought of Astrid. I didn’t love her. I barely knew her. But I was intrigued. And that kiss. I shifted in the straw. The soft feel of her body pressed into mine or the way she’d all but melted into the office door as I kissed the hell out of her was all I’d thought about since she’d stopped at the bar. I would see her all weekend and I planned on kissing her again. And more.

  I might be a fake boyfriend, but she was into it. Into me. Us. Kissing.

  “It doesn’t always work out that way,” I said.

  “What’s her name? The lady who bought you.”

  “Astrid.”

  “Loving is easy,” she replied.

  I frowned, but Claire was known for saying confusing things. “What do you mean, Sprout?”

  She pursed her little lips as she considered. Then she kissed the top of Sandy’s head. “I just love Sandy. I want to keep her forever. She wasn’t even borned when there was snow on the ground and now she’s going to be mine to keep.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Seeing her every day, hugging her, it’s easy to love her.”

  She let go of Sandy and the puppy ran off, tumbled with a sibling, then raced back to Claire and flopped down in front of her. “See? Sandy loves me too and she can’t even talk.”

  “Dogs are great to love,” I admitted. I loved Maple. “They’re always happy to see you and love to give you kisses.”

  “Daddy loves Sarah. He hugs her all the time. And kisses her.”

  “True, but they had to work hard to be together.”

  “Yeah, he said he was working on it, and he did and now she’s here. The love part was easy.”

  In Huck’s case, that made sense. For me? Nah.

  “And Seesaw?” I asked, calling Sawyer by what Claire had given him when she couldn’t pronounce his name properly.

  She shrugged her little shoulders. “Miss Kelsey goes into town and Seesaw misses her.”

  If he were a dog, he’d probably howl with loneliness that she got her own place.

  “But he loves her,” she added.

  “What are you saying?” I asked. “That people leave and it’s okay to love them? What does that have to do with me?”

  Claire scratched her button nose. “If you hug them and it’s easy, then it’s love. Even if they go away.”

  But what if they don’t come back?

  That was what I wanted to ask Claire, but that was a little deep for a five-year-old. Her grandparents—my parents—had gone away and never came back. They’d climbed into their Piper Cub and crashed, dying instantly.

  That had destroyed me. All of us. Huck had taken to loving too deeply, not giving up on Sarah even with a six-year separation. Sawyer had been wanting love, just like Momma and Daddy had. He’d finally found it with Kelsey.

  But me? I wasn’t going to pick anyone. It was too risky. The idea of finding a love like my parents and then losing her… I wouldn’t be able to handle it. It was better to avoid love.

  Safer. That was why I’d considered Kent’s offer and definitely why I’d finally said yes.

  I thought of Astrid. The kiss we’d shared—it was a hell of a lot more than a hug—had been easy. Amazing. She’d been right there with me even though we both weren’t interested in anything serious. I wanted to kiss her again. And again because she felt… like something exciting. Something different. I didn’t recognize it or understand it.

  I thought of her in the shower when rubbing one out. She’d moved to the prime spank bank fantasy spot. But it was more than that. I thought of her green eyes. The way she blushed. Her smile. Her scent.

  Yeah, all those things were why I could be her fake boyfriend for the weekend, but that was it.

  I pushed to my feet, brushed straw off the back of my jeans. “Come on, Dr. Ruth. Let’s take Maple and the puppies out to the field.”

  She hopped to her feet. “I’m not Ruth. I’m Claire!” she shouted, then giggled when Sandy and another puppy nipped at her shoelaces.

  It was better not to analyze it. Claire’s love logic and the fact that I was listening to a five-year-old.

  Once outside, Claire ran off, all the puppies chasing her. Maple went and did her business, then dropped down in the sunshine for a snooze.

  Huck and Claire came around the corner hand in hand.

  “Done napping?” I asked.

  They looked well rested. Or well satisfied.

  Huck smirked and Sarah rolled her eyes.

  “You still going to Cutthroat this weekend?” Huck asked.

  I leaned against the exterior wall of the stable. “Yes.”

  “Be careful, Thatcher,” Sarah said. “Astrid’s not like other women.”

  I pushed off the wall, reached down and snagged a blade of grass. “What other women?”

  There wasn’t a parade of them coming out of my place doing a walk of shame.

  “Exactly.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Claire got knocked down by one of the puppies and now they were climbing all over her. Her giggling carried on the light breeze. Sarah walked over to her leaving me with Huck.

  “You’re leaving in two months,” he explained. “You told Kent yes.” Meaning my winter-long stay in Cozumel.

  “And I’m going to what, love Astrid and leave her with a broken heart? She bought me.”

  “Yeah, and look what happened with Kelsey and Sarah.”

  “You got handcuffed to your headboard and Sawyer got kneed in the balls. Astrid wants me to be her fake boyfriend. Fake. She’s set the ground rules with that.”

  Huck eyed me like he would a suspect, silently waiting for me to crack. I wasn’t going to tell him about the smokin’ hot kiss or that I wanted to do it again.

  “Maybe she’s not the one I’m worried about,” he said.

  “You’re worried about me? Why?”

  “Why are you going to Mexico?” He’d left off his hat after his nap and he ran a hand over his close-cut hair. He and Sawyer looked like our parents. I looked like I was adopted.

  I stared at him wide eyed. “Um… Mexico. In the winter. What is there to explain?”

  Turning to avoid him, I watched th
e girls with the puppies. Maple had gone over and was nudging her babies to stay nearby. She was keeping her loved ones close.

  I was running away. I wasn’t going to tell him that kissing Astrid scared the shit out of me. That the safest place to be where she was concerned was in another country.

  “You’ve got the barn you just finished converting. A bar you love. I’d say you’re running away.”

  I couldn’t really argue, so I deflected. “When there’s three feet of snow on the ground, think of me in the hot sun and sand between my toes.”

  “When there’s three feet of snow on the ground, I’m going to think about nothing but being inside Sarah.”

  I instantly thought of Astrid. Which meant I was fucked.

  7

  Friday

  I pulled into the bakery’s small lot and parked my truck. After the little makeout session last Saturday—that was what I was calling it because I’d pulled my hand from Astrid’s perfect tit and let her walk out of my office while my dick was hard and dripping pre-cum down the leg of my jeans—we hadn’t talked other than her texting me that the wedding wasn’t black tie and to meet her here to drive to Cutthroat together.

  Astrid was standing at the back of a van that had her bakery logo and Flour Power on the side. The doors were open and a fancy cake sat within. My eyes homed in on her ass. I licked my lips because that was what I wanted to take a bite out of. Today she wore a green sundress that only highlighted her wide hips and narrow waist.

  It was impossible not to imagine moving in behind her, tossing the hem of her dress up and over her back and bending her forward into her van and taking her hard. I’d watch my dick sink into her pussy, savor the way her ass would sway every time I slapped my hips against it.

  Shifting in my seat, I realized none of her relatives would doubt I had a thing for Astrid since my dick was going to be hard all weekend.

  The way she’d responded in my office last Saturday meant she was right there with me. The chemistry between us was undeniable—and we’d only kissed, but the rest? She’d bought me at an auction. Bought me.

  This was transactional. No strings.

  I knew where I stood with her, and it wasn’t behind her with my dick in her pussy.

  I was her wingman. Her fake boyfriend. That was all.

  Right?

  If her ex, the stodgy-sounding Edward, had any second thoughts about Astrid, he was going to be sporting a black eye in the wedding photos.

  He’d had his chance.

  When I’d first agreed, I thought this was going to be easy. A piece of cake, no pun intended. But as I made my way across the lot to Astrid, I was second guessing that.

  When she turned to face me and gave me a huge smile, I was in big trouble. She blushed, hopefully remembering how I’d cupped her breast and played with the hard nipple. It was something I hadn’t forgotten, even relived every time I’d been in the shower since. And out.

  “Hi,” she breathed.

  I leaned down and kissed her cheek, tipping my head so my hat didn’t bump her. Yeah, fucking vanilla.

  “That your sister’s cake?”

  She peeked at it the way a mother would ensure her child was safely secured in a car seat. “It is. I’d usually put the tiers on after I get there, but Amy wants to see it finished and I won’t have time to do the finishing touches later.”

  “I’m not all that familiar with wedding cakes, but it sure is pretty.”

  I counted four tiers. White frosting. Flowers all over it in shades of white to pale yellow and pale pink. It was elaborate and… well, impressive.

  “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t think you could get flowers that color around here.”

  “I made them.”

  Made them?

  I took a second glance at the cake. Leaned closer to get a better look, but I knew not to touch. Each petal was curved and angled to perfection. I’d swear they were real. “They’re not real?”

  “Nope. You can eat them.”

  Turning, I looked to Astrid. “You’re really talented.” I wasn’t lying. The work she’d done was incredible. The amount of detail and artistry...

  She sighed and gave me a pleased look.

  “Thanks. Are you ready to go? I don’t mean to rush you but while the cake’s been in the fridge, I’ve got to get the van going and the air conditioning running before it softens,” she said.

  “You’re transporting it like that?” I pointed, worried.

  She nodded. “Like I said, usually I’d transport each tier in a box and build it at the reception location, finishing off some of the piping and flower work then, but Amy… well, this has dowels in it and should keep it secure. There’s a yoga mat underneath so the half box doesn’t slip. And as you can see I’ve built a little area that holds the box in place.”

  I took in the wooden frame she’d made that kept things from sliding around. Obviously, she’d done this before and knew what she was doing.

  Taking my truck wasn’t an option. It wasn’t like a wedding cake could sit in the pickup truck’s open bed.

  “I’ll grab my bag and we can go.”

  When I returned, she was opening the driver’s door.

  “Hang on, sweets,” I called, then snagged the keys from her hand when I got close. “I have no problem taking your van, but I’m driving.”

  She shook her head and glanced toward the back, as if she had Superman eyes and could see the cake inside.

  “Unless we’re headed to the ER because I’m bleeding out, and maybe even then, I drive my woman around.”

  She frowned behind her glasses. “Sexist, much?”

  I stroked my fingers over her hair. Took in the way it was down her back in thick waves. It was the first time I’d seen it down and it was gorgeous. It was like a chocolate curtain, silky and undeniably sexy. Fuck, she was pretty.

  “Nah,” I replied. “You’ve worked hard on that cake and I’m guessing you got up at four. I’m giving you a break. I know you can drive, sweets. Driving is how I take care of you.”

  “I don’t know,” she said with some doubt. “The cake—”

  “You think I’d drive reckless with you on board?”

  Her eyes widened slightly, and she slowly shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s right. The cake will be fine. If he were alive, my daddy’d kick my ass to Broadwater County if I didn’t treat a lady with respect.”

  She quietly relented and went around to the passenger side, giving me a glance or two as she did so. Hadn’t she ever had anyone take care of her before?

  I’d normally open the door for her, but she’d already made one concession and didn’t want to push it. This time.

  It took about ten minutes of driving for Astrid to relax and not dart glances at the cake. I wasn’t a crazy driver usually, but now I pretended there wasn’t a cake in the back but a big bowl of gravy that I didn’t want to spill. The idea of damaging the cake she’d made to such perfection for what sounded like a bridezilla sister made my palms sweat. Not that I’d tell her that. Ever.

  “I’m surprised you’re walking away from your business for the weekend.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught an eye roll. “It’s not easy to do, that’s for sure. Mary, my assistant, is covering, and I trust her. I double baked this morning so there will be enough for the weekend.”

  I didn’t know exactly what that meant, other than she’d been up since before dawn and was still awake. That was impressive in itself.

  “You want to tell me about your family and what I’m walking into?” I asked, switching topics.

  Cutthroat was a little over an hour from The Bend and we had some time on our hands.

  The air conditioner was cranked and I wanted to send out a thank you to the inventor because Astrid’s nipples were poking against the soft fabric of her dress. I remembered how responsive one had been beneath my thumb.

  “It might be better going in blind.”

  “Why’s t
hat?” I asked.

  She glanced at me, then fiddled with her fingers. “Some families are crazy. Loving, but insane. Mine are… mine.”

  That explained nothing, but if she wasn’t in the wedding party because she didn’t fit into a dress, then I had a feeling she was following the rule of if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

  As for bridesmaid dress not fitting, I had no idea what kind of weird-ass style the ladies would wear, but Astrid fit perfectly in the one she had on. It was sleeveless, the green the same color as her eyes. The neckline dipped in a V accenting her large breasts, but not flaunting them. A slim shiny black belt circled her waist which made the flirty skirt flare out. It rode up a little since she was sitting, and the peek of bare thigh made my mouth dry. Combining all that with cowgirl boots, she was fucking gorgeous. Simple and understated, but she didn’t need flashy. Today she had a hint of makeup on. There was definitely something shiny on her lips which I wanted to smudge and kiss right off.

  Hell, I wanted to tell her to flip up the hem of her dress and show me the color of her panties, but… fake boyfriend.

  I cleared my throat and wondered if the air conditioning could go any lower. “How about a brief rundown.”

  She sighed. “Sure. There’s my mom and dad. My father is a doctor. Cardiology. My mother is a stay-at-home mom, even though I moved out when I went to college. Amy, my sister, is two years older than me and still lives with them. She’s marrying a guy from the country club. Michael. He’s an accountant. There’s Edward, my ex. Then friends of Amy and Michael I’m sure we’ll meet tonight for the coed bachelor/bachelorette party.”

  “Miss Turnbuckle’s your great-aunt, so will she be coming to the wedding?”

  She nodded, then tucked her hair behind her ear. I wanted to get my fingers tangled in those long tresses. Tug her head back and—

  “On Sunday, yes. She’s my father’s aunt.”

  “No others?” I wondered.

  “There are a few more relatives coming. No one worth mentioning, although it is my plan after I drop off the cake that I have a drink in hand all the way until we leave on Sunday.”