by Aliyah Burke
“Afternoon, Dustin,” she said.
“Samantha.”
Her lips twisted up wryly. “Finn, please.”
She didn’t look like a Finn. That was a man’s name. And she was in no way a man. No man looked like her, nor elicited a response in him so visceral, so raw, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
He knew what he wanted to do to her, just wasn’t sure what to do with what she did to him. Dustin shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable so close because of his need to touch her. His gaze drifted over her as she spoke easily to Connor. She wore earrings at the top of her ear and one in the lobe. Silver. Simple.
This woman portrayed a completely different picture than the pixie who’d listened to him at the non-wedding. His pixie. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t attracted to her now, however. Even dirty and sweaty he truly wanted to take her in his arms and remove every stitch of her clothing.
“Bye, Finn.”
Connor’s statement snapped him from the thoughts of exposing her body to his view, bit by tantalizing bit, so he could enjoy each inch of her. Take his time and explore her. When he finished, he would start all over again.
Wait, Connor said bye.
Dustin lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes watched him and when she realized he noticed, she glanced away, a slight flush to her cheeks. Could she be interested in him?
“Bye, Dustin.” She waved and walked away, removing her apron as she went. He took a moment to admire the sway of her ass in her denim jeans.
“Way to be talkative,” Connor snipped. “Damn man, you’re pathetic.”
He flipped his foreman off, touched his heels to his gelding, and rode off to accomplish some work, determined not to think about that brown-eyed pixie anymore. It proved to be a daunting task.
Later that night, he parked his truck in the parking lot at Denim & Spurs. First time he’d really been out since…Charlotte. Readjusting his hat, he made his way to the door. He stepped inside and gazed around, a slight smile lifting his lips at the familiar sights and sounds.
“Hey, sexy. Good to see you.”
Melissa Hariding wriggled her fingers at him as she waltzed by, a tray laden with drinks in one hand. He dragged his gaze over her retreating form with her long brown hair, tank top, cutoff jeans, and cowboy boots as she strode over the sawdust-covered floor. They’d known each other for years, had gone to school together like most people in this town. She was one of the few women he would consider a friend, and there had never been anything sexual between them. Her comment was how she greeted everyone in the bar.
“Thanks,” he called after her.
“I’ll have you a beer in a few,” she hollered over her shoulder.
He made his way through the crowd, speaking to some while receiving sympathetic looks from others, to the bar. True to her word, Melissa returned and slipped a longneck right before him.
“How are things at the Diamond J?”
“Just fine, thanks.”
The brew slid refreshingly down his throat. She winked at him and he leaned against the bar, scanning the floor. What he saw—or rather who—had him pushing away from his current position and heading to a booth in the far corner.
She sat alone, a plate of wings before her along with a bottle of beer, and there was an empty seat across from her. Dustin knew once he sat rumors would begin to fly. That was SOP, standard operating procedure, for a town like Branchwater.
“So you aren’t always working.”
Samantha—Finn please—glanced up at him. It didn’t take a genius to see he’d shocked her.
“Funny words coming from you. You work more than I do.”
He gestured with his bottle toward the seat opposite her. She waved him down and took a drink of her beer. Then he noticed there wasn’t just one, but three empties beside her.
“How long have you been here?”
She pursed her lips. “Not long enough apparently because I can somewhat coherently still carry a conversation.”
He stretched out his legs, and they brushed against hers. “Bad day?” She’d been okay when he saw her last. What had occurred since then he hadn’t a clue.
“Not great.” She pushed the wings toward him. “Help yourself. They’re hot spicy buffalo.”
“Thanks.” He noticed they were getting stares. Mostly from those who knew Charlotte. They weren’t friendly ones either. He didn’t give a damn but perhaps Samantha did. “So, gonna let me return the favor?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Favor?”
What had she been thinking? Perhaps the more important question he needed to address was why was he intrigued in finding out? “Listening.” He reached for a wing and bit into it. The heady flavor doused his tongue and sped along his taste buds. Delicious.
“You really want to hear about my problems?”
“Lay ‘em on me.”
A smile lifted the corners of her lips making her entire appearance softer. “No thanks, I’ll be fine. Just need to drink some more.”
Somehow he doubted that. “How’s work?”
“Busy actually,” she said once she finished her beer. “I wasn’t expecting to have so many of dad’s clients want to keep me on. Most places, especially around here, pre…pre…want a male farrier.”
“Some think it’s a man’s job.”
“Like you.”
She didn’t make it a question. “I was hesitant when I realized Connor had hired you. I’ll admit it.”
“Brave. Doesn’t matter, I’m used to the skepticism.” She waved a hand around. “I only came back because daddy was hurt and will be leaving as soon as he’s on his feet again.”
“Where have you been?” He wasn’t sure what to do about the news she was only here temporarily.
“Maryland. I live and work at one of the largest dressage stables there. Luckily they’re very family oriented and allowed me to come home for as long as he needs me.”
A memory flashed. “Do you still ride dressage?”
“No, not in competition anyway.”
“You miss it.” That much was obvious to him by her tone.
“I do. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything.”
He thumbed his hat back before leaning forward. “Anytime you want to go riding, feel free.”
She canted her head to the side. “We have horses, but thanks.”
Dustin held her gaze. “I know.” He wanted her riding his horses…or him. Either, both. He wasn’t picky.
Heat filled her eyes, and she reached for a wing. “I…I should go.”
“How are you getting home?”
She raised her index finger. He noticed a silver ring on her thumb. “A very good question. I must…find my keys.”
Like he was letting her drive in this condition. “Come on, I’ll take you. Can’t have you behind the wheel like this.”
“This person,” she pointed at herself, “not drunk. Buzzed.”
“This person,” he touched his chest, more specifically his heart, “doesn’t give a damn. I’m driving you home.”
She lurched to her feet, slightly waving. “Won’t that set tongues a-wagging? Dustin Kane putting me in his truck.”
He rose and steadied her, checking the booth to ensure she’d not left anything behind. Hell, he’d not even finished his beer. She had at least four, more from the looks of her. He wasn’t sure what she meant by the sneered “me” but let it go, well aware she was more than a bit buzzed and wouldn’t answer him coherently.
She held still, and he allowed himself an extra few seconds to inhale that damnable concoction she wore. Honeysuckle and jasmine.
“Let’s really give ‘em something to gossip about.” He kept her between him and the booth seat.
Trouble sparked in her eyes. “How do you propose we do that? Shall we get naked right here? You could just take me against the booth or on the table. Hell, why not both, you seem like you have the stamina to go for a long while.”
Definitely tempting. He hid
his smile at her words, knowing she was far more wasted than she’d figured if she was talking as she was. “Like this.”
Those two words were her only warning. He slanted his mouth over hers. Taking advantage of her startled gasp, he slid his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of beer, wings, and something he’d never tasted before. Samantha. Finn. Whatever she wanted him to call her.
His body came alive, blood surged to his groin, and he growled right before he hauled her tight to him. He cupped the back of her head and her ass as the kiss deepened. Moments before he almost lost all control he ended it, drawing hard on her lower lip.
“Oh.”
The word was breathy, and she remained pressed tight to him, pupils dilated, parted lips wet with his kiss. She was a woman who appeared thoroughly pleasured. And that was from only a kiss.
He imagined she would be passionate, just no idea how explosive. If their kiss were any indication, volcanic would be a place to start. Turning, he guided her to the door, hand resting possessively on her ass. Yes, that ought to do it. A smug grin on his face, he led her to his truck, past the numerous wide-eyed stares.
Oh yeah, he definitely planned on kissing her again.
She slumped over in his vehicle as he drove her out to her spread, slight snores emitting from her side. He parked close to the house and killed the headlights before they woke her father.
“Wake up, Samantha,” he said. “We’re home.”
“Oh good,” she blabbed before she fell over the other way.
“Right, you’re just buzzed,” he muttered, undoing his seatbelt and making his way around the truck to her side. Opening her door, he supported her while he undid hers and leaned her into him. Part of him wondered if it wasn’t her mental exhaustion as well as the alcohol that had put her in this state. It seemed once she allowed herself to relax she’d gotten worse.
The scent of her skin slammed into him, making his cock stand up and salute. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply. “I’m a gentleman, a fucking gentleman,” he said in a low, hard tone. “Let’s get you inside.”
“You smell nice.” She nuzzled him under the chin.
“Fuckin’ gentleman,” he forced out from between clenched teeth.
He put her feet on the ground and supported her as they walked up to the front door. He held her while they stood before it.
“Open sesame,” she said before laughing. “It didn’t work. Hocus pocus.”
“It didn’t work either, darlin’. How about a key?”
She nodded. “Good idea.”
They stared at each other in the glow from the porch light. “Where’s your key, darlin’?”
She made some faces, and he just checked her pockets. Sliding his hand into her jean pocket didn’t help the state of his cock. Her heated skin singed him through the material, and he bit back a groan.
Finally he unlocked the door and helped her through into the darkness. Closing the door quietly behind him, he bent his head to her ear. “Can you make it from here?”
He felt her head nod just as she said, “Nope.”
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“Upstairs on the right.” Her words were even more slurred now.
“Right.” Placing her keys on the table he found, he scooped her up in his arms. She giggled, and he shushed her. “You don’ wanna wake up your daddy.”
“He’s sleeping.”
He tried to ignore the press of her body in his arms. It was impossible to ignore how she felt there. It was right. He opened the first door, praying it wasn’t her father’s room and turned on the light.
The room was clean but sparse in the way of girly items. For a flash in the pan, he compared it to Charlotte’s place. Hers had been full of frills and lace. This was comfortable and functional. He liked it. The furniture was well worn but looked to be in good shape.
He placed her down on the bed and pulled her boots off. Then he stopped, knowing full well if he took anything else off of her, they would end up naked and his dick would be buried balls deep inside her.
“Sleep well, Samantha.” He brushed some hair away from her face.
She moved like a bolt of lightning, latching her arms around him. Grinding into him as much as she could from her position. She whispered, “Stay with me. Make love to me, Dustin.”
Need unlike anything he had ever experienced owned him. When he realized he was sliding his hand around her waist, he shook his head and carefully set her away from him.
“Soon, darlin’. But not with you like this.” He kissed her forehead and let himself out of the room, shutting off the light and closing the door behind him.
Taking the same care to exit the house, he made sure to lock the door before drawing it shut after him. Back in his truck he swore repeatedly while his fingers gripped the steering wheel. His cock throbbed in his jeans, and he shook his head. “Yep, goddamn fuckin’ gentleman.”
* * * *
“Finn.”
A graveled voice waded through the darkness, shaking her awake. She resisted. A hand joined the repeating voice. “Finn. Wake up.”
Grumbling under her breath, she cracked her eyes open. Her father stood there, staring down at her. Lord, her head throbbed.
“Hmm?” How she wished to close her eyes again. “Did I forget something?”
“No. You have a visitor.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Who is it?”
“Dustin Kane.”
She must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Perhaps both. There was no way Dustin Kane would be here, especially not looking for her. Had she done something foolish last night? Drinking that much had been unwise. Hell, she wasn’t even sure how she’d made it up here to her room and bed. She was fully dressed aside from her boots.
“I’ll be right down.”
“See you do.”
She sat up the moment her father left only to groan and fall back with a whimper of agony. After a few moments she tried again, slower this time, and the hammering in her skull didn’t abate as she took a swift shower and dressed.
Climbing down the stairs, she wished for some sunglasses. The entire house was bright, which normally didn’t bother her. Quite the opposite actually. Right now, she wanted to hiss and scurry to the closest, darkest corner and never leave so long as the sun shone.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and walked into the living room. Standing behind the handmade wooden sofa frame was Dustin. A moan of desire almost escaped as she took him in. Black shirt—tight black shirt—hugged his powerful arms. His jeans only emphasized the leanness of his waist and the muscled legs which more oft than not were around a horse.
Lucky damn horse.
She knew he wore cowboy boots. In all the years she’d known him, the only time he hadn’t was for football. Wiping her hands along her jeans, she went to her father’s side and kissed him.
“Sorry you had to come get me, Daddy.”
He patted her hand. “Mr. Kane was just telling me how pleased he is with the work you’ve done on his horses.”
Flushed, she ducked her head. “You taught me all I know, Daddy.”
“Never was good with compliments, this one.” Her father rose and moved from the room. “Good to see you again, son.”
“You too, sir.”
His voice, so mesmerizing, had her biting the inside of her lip. They were alone in the room, and she slowly met Dustin’s gaze. He watched her, amusement on his face.
“Rough night? Or has it been that long since you’ve drunk so much?”
She sat on the arm of the nearest chair, unsure how long her legs could hold her. “You come all the way out here to ask me about my drinking habits?” Rubbing her temples, she wished the pounding would ebb. An easy grin lifted the corners of his entirely-too-kissable mouth.
“Nope. I thought you might like a ride to retrieve your truck.”
Her truck. Crap. Still parked outside Denim & Spurs, alerting to everyone she went home with so
meone. More specifically, Dustin Kane, as he took her out of the establishment. She groaned. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
She pushed up and yawned. “Let’s go then.” He nodded once, sharply. “Back in a bit, Daddy, and I’ll take care of the horses.”
“Need some help?” Dustin asked as she shut the door behind her.
“With what?” Why couldn’t she focus on something other than how amazing his ass looked in that denim, or how he moved, smelled, anything like that?
“Horses,” Dustin said.
“I only have to throw out some hay.”
“I’ll help. Let’s go.”
She found herself headed in that direction before she realized he’d issued an order and she’d followed it.
“How many bales?”
“Six.” She started the Gator and pulled it up to the hay shed. “Damn,” she muttered, watching Dustin stride down with a bale in each hand. Flashes of being in his arms as he carried her up the stairs hit her. Then came the recollection of her asking him to sleep with her. Oh, God. I can’t believe I did that. How the hell do I go forward from here?
Dustin didn’t say a word about it to her, just put the hay in the back and went for more bales. Didn’t take them long to load the Gator and head for the pasture. He got the gate and easily hopped back into the utility vehicle beside her. She watched him in her periphery as she drove to the first stop where they’d set out some hay. How did he manage to smell and look so good?
“Sorry about waking you.”
She slid out, met him at the back where he flicked open his knife and sliced through the twine with ease. They each took two flakes and spread it around.
“I needed to be up anyway.” They progressed along the next spots, the horses coming up at a slow trot. “Did I do anything last night I need to be worried about? Or apologize for?” He grinned at her over the remaining hay. Her belly tensed as what felt like a thousand head stampeded through. It was a grin that boasted a secret of sorts. Something private. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He shrugged easily. “A bit.”
They spread out the final hay and left the pasture. Dustin wasn’t what anyone would call chatty and normally neither was she, but she found herself craving the sound of his deep melodic voice.