A door creaks behind me.
“Morning,” Happy says, sauntering out as she rubs one eye with a knuckle.
“Bed head looks good on you,” I say, peering over my shoulder as she stretches her arms up.
“I’m not so sure about that, but thanks. I’m sorry again for storming off. Token gift in exchange for forgiveness?” She hands me a fortune cookie.
I graze her skin for longer than I should.
“I pushed too far,” I say. “I’m the sorry one. Speaking of gifts, coffee?”
“Please. Black.” She yawns and sags into the rocker next to mine.
“Sleep well?”
“Amazingly, yes. This is nice, clean air. Plus, those night sounds—toads and owls, right?” Her silky, blue robe rides up her thigh, exposing her panties and drawing my eyes like a magnet.
I look away after an indulging few seconds. Today needs to be about trust. Her trusting me not to push, but she makes it nearly impossible. I’m like a kid in a candy store around her and she’s every forbidden sweet and perfectly wrapped piece I’m not allowed to taste.
“Yeah, toads and owls. Coyotes too. Did you hear all that howling?”
“That wasn’t you?” She snorts then nibbles her cookie.
I crush mine, taking the wrinkled paper in my fingertips. “Love can last a lifetime if you want it to.” I pass the fortune to Happy. “You hold on to this one. I already believe.”
She scrunches her nose and wiggles around in her chair, causing her robe to fall open between her breasts. “You can’t pass a fortune on. You open it, it’s yours. Kind of like once you lick a chocolate in a box, you claim it.” She sips her coffee and flops one leg over the arm of her rocker.
Is she oblivious to what I’m seeing? This pose… Damn her. Her knees are spread, which allows me to see the scant panel of her panties riding between her cheeks. I need a shower. She is going to be the death of my dick. I clear my throat, adjust my groin, and prepare for another Hard Dick comment as her stare finds my hand and impossible-to-hide hard-on.
“I’m more of a hole-poker than a licker,” I say. She studies my chest for a few seconds and licks her lips before they land on the edge of her cup. The faintest crack of a smile sends a pang to my gut. Are we doing this or not? I don’t know how to read her.
“Seriously? Before I’ve finished my first cup of coffee?”
“I meant chocolate,” I tell her. “Since I was a kid, I’ve always poked holes in the bottoms to see which ones I want. Who the hell wants a cherry in all that cream?”
“Isn’t that what you keep poking at me about?”
“I know I’m walking a fine line here, but you come prancing out here in that slinky robe, those sexy little panties, and stiff nipples. You, little bluebird, are a box of chocolates. All of them. And yes, I want to poke holes. I want your cherry and cream. I know, once I take another bite of you, I will not put you back in the box. You make being around you impossible. So, if you want me to stop, and you want my eyes elsewhere, and you want me to quit telling you how much I want you, I suggest you put on more clothes and stop looking so goddamned sexy without trying.”
Happy snugs her robe closed and crosses her legs. “You’re a grown man, not a rocket bomb of eighteen-year-old testosterone. Control yourself, or go take a cold shower. And thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“Yeah,” she says, giggling. Her cheeks flame, her lips twist into a pucker, and she flips her eyes up. “I’m not sure how many hard-ons you’ve had for me. I’ve stopped counting.”
“Well, no shit. So have I. And you’re welcome.”
She busts her cookie open, crumbles dusting her lap. “Now, let’s see what mine says. ‘Fortune favors the brave.’” She rolls her eyes. “Blah, blah, blah. They must print that one more than any of the others.” She wads up the tiny paper and lobs it at me.
“Or maybe you keep getting it for a reason.”
“You’re kind of like a blind watchmaker trying to figure me out.”
“And you are like a candle in the dark.” I place my hands on her cheeks, leaning in, almost kissing her.
Everything about it is so right—until her eyes widen.
“Dammit. I cannot help myself around you,” I mutter as we pull apart.
Happy sips her coffee in silence for a few minutes, though I catch her from the corner of my eye checking me out. I’m tempted to call her out on it, but the heat of her stare is too pleasurable to interrupt.
“Are we about to be ambushed?” She slaps my knee as a lone rider gallops toward us.
“Technically, an ambush is a trap, you know. A surprise attack. He’s probably harmless.” As he gets closer, I realize how wrong I am.
“I should nickname you ambush.” Happy tears a chunk of pastry off and stuffs it in her mouth, her eyes blazing as the rider nears.
“I think you’d hear me coming, sweetheart. I’m not quiet about it.” I walk to the edge of the deck then speak over my shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re thinking about me at all.”
“Holy smokes, cowboy. Who the hell is that?”
My gut tightens as I squeeze my hands into fists. “Tuck Roscoe.”
“Hunt,” Tuck says as his horse slides to a homerun stop, kicking up a storm of soil and flying pebbles.
“Tuck.” I nod and clench my jaw.
He grins. Tuck grew up on this ranch, and every summer, he was my best friend all over again. Until he stole my cowgirl from under my nose.
“Came to offer my condolences. Sorry ’bout your grandfather.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Tuck jumps off his horse and saunters toward the deck. His metal spurs clink with each pace. Happy sucks in a sharp breath as he walks up the steps like he’s wearing concrete boots. He slides his gloves off and puts his hand out to mine. After we shake, he turns to Happy, removes his hat, and opens a hand to her. When he takes her hand to his lips, she moans. My heart sinks from the way her eyes sparkle as she licks her lips. Looks like three of us are getting fucked in the next two weeks. Though I’m none too pleased I’m getting it now.
Chapter 23
The badassedest ever x a gazillion
Happy
“Je-sus.” I laugh as Tuck and his horse gallop away.
“He’d fuck you once. Then you’ll have it crossed off your plan.” Hunt shoves a hand through his hair while sinking into his chair.
“Oh, you are cute jealous. I don’t usually find that trait to be endearing in a man, but, somehow, I’m kind of turned on by it with you.” I scratch the thick stubble on his jaw and receive a cocky smirk.
He grabs my wrist and I take a few seconds to ogle his chest. I could rock-climb it. Hunt Hard Dick is shirtless, and I want to touch him like he’s mine. I want to lean over and smell his skin then taste it. I want to see if those muscles are as hard as they look. Not to mention his dick, which always seems to be hard. For me.
Tuck is hot. Though Hunt is trouble. And, I’m beginning to think, a man who could break me down beyond a one-time thing. Maybe I’ll put “fall in love” into my plan once and for all. In pen. Planning love, bless my stupid frickin’ heart for thinking I can plan that too!
“Jealous? I’m not interested in a one-time thing. You know it won’t be that way when you’re with me.”
“There’s that confidence again. Give me a break. Are you telling me, if I stripped down right now, you’d have nothing to say? You’d walk away?”
“Shit, I’d have plenty to say. Might even have plenty to do. But you’re convinced you want it one time. I’ll have to persuade you to think of your virginity as something more special than that. Not a one-time thing to just fling at some random guy like a bra you’re tired of wearing.”
“I’ll get out of your way while you climb onto your soapbox.” Carrying my cup of coffee, I disappear into the tent. “Damn plan,” I mutter, opening my journal. With a shaky hand, I write the words fall in love and Hunt on the same line as lose virgi
nity. I swallow over a nervous flutter in my throat, then smile. Well, that was brave. Go me.
Then I text Cece.
Me: what do I do?
Cece: fin-a-fucking-ly
Me: I’m serious
Cece: Just let it all happen naturally, and don’t freak about your skin
Me: That’s all you’re giving me?
Cece: You know the rest. He is in love with you according to Lucy
Me: WTF…that’s bad.
Cece: No, it’s awesome. And you cannot forget to be awesome too.
“Hey,” Hunt says from the other side of the door as he knocks. My heart jumps. He’s in love? This is not good. It’s too fast.
“Give me an eight-letter word for stubborn. I can only come up with rigorist, and that’s not working.”
“Try adamant. No, wait. That’s only seven letters. Um, how about unlimber if that’s even a word, or what about ironclad?”
“Ironclad. Perfect! For you and my puzzle.”
I spring off my bed and storm out the door with my journal. “You know what? I’m working on my plan as we speak. You’d be astonished if you saw the kinds of things I’m adding. So don’t get all cocky or I’ll need to reconsider what I’m reconsidering.”
“I was joking. Humor is a good stress reliever.” He inches toward me and leans into my ear. “Just like orgasms.”
Damn him. It’s like his voice is dipped in caramel. Why does he have to sound so good, look so persuasive? He holds my stare for seconds, his loud swallows and lip-licking as he searches my face all a bit too enticing. He’s not just beautiful—he’s every bit of good and strong and tender and scary as all fucking get out stuffed into a muscled, belted man.
He places his hands on my waist, his fingers pressing into skin, connecting to all my nerve endings.
“You’re really working on the plan, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. It’s everything for me right now.” I pull away, clutching the journal to my chest. “If I can conquer this list, I won’t be… God, what am I doing? Never mind.”
He is too easy to talk to. It’s like the guy is picking my lock right under my nose.
“You won’t be what?” Hunt asks, tugging on the bottom of my robe. Maybe if he tugged it right off me like he did that paper gown I’d stop thinking.
I glance down to his thumb stroking up and down my thigh.
“Tell me,” he says, moving closer. Too close. He leans in, his jaw brushing along mine when he whispers, “Tell me what you won’t be and let me in. Let me help you with your plan.”
I delay my answer as his jaw stays pressed to mine, and his hand flattens on my leg and slides up onto my hip, then rests on my underwear. He leans his forehead onto mine as his breaths become shallow. And that sound of him has my gut and my heart bouncing off each other, not knowing where to land.
“Tell me,” he repeats.
“I won’t be, um…” I swallow, wishing the word I need to say wasn’t my truth. “Six-letter word for impaired.”
“Broken?” he asks, cupping my jaw with one hand as he tilts his head and allows his eyes to roam my face again. “You feel broken? That’s okay. Broken people can be fixed. You’ve already decided you don’t want to be broken. That alone is a stumbling block for most.”
“I know it sounds cliché. So lame. I don’t know what else to call myself. Maybe I should go with soul-super-gluing-in-progress. But that’s a little wordy. I’ll tell you this much. I just added two things to my list proving that I want to fix me. Two awesome things!” I drop my journal then run and jump off the steps.
Hunt laughs as I strut around.
“What did you add?” he asks, scooping my journal off the ground.
I charge up the stairs, my heart pounding as he holds the journal above his head. “It’s private. Give it to me.” I swat at his hand, then grab the back of his neck and pull his ear to my mouth. “Please don’t look in there. I don’t want you to see my secrets.”
“Secrets?” he says as he places the journal in my hands. “I want all of your secrets.”
I smile through trembling lips, my eyes pricked with tears when I whisper, “I mean plan.”
Chapter 24
Clue~ seven-letter word for provocative
*teasing
HUNT
An hour later and I’m still thinking about it. Two more things on her list. Secrets. Shit, what I wouldn’t do to peek in her journal again. Was it Tuck she added on the list? There was no mistaking the lust in her eyes when he kissed her hand. And what would the other thing be? For a girl who claims to be broken, she sure seems motivated to want to fix herself.
While I’m out watering the horses in the corral my phone dings.
Lucy: Hey cowboy, how’s the round-up coming along
Me: Nice work babe, I owe you
Lucy: Everybody needs a little behind the scenes helper once in a while
Me: This might be slow going, but being with her. Fuck!
Lucy: No action yet?
Me: Not the kind you’re thinking, I’ll keep you posted.
I stroll back to the tent hoping Happy’s changed her mind about going on a ride.
“Hey, shmoop. What are you doing in there?” I ask, tapping on her door.
“Working on a climax.”
“You need some help?”
“A column. Sheesh!” She pulls back the canvas covering the screen door between us seconds later.
“You want to stop climaxing and go for a horseback ride with me?”
“No.” She blushes and shakes her head. “I think I’ll go for a hike instead.”
“Suit yourself. It’s an awfully beautiful day for a ride,” I say, pressing my forehead onto the screen.
“Maybe tonight? Sunset? If I have a glass of wine in me, I’ll mount one of those big, hairy things and ride it like a real cowgirl.” Her eyes glitter, and she smiles then draws her bottom lip through her teeth.
“You really have a way of putting things, woman.”
“Yeah? I could say the same for you.”
“I’ll see you later, then.” I tip the front of my hat down.
“Enjoy your ride,” she says, placing a palm on the screen.
I place my hand against hers, and for a few seconds, we remain in a stare until she looks down and lets her hand fall. Sometimes, she’s miles away; other times, she’s like a button sewn to my heart.
After riding for hours with a crew of twenty horsemen to move cattle to higher elevations, I journey back to the tent. The creak of my saddle and the wind whistling through the trees and the meadows bring a brief tightening to my throat. Over twenty years at this place with my grandfather and I’m riding alone. Maybe I can convince Happy to go for a ride tonight. A bottle of wine and a picnic? Yes.
I stop at the main corral en route to the tent and saddle up Birdie, a sweet palomino who’s usually ridden by kids. She’ll be perfect for Happy’s first time. At least I’m calling one V-card.
Now, one more stop: the kitchen.
With my horse—Houdini—and Birdie tied to the hitching post, I wander into the main ranch kitchen. The scent of onions frying in butter and the charred smell of sausage pull at my heartstrings.
“Clara,” I say to the stocky woman smacking a whisk against a bowl.
“There’s my boy. You handsome brute!” The whisk falls from her hand with a clang, and she shuffles my way, grinning as she wipes her hands across her apron. Her jewel-like, topaz eyes mist with tears when she pats my face. “I’m sorry he’s gone, dear. I will miss him terribly.”
She wraps her arms around my middle. “Thank you. He always had a crush on you.”
“It wasn’t a crush, son,” she says, tapping my nose. “It was a consummated affair. Only after your grandmother died, of course. I would never cross that line.” Her face flushes. “I hear you’ve got a pretty young thing with you. You better keep her in your clutches. You know Tuck.” She purses her lips.
How she’s forgiven him is bey
ond me. I never will. Not for the first time or for the second.
“That I do. Speaking of my pretty girl, I was hoping I could get a special picnic for tonight. This girl is unique, and—”
“Not yours yet? How any woman could pass up a man who wears his soul on his sleeve I don’t understand. You and your grandfather… Cut from the same cloth.”
I run a finger through the layer of dust on the window ledge, reminded of how I used to wash them to receive my own cast-iron pan of berry cobbler in return. “Maybe so. But I think I’m missing some of his lady charmer qualities.”
“Impossible. How about I fix up a nice spread and have Wild Bill bring it out to your tent pre-sunset. I’ll have him leave it on your deck inside a cooler, it might rain later.”
“You’re the best. I really appreciate it.” I snatch a piece of charred sausage from the pan on the stove and pop it in my mouth.
“I’ll sprinkle it with a little catnip,” she says, winking. “Please send your lady friend my way. I need to see what sort of girl would turn her nose up at you. Last girl you brought here was that Silly or whatever her name was. She wasn’t right for you, wandering eyes at you know who.”
Yeah. I fucking know who. The same who that’d better stay the hell away from Happy.
Chapter 25
Bravery equals silent demons
Happy
Despite the afternoon heat and a trickle of sweat rivering down my body, I continue on my hike. A massive, green barn lures me down a dusty trail, and a portly, pregnant tabby cat meows as she follows. I drag my hand across multicolored horse blankets hung over a fence as wind kicks up and a sweet mustiness drifts through the air.
A petite, gray horse whose attention I’ve caught crosses the corral to meet me. Her prickly, whiskered nose nuzzles my fingertips.
“Hold your hand flat.”
I spin and see Tuck’s silhouette through the dust-filled sunlight as he saunters down the center of the barn. He dips his hand into his front pocket to retrieve a toothpick, which he slides into the edge of his mouth. Chaps. Sweaty denim. Short beard and tattoos. Holy gun smoke.
Of Winged Creatures & Nesting Grounds: (A Quirky, Sexy, Dirty Doctor Romance) Page 11