“Not yet.” Instead of picking her up, he repositioned her so she was sitting on the couch with her feet on the floor. “I haven’t finished my dessert.”
“Stay away from that bowl, cowboy. I’ve had enough of—”
“Not touching the bowl.” He knelt at her feet, fire in his eyes. “My dessert is you.” With calm intent, he hooked her knees over his shoulders, slid his hands under her bottom and kissed his way along her quivering inner thigh.
She was undone, dazzled by his bold move. Trembling with anticipation, she waited…
At last his tongue made contact. The jolt of pleasure shot through her, a live wire igniting sparks in every part of her eager body. With a cry of surrender, she abandoned herself to wonder, to delight, to Jake.
He gave her a climax, then another, leaving her limp and gulping for air. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her closer to the fire and laid her gently on the braided rug. A zipper buzzed, foil crackled and he moved over her, murmuring in his low, sexy voice as he slipped effortlessly into her drenched channel.
He coaxed her to another climax before claiming his own. Gasping her name, he thrust deep. She held on tight, absorbing the tremors rolling through his muscular body.
Gradually his breathing slowed. She drifted in a hazy world of warmth and comfort until a cool breeze wafted over her damp skin as he left. Soft material blocked the chill.
Safe. Happy. Strong arms carried her to bed. She slept.
Sometime during the night, she woke, disoriented when she touched a warm, solid body lying next to her. “What the—”
“It’s me.” He wrapped her in his arms. “Jake.”
“Oh.” She sighed and nestled into the shelter of his embrace. The hard length of his cock pressed against her thigh. With astonishing speed, the embers of desire flared to life. “Again, please.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He made slow, easy love to her until they both came. Then he slipped out of bed to dispose of the condom.
When he returned, she stroked his bristly cheek. “Thank you.”
His chuckle was low and intimate. “Don’t mention it.” Gathering her close, he fell asleep quickly.
But she lay awake, marveling that she was sharing her bed, at long last, with Jake. If he had misgivings, he’d clearly shoved them aside to give her an amazing night of lovemaking. He seemed at ease with her and his surroundings.
It probably helped that he was familiar with the house. He liked her dream bed, too. That was a very good sign. Gradually, sleep claimed her.
When she awoke, Jake was gone, the bedroom door was closed and water was running in the kitchen. She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Ten after four. Even if Jake had barn duty, he wouldn’t have to get up until five or so.
Climbing out of bed, she went to her closet and pulled out her white terry robe with the Buckskin Ranch logo. She had to move his shirts to get to it. Made her smile to have them there. She put on the robe and tied the sash.
Crazy guy. Dollars to donuts he was doing last night’s dishes because he’d made love to her instead of cleaning up the kitchen as promised. Touching, but totally unnecessary. They needed to talk.
Chapter Twenty
Jake made a policy of keeping his word and he’d promised to clean up after the meal. Then he’d left the kitchen a mess. Wasn’t his style, and besides, caked-on food was tougher to wash off. Wanting Millie with the heat of a thousand suns was no excuse. He should’ve planned better.
The image of dirty dishes and pans had prodded him awake about twenty minutes ago. He’d listened to Millie breathe, trying to gauge whether he’d wake her if he got up. Likely not. Great sex made for deep sleep. Unless something had been left unfinished.
If he’d taken time out to do the dishes last night, though, their sexy vibe would have been impacted. She might have insisted on helping and he’d wanted to handle the dinner and dishes on their first night together.
So here he was, making up for lost time. He’d closed both the bedroom door and the kitchen door for extra insurance that Millie wouldn’t be able to hear him working. He’d bypassed the dishwasher in favor of a sink of hot sudsy water. Dishwashers were noisy and chances were good Millie was attuned to the sound of one operating on her own turf.
When the kitchen door opened, he turned from the sink. “Damn, I’m sorry, Millie. I tried to be quiet.”
“You were.” She padded over in her bare feet, looking cute as the dickens in that big fluffy robe. “You didn’t wake me. But when I realized you weren’t in bed and I heard the water running in here, I figured out what you were up to.”
He grabbed a towel. “Handling what I left undone last night.” Drying his hands, he flipped the towel over his shoulder and drew her close. “Morning, pretty lady.” He kissed her carefully, mindful of his beard. “I’ll do a better job of that after I’ve shaved.”
She smiled up at him. “Morning, Jake. Why didn’t you use the dishwasher?”
“It’s noisy.”
Her expression softened. “And might wake me up?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s very sweet.” She glanced at the dish strainer. “Looks like you’re about done.”
“Just the broiler pan left. Do you want coffee? I could make—”
“I’ll put on the coffee.” She slipped out of his arms and grabbed the empty carafe from the coffeemaker on the counter.
Seemed as if she wanted the job, so he didn’t argue. “Okay. That’d be great.”
She had to maneuver around all the clean dishes in the strainer but she managed to fill the carafe with water. “Then I’ll dry these while you scrub the pan.”
“No, ma’am. The dishes are my job and I skipped it last—”
“Because you were making love to me, as I recall.” She poured the water in the coffeemaker.
“That’s no excuse.”
“It’s the best excuse in the world.” She pushed the button on the electric coffee grinder.
There was no talking over that noise, so he waited until she dumped the coffee in the basket and turned on the pot.
“The thing is, I should have planned better.”
“How?” She pulled a clean dishtowel from a drawer and picked up a plate from the strainer. “Unless you have superpowers, you can’t be in two places at once.”
“No, but I’m sure there’s a solution. I just didn’t think of it.” He returned to the sink where the broiler pan was soaking. If she was determined to dry the dishes, he wouldn’t argue with her about it. He didn’t want to argue about anything.
She moved with brisk efficiency emptying the strainer and putting everything away. “In the meantime, let’s figure out a distribution of labor.”
“For what?” He scrubbed the remnants of the steak from the broiler pan.
“Everything.” She leaned against the counter, the dishtowel in one hand, waiting for him to finish with the pan. “Last night it sounded as if you’d like to do most of the cooking.”
“I would. And the cleanup.”
“You take on both things in the bunkhouse?”
“No. The guys rotate with cleanup, but—”
“How about letting me handle cleanup, then?”
He frowned. “When I get inspired, I dirty up a lot of pans.”
“So what?”
“I don’t like the idea of giving you more work.” He bore down and the last bit of dried steak came off.
“Do you feel that way about the Brotherhood cleaning up after you?”
“There’s more of them. The job’s spread out.” He rinsed the pan and put it in the strainer. “If you’ll give me the towel, I’ll get this.”
“My job.” She flashed him a quick smile. “You may not believe me, but I enjoy kitchen cleanup.”
“You won’t say that after I’ve done some creative cooking. The guys complain all the time about the number of pots and pans. Last night was straightforward.
If I’d at least put everything to soak, it would have been a snap.”
“Then how about this? Before we start fooling around, we put the dishes in the sink with some soapy water and leave ’em for me to do in the morning.”
“Or I could get up early and—”
“No, doggone it! That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”
His gut clenched. “Then, sure. We can do that.”
“Jake?” She put down the broiler pan and the towel and came toward him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t look fine a second ago. You looked stressed.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Listen, I’d better go grab a shower.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “I should have enough time to make us breakfast.”
“I could start something while you’re in the shower.” She peered at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
“That’s okay. I’ll be quick.” He left the kitchen. A hot shower would calm him down. Millie hadn’t been angry, just irritated. He’d certainly irritated her before. Angered her before, too.
But nothing had been on the line. Now everything was on the line. And he was jumpy as hell.
Closing the bathroom door, he stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower. Two bath towels, one green and one blue, hung beside the stall. Which was he supposed to use?
He shut off the water. Her eyes were green and his were blue. But that didn’t mean she’d assign towels that way. He took the blue one and wrapped it around his waist before walking back to the kitchen.
She sat at the table with a cup of coffee. He caught her staring into space. Startled her, too.
She took a quick breath. “Problem?”
“Didn’t know which towel to use.”
“Oh! All the towels are clean, so it doesn’t matter. I would have used whichever one you didn’t.”
“I grabbed this one.”
“Good choice. Matches your eyes.” She gave him a once-over and smiled. “Better get out of here before I jump your bones.”
“I won’t be long.” He headed back down the hall. She’d have extra laundry because of him. She and Kate must have a system for laundry, same as the Brotherhood. He’d ask.
Draping the towel over the rack, he turned on the water again. The shower was sparkling clean. He’d pitch in to keep it that way. Because of his job, he’d be tracking more dirt into the house than she or Kate normally did. He put vacuuming on the list. They hadn’t discussed any of that. They’d just hopped into bed.
He stepped under the hot spray. Hell, he hadn’t thought about shampoo, either. The Brotherhood bought one giant bottle of whatever was on sale and shared it.
She had some, so he used it. Smelled flowery, like her. Her soap did, too. He didn’t mind, but he might hear about it from Rafe when he arrived at the barn.
Unless he planned to buy his own soap and shampoo, he needed to take note of her brand and buy her some to replace what he used. What else was he forgetting?
Firewood. She might not make a fire every night during her normal routine. The Brotherhood took care of cutting firewood for themselves, Henri and this cottage. He’d check the woodpile later today in case it needed replenishing.
He didn’t allow himself much time in the shower and he made fast work of his shaving routine, too. Uh-oh, no clean clothes to put on. Should he wear a towel the short distance to Millie’s room? Nah.
Tidying up the bathroom, he picked up his clothes and walked quickly down the hall. When he stepped through the bedroom door, she was in there making the bed. He couldn’t offer to help unless he wanted to be her naked assistant. Not cool.
She paused and grinned at him. “Must be my lucky day.”
“Didn’t think to take my clean clothes in with me.”
“Please don’t apologize.”
“I’m not on my game yet.” He put his pile of clothes on the dresser and opened the drawer where he’d stashed his briefs and T-shirts.
“Your game looks good from here. Wish we had time to play.”
“So do I.” He pulled on his briefs. “My buddy’s very interested in the idea.” He tugged a clean T-shirt over his head and turned around.
“I can see that.” She crossed her arms. “Please give me points for not coming over there.”
“Only if you’ll give me points for staying put.”
“Points given. I need to get out of here. What if I prep some things for breakfast?”
“Sure.” He walked to the closet and took one of his shirts off a hanger. “Might as well pour the juice and get out the bacon and eggs. And the cinnamon rolls.”
“Fried or scrambled?”
“Scrambled is faster.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves. “You can crack half-a-dozen eggs into a bowl if you want.”
“Will do.” Her gaze swept over him again. “It’s been fun watching you get dressed, but it’s more exciting in reverse.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m outta here.” She turned and hurried through the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake cooked up a delicious breakfast. Too bad they had to rush through it. Or maybe not. Millie wasn’t ready to tackle the subject of shared duties again this morning. She scored a small victory when Jake left the dishes in sudsy water in the sink.
She walked him to the door and he gathered her close. “Rubs me the wrong way to leave those dishes.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” She nestled against him. “Next time I get a chance, I’ll rub you the right way.”
He groaned. “Wish to hell I hadn’t agreed to drive into Great Falls today or I could stop by during my lunch break.”
She’d suggest asking someone else to go, but she’d be wasting her breath. When he said he’d do something it was cast in stone. “The time will go fast.”
“Not fast enough to suit me.” He gazed into her eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you one time and then vamoose. If I leave in a hurry, it’s because staying means a second kiss, and a third, and—”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be late for work.”
“Exactly.” He lowered his head. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” When his mouth found hers, her world fell into place. Whatever speed bumps lay ahead, the physical bond between them was perfect. Each kiss was new, yet as familiar as if she’d spent years making love to him.
He deepened the kiss and untied the sash of her robe.
She didn’t stop him. Didn’t need to. His sense of duty was stronger than she’d given him credit for. He smoothed his hands over her curves, starting with her hips and ending by cradling her breasts and squeezing gently.
She moaned and sucked on his tongue. He might have a sense of duty second to none, but hers was wavering.
His breathing roughened. But instead of pushing her robe off her shoulders, he slowly released his hold and lifted his head. “Time to go. Or I never will.”
She nodded as he pulled the lapels of her robe together and tied the sash.
“See you tonight.” He grabbed his hat from a small table by the door and put it on. Touching two fingers to the brim, he opened the door and stepped through it into the semi-darkness of the coming dawn. Moments later his truck roared to life and he drove away.
In less than twenty-four hours she’d learned more about Jake than she had in all the years they’d worked together. He had prodigious strengths and touching weaknesses. This experiment would be a challenge, but she welcomed it more than ever.
She was showered, dressed and about to clean up the kitchen when Kate messaged her. I texted Rafe, so I know Jake’s at the barn. I left my favorite earrings there. Can I pop over before I head to the dining hall?
Sure. Have time for coffee?
Half a cup.
Kate’s half-a-cup routine was familiar. She didn’t mean it. She had about thirty minutes before she had to start cooking breakfast for the guests. Plenty of time for coffee and conversation.
Her forgotten e
arrings might be an excuse to stop by. Millie didn’t care. She could use some girl talk.
She poured two cups of coffee, opened the box of cinnamon rolls and took a couple of dessert plates out of the cupboard.
The front door opened. “Fe-fi-fo-fum, I smell the sweat of a sexy man!”
“You do not,” Millie called from the kitchen. “He showered this morning and he used my soap and shampoo so he smells just like me.”
“I doubt it.” She walked into the kitchen, her short curly hair still damp from the shower. “He has way too much testosterone to be overpowered by your girly shampoo and soap.” She glanced at the cinnamon rolls. “Ooo, what do we have here?”
“He got these for breakfast. He brought so much food, Kate. And last night’s meal was—”
“Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. Tell me about the sex.”
Millie laughed. “No.”
“Okay then, was it spectacular?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? Yes?”
Millie laughed. “If you’re fishing for details, you won’t get them. All I’ll say is that he made me very, very happy.”
“I’m pea-green with envy.” She sat down and helped herself to a cinnamon roll.
“I thought you’d sworn off men.” Millie joined her at the table and put a cinnamon roll on her plate.
“I have no desire to cohabit with one, but if I could get the goodies without the angst, that would be awesome.”
“Good luck with that.”
Kate put down her cinnamon roll and gazed across the table. “You have angst already?”
“Nothing major. Not yet.”
“That sounds ominous. What happened?”
“Early this morning, very early, we got into a discussion-slash-argument because he doesn’t want me doing the dishes, and I—”
“Wait. You were arguing for your right to wash dishes? What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. Let him wash the freaking dishes while you eat bonbons and watch TV. Most women would kill for that setup.”
“I suppose it sounds crazy, but… anyway, that’s not the issue. We worked it out. I got him to leave the breakfast dishes in the sink.”
Big-Hearted Cowboy (The Buckskin Brotherhood Book 2) Page 11