But now, after mentally convincing himself to move on, he was thinking about it. Oh boy was he thinking about it. A year was a really long time.
His teeth started to chatter. He clamped his mouth shut.
Damn the weather.
“Maybe next time,” he said, leaning into her. His shoulder connected more firmly, and then she half turned and shifted. Her butt glanced across his hardness, spiking his arousal. She wiggled, rubbing. His hands found her hips of their own accord and pulled her in tighter.
“Hmm,” she said, leaning against his chest. “It doesn’t seem like you really want to go.” She shifted again, this time getting her hand between them. Her palm found his length and started to rub slowly.
Holy shit she was forward. At the moment, he liked it.
His eyes drooped and the cold receded a little. All he could focus on was the contact of her palm. Was the rubbing. Of his hard, pulsing desire.
He moved his hands around her front and up, sliding his palms over her somewhat firm mound of her breasts. Noah was right, they felt fake, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that rubbing. About his body primed and ready, reaching for climax.
Her skin tasted salty as he ran his lips up her neck. Her hand sped up, sending pleasure coursing through his body. His breathing increased, getting close now…
“Well, I’ll see you next time.”
Cold rushed in to replace the warm body. His cock throbbed, nearly at orgasm. His teeth started to chatter again.
She gave him a sultry smile as her hips swayed with each step. Away.
He watched in utter shock as she slipped into the trees and left him standing there, so close to release and freezing his ass off. What the fuck?
The river sparkled far below him. If it had been human, it would’ve been laughing its ass off.
He ripped off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair before shaking himself out. He half thought about finishing the job, but if she came back for any reason—like giving his jacket back—he’d get caught with his dick in his hand.
He flexed and shivered then turning back toward the camp. He wanted nothing more than to find her again and apply his charm. If he put effort into it, he could get her into his bed tonight. He knew her type of girl. Knew the games they played. They never won—not with him. He didn’t need Jake’s help for a night or two of hot sex. He had that covered.
Blowing out a breath, he stalked through the trees until he reached the fire pit. He glanced in the direction of the big house, then walked toward his car.
Not tonight. He wasn’t in the mood to prove his prowess. He shouldn’t have engaged anyway. He’d take this as Karma.
“What’s up, bro?” Noah came out of the horse stables as Greg passed.
“I’m freezing my ass off.”
Noah kept pace toward the parking lot. “Where’s your jacket?”
“Wrapped around the new girl. I got played.”
Noah started laughing. “You should’ve expected it, bro. She’s a game player, I told you.”
“I’m going to let her win this one.”
“How’s being an adult treating you?”
“I fucking hate it, bro. My cock is pounding.”
Noah laughed again. He clapped Greg on the back. “Careful. She’ll suck you in. When you finally come to your senses, she’ll have you in the palm of her hand.”
“Probably. Right now I gotta get home.”
“Greg, is that you?” Sara said as she was getting into her car. The driver’s side window rolled down and Mike laid his shoulder on the window frame.
“G’night.” Greg marched stiffly to his truck.
“Quite the potty mouth. What happened?” Sara stepped out.
A shit-eating grin spread across Mike’s face, illuminated green by the dash lights. “Where’s your jacket, son?” Mike called out. He must’ve seen Paige follow Greg.
“Lost it,” Greg replied, opening his truck door.
“That’s what we’re calling it now, huh?” Noah asked with a laughing tone.
“You don’t look all that relaxed,” Mike taunted. “Something go wrong?”
“Fuck off.” Greg called as he climbed into his truck.
“Oh wow. Who is this guy?” Sara stepped back toward the car and looked in at Mike, unsure.
“I’d leave him be, hun. He’s not in the mood.” Mike rolled up his window.
He was dead right.
As Greg pulled away, there was only one thing on his mind. Winning the game. He was tired of being on the losing end with girls.
Chapter 5
“Reporting for duty, sir.” Christie saluted Greg from the opening of the horse stall.
Greg straightened up and glanced at her. Usually after a week away from her, a flash of pleasure would cross his face when he saw her. Today he seemed all business.
“What’s up?” she asked, walking in and throwing up her hand. “High five.”
Greg put up his hand, and then waved. “Hi.”
Christie rolled her eyes and grinned. “So. Up to your knees in shit, ay?”
He looked down around his feet. Dirty straw was strewn beneath them and climbed the walls in the corners. Piles of horse poop littered the area and even more bedding was discolored.
“We have a few to clean out today. The new guy May hired is useless. Sara was pissed.” Greg waded across the sea of excrement to grab a pitchfork.
“She hates firing people. Can I have some gloves?” Christie grabbed the wooden handle and took the proffered gloves.
“I offered to officially fire him since I had already unofficially done it. But she does everything by the book.”
“Doesn’t want a lawsuit.” Christie pointed out an area. “Want me to start here?”
“Yeah. I’ll hit the stall next door.”
“Oh.” Christie paused in her preparation to shovel. “You didn’t want to work on them together?”
His brow crunched up—frustration?—and then followed up with a distracted kind of blank look. Something was bothering him. “I can hear you from the next stall. Talk as much as you want.”
Christie watched him walk away uncertainly. “You okay?”
“Yup,” she heard. Metal scraped against the ground. “Just another day in paradise.”
Still a little confused, Christie bent to it. “The smell isn’t great, but I don’t mind doing this.”
“Why is that?” He sounded incredulous. “I thought you hated it and you only signed up the last couple years because Mike was in charge. But this year…”
Christie shrugged. “It’s therapeutic. I mean, the poop is gross, and the smell, like I said. But…” She shrugged again. “It’s a hard day’s work, and you’re helping the animals. I don’t know. It’s rewarding and helps balance me out.”
“Balance out? What do you mean?”
Christie stuck the fork into the soiled straw and then tossed it into the large bin in the aisle. “You don’t have to think, you know? You just do.”
“I thought you liked thinking.”
The scrape of Greg’s effort was twice as fast as her own. At this rate, he would clean two stalls to her one. She’d never live that down.
Speeding up, and starting to get warm, she said, “Thinking, yes. Remembering, no. Or, I guess I should say, dwelling. I dwell on stuff too much. So working, like this, helps. Or cooking.”
She barely registered his movements slow. His speed now matched hers. After a while, it stopped all together. “What are you remembering? Does it have something to do with how you knew how to help Sara?”
Christie paused with dirty straw on the end of her fork. Breathing fast, she saw Greg straighten up in the stall next to her, his face visible through the bars on the upper half of the divider. His expression was neutral, as though he were asking about the weather. But the stiffness, and the tense set of his shoulders, gave her the impression that he was trying not to spook her.
She tossed the dirty forkful and bent to
get another. The million things she could say tumbled through her head. All of them led to other questions, though. Interrogating type questions that would lead to answers she didn’t want to give. She was a different person now. She’d moved on. She didn’t need someone judging her choices. Or the choices forced on her.
“Nah. I just dwell on stuff. Get trapped in my head, you know? Terrifying place to be, inside a woman’s head.” She laughed and flung another forkful.
Greg was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was with a deep and wary voice. “How did you know, Christie? You’ve never said.”
Tingles worked across her skin and then burrowed into her body like flesh-eating beetles. Pressure filled her ears and made her reality wobble for just a moment.
She didn’t want to admit that she knew how to help Sara by remembering what it had been like to be in Sara’s shoes. That she didn’t want people to turn their backs on Sara like they had her.
Pressure beat down on her, pushing and pulling. She didn’t want to hear it was her fault. She’d assumed responsibility, bore her mother’s disappointment, and finally put it behind her.
By coming here. To this dude ranch.
She couldn’t let the past ruin the present. Not here. This was the only sanctuary she had from the pain of remembrance.
“I did say, Greg. I said it didn’t matter. I knew how, it helped, end of story.” Her voice was way harsher than she meant it. She wiped her forehead and worked in an area with her back to Greg’s stall.
Greg didn’t make a sound. He resumed his shoveling.
She struggled with a pang of guilt. “Sorry, for being so harsh,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s cool,” he answered, sounding a little blasé.
“It’s just…not something I like talking about. Is all.” She picked at the wood on the handle, a fruitless effort when wearing gloves.
“It’s fine, Christie. Don’t worry about it.” Metal rhythmically scraped the stall floor. He was working faster than he had to begin with, if that were possible.
Miserable, not knowing what to do, or how to explain without dishing the whole disgusting story, she worked harder too. Faster. Trying to block out the feelings, and the memories.
Some time later, she heard someone speaking in playful, sultry tones. Coming out of her fog, she straightened up painfully and found the source of the disturbance.
Paige was standing in the opening of a stall across the way dressed in form-fitting leopard skin pants and a low cut, body-hugging blouse. A jacket hung over arm as she wiggled and twisted, smiling into the stall. Greg stood opposite her, his eyes ravenous, his grin teasing, and his shoulders broad and squared. Despite his sweat-stained shirt and glistening muscles, he stood like he might have just showered and put on a tux—completely confident and in charge of his body.
“I haven’t seen you to give this back.” Paige held out the jacket.
“Thanks.” Greg took it and draped it over the stall. He then positioned himself in front of her with his arm leaning just so, showing off an impressive display of muscle.
A knot formed in Christie’s throat that would not get swallowed down. Her core lit on fire, and then her body blazed. This swagger, and the supreme confidence in the way he stood, gave her a hot flash. She hadn’t really thought of Greg as a man all this time—especially not a handsome man. He was kind of faceless. Just a fun, interesting guy that she liked to hang out with. All of a sudden, though, when he put on this act, she saw him in a whole new light.
“You been keeping busy?” Greg asked, his voice deep and direct.
Paige turned her shoulders and stepped closer before running a finger down his chest. She smiled up at him. “I must admit, I’ve been a little bored.”
He didn’t move, just kept staring down at her like a predator. Christie could read the desire on his face. The lust. The confidence that he’d get laid.
As if she had been doused in cold water, Christie turned away. The look made her uncomfortable. It always had, regardless of what man wore it. Seeing it on Greg was disconcerting. Most men were capable of mindless screwing, but for some reason, it hurt thinking Greg could be. He had always seemed better than that. More respectful, somehow.
Christie scoffed and rolled her eyes. Talk about projecting her crap onto other people.
She surveyed her surroundings. One side of the stall was done, but she had another half to go, and still had to lay out the new straw. There were plenty more to do after this. Checking her watch, she had another hour or so to keep at it.
“What have you been up to?” Greg’s voice rumbled through Christie’s middle, uninvited.
“Just waitressing. Ugh. So. Annoying.” Paige’s voice turned pouty. “I thought I’d see you more.”
“The ranch hands stay at the upper ranch, mostly. We’re not around the big house much.”
Paige tsk’ed and gave a soft whine. “Maybe you should make an exception?”
“Maybe.”
“You know, on daddy’s ranch, they have people to do this. The stable manager doesn’t need to waste his time cleaning stalls. Oh—hi Christie.”
Christie straightened up again and plastered on a fake smile. Greg was looking at her with his beautiful green eyes, watching her as he had watched Paige—filled with lust and fire and bravado.
“I forgot you were volunteering. Sorry—” Paige put her manicured nail against her chin. “Why are you volunteering?”
Christie stretched out her aching back, wanting to get out from under Greg’s stare and not knowing how. Jabbing him with the pitchfork seemed in poor taste. “I want to go riding.”
“Oh, right.” She turned to Greg. “I already signed up for horse back riding. But your class was filled…”
“I’m just going to get back to it.” Christie hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I only have an hour left.”
“I should, too,” Greg said, still watching her. “I don’t want Christie to get ahead of me.”
“Oh. Okay.” Paige put her palm on Greg’s chest. “See ya later?”
“Maybe.”
Christie rolled her eyes.
“’Bye Christie.” Paige waved as she sauntered away, all hip and breast. It was pretty impressive. Christie would’ve fallen over if she’d tried that walk.
“See ya.” Christie noticed Greg had finally switched his focus, and was now watching Paige’s butt. “That doesn’t get girls, by the way.”
His gaze turned her way again. Desire sparkled deep in his eyes before his gaze roved down her body. Fire licked everywhere his notice touched, burning deep and hot. Having expected the opposite reaction to that look, she froze, her breath coming in shallow pants. Her body coiled, lava flowing through her insides, heating her up. Making her sex swell.
What the hell is happening? This is Greg! I can’t afford to slip back into the old ways and try to cut him out of my life like the last guy!!
Snapping out of it, she made a show of hiding behind her hands. “Hey, dummy. Stop trying to undress me with your eyes.”
Humor sparked. His gaze lost the intensity, even if it didn’t lose all the desire. “It does, actually.”
“What does? Does what?”
“That schtick. It works with women.”
“Really.” She gave him a flat look, knowing the heat in her cheeks and sheen to her forehead proved he was right. “Then why have you been single for the last year?”
“Barking up the wrong tree.” He gestured behind her. “Get to work.”
“Oh ho, mister boss man. Trying to throw your weight around, huh?”
“I have to handle the staff. Sara said so.”
And just like that, fun-loving Greg was back. Human Greg, that Christie adored hanging out with.
As she got to work, she couldn’t help thinking about the other Greg, though, and wondered why the desire burning hot in his eyes didn’t set off all her alarms. It was unexpected. And a first.
An hour or so late
r Christie was finishing the last stall. She looked up, wiped her face, and glanced at her watch. “Oh shi-nay-nay, I am so late. Greg! Greg!”
“What’s up?” Greg hustled into the barn with wide eyes and a fearful look. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“No. I am so late. The jerk twins are going to kill me!” Christie handed him the fork and her gloves.
He sighed in relief. “I thought you’d hurt yourself.”
“Why didn’t you come get me earlier?”
“You were in the zone. I figured I’d let you go for it.”
“You just wanted me to get in trouble.” She pointed at him, then shook her finger, mobster style. “You. Not good, you.”
A cute lopsided grin lit up his face. “You should pay more attention.”
“You should do your own work.”
“When I have you to do it for me? Do I look like a moron?”
Christie ducked forward and wiped her forehead across his shirt, meeting hard, flat muscle.
Greg spread out his arms. “Joke’s on you. I’m all sweaty.”
Christie backed up with a scrunched nose, smelling his unique blend of sweet and man. She looked him over, seeing that he was right. Cut and defined muscle glistened from head to toe except where his shirt stuck to him, outlining his pecs and strongly hinting at a six pack. She didn’t have time to marvel further—she needed to get going.
“Okay. See you tonight?” she jogged toward the entrance of the barn. “At the fire pit?”
“I might have to go to the upper ranch. I have to see where I’m at tomorrow.”
Christie felt hands on her shoulders. She jumped, finding Jake right behind her. Moving to the side, she said, “Hey, Jake. Right. Well, see ya when I see ya, Greg.”
“Yep.”
Greg watched Christie jog away, her muscular butt so much rounder and more shapely than Paige’s. He scrubbed his hand over his face as Jake neared. When he was done, he noticed Jake’s eyes tight. It meant Greg had done something wrong.
Conquering Love Page 6