Prairie Passion (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #2)

by Tessa Layne

  Keeping her eyes on his, she captured the digit gently in her teeth and sucked. His balls squeezed hard.

  Christ.

  He was already buzzed and he hadn’t even kissed her.

  “Your turn, darlin’. You still haven’t confessed.” His voice came out all rumbly in an effort to hide the unbridled desire stampeding through his veins.

  Her tongue swept across the pad of his thumb, and she gave him a little nip before releasing it. “Hmm… Yes… Indeed. You sure you want to hear?”

  Was she toying with him? Some kind of feminine form of torture? Pink crept across her cheeks as she looked away briefly before bringing her eyes back up to meet his. “I’ve never even told Maddie this.”

  His chest inflated with satisfaction at her little confession. No one had ever entrusted him with a secret before. Sure, he had plenty of his own. Big ones. But that wasn’t the same. “Spill.”

  Her cheeks were bright red now, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes contained a hint of defiance. “The first orgasm I ever had was on the pool table of my pop’s bar… while my brothers were in the storeroom counting inventory.”

  Damn.

  Double damn.

  Heat rose through his own body at the image of her splayed out and open for him on top of a pool table. In the Big House, at the Trading Post, hell… anywhere.

  “Jesus, Jamey.” His breath hissed out as straight up lust took hold of him and settled in deep in his belly.

  His balls were going to burst if he didn’t start walking again. Moving his arm to her elbow, he steered her and the horse to behind the farthest outbuilding.

  Sliding a glance at her, he had to ask. “You really did that?”

  Her saucy grin was enough of an answer.

  “Hell. That’s the hottest damn thing anyone’s ever told me.”

  “You really need to get out more, Brodie.”

  “No. What I really need is a taste of you.”

  They were finally alone. Alone as they were going to get at the county fair, and he couldn’t wait one second longer. He dropped Captain’s reins and captured her face in his hands, driving his fingers into her silky curls. Bending his head, he paused one last time, brushing her lips with his and savoring the ache that would surely kill him if he didn’t relieve it.

  She sighed, and closed the remaining distance between them, opening her mouth to his.

  Fire burned through him like a kerosene trail, and he grunted in return, reveling in the sweet taste of her tongue curling against his. There was so much more of her to taste, to savor. Her hands grasped just under his shoulders, squeezing. Fingernails digging through the thin cotton of his shirt.

  Regretfully, he broke their kiss, breathing raggedly. “God. I want to taste all of you. And I don’t have time. I want to do it right.”

  Her eyes glazed and widened. “I don’t care about proper. You should know that by now.” She nipped at his lower lip.

  He groaned, kissing her again and sweeping his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth. His cock pounded at his zipper. Riding a horse this worked up would only end in ridicule and disaster. He stepped back, willing his rocketing pulse to slow down. “I’m going to find out you’re some kind of an Irish witch, aren’t I?”

  She rolled her head back against the rough painted wall, smiling like a self-satisfied barn cat. Reaching out, she captured his pants at the belt buckle, and pulled him against her. A feral light lit her eyes as she slid her hand over his arousal.

  “You sure we don’t have time to take care of this?” She gave him a little squeeze, nearly dropping him to his knees. “It wouldn’t take long for me to turn around and lift my skirt. No one back here but us and the angels.” She grinned devilishly.

  He allowed himself one grind into her palm, his need for her rolling back his eyes. He bit back a moan. “Goddamn, Jamey. If I was done roping I’d strip you down to those hideous purple boots and make you holler my name.”

  A breathy giggle escaped her lips.

  “But I can’t just yet. I have to show you I can do this. What I’m good at.”

  Her eyes softened. She reached up and caressed his cheek, her voice thick with emotion when she spoke. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Brodie.”

  The conviction in her voice unleashed something hot and thorny inside of him. It swelled and rolled through his belly. He couldn’t name it. Whatever it was, it was so foreign, so powerful, as it slammed into his chest, he nearly fell back.

  “I see you,” she whispered so softly he barely heard her.

  His chest ached at the expression on her face. He had to get out of here, or his head wouldn’t be in his next event. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself twice in one day. Not in front of her.

  He brought his hand up to cover hers. The swirl of emotion roughened his voice. “One more kiss for luck?”

  She nodded and lifted her mouth. He liked she didn’t have to stand on tiptoe to kiss him. Where the previous kisses they’d shared had been hot and unbridled, this one was painfully sweet. Feeling enveloped them, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He poured himself into her, silently thanking her for her faith in him.

  He’d show her he was worthy.

  He’d win, then take her home and make love to her until the birds started chirping.

  CHAPTER 22

  Jamey shot an impatient glance at the clock on the wall above the pool table.

  Nine o’clock.

  Where in the hell was Brodie?

  After he’d claimed his winnings from the tie-down roping contest, he’d suggested they meet at the Trading Post a little past six-thirty. She’d gone back to the ranch with Maddie, endured an hour of her pointed questions about the state of her relationship with Brodie, completed a little prep work for the next day’s meals, and then hiked back to the Big House to catch a ride back into town with Maddie and Blake. And while the two of them had gone out of their way to include her, it was obvious she was a third wheel this evening.

  “Earth to Jamey. It’s your shot.” Maddie peered at her over her soda. “You okay?”

  Jamey scowled and made a shot, hitting Blake’s ball into the center pocket.

  Damn.

  Under normal circumstances she was a decent pool player. But getting stood up by the man you’d made out with at the rodeo didn’t constitute normal. The last time she’d been stood up, she was sixteen and her brothers had chased off Jimmy O’Rourke, her homecoming date. And he hadn’t even kissed her.

  “Jamey.” Maddie’s hand pressed on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine. Long day.”

  What was she supposed to say? ‘The man you’ve been teasing me about ditched me?’

  She should have known better than to get all touchy feely with Brodie. She’d let him charm her yet again. And she should have double known better than to allow herself to start developing feelings for a business partner. Especially one who refused her help and insisted on struggling to keep the business afloat by himself.

  Maddie studied her, obviously concerned, and clearly not buying her brush-off. “You know you can tell me anything, Jamey. I’m always here for you.”

  “I know.” She forced herself to smile. “I’ve had a great day.” Except for the last three hours.

  She deserved every bad feeling she was experiencing. Hadn’t she learned anything from Jean Luc’s shenanigans? Maybe she should consider taking Mason Carter up on his offer. He knew how to run a business. Too bad she had no desire to live in the nether reaches of Montana.

  Prairie was remote enough. At least here, she had friends, and a decent food scene to explore in Kansas City. Plus, Chicago was only a short flight away. Prairie might be small, but it wasn’t the far end of the universe like Montana.

  What she wanted, coveted, really – was to become a managing partner at a place like the lodge. She could make it something special. An environmentally friendly, local food, hunting mecc
a. She didn’t care about the hunting necessarily, but the variety of game and fowl would keep her on her culinary toes.

  Maddie elbowed her. “Axel and Gunnar just walked in. You should go dance with them.”

  “They’re cute and all, but not my type, Mads.” She circled the table looking for another shot, one that she could actually sink this time.

  “Yeah, you like those bad boy types… like Brodie. Deny all you want, but I saw the way you were looking at each other today. You were practically making out with your eyes.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. And I don’t know what Blake and I walked in on in the kitchen last night, but I don’t believe for a second you were cleaning up a spill.”

  Ah, yes. The inevitable second round of questioning had begun. She shrugged, and chalked her cue.

  “Your nonchalance doesn’t fool me for a second, Jamey.” Maddie sighed heavily and rubbed her burgeoning belly absently. “Look. Brodie may have his flaws… heck, Blake does. But he’s got a good heart. And I don’t think he’d hurt you on purpose. Not the way Jean Luc did.”

  Maddie didn’t know the half of it, and would be hurt when she found out. Jamey’d had ample opportunity to tell Maddie about the celiac diagnosis today, but it had never felt right. She was managing the kitchen just fine, and if she and Brodie could get the lodge going in the right direction, then she’d feel better about spilling the beans to Maddie and Blake. She wanted to prove she could still cook five-star food first.

  Jamey flashed her friend a tight smile. “Thanks for the advice, but I meant what I said, too. I can take care of myself.”

  Her brothers would disagree. If they had their way, she’d move back to Boston and settle down with a nice, boring, unadventurous Irish Catholic boy from the ’hood. The thought of that churned her stomach. But maybe they had a point. Maybe boring was better. Less excitement. Less heartache.

  A hand tapped her shoulder.

  She whipped around, hoping. But the hand belonged to Travis Kincaid.

  “Care for a dance before I report for duty?”

  Her heart sank as she flashed him a smile. “Sure.” She’d rather be dancing with Brodie. Damn his sorry ass.

  Travis took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. “What’d you think of your first rodeo?” He spun her around the floor, keeping time with the music.

  “Oh, I had fun.” She kept her smile carefully in place.

  “What was your favorite part?”

  This was why she hated dating. She was socially awkward and was happier perfecting her craft in the kitchen than making small talk with strangers. Even nice strangers like Travis.

  “My favorite part?”

  Travis looked at her quizzically. “Yeah. Most women like bull riding and bronc riding the best.”

  She had a favorite part all right, and it wasn’t the bull riding. It had been watching the fierce determination in Brodie’s eyes as he focused on roping a steer. It had been the way he’d launched himself off his horse and whipped the calf’s legs together. And his triumphant smile when he’d realized his time was fastest. But she’d never admit that to anyone, let alone Travis.

  So she injected enthusiasm into her voice. “Oh yeah. Bull riding. So exciting. Those guys are crazy.”

  Travis’s eyes clouded for a brief moment. “Yeah. Bull and bronc riders are a special kind of crazy. I know.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “My brother, Colton. He rides broncs for a living. I’ve seen that kind of crazy up close.”

  He kept his voice light, but his eyes held a glimmer of pain.

  “Was he here today?”

  “Oh no. He stays far away from Prairie.”

  “Why?”

  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Prairie is small beans. Not for pros.”

  “Ahh. I see.”

  The music filled the silence between them as they continued to circle the dance floor.

  Travis moved smoothly, was good looking and personable. But there was no… zing.

  No flutter in her belly.

  No smoldering glances.

  Was this the best she could do?

  If all she had to look forward to was boring on one end or hot but unreliable on the other, she’d rather die a spinster chef and get eaten by the rats that lurked by the dumpster.

  CHAPTER 23

  Brodie strolled through the doors of the Trading Post in high spirits. Half his winnings were in his pocket, the other half in the bank. He’d dutifully paid Jimmy and his brother their two cases of beer for having lost at team roping and had stuck around the grounds to enjoy a few with them and some of the other local ranchers.

  He scanned the crowd for Jamey. He couldn’t wait to pick up where they’d left off this afternoon. The whole drive over from the fairgrounds, his mind had traveled a very naughty road, one that ended with the two of them tangled in the sheets on his bed.

  Blake, Maddie, her cousins, and some of the lodge guests, including Mason Carter, were grouped around one of the pool tables in the back, but he didn’t see Jamey. Until he caught a flash of red hair on the dance floor. Where she was dancing with Travis Kincaid.

  What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?

  Jealousy shot through him, and he ground his teeth together.

  His vision hazed as she laughed at something Travis said when he leaned his head in close.

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  After everything that had happened this afternoon, she was spending their date in the arms of another man? Laughing?

  A low growl rumbled up from his belly as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He strode over to the dance floor, ignoring the urge to lay Travis flat, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Jamey’s eyes widened when she saw him, then immediately narrowed. “Nice of you to show up, cowboy.” She crossed her arms, glaring.

  Not the welcome he was expecting. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I show up? I wanna know why you’re spending our date dancing with him?” He tilted his head at Travis.

  Jamey’s eyes flashed fire… and hurt. “Why wouldn’t I? I was sick of waiting around a second longer for your sorry, skeeving ass to show up. I waited over three hours.”

  Travis cleared his throat. “Ah, I’ll see you around Jamey. I gotta get to work soon.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Stick around, this won’t take long.”

  “You two look like you need to talk. I’ll see you around.” Travis disappeared into the crowd.

  Brodie took a step closer. “I don’t understand. It’s just a little after six-thirty. I’m right on time.” Brodie spoke with bravado he was rapidly losing.

  “Really?” Her eyes shot daggers. “Check again Jizzle McShinglepants. The clock says it’s after nine-thirty. Did you happen to notice it getting dark?”

  Dread pooled in his gut.

  It couldn’t be after nine-thirty.

  He hadn’t spent that long with the guys out at the fairgrounds. Had he?

  “In trouble with time again, Brodie?” Kylee Ross had sidled over, a tray of empty beers in her hands. “You never did learn how to tell time, did ya?” Her eyes glittered in mean triumph.

  “Shut up, Kylee,” Jamey spit out, not taking her eyes off him. “This is between me and Cowboy Careless here.”

  He shook his head, shame surging through him, heating the back of his neck. “Now just a big fat second. This can all get cleared up–”

  She shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s nothing to clear up, Brodie. I made a mistake. One that I won’t make again.”

  Dread morphed into panic.

  No. Nononono.

  He reached out a hand to stop her. “Wait. Jamey. I can explain.”

  She shrugged him off, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to explain.” Her eyes were pools of sadness. The recognition he’d caused that made him feel sick. A sharp pain sprouted and twisted in his chest. “Jamey. Please.”

  Desperation rushed
through him. She couldn’t turn on him. She couldn’t. This had been an honest mistake. Hell, it wasn’t like he’d cheated on her. She was the one dancing with someone else.

  Travis returned, placing a hand on Jamey’s shoulder. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine, Travis,” Brodie ground out, glaring at the other man.

  Jamey flashed Travis a smile, igniting a punishing arrow of jealousy that coursed through him like wildfire.

  “Brodie and I were just coming to an… understanding.”

  Like hell they were. “We’ll talk about this later, Jamey.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing.”

  The pain in his chest squeezed harder. He opened his mouth to respond, but she had already whirled away, leading Travis back to the dance floor.

  He locked his knees as the urge to punch the daylights out of something, or someone, overwhelmed him. Clenching his jaw and stretching his fingers, he marched over to the bar, dug out a twenty, and tossed it on the worn wood. “A shot of Jack, double. And a beer chaser.”

  It wasn’t scotch, but it would do. Anything to numb the anguish that bounced around his ribcage. He still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. So he was late. Really late, apparently. Was that the end of the world? He swore when he’d looked at his watch it had said six-thirty.

  The bartender placed the shot and the beer on the counter before him. Brodie took the shot glass and downed the contents in one gulp, feeding off the burn. He shook it off, then chugged the cold beer.

  Fuck her.

  She wasn’t his type anyway.

  Too damned scrawny.

  He scanned down the bar looking for someone pretty to talk to. There were a handful of pretty faces to choose from. The county fair always brought in new people. He should get right on it. Right after he had another shot.

  *

  Blake stepped up next to him, eyes furrowed. “How many shots you had?”

  Brodie had no idea. Or how long he’d been sitting at the bar. “Only a couple.”

  Blake arched an eyebrow. “Only a couple.”