Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14

by Lorelei James

  “You think I’m interested in Gavin because he’s rich?” Goddammit. Was that what everyone in the area would think? She’d assured Gavin it wouldn’t bother her…but faced with assumptions, she wasn’t so sure.

  Both Chet and Remy burst out laughing.

  “No, but the man sure is interested in you.”

  She stared at them blankly.

  Remy nudged Chet. “Told ya she hadn’t even freakin’ noticed.”

  She had noticed how Gavin acted around her—she’d have to be blind not to see how he looked at her sometimes, stupid not to recognize the familiar way he touched her and a complete idiot to pretend to be unaffected by his attention. It just surprised her that Chet and Remy West had picked up on the undercurrent so quickly.

  Or had Gavin said something to them?

  No. Gavin wasn’t like that. But as far as she was concerned, that topic was off limits. “The only thing I’m interested in is you guys taking some of these tomatoes off my hands. You can swing by your mama’s house and earn major brownie points.”

  “That’d be great. You’re a doll,” Remy said.

  “And just for that, I’ll send a loaf of bread home with you guys too.”

  Chet groaned. “Man, I love your homemade bread. Don’t suppose you’ve got any extra honey lying around?”

  “Jesus, Chet,” Remy said and smacked him in the back of the head. “Don’t be such a fuckin’ mooch.”

  “I’m not a mooch, asshole. I was gonna buy it.”

  Remy dodged Chet’s retaliatory swat.

  “Boys. There’s enough to go around. Let’s head up to the house.” She purposely didn’t say my house.

  Gavin didn’t appear until Chet and Remy were gone. He leaned against the porch support. “I see you take pity on poor bachelors and send them home with food.”

  She hadn’t shaken off the disappointing news yet. “The bachelors I like, yes. Why? You jealous?”

  “A little.” Gavin started down the steps. “But since you feed me on occasion, I get the better deal, since I’m living with you and all. That seemed to interest them more than it should have.” He stopped in front of her. “Is everything all right?”

  The man had no concept of personal space. She considered saying something flip, but a soft, “No,” slipped out and she dropped her gaze to the empty basket still clutched in her hands.

  He took the basket from her. When she looked up, he curled his hands around her arms, moving closer yet. “Rielle. What’s going on?”

  “West Construction can’t start on my house until next spring.”

  “Because of the garage addition? Dammit, I told them I could wait if it would affect—”

  “No, it has nothing to do with that.”

  A calculating look entered his eyes. “If you need—”

  Lightning fast Rielle placed her fingers over his lips. “Don’t you assume anything and offer me money or I swear to God I will scream or…do something equally horrible to you.”

  His lips curled into a smile and he lightly nipped her fingers before she pulled her hand away. “I like it when you get feisty. But if money isn’t the issue, what is?”

  “Time. If they can’t get started until spring, then that means I’ll have to move into the cabin because I’m sure you don’t want me living with you and Sierra indefinitely.”

  The immediate fierceness in his eyes made it hard to breathe. “Now who’s making assumptions?”

  There wasn’t any sign of mild-mannered Gavin. In fact, she’d begun to wonder if that easy-going man had just been a figment of her imagination—a pencil-pushing pushover she’d never be attracted to, therefore she could keep him at arm’s length. But this Gavin? No pushover. All man. All the time. And her attraction to him kept getting stronger every day.

  “Listen to me. You are not staying in that cabin unless living with me is so heinous that you want to kill me in my sleep.”

  “It’s not, I mean, you’re not,” she assured him.

  “Good. So we’ll stick to the original plan. Because I think it’s been working great.” He grinned. “So, pity a poor bachelor. What’s for lunch?”

  Rielle growled and smacked him playfully with the basket. “You’re such a mooch.”

  But she made him lunch anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  Gavin strolled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of iced tea. Then he peered over Rielle’s shoulder, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

  In the past few weeks he’d gone out of his way to pester her—not that she considered the attention of a smart, funny, sexy man a chore. Gavin was interested in everything she did workwise and asked a million questions. So Rielle returned the favor whenever possible. Showing up in his office to chat. Since the man lived on the phone, she got to hear him acting all professional and business tycoon-y. But he hadn’t complained about her impromptu interruptions either.

  “What’re you doing?” he finally asked.

  He stood so close the deep timbre of his voice vibrated against her skin and she fought a shiver. “Updating my notes on the new vegetable varieties I planted this year.”

  “Bad year for squash?”

  “Which one? There are four genuses of squash: C maxima, C mixta, C moschata and C pepo.”

  “That’s what I get for trying to be funny.”

  “Squash is no laughing matter. So what’s up?”

  “Have you ever done something under…duress and wished you hadn’t?”

  That was random. But typical for Gavin. She kept typing. “Like telling a stranger she can live in your house until spring?”

  “Funny, Ree. But I’m serious.”

  “All right. What did you say under duress? And who’d you say it to?”

  “Sierra. And I kinda, sorta, maybe promised…to buy her a car.”

  Rielle looked up from her laptop. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Ah. No.”

  “And you’re telling me this…why? Because you want the parent-to-parent lecture on not rewarding your child’s bad behavior? The girl gets herself arrested and you’re buying her a car?”

  “Yeah.” Gavin distractedly scrubbed his hands over the razor stubble on his face.

  She squinted at him. He always bounded down in the morning dressed and clean shaven. It was afternoon and he looked like a bum—a hot bum, but nowhere near his usual put together self. “Gavin. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed. “This whole buying her a car business might seem sudden, but I had planned on buying her one in Arizona, I just hadn’t told her. Then all that shit happened with her arrest. So as we’re driving across country, I’m encouraging her to talk to me, and she broke down completely. Crying about her mom leaving and how abandoned she felt, how stupid she felt that her new friends avoided her and her old friends dumped her, and berating herself for letting her grades drop. We were finally really talking about that long overdue emotional stuff…and it just slipped out.”

  “It just slipped out,” she repeated slowly. “That you were buying her a car. While she was crying and carrying on about how much her life sucked?”

  Gavin bristled. “In my defense, there isn’t public transportation here, unless you count the one-way bus ride in the afternoon. It’s not like I’m buying her a brand new car. It’s used.”

  And he wondered why Sierra acted entitled? Rielle focused on the document on the computer screen and scrolled down to the next page.

  “What? Aren’t you talking to me now?”

  “You don’t need my input. She’s your daughter. You can give her anything she wants.” Literally, since the man was reportedly worth millions—if the conversations she’d heard recently in his office were any indication.

  “So you think I’m making a mistake?” Gavin pressed.

  “Why does it matter to you what I think?”

  Gavin leaned across the counter, forcing her to focus on him. “Because your daughter is a well-adjusted adult, attending grad school on full schol
arship. You are an excellent parent and I can learn from you. So help me out here.”

  “Laying it on a little thick today, aren’t you?” she said wryly.

  “I’m not joking. I need your input. I trust your judgment.”

  Good thing he hadn’t flashed her that charming I-get-anything-I-want-because-I’m-a-McKay smile because she hated that type of male manipulation. “Fine. I’ll give you my opinion, just this one time.” Rielle sighed. “Let’s backtrack. Before all that crap happened this summer, were you teaching Sierra to drive?”

  “We went out a few times. She learned to park at the mall. We mostly stayed on residential streets. I had her drive on the freeway once and it freaked her out.”

  “So she’s never driven on a gravel road.”

  “No. Charlie has offered to teach her to drive after school and I’ve agreed because I know he’ll be more patient. Plus, he has the time to spare.”

  “That’s good because I doubt she had to deal with adverse road conditions in sunny Arizona. Maybe you should have Charlie give you a few winter driving tips too.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Funny. But what’s your advice?”

  “Buy her the car. But park it in the driveway. That’ll be an incentive for her to bring her grades up and stay out of trouble. Riding the bus is good for her socially. Plus, she’ll have a better appreciation when she’s allowed to drive the car on a regular basis.”

  Gavin studied her.

  “What?”

  “You’re so damn smart.” He trailed his palm down the length of her bare arm. “Thank you.”

  A tingle started at her nape and traveled to her tailbone. She reacted to Gavin’s unexpected casual affection instinctively, rubbing her fingertips over the dark growth on his cheek. “Ooh, look out. The tycoon is going native. He’s already forgetting to shave.”

  “Wrong. I’m out of razors. Since you were a smartass—” Gavin scraped his stubbled cheek up and down her arm until she shrieked, “—you’ll just have to put up with my manly scruff today.”

  Oh yeah, I can think of a couple other places you can rub that manly scruff on me.

  The way his eyes stayed locked on hers, she swore he’d read her mind.

  “You could’ve asked to borrow one from me, roomie,” she teased, “but I’m sure you’re too manly to use a pink razor.”

  “Like hell I am. Hand it over. You can watch me shave.”

  “Oh, right. I’m out of razors too. I haven’t shaved my legs in a week.” Not that she had a reason to.

  “Really?” Gavin rotated her barstool and latched onto her ankle. “Let’s compare, shall we?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “You felt my stubble; it’s only fair I feel yours.” His blue eyes held a wicked gleam as his palm slowly inched up the outside of her calf.

  “This is…” Crazy, sexy, hot. How long had it been since she’d been touched with such teasing sexiness?

  Forever. Maybe…never.

  “See? I knew you were lying. Your skin is silky smooth.”

  Keep going. The hair gets a lot coarser higher up.

  His hand stopped at the hem of her skirt. Keeping his eyes on hers, his fingers caressed the skin above her knee. “No hair here.”

  A rush of desire had her so dizzy she feared she’d topple off the chair.

  Gavin’s hands followed the contour of her calf down to her ankle. Then he set her foot to the chair rung and stepped back, grinning widely. “Thanks for the advice.” He wandered out of the kitchen, whistling.

  That was weird. Sexy as hell, but weird.

  Of course Boone West was working with his uncles on a day her hair looked like total dogshit. And she was wearing ratty sweats and no makeup. And she had cramps like a motherfucker that no dosage of Midol could cut. So she was cranky. Even her dad had told her to get a grip on her crap attitude before he’d taken off with Ben. Uncle Ben. The thought of calling the intimidating Ben McKay Uncle Ben made her snicker.

  Then Boone wandered into view again and Sierra sighed. He wore a black wife beater that showed more muscles than she’d given him credit for. His skin glistened with sweat from lugging heavy tools and lumber. Watching him, she understood that Boone was no ordinary high school boy who would slowly morph into an adult male; he was already a man. A hunky, hard-working man and she had it bad for him, even when she knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in the desert he’d ever look at her with lust in his eyes.

  Especially not today.

  She tapped her fingers on the windowsill, considering her options. Stay inside and continue to spy on him from the big window? Then he wouldn’t know she was having a bad everything day. Or should she casually wander outside and pretend to be shocked he was at her house?

  So what’s it gonna be, Sierra? Hide? Or seek?

  When she saw his uncles’ work truck heading up the driveway, leaving Boone all alone… Seek won out.

  She resisted the urge to squeeze into a pair of skinny jeans and switch her sports bra for a push-up. Grabbing the half-full garbage bag from the kitchen, she sailed out the front door.

  Sadie, Rielle’s sweet German shepherd, trotted along beside her as Sierra strolled to the Dumpster. The hinges squeaked as she opened the metal lid and tossed the garbage in.

  “You’re not supposed to throw regular garbage in there, just building materials.”

  Sierra manufactured a surprised look before she wheeled around. Boone had crouched down to scratch Sadie’s ears. Some guard dog; her tail was wagging furiously. “Oh. Hey, Boone. Sorry. I’ll take it out.”

  “Here, let me. You don’t wanna get your clothes dirty. Mine already are.”

  Sierra froze when Boone sidled right up to her, close enough their arms and shoulders touched. His biceps rippled as he fished out the garbage bag. Then he jogged to the barn, tossed it in the plastic can and jogged back.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “I didn’t know you worked with your uncles.”

  “Only when they need a gopher and wanna haul my ass outta bed at six a.m. on a Saturday.”

  “You must be more than a gopher if they left you here by yourself.”

  “Nope. I’m on clean up duty. They went to get supplies and lunch.”

  “Are they bringing food back for you?”

  Boone snorted. “Doubtful. I was late this morning ’cause I worked until freakin’ midnight and didn’t have time to make my lunch.” He shrugged. “Going without lunch is supposed to teach me responsibility or something.”

  “Bull. It’s irresponsible for them to expect you to work on an empty stomach. Mean too, since they’re eating. I…ah…was about to make myself a sandwich and it’s just as easy to make two.” Had she really invited him in for lunch? Take it back before he can refuse.

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” His gaze swept the empty parking area, then those beautiful caramel-colored eyes locked to hers and her stomach flipped. “Is your Dad or Rielle home?”

  “No.”

  He raised a brow.

  She blushed and then pushed him. “It’s not like I planned to drag you into my bedroom. It’d just be us having a sandwich in the kitchen. But whatever. Go ahead and starve.”

  A beat passed before Boone bestowed a grin that kick-started her heart. “Well…since my virtue is safe with you, McKay, I suppose you can fix me lunch.”

  They started walking toward the house. “Why do you keep calling me that? I’m not a McKay.”

  “Blood don’t lie. With the way you look and act, you’re all McKay.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “Not always. Don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s been bad blood between the Wests and the McKays over the years. No one talks about it, but some of it’s still there even after intermarriage between the families.”

  “I had no idea. But there’s a lot I don’t know about this family.”

  “Ask me anything. I’m totally unbiased.” He grin
ned.

  “Says a West. So, if Chet and Remy are your uncles, who’s your dad?”

  “Dax. He’s the oldest. As I’m Chet and Remy’s only nephew, they feel it’s their duty to teach me to do ‘manly shit’ like carpentry and cars and…other stuff.”

  “So who teaches you how to do ‘womanly shit’ like make sandwiches and set your alarm? Your mom?”

  “You’re sassy.” Boone bumped her with his shoulder. “My mom lives in Gillette. I live with my dad.”

  “My parents got divorced when I was five.”

  “Mine never got married. My dad knocked my mom up when she was a senior in high school.”

  “Really? Was he in high school too?”

  “Nope. He was nineteen. Old enough to know better, as he constantly preaches to me.” Boone winked at her. “Which is why I usually avoid the temptation of being alone with hot females.”

  Was he saying she tempted him?

  Get real, Sierra.

  On the front porch, Sierra waited as Boone dusted off his clothes and kicked off his heavy soled boots. “Where can I wash up?”

  “The kitchen sink is fine. Follow me.”

  Sierra pulled out a package of roast beef, sliced smoked cheddar, yellow mustard and lemon basil mayo. She turned around, getting an eyeful of the muscles in Boone’s back working beneath his tank top as he thoroughly scrubbed his arms and face. Her gaze dropped to his incredibly tight butt—thank you, Wrangler jeans. He didn’t notice her guilty look or flushed face when she handed him a towel.

  “What can I do to help?” Boone asked.

  “Tell me if you want tomato and arugula on your sandwich.” She sliced thick chunks of Rielle’s homemade herbed oatmeal bread.

  “What’s arugula?”

  “Peppery lettuce.” She gestured with the knife to a pile of greens. “Try some.”

  Boone popped a piece in his mouth and chewed. “I’ll have that. And tomato.” He leaned closer to watch her. “So do you like to cook?”

  “My parents got divorced when I was five and we ate out a lot, no matter which one of them I stayed with. By the time I was ten, I never wanted to eat another McDonald’s Happy Meal. My Grandma Grace taught me some basics. Then dad and I enrolled in cooking classes that forced us to look beyond canned stuff, mac and cheese and spaghetti. I experiment with food because I know my dad won’t.”