“It shows. Are all your clients happy?”
“Eh, not all of them. I’ve lost a few, but I think it’s because our personalities haven’t meshed. I really can’t work with the pompous, uptight athletes. Too needy, and I don’t deal with that crap.”
“You don’t want to deal with people who are needy, and yet you’re the neediest man I’ve ever met.”
“What? I’m not fucking needy.”
“You came to my apartment one night because you needed to hold me.”
“That was different.” His voice turns soft. “It was a bad fucking night for me, and you were the only person I knew who would take that pain away.”
And now I feel like a jerk for joking about it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
He quiets me with a finger to my mouth. “Don’t apologize. Just know you helped me that night.” He plays with my hair, and I love how affectionate he is when his personality seems the exact opposite. “Whenever you’re around, I feel at ease.”
“Are you flattering me, Roark?”
“Telling the truth.” Sitting up, he lowers me to my back where he hovers above me. “What am I going to do about tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
“There are going to be all these teenage boys at the ranch, and I don’t want them thinking they can stare at my girl however they want.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re going to be staring at my dad the entire time. Believe me, I’m chopped liver whenever my dad is around.”
“You don’t plan on wearing that crop top, do you?” He lifts a questioning brow.
I chuckle softly. “No, that was only to drive you crazy. I actually waited in my room for you to open your door so I could run into you in the hallway.”
His eyes narrow. “You fucking tease. I knew it. I knew you were driving me crazy on purpose. And Josh?”
I shrug. “He’s just a nice guy, and it helped that you were crazy jealous around him.”
He drags his hand over his face and then shakes it. “Do you realize you almost gave me a coronary these last few days?”
“If you weren’t so stubborn, maybe I wouldn’t have had to drive you crazy.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. I still think you would have tortured me.”
“True.” I laugh. “I would have.”
“Strangely, it’s one of the reasons I’m drawn to you. You give me shit.”
“Only when you deserve it.” He laughs. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss against my lips, his hand tangling in my hair. When he pulls away, he says, “Will you take that white top back to New York? I want to see you shower in it.”
“Is that so?”
He nods. “Yeah, I totally jacked off in the shower thinking about you in that, all wet and sexy.”
“You masturbated in the shower?”
The laugh that drags out of him is sexy and entirely too much trouble. “I’ve had my hand on my cock every goddamn day I’ve been here, sometimes twice a day.”
My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t be so naïve, Sutton. Do you really think I could be this close to you and not be affected? If I wanted to be able to walk straight, I had to do something about it.”
“You should have asked for help.”
He shakes his head. “There is no way I can get close to you like that here, not with your dad in the same house. I almost lost it this morning. I can’t have another incident like that. We shouldn’t even be out here right now.”
“He can’t see us.”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s too close for comfort. There won’t be any fucking until we’re back in the city.”
Well, that doesn’t sit well with me, and he must notice because he places a kiss on my lips and then connects our foreheads. “Don’t worry, when we’re back in the city, I’ll make sure I make up for all these lost days.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He lowers his head and presses one more kiss across my lips before rising to his feet. He pulls up his low-hanging jeans and then takes my hand in his to help me from the ground. Together we shake the blanket out and then fold it up. We walk toward the ranch hand in hand, and it feels sublime. Such a small thing, but finally being able to hold his hand feels so right.
We reach the wooden stairs and Roark turns toward me. His thumb drags over my lip before he bends down and kisses me softly. It’s intimate and everything I’ve ever wanted from him. I feel all my muscles turn to mush.
When he pulls away, my body aches for more. “Good night, Sutton. I’ll see you in the morning. Tomorrow is your big day.”
“Couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help and your epic shit-shoveling skills.”
“Smart-arse.” He kisses me one last time and heads toward the front door. For the first time, I don’t mind watching him walk away. With his narrow hips, broad back, and sexy swagger, it’s absolutely not a hardship. Never in a million years would I have believed I’d want a guy like Roark—arrogant, cocky, rude—but once I peeled back his first layer, I found a kind, caring, and sweet man. A man I can’t wait to learn more about. A man who wants to be with me. A man who wants us to be an us.
Chapter Sixteen
Dear Gerald,
I’m going to preface this by saying in the past I’ve stated I don’t want to treat this diary as a place to gush like a teenage girl in puberty, but . . .
HOLY FUCK can Sutton kiss.
I knew those lips were going to do damage to my tough exterior, but I didn’t think they’d knock down every wall I ever erected. With one tiny press of her mouth against mine, everything crumbled around me, leaving me exposed, vulnerable, and begging like a desperate lust-struck boy.
It’s the way she carefully cups my cheek and then slowly moves her hands through my hair. It’s the lightness in her kiss even though her tongue is demanding. Light and then hard, light and then hard. Fuck, if she can about throw me over the edge with only her kisses, what else can she do with that sinful mouth of hers? I bet some really wicked things.
And knowing that she’s in the next room over, yeah, I didn’t get one ounce of sleep last night and it’s why I’m up before the sun this morning.
Up before the sun . . . that’s a term they use here on the ranch. I think they’re branding me, and for some reason I’m okay with it. An Irish cowboy, not sure how popular that is, but I think I could pull it off, as long as I can wear my own non-cowboy boots and a beanie. Then I’m good.
The rebel cowboy, I can go along with that.
Roark
* * *
ROARK
Fuck, I’m sore.
All the pent-up tension from not being able to touch Sutton, the withdrawal from cigarettes, and the countless hours I’ve spent doing manual labor around the ranch, is coming to a head this morning as I move around my room getting ready for the day.
After I took a shower, I watched the sun rise from my bedroom window, hands propped behind me on the bed, wishing Sutton was next to me enjoying the view, but knowing the way she sleeps—ostrich position and all—I’m guessing she wasn’t up early enough.
Campers are supposed to arrive between ten and noon today. I’m to help with registration and guide anyone who needs help finding their way around. I also get to wear a neon-green shirt and hat, so . . . that’s fun.
Jeans on, I reach for my shirt as a light knock sounds against the door. “Come in,” I say, only to see a freshly showered Sutton slip past the door.
A smile gracing her lips, she tiptoes toward me and presses her hands against my chest, then slips them up to my neck where she brings me down for a kiss. I drop the lime-green monstrosity and cup her generous ass in my hands, pulling her in even closer.
Wearing her tight-fitting jeans and a camp shirt, she looks natural but breathtaking. She doesn’t need all the frills like makeup and curled hair. Fresh from the shower, cheeks a little pink, wet hair, she’s stunning.
&n
bsp; Slowly she pulls away but not before pecking a few quick kisses.
On a sigh, she takes a step back. “I should have waited to kiss you until after we were back in the city.” Her hands glide down to mine where they lace together. “Because now that I’ve had a taste, it’s going to be torture not being able to have more.”
Tell me about it.
“We can always meet up in the barn for a roll in the hay.”
“Have you ever done that?” she asks, a crinkle in her nose, but a knowing glint in her eye.
A little shocked I ask, “Uh, I’m the one who should be asking have you ever done that country girl?”
“Not really, but I have been topless in the hay before, and it doesn’t feel good.”
“Please tell me you were having a topless party with your girlfriends and you weren’t with a guy.”
She chuckles. “Think what you want.” She looks behind her and sighs. “I should get downstairs and help out.” She eyes the shirt on the bed. “You’re going to look so good in that. I gave you one size smaller so it’s all tight and clingy to your muscles.”
“Did you really?”
She nods. “Even if we weren’t together by today, I guaranteed myself a nice view to make it through the next few days.”
“And then were your plans to torture me with that shirt in the hallway again?”
“Maybe.” She bites her bottom lip.
“You know”—I push her hair over her shoulder—“you look all innocent and sweet but on the inside, you’re sinful.”
“Don’t be giving away my secret.” My phone rings on the nightstand, and she takes that moment to part. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
I walk over to my phone, but watch her ass sway as she walks away. God, I can’t wait to get her naked again.
“Hello?” I answer the phone, not even looking at the caller ID.
“Mr. McCool, it’s Darcy.” I glance at the time, noting it’s nine in the morning in the office. What would Darcy be calling me for?
“Hey Darcy, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to bother you but something came up with Xavier Memphis’s contract, and we need you in the office. He’s freaking out.”
Fuck, Xavier plays baseball for the New York Bobcats, and we’re in the midst of figuring out an extension on his contract. Very high-profile, one we can’t afford to mess up—well, can’t afford for him to lose out on the contract.
“What’s going on?”
“Something about the jersey royalties not being approved. I’m getting calls from both Xavier and The Bobcats. He’s been to the office two times already this morning, demanding to see you.”
“Shit.” I push my hand through my hair. “Okay, let me figure out what to do. I’ll give you a call. Tell them you’ve been in touch with me, and I’ll get back to them shortly.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mr. McCool.”
I hang up and reach for a black shirt out of my suitcase. Looks like I’m going to have to wear the neon-green shirt for Sutton another day.
* * *
Roark: Landed and in the car. Thanks for the plane.
Foster: Anytime.
Roark: And about the community service, I’ll make it up. I promise.
Foster: I have no doubt you will. Get Xavier straightened out. We don’t want him crying in the dugout again.
Roark: He’s never going to live that down. I’m sorry again.
Foster: You’re good. Thank you for all the help leading up to camp. And hey, try to stay away from the cigarettes.
Roark: Don’t plan on buying a pack. Good luck.
I set my phone down and look out the window as Foster’s driver takes me directly to my office for damage control. The last thing I wanted to do this morning was hop on a private plane and make my way back to the city, especially since I didn’t get a chance to say bye to Sutton because she was busy with camp prep.
I’ve never really had a conscience before, but ever since Sutton walked into my life, it’s been rearing its ugly head, letting itself be known, and right now I feel all kinds of guilty for having to leave her, especially when I was set up to help.
Scratching the scruff on my jaw, I contemplate texting her. She has to know from Foster I’m not there, but should I let her know myself?
Probably. Sounds like something a responsible guy would do.
I pick up my phone from the seat and type out a text, feeling weird having to check in with another person.
Roark: Just landed in NY. I’m assuming your dad told you I had an emergency that took me away from camp. I’m sorry, lass.
I press send and rest my phone on my lap as I stare at the cityscape, wondering when this became my life, where I hang on a girl’s every word, desperate to not fuck up.
Bram and Rath would probably keel over and die if they saw me right now, or at least could listen to my internal dialogue. I’ve always been the confirmed bachelor, the one who’s never been expected to settle down, the crazy single guy at everyone else’s weddings.
And by no means am I settling down, but a relationship, this is a first.
I consider texting them, letting them know I’ve gotten a little soft, but I receive a text from Sutton before I can pull up my friends’ names.
Hopefully her quick response doesn’t mean she’s mad at me.
Sutton: Don’t ever talk to me again.
Uh . . . okay, not the exact response I was expecting.
A light sheen of sweat breaks out over my forehead as I try to think of a response.
Sutton: Just kidding. I wish I could have seen your face when you read that. I bet it was pure panic. Am I right?
Fucking smart-ass. She’s been hanging around me too much.
Roark: Where is the sweet girl I first saw at Gray’s Papaya?
Sutton: She’s been corrupted by an Irishman.
Roark: Apparently. Christ, you had me sweating.
Sutton: I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. Not after all you put me through when we first met. Sometimes payback is delayed, but still gratifying.
Roark: I’ll remember that.
Sutton: Don’t you dare think about torturing me.
Roark: Wouldn’t dream of it.
Sutton: Liar.
Roark: I’m really sorry I had to leave.
Sutton: I know. You’re staying in the city?
Roark: Yeah, I need to see these contract negotiations through.
Sutton: How inconvenient. Who am I going to kiss now?
Roark: If you say Josh, I’m going to spank you.
Sutton: Ooh, spank me, huh?
Roark: It’s official, you’re corrupted.
Sutton: I’m about to give you a run for your money.
Roark: I sure as hell hope so.
* * *
“Why do you keep looking at your watch?” Rath asks, sipping from his tumbler of whiskey. “And why the hell aren’t you drinking?”
After hours of negotiations with The Bobcats and their front office, we were able to settle on a royalty number that was satisfactory with both parties, but I’m keeping my eyes on them. They’ve been known to do some shady shit, and I wouldn’t put it past them to make a change when the contracts are drawn up.
I took Xavier out to dinner to calm his nerves and tried to reinforce that everything was going to be okay. He’s borderline needy, but after a hectic day like today, I don’t mind putting in the extra effort.
After we parted ways and he went back home to celebrate with his wife, I answered the five missed texts from Rath, who was looking to go out tonight. Since I didn’t have anything else going on, I hit him up and we parked our asses at a small Irish pub off Fifth.
“Not feeling like having a drink,” I answer, knowing the answer isn’t going to fly with Rath.
He sits up and looks me in the eyes. “You don’t feel like having a drink?” He gives me a once-over and then grows serious. “Dude, are you sick? Like do you have some kind of terminal illness?”
&nbs
p; “No.” I roll my eyes. “I just don’t want one, okay?” I glance at my watch again, counting down the minutes until I know Sutton will be in her room alone.
“There’s something going on. In all the years I’ve known you, not once have you ever turned down a drink. What’s up? Did something happen to you that I don’t know about?”
“No. I’m just not drinking, so drop it.”
“Can’t.” Rath shakes his head, lips firmly planted together. “Sorry, but—” He pauses and his eyes light up. Oh Christ. Sometimes I truly hate how fucking smart the man is. Didn’t take him a minute to figure it out. “You like Foster Green’s daughter, don’t you?”
Seriously, nothing gets past this man.
I’m not even going to try to deny it, so instead, I lean against the bar and fold my hands together. “Yeah, I do.”
“And she’s a good girl, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit,” Rath says in awe. “I can’t believe you found a girl who can tame you.”
“She’s not taming me,” I say, already sick of this conversation. “I’m just trying to make a difference, you know? Applying myself.”
“You apply yourself fine, but you’re taming and toning down.” He holds up his glass to me. “Good for you. I’m glad to see you’re not living the life of live fast and die hard. I’d like to have my friend around for a while.”
“If I haven’t died yet, I don’t think I ever will.”
Chuckling, Rath nods. “It’s scary how true that is, but seriously, you like her?”
“Yeah. We’re . . . dating.”
“Seriously?” The humor in Rath’s voice dissipates as he asks, “When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.” I chuckle. “Kind of new.”
“Just a little. What happened?”
I shift on my bar stool, my knees growing tight from the bent position. “I don’t know, man.” I rub my jaw. “I couldn’t get her out of my head. I tried, man, did I try hard, but with every attempt, my want for her only grew stronger. Even though it’s terrifying and I’ve never done this before, I knew there was no chance in hell I could walk away. There is something special about her I can’t pinpoint that makes me so goddamn needy whenever she’s around.”
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