by Paige Warren
She wrapped her hand around his softened cock and sucked him into her mouth. He gripped her hair, tugging her away, but she sucked at him like a Hoover. Not that it made much difference. His dick didn’t rise to the occasion. He finally pried the leech off him and refastened his pants, suddenly feeling the need for a shower.
“I think you need to reschedule, Sierra. Maybe have your piece finished elsewhere.”
“You don’t mean it, Synclair!”
“Oh, I mean it, sugar. No means no. I told you it was cash today or nothing, but you didn’t want to listen. You think you’re God’s gift and I should be thankful you want to suck my cock? Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t work that way. This was a payment system, pure and simple, and the currency has changed.”
Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. The tenseness of her jaw told him she was grinding her teeth. He’d seen her lose her shit once before and he knew it was about to happen again. Synclair needed to get her the hell out of his shop before she broke something.
“You sanctimonious asshole. You’re the one who set this up to begin with. It was you who said I could pay for my ink in something other than cash. You were more than happy for me to spread my legs for you before.”
Synclair snorted. “Like you weren’t whoring yourself out for less down at the strip joint. We all know what happens in those VIP rooms.”
She slapped him across the face, hard enough that he wondered if she’d left a handprint. When she drew her hand back again, he gripped it tightly and jerked her forward, knocking her off balance on those ridiculous four-inch heels she wore.
“I don’t think so. You get a free pass for the first one. Hit me again and I’ll forget that I’m a gentleman and lay you out cold.”
“Ha! You? A gentleman?”
“I’ve made it a practice to never hit women, but you’re pushing my buttons. Get your ass out of my shop now, before I throw you out.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He arched a brow. “Sweetheart, if I can’t throw you out, I’m sure the sheriff would like to talk to you about solicitation. How’s a night behind bars sound?”
Sierra jerked her arm from his grasp and tossed her hair over her shoulder, the longer strands smacking him in the face. “This isn’t over, Synclair. If you aren’t fucking me, you’re fucking someone. I know you. Your dick can’t go twenty-four hours without some action. I’ll be watching and waiting and, when I see who the skank is, I’m going to take her out.”
His jaw tightened as he ground his back teeth together and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t threaten me, Sierra. One phone call and your ass is out of a job. Never forget that.”
She spun toward the door, flinging it open. As she marched through, she turned and flipped him off before hauling butt down the sidewalk. Why he hadn’t thrown her out sooner, he didn’t know. Wait. Yeah, he did. He’d been thinking with his dick. As long as his dick was happy, he’d been happy. While he realized now that he should have been a little more particular about where he stuck his cock, Sierra had been as likely a place as any to find release. Better than his own hand. Obviously he needed to make some changes in his life. For starters, he’d cancel Friday night with the guys. If Gemma heard that he was spending his Friday nights at the Golden Pony, staring at naked women, he doubted he’d ever have a shot at going on a date with her.
Gemma had mentioned wanting a tattoo. Maybe he could offer her a deal on one, as a welcome to Grizzly Pines present? Truthfully, he’d do it for free if he thought it would win him any points with her. Just the excuse to touch her bare skin, even if he would have rubber gloves on, would be reason enough to do it. He wondered what sort of tattoo she’d want and where she’d put it. Would she choose a butterfly like most women? Or something more fierce?
He glanced at his appointment book and realized it was empty for the rest of the day. While he did get walk-ins on occasion, most people called ahead of time. He turned off the Open sign and put a note on the door saying he’d be back after six. Pacing his studio with a hard-on wasn’t going to get him anywhere. At the very least, he could go home and work out his frustrations. He could easily do that in the back room of the studio but he wanted more privacy. The studio was fine when it came to one-night stands or a quick fuck to blow off steam, but something told him Gemma would be different, and since he fully planned to think of her the entire time he jacked off, he didn’t want to tarnish her memory by doing it in the studio. He wouldn’t treat her the same way he’d treated every other woman in his life.
His brother would laugh his ass off right now if he could see him. For as long as he could remember, Synclair had put his dick in the first available, willing woman, and now, he’d not only turned one down but essentially told her to not come back. And why had he done it? Because he’d met a woman, one he’d barely spoken to. His brother had always told him that he’d meet a woman one day that would make him regret his choices in life, and damned if he wasn’t right. He might not know Gemma, but he could tell that she was a woman who deserved a man better than him. She seemed sweet and innocent, a far cry from the type of woman he usually went after.
There had been a haunted look in her eyes, telling him that her past hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but he knew that he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to take her out for a nice dinner, someplace that served wine, and he wanted to talk to her… just talk. Okay, yeah, he wanted in her pants, but he wanted more from her than just a quick fuck. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to get to know a woman, find out what made her tick, if for no other reason than so he could please her.
He’d always made sure his sexual partners found release, but for once he was thinking about giving a woman a different kind of pleasure. The kind that came with flowers and long walks, candlelit dinners, and nights cuddling on the couch. He’d never done any of those things with a woman before, and wasn’t sure he really knew how to romance one. Seduce his way into her panties? No problem. Gain her trust and eventually her love? Much harder.
It should have scared the shit out of him, that he wanted something like that, something that could turn into forever. Weddings had always given him hives, mostly because the women who attended them all wanted to get married at some point, and Synclair had never been the marrying kind. But as he’d looked into Gemma’s eyes, he’d gotten a good look at the other side of the fence. The side where couples went on picnics, held hands walking down the sidewalk, shopped together, and made love—not fucked. For the first time in his life, he wanted that.
Before he could change his mind, he picked up the phone and called the sheriff. It was time to make sure Sierra didn’t cause trouble. If he wanted a real shot at Gemma, he couldn’t take any chances that the bitch from hell would screw it up for him. Maybe a few nights in jail would change her tune.
Chapter Five
The next three weeks flew by and Gemma settled nicely into her new life. She got along great with Elodie, when the woman wasn’t trying to fix her up with someone. It seemed there was a new man at the adjoining ranch that Elodie thought would be just perfect for her, Everett Richards, until Beau said he’d seen the man kissing Caleb Halston in town. Elodie had seemed disappointed, but Gemma was relived. She wasn’t ready to date anyone yet. Not seriously anyway. She missed having male companionship. All right, what she really missed was getting wild and reckless between the sheets with some hot stud, but she couldn’t very well bring anyone home while she was staying with her cousins.
Beau had been kind enough to let her use his laptop as promised, no questions asked, and she’d made great progress on her novel. From the smirk he’d cast her way after the first time she’d used it, she had no doubt he’d retrieved her document and knew what she was up to. Either that, or Elodie had spilled the beans and told him about her novel. She didn’t think the other woman would rat her out, but she wouldn’t discount it. It had only taken one day of Gemma being
sequestered in her room with the laptop for Elodie to start questioning her. Was she job hunting? Chatting with friends? Gemma had finally caved and told her about the book.
While Elodie wanted company, she also gave Gemma her space, allowing her to write while the men were out working. She’d gotten into a routine. Wake up at five, have some coffee—okay, more like half a pot—then write until lunch. After lunch, she spent time with Elodie and usually helped prepare dinner, even if she wasn’t the greatest cook. At least she hadn’t killed anyone yet. That was something, right? Maybe being around Elodie would be good for her. Some of those domestic skills might rub off, so that when she did find the perfect man, she’d be armed and ready. She’d actually managed a halfway decent meatloaf the other night, except she’d scalded the sauce.
Gemma felt like a new person. She still had the memories of the horrible choices she’d made, but she definitely wasn’t that woman anymore. Not only did she feel better, but she looked better, too. The bags under her eyes were gone, and her skin had gone from pale to glowing. Eating Elodie’s cooking was putting some pounds back on her. Her cousins had given her a hard time about how skinny she’d become, and she couldn’t argue with them, they were right.
“Gemma, I’m going into town. I thought you might want to come with me and pick up some new clothes. You mentioned yours were getting tight,” Elodie said with a smile.
Gemma ran a hand through her unkempt hair and looked down at her pajamas. She’d been writing the past few hours and hadn’t bothered to shower yet. Elodie looked well put together, with her hair in a twist and a pretty sundress hugging her curves. She didn’t want to say anything, thinking it wasn’t her place, but she’d noticed the other woman seemed to have put on a little weight, particularly around her midsection. Gemma had her suspicions as to why that was, but she wasn’t about to say anything. If Elodie wanted her to know, she’d say something.
“Well, come on! Get up and get in the shower!” Elodie tugged on her arm. “Don’t make me go shopping alone. Or worse, drag one of the guys with me.”
Gemma saved her file and closed the laptop, knowing she wasn’t going to win the battle against Elodie’s enthusiasm. She had a feeling the woman was up to something other than regular shopping. She’d never seen her so excited before. Oh lord. She didn’t have another matchmaking scheme in mind, did she? Elodie meant well, and Gemma knew that, but she was like a dog with a bone. Just because she’d found her happily-ever-after, she wanted everyone else around her to be deliriously happy, too. She just didn’t realize that Gemma was happy, happier than she’d ever been, and if things kept progressing like they were, her book would be done in another few days. She’d already done her research and knew which publisher she was going to submit her manuscript to, had studied the submission guidelines, and felt like she was ready.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll take a quick shower and then we’ll head into town.” Gemma smiled. “Just give me fifteen minutes.”
“Make it twenty. Take the time to dry your hair so it does that pretty, fluffy thing it does when you take your time with it.”
Yep, she was up to something.
Elodie did have a point, though. Her clothes were getting too tight. She’d had to start wearing knit shorts with tees, stretchy dresses, or yoga pants, which was all well and good when she was just lounging around the house. Going out in public like that? Not something she really wanted to do, not if she didn’t have to. She supposed the dresses were okay, but the rest just made her look slovenly. At heart, she was a boots and jeans kind of woman.
She selected a powder-blue sundress with plain white undies. Her breasts weren’t large enough for her to worry about a bra. Men had told her that they were a nice handful, but she knew better. She had just enough to give her body a bit of curve, but they had been a long time coming. She’d been sixteen before her breasts decided to make an appearance, long after all of her friends had gotten theirs. There had been many jokes at her expense from the boys she knew, until she blossomed. But she had a good memory. When boys started asking her out, she snubbed the ones who had ridiculed her, had made her cry into her pillow at night. She supposed they’d had the last laugh though. Those boys, who had been so cruel, turned out to be good, decent men, men she’d avoided. Instead, she’d ended up with one loser after another.
Giving herself a mental shake, she carried her clothes into the bathroom and started the shower. Not wanting to keep Elodie waiting too long, she rushed through washing her hair, not letting the conditioner set the full three minutes. Despite what Elodie said, no one was going to notice her in town anyway. So what if she had limp hair? She’d ridden with her cousins to the feed store, had been in the bar the one night she’d slipped into her old ways, except this time she’d left after just one beer. Never once in her visits to town had she run across a man worthy of her attention. Oh, there had been some lookers, especially at the bar, and there’d been that scrumptious Synclair, but she’d decided she needed a nice, sedate… accountant, lawyer, or teacher. Someone with a steady job who used their brains for a living. She was done with the macho bartenders and mechanics. She wanted a man who earned his muscles in the gym, not from fighting. Hell, he didn’t even have to have muscles! She could be happy with a paper pusher. Couldn’t she?
Gemma dried off and dressed. Since Elodie had made it a point to ask her to fix her hair, she supposed it was the least she could do. The blonde tresses were long, but her hair was baby fine and not very thick so it wouldn’t take long to dry. Her brothers had ended up with the incredible hair. She figured she took after their father, who’d had a receding hairline by the time he was thirty and was well on his way to a shiny bald head now that he was fifty. As long as her hair stayed on her head, she’d never complain about how little of it there was.
When she’d finished drying and brushing her hair, she eyed the bag of makeup Elodie had given her. Honestly, she’d never really worn much makeup. She’d brought lip-gloss and blush with her, but little else. It made her feel like she was wearing a mask, and she hated trying to scrub off the mascara at the end of the day. Her skin felt fresh and clean at the moment, and she didn’t understand why she’d want to cover it up with something. Instead of pawing through the bag, she dug a tube of ChapStick out of the drawer and smoothed some on her lips. Satisfied with her appearance, she went downstairs to meet Elodie.
“Maybe we should take one of the guys, you know, to hold back the hoards of men who are going to descend upon you,” Elodie said when Gemma walked into the room.
Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’re going too far and you know it. I’m no raving beauty. My top lip is thinner than my bottom one, my eyes are too big, and my nose is pointy.”
“Have you ever lacked for male companionship?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “No.”
“Then don’t argue with me.”
Gemma knew she wouldn’t win against Elodie. She didn’t know what the woman had been like before her cousins had gotten their paws on her, but now she was sassy and in charge. Oh, the men huffed and puffed and barked orders here and there, but it was no secret Elodie ruled the roost. All she had to do was ask for something, or even mention in passing that she wanted something, and it seemed to appear as if by magic. And if the woman got a paper cut, you’d think she’d nearly lost a hand the way the men would fall over themselves trying to make sure she was okay. It was funny to watch, and a little sad. Gemma wanted someone in her life like that.
Elodie looped her arm through Gemma’s and guided her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go see what sort of mischief we can get into today.”
“Beau gave you his credit card, didn’t he?” Gemma asked.
“I wouldn’t take it.”
Gemma stared her down.
“All right. I might have taken some cash from Cody. But I really do need new clothes and I was thinking I might do something different with my hair. Other than trimming it myself, I’ve never had anything done to it before.”
“Well, I was thinking I might get some layers, particularly around my face. It wouldn’t really be cutting it, now would it?”
“You’re like a kid in a candy shop sometimes.”
The smile fell from Elodie’s face. “I didn’t used to be. When your cousins found me, I was a shell of a woman. I’d been ridiculed my entire life, treated like common trash. But Beau and Beck saw something in me that day and they took a chance on me. Then I met Cody and everything clicked into place. I know I’ve only been with them for a few months, but I feel like a completely different woman.”
“Elodie, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I just meant that you get really excited about things, and there isn’t anything wrong with that. I’m a bitch for making you feel bad.”
“You’re not a bitch, Gemma.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. You’ve been super nice to me from the moment I stepped foot on the ranch. Even before that! You’ve done everything you could to make me feel welcome in your home, gave me the means to realize my dream, and I’ve been ungrateful.” She blew out a breath. “I won’t even pitch a fit if you try to introduce me to some hunky guy again. I promise I’ll give him a chance. Well, as long as he isn’t gay.”
Elodie snickered. “I guess I was a little off on the whole Everett thing. I could have sworn I saw him checking out a woman at the post office last week. Must be preg—I mean…”
“Aha! I knew it!”
Elodie blushed. “You don’t know anything. Not a thing, you hear me? I told the men I’d let them tell you our news when they were ready, and now I’ve let the cat out of the bag.”