While her arms stretched across the mare’s golden back, her gaze locked with Lang’s. Irritation flickered through her.
Why was he staring at her like that? Despite the sun’s bright rays, a shiver wiggled down her arms and she found herself unable to look away, the answer to her question forming in her mind.
—
“Answer me Lang Thompson!”
Lang finally got momentary control of himself and jerked his head away from Victoria. “Sorry, Susie… I… Do you need me to do something?”
Susie planted her fists on her slim hips. “I asked you three times if you’d seen the cooking oil. I can’t make tortilla chips without it.”
“Tortilla chips?”
“That’s right. Homemade tortilla chips. But there won’t be any without that cooking oil.”
Lang glanced at the mounds of heavy foam growing on Sasabe’s neck. Victoria’s tanned arms continued to sway in enticing, rhythmic circles as she lathered the horse’s mane.
Hours of watching her from a distance and the rest of the time thinking about her and that kiss she’d laid on him—he was steaming hard, like a tea kettle that couldn’t whistle.
After pulling in a long, steadying breath, he tore his gaze away. “You look in the cupboard?” he asked, even though he knew for a fact it wasn’t there.
“Of course.” Susie threw her hands at him. “Never mind. I don’t know why I asked you in the first place.”
Why hadn’t he put that oil back right away? He chanced another glance at Victoria’s long legs but instead of turning away quickly, he took his time admiring the way her bare skin was covered with shimmering droplets of glistening water and her sweet, round ass wiggled each time she moved.
The back of her pink t-shirt clung to her shoulders, hinting at the dip of her waist. The front of her shirt had to be soaked. Her nipples would probably be hard, tight and begging for heat. His mouth watered and his blood headed south, swelling his cock.
Lordy, if she turns around…
“I’ll make something else. Eggs?” Susie’s foot crunched lightly on the gravel as she stepped away. “We can have scrambled eggs and salsa.”
Eggs?
No homemade chips?
“Wait, Susie, maybe, it’s…it’s up high where you can’t see it. Wait here and I’ll go look on the top shelf, okay? I’ll bet it’s up there.”
She curved one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him and smirked. “Don’t you think I thought of that? I used a chair to check.”
“I’ll go find it.” He waved at her, insisting that she wait, as he jogged toward the house—and away from Victoria.
Chapter Ten
“Looks like Lang is almost done,” Susie said.
Victoria glanced at the barn. Newly hung siding covered the space that had been the gaping hole. He’d have it stained by tomorrow afternoon and then the only reminder of Lang’s presence would be his horses.
Her horses, she corrected.
Susie’s curious gaze bore into Victoria, so to avoid the questions that always seemed to follow her stepmother’s scrutiny, she turned to Prickly Pear. “Okay crabby girl, your turn.” She ran her palms across the horse’s back and circled her hands through the puddles of shampoo. The slick foam expanded with each swipe and soon the mare’s back was glistening, glimmering under the sun.
“You’re lucky to have someone like Lang around.”
Victoria definitely did not want to talk about Lang so she took the opportunity to tell Susie something she’d been wanting to find the right time to say. “You know Susie, you and Dad have been great. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Susie tipped her head, noticing the change in conversation no doubt. “We’re family, you don’t need to thank me.”
“Yes. I do.” Victoria shoved the pile of foam across Prickly Pear’s haunches. “After I made such a big deal about doing everything by myself, you and Dad could’ve sat back and watched me fail.”
Susie tiptoed around the streaming rivulets and growing piles of foam, her pink sandals catching the sun’s rays. “You wouldn’t have failed.”
“I wouldn’t have been ready on time. Like I am now.” Knowing that she’d never really made the effort to connect with her stepmother, she added, “Really, thanks for everything.”
Susie nodded, accepting the gratitude with her typical grace and pointed a long flashy, pink nail at Prickly Pear. “Is that shampoo supposed to foam up like that?”
It did seem strange, the way the foam grew with every swing of her hand. But then she’d never used horse shampoo before. “It ought to get them good and clean.”
“I guess so, if you ever get it rinsed off.”
Victoria hadn’t thought of that. The fat layer of lather coating Prickly Pear’s back didn’t look like it would ever rinse off. Clumps of bubbles clung to Sasabe’s glossy mane and Cassie’s thick legs were sleek and well-coated with the glossy residue of the shampoo.
“The cooking oil is on the counter.” Lang huffed over to stand squarely in front of Susie. “So there’s no problem. We can have the chips, right?”
Susie patted her hair, studying him as she pressed her smoothly glossed lips together. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hid it just to make me crazy.”
Lang’s eyebrows twisted. “Hide it? Why would… What-what would I want with cooking oil?”
Susie laughed as she hopped across the quickly expanding bubble rimmed puddles. “I didn’t really mean it. From what I’ve seen, I’m not sure you have enough gumption to do anything like that.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.” Susie said over her shoulder, tiptoeing around the puddles as she started for the house. “See you both at dinner.”
“What do you think she meant by that?” Lang asked Victoria once Susie was out of ear shot. “I’ve got gumption.” He spread his arms wide. “Don’t you think?”
Victoria peeked under Prickly Pear’s mane to take a long look at Lang’s delicious broad chest and rock-hard forearms. “I guess so,” she replied, not thinking about gumption at all. Then, realizing she sounded ungrateful for the work he’d done, added, “You did fix the barn. It looks good. Perfect. Thanks.”
After a pause, he replied, “It’ll be done as soon as I stain it.”
And then he’d be gone.
She glanced from Lang to the barn then nodded but didn’t say anything. What was there to add?
She was living the life she’d wanted. She should be happy and fulfilled. Proud of her accomplishments. Anxious to take what she wanted from the world. So Lang wasn’t her Mr. Right For a Night. She’d find another. There had to be plenty of men who’d like to have some spur-of-the-moment fun.
Still, each time she told herself her dream was coming true, that she had everything she’d wished for, she found herself thinking that her life wasn’t complete. A hefty gaping hole lingered in her world and it seemed to be getting wider each day.
Lang moved closer and looked at the horses. “Are they clean enough yet?”
Her conflicted thoughts evaporated when she scanned the animals. Even Prickly Pear looked sweet and approachable. Slick bubbles ran down her side and plopped onto the ground.
Victoria caught Lang watching her, his gaze taking in the wet cling of her clothes, the way her t-shirt was plastered to each breast, outlining each tight nipple. She shifted under his stare and he didn’t miss a single, tiny movement.
That awesome sense of power, the one she’d felt when she kissed him behind the horse trailer, came back with a vengeance. “Don’t you have something better to do than stand around and harass me?” she asked, angling her hips toward him and bending lower than necessary as she reached for the hose with deliberate slowness.
To her satisfaction, he climbed onto the fence rail and tucked his hands into his back pockets, as though he didn’t trust himself to keep his hands to himself. The breeze pressed his blue plaid shirt against his
flat stomach, making the delicious curve below his belt even more noticeable. He was quiet for several long minutes, then finally asked, “Think you’ll be done by dinner? Or should I tell Susie to give me your food?”
“You and those stupid homemade tortilla chips,” she replied, smiling as she twisted to spray Cassie’s front legs.
Instead of rinsing clean, the shampoo fought back by generating more bubbles. The harder she sprayed, the more lather appeared. How was that possible?
The weight of Lang’s curious stare continued to weigh on her back, so she left Cassie to spray down Sasabe. Again the shampoo fought back, raising more bubbles instead of rinsing clean. That simmering sexual tension fizzled into frustration and a reluctant bit of embarrassment.
The minutes dragged. Even after spraying Sasabe down from haunch to hoof, the mare was still coated with slick lather. By the time Victoria moved on to Prickly Pear, not only did she look as though she’d been thoroughly hosed down herself but she was as crabby as the spotted mare who earned her name by being stubborn and unwilling.
“You need some help, Victoria?”
Why couldn’t he have been there when she rounded up the horses, instead of catching her mess up something as simple as washing the mares? She cast him a scowl. “Not from you, thank you very much.”
He lifted his eyebrows, amusement circling his face. When Victoria followed his gaze with her own, she spotted Cassie about to give Sasabe a nip on the rump. Prickly Pear had her ears pinned down and was flicking her tail. At the rate she was going, there was no way the horses were going to wait patiently for dinner while she finished rinsing them off.
She couldn’t take them to the corral in their sticky state but she could bring part of their dinner to them. “Wait here, girls. I’ll get some hay.”
After getting three feed bags, she crossed to the barn where a newly delivered stack of hay bales waited to be moved to the small shed used to store feed. With the bags flapping against her side, she marched to the stacks and reached for a low bale on the end.
Once Victoria disappeared, Lang hopped down and followed her into the barn. That cooking oil added to the shampoo did the trick every time. Even though she hadn’t said anything about the never-ending lather, she’d gotten plenty frustrated.
All she needed now was a little something more—a gentle shove—and she’d be ready to cry uncle. A few careless words blurted out in front of daddy Moore and she’d be rethinking the whole I-want-to-run-a-dude-ranch thing and the ranch would be back on the market.
Problem solved—his and hers.
Lang tried to avoid gazing at the way her long, tan legs flexed as she moved but the pull was too fierce.
He wouldn’t get side-tracked by her sexy body—or that horse bath scene. He couldn’t have daydreamed up a hotter scenario. If he ever went into the business of making porn, he knew where to start.
Don’t think about that hose.
Or her wet shirt. Slick with shampoo and clinging to her smooth, soft skin.
He held his breath, tense with anticipation as she wrapped her fingers around the twine he’d snipped about an hour ago then winced when her shoulders jerked back, jutting her rib cage forward. Lang swallowed against the lump that formed in his suddenly dry throat.
Just as he expected the twine whirled free, scattering clumps of hay across the floor of the barn. Victoria stumbled but instead of falling back, she fought to right herself and ended up tumbling across the bale, falling face first into the loose hay.
Pieces stuck to her damp arms, got tangled in her hair. The more she struggled, the more the hay clung to her. When she spotted him, her gaze narrowed and she immediately stopped scrambling.
The heated flush of simmering frustration brightened her cheeks and darkened her eyes. Lang’s gaze traced the outline of her round breasts as her chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, then shifted to her firm legs, draped across one of the bales.
Struggling to right herself by pushing up with one hand, she cast him a warning glance. “You want something?”
Hell yes, he wanted something.
Penned-in need, hours of very detailed fantasizing and pure old-fashioned lust finally got the better of him and he let go of the promise he’d made to keep his emotions fenced in and safe from harm.
Not thinking with his cock? He’d never really considered that. Had he?
He covered the distance between them in three strides. After swinging over the hay bales, he pushed her back until she was nestled in the hay and swiftly covered her mouth with his own.
She welcomed him eagerly, softening her lips and angling her head back to give herself over to him. Her sigh whispered across his lips, in response he swept his tongue across hers and deepened the kiss.
The softness of her skin, that tantalizing citrus scent that followed her everywhere and the over-the-top need to have her, made his movements fevered and fast.
His hands couldn’t move quickly enough, her skin was damp and cool but turned warm everywhere he put his hands. “I need to touch what I’ve been staring at and dreaming about.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He tugged up her damp shirt then cupped her round breasts, lifting the soft mounds higher, freeing them from her simple white bra. She arched her back, pushing her sweet flesh into his hands as he lightly flicked the tips with his thumbs. She pulled in a sharp breath, instinctively spreading her legs to bring him closer. But it wasn’t nearly enough—he wanted to touch her everywhere at once—inside and out.
She shifted beneath him, moving so his rigid cock pressed firmly against her soft center. He responded by reaching around to grab her ass with both of his hands and press against her, wishing like hell their clothes were already off.
Sill matching his demanding kisses, she slid her hands up under his shirt and skimmed her palms across his back, the heat from her hands seeping through his skin, tormenting him, making him even more desperate for real contact, the all-over skin-to-skin kind.
Pressing harder into her, he slipped his hands up to the small of her back, she moaned, arching up to give him easier access. The velvety skin beneath his fingers was even more incredible than he’d imagined. The gentle glide of her tongue across his—mind-blowing.
How could she be so sweet and unskilled at seduction, yet so demanding and sexy at the same time?
It was as though the heavens had taken everything he’d wanted in a woman and given it to Victoria.
When he lowered his mouth to graze along her jaw she whispered something that made his roaming hands halt. “I thought you said I wasn’t this kind of woman.”
Dazed, he lifted his head and gazed into her passion-drunk eyes that were sparking with something he didn’t understand, then she said another thing he didn’t want to hear. It wasn’t so much the words, as her tone. Female satisfaction edged with I-told-you-so.
“Change your mind about me, cowboy?”
She ran her tongue across her lips, her gaze fixed on his mouth as she arched a brow and asked, “Nothing to say? Not ready to admit you were wrong?”
What could he say? That he’d changed his mind, he thought she was the type of woman worth fooling around with but not worth staying around for?
He couldn’t say that, it was a lie. The complete opposite of the truth.
Resolutely, she straightened her clothes then wiggled free and scrambled to her feet. Grabbing handfuls of hay to stuff into the feed bags, she said, “Well, Lang. I haven’t changed my mind about you.”
She marched through the barn, leaving a trail of hay behind her, and ducked out of the barn without even a parting glance.
She hadn’t changed her mind about him? What the hell did she mean by that?
Lang sagged back, groaning as he ran his hand over his throbbing hard-on, a very reluctant smile pulling across his well-kissed mouth. She made him feel alive, strong, capable. But she also made him confused. But even worse than that, desperate with need.
Hot, impulsiv
e actions were fine, when no feelings were involved. But the constant hunger he felt for Victoria—it scared him. Bad. He’d trusted once and lost everything that meant anything to him.
Staring out to the sunshine, he imagined Victoria back out with the mares. In that wet t-shirt. Bending, her slick skin glimmering in the sun.
Damn. He had to stop. Thinking about her that way was nothing but trouble.
He tried to convince himself they were both better off, that he was glad she’d walked out on him.
But it didn’t work. He was too far gone and he knew it.
—
The homemade chips and fresh salsa sat on the table when Lang crossed into the dining room. Victoria’s father and Susie huddled together, whispering and enjoying each other the way they often did.
When Sam spotted him in the doorway, the other man tilted back and laid his arm behind his wife. “Victoria will be right out. Washing up those horses was a big job.”
Lang nodded, settling into the chair opposite Sam. He’d taken to sitting there because it kept Victoria, who sat at the head of the table, out of his direct line of sight. But he’d had as much success not watching her every move as he had at not thinking about her all the time. In a word, none.
Now, after that kiss, with fresh impressions of her exploring hands, her needy welcoming touch…
He held in a groan.
Susie smoothed a hair into place. “You look worn out, Lang.”
He bobbed his head up and down. That was the ticket. He needed rest—alone—and far away from curvaceous, female enticement. “Hank’s so tired he’s skipping dinner.”
“Hank’s not eating? Is he okay?” Victoria swept into the room, holding the same pitcher she’d used that first day on the porch.
“He’s fine, just wiped out.” Lang was grateful Victoria had changed out of her wet clothes but he didn’t need a picture to remember how she’d looked. That explosive image—and what happened in the barn—would be with him forever.
Cowboy For Hire Page 10