by Pam Godwin
Not exactly helpful, since I’ve never touched a turkey neck. “What about the other men? How do you know them?”
“I didn’t say I did.”
“You’re hedging.”
“You’re stalling.” His breath caresses my ear, his broad chest like a branding iron against my back.
I let him move my hand closer to the cow’s poor butt, and my mind takes a disturbing detour. “Please tell me you’re not into fisting.”
“Haven’t tried it, but if that’s your thing, we can discuss it.”
“Nope. Forget I asked.” I glance around the barn, finding nothing related to impregnating a cow. “Don’t we need a turkey baster with semen or whatever?”
“We use a semen gun, and we’re not ready for that. You need to practice.”
Why do I get the feeling this is another test to see what I’m made of?
I lift her tail with my glove-free hand and wince. “What if she poops while I’m in there?”
“It happens.”
“Oh God.” With a groan, I extend my hand the final few inches.
“Stop!” Conor shouts from the doorway.
I yank my arm back, pulse spiking. Did I do something wrong? I haven’t even made contact yet.
She storms toward us, takes off her hat, and whacks Jarret over the head with it, knocking his Stetson to the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He backs up, hands in the air and laughing his ass off.
“That’s a first-calf heifer.” Conor points at the cow, glancing between us.
“I don’t know what that means.” I glare at Jarret.
“It means she’s already pregnant.” She gives him another smack with her hat.
“I was going to stop her.” He rubs a hand over his smirking mouth. “I just wanted to see how far she’d go.”
I guess the joke’s on me. I meant what I said, though. I’m not a sensitive person. What he doesn’t know is I’m a firm believer in retaliation.
As Conor gives him a good ass chewing, I calmly step away and search the dirt floor. When I spot a fresh, wet mound of cow shit, I scoop it up in my gloved hand, hold it behind me, and casually walk over to him.
His gaze slides from Conor to me. A smile stretches my cheeks, and his eyes narrow. He starts to look down, but I’m already swinging.
Manure splatters his chest, followed by my palm. I rub it in from his neck to his stomach, feeling up all those hard ridges through the shirt.
He stares down at the filth with a half-groan, half-grin. “Shit.”
“Yep.” I give his jaw a sloppy pat, leaving behind a smudge.
Conor presses the back of her hand against her mouth, her green eyes alight with amusement.
At the sound of her chuckle, I head to the utility sink, discarding the glove in the trash along the way.
“There’s a calf—” Jake charges into the cowshed and slams to a stop, taking in the scene. “What did I miss?”
I stroll past him. “When your mom went to the bathroom, she forgot to flush your twin.”
“I feel like that insults me as much as it does him.”
“She’s a proponent of verbal offensiveness,” Jarret says, joining me at the sink.
I wash my hands, not looking at him.
Until he strips off his shirt.
He wets a towel and runs it over his bare chest and neck, his biceps twitching and pulsing with the movement. No man should have a body like that. It’s criminal.
Stacks of muscle form a rippling terrace for water to travel as he squeezes the rag against his pecs. His sun-kissed skin is hairless perfection, his physique a flexing, breathing trove of strength and masculinity. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“If you wanted me to take off my shirt, all you had to do was ask.” He tosses the towel in the sink and stares down at me with his hands resting on trim hips.
“Is that right?” I trail a finger along the corrugated wall of his abs, testing him with no intention of following through. “Take off the jeans.”
He grips my wrist, stopping my journey to his belt buckle. “Tonight.”
Heat rises up my neck.
“While you’re in here fucking around,” Jake says behind me, “another calf fell into the creek.”
“Figures.” Jarret releases me to collect his hat from the ground a few feet away. “Is Randy working on the fence today?”
“Yeah. Should I pull him?”
“No.” Brushing off the Stetson, Jarret sets it on his head. “We need those posts fixed. I’ll help with the calf. Same spot as last time?”
“Yep.” Jake looks at Conor.
“Go ahead.” She rummages through a shelving unit of tools. “I’ll start cleaning the corrals.”
“Meet you there,” Jake says to his brother and leaves the barn.
Jarret turns to me and scrutinizes my face. “I expected a tantrum after the heifer incident.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“You’re really not mad.” He looks surprised.
“Not even a little.” I run my gaze down his shirtless chest. “I got a nice view out of it.”
“You’ll be punished for that.”
“For what?”
“Being a cock tease.” He walks to the exit, gesturing at me to follow. “You promised me an answer today.”
An answer to the second part of his deal.
You’ll spend the evenings with me, doing whatever I say, when I say it.
That’s not going to happen.
I hurry after him and catch up with his long strides outside. “My answer is—”
“Don’t say no.”
He must read it on my face or maybe he knows what he’s demanding is completely insane.
“Submit to a kiss.” He advances on me, forcing me to shuffle backward until my back hits the outside wall of the cowshed. “A kiss without resistance. If you’re not affected, I’ll drop it and tell you what you want to know.”
It’s tempting. My God, just to experience the feel of that beautiful mouth against mine. But I would lose. There’s no way I wouldn’t be affected.
“Don’t you have a calf to pull from a creek?” I push against his immovable chest.
He pinches his lips together, his eyes etched with frustration. Or maybe that’s determination. I don’t know him well enough to decrypt the nuances in his expression.
He pulls away and hikes toward the stable to saddle his horse. As I trail behind him, he gives me a crash course on horse riding.
I absorb his instruction, but my thoughts keep returning to the conversation we left unfinished. He’s going to kick me out tonight without giving me answers. I need to find a way to compromise.
Ten minutes later, he sits in the saddle and stretches a hand toward me, where I stand with my arms crossed.
He already explained where I’ll ride, how my legs will press against his, and the necessity of keeping my arms wrapped around him. It’s the best and worst place for me to be right now.
“Come on.” He gives me a come-hither gesture. “Ginny won’t bite.”
“Ginny’s not the one I’m worried about.”
The grin he unleashes has the power to melt panties within a ten-mile radius. “I know you’re as attracted to me as I am to you. Why are you fighting this?”
“You mean, why won’t I just fall on my back and let you rut between my legs?”
He leans forward on the horse and drapes an arm over the saddle horn, staring at me.
I’m reminded that he probably spends an hour at most with a woman before he has her on her back or tied on her knees or whatever he does with them. I suspect this is the most time he’s spent with someone he wants to fuck, without actually fucking her.
If he knew the real reason I was here, he wouldn’t want to fuck me or talk to me or have anything to do with me.
“I have a counteroffer.” I reach a hand toward him.
He clutches it and swings me up into the saddle behind him, as if I
weigh nothing. Then he takes the reins and guides Ginny out of the stable.
Ruining his shirt was a terrible idea. No matter where I put my hands, I touch warm, tight, bare skin. His abs are obscene, all sculpted bricks, flexing grooves, and zero body fat. I realize I was wrong about him being hairless when my fingers brush against the dusting of hair that dips beneath his belt.
His back muscles twitch so close to my face I see freckles. Not many. Just a faint dot here and there across his defined shoulders. And his scent… I don’t know if it’s his shampoo or the soap he uses, but his skin emits a raw, outdoorsy, manly aroma that begs me to bury my nose in it.
“Your counteroffer?” He nudges Ginny into a faster pace across the field.
I clench my thighs around the outsides of his to remain upright. “Since I have a high tolerance for pain, I’m willing to let you restrain me and swat me with your crop. I’m saying I’ll try it, but if you push my boundaries—”
“I’ll push them.”
“Okay, when you push my boundaries and I tell you to stop, I need to know that you will. If you can’t do that, there’s no deal.”
“You want a safe word.”
“I want equal power in this.”
He steers Ginny past the quiet bunkhouse, over a hill, and across another meadow. I assume his silence means he’s thinking about my offer. Or maybe he just likes to make me sweat.
About fifty yards up ahead, his brother stands beside a brown stallion and stares over a ledge.
Jarret slows Ginny to a crawling halt and meets my eyes over his shoulder. “If you say stop, it’s over. It doesn’t just end the scene. This, us, your pursuit of truth—all of it ends. You’ll get in your car and drive away.”
“Deal.”
He twists around to face me, angling slightly off the horse with only the strength in his legs to hold him on. Then he grips the back of my neck and yanks my mouth to his.
A current of hunger sparks across his lips as they brush against mine. I splay a hand against his shoulder, intending to push him away, but instead I leave it there. Dear God, I can’t even fight the thoughts rolling through me. His scent, his minty taste, everything about him is consuming. Persuasive. He floods my senses.
His tongue slides along the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and I grant it. My heart flutters. His breathing quickens, and we fall into a kiss that ruins me for all others.
I press closer, crawling halfway onto his lap, clinging to him as he devours my mouth softly, deeply, so deliciously unhurried and nothing like I expected.
My borrowed hat bumps his, and his twisted position in the saddle feels precarious, but I don’t want him to stop.
His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my cheek. His tongue explores mine, communicating a story worthy of more. A story I will never write but will always remember.
Because I love this—the hungry taste of his mouth, the skillful way he controls mine, the bunch of his muscles around me, the perfect fit of our lips, the ease in which I relent as he wraps my braid around his fist, pulling tighter, harder.
Then he leans back and opens hooded eyes.
“Maybe.” He prolongs each syllable and licks his lips.
I don’t know if he’s saying my name or answering a question I didn’t ask. I’m so damn dizzy. Tangled in sensations. Thoroughly seduced.
He rights himself in the saddle and guides my limp arms around his waist. As if he didn’t just kiss the wind out of me, he kicks Ginny into a fast gait and steers us to where Jake waits.
That’s when I realize my mistake. He gave me the power I asked for, but it’s all or nothing. If I stop his devious game, I’ll lose access to him. I won’t do that unless I absolutely have to.
If a safe word ends a relationship, it isn’t a safe word at all. It means I’ll allow more with the hope of keeping this going than I normally would. It’s dubious, and he knows it.
But he already said this won’t be safe.
I have no one to blame but myself.
When we reach the creek, Jarret helps me dismount the horse and follows me down. His demeanor is all business, and that excites me. It’ll be kind of cool to experience a real-life dilemma on a working ranch.
I follow the sound of throaty, agitated mooing to the edge of a fifteen-foot sandy bank. At the bottom, a white calf kicks along the creek bed, water sloshing halfway up his legs as he searches for a way out.
There’s no shoreline or beach. Just steep walls of mud and roots on both sides in either direction. The poor thing must’ve tumbled all the way down.
“How old?” I ask.
“Six days.” Jarret unties a bundle of rope from the saddle.
He’s just a baby. Every inch of him is white, except for those big black ears and adorable black nose and mouth and oh my God, are those black eyelashes? He looks like a little lamb.
I’m instantly and utterly in love.
“How will you get him out?” I press a hand against my chest, aching with each scared cry he bellows at us.
“We’ll rope it and shimmy it through the water to where the bank levels out.” Jake points downstream.
Jarret knots the end of his rope like a lasso. I step out of the way as he throws it. The noose lands around the calf’s neck, but the instant Jarret pulls, the calf goes crazy and bucks free.
Jake laughs. “Slippery sucker.”
“How many times have you tried?” Jarret glances at his brother.
“’Bout a dozen times.”
“He’s so scared.” I crouch on the ledge, searching for a path I could slide down. “There must be an easier way.”
“They’re always frantic in this situation.” Jarret gathers the rope to prepare another throw. “It’s like trying to catch a wild dog that’s attacking with everything it’s got.”
Because he doesn’t want to be roped. He’s down there all alone and traumatized and just wants to find his mother.
I stand and pace behind the guys. They intend to drag this terrified baby kicking and screaming down the creek, only to sell him off and turn him into hamburger.
My chest constricts. “If I rope him, can I keep him?”
“Jarret or the calf?” Jake arches a questioning brow.
I roll my eyes and point at the calf.
“First off,” Jarret says. “He is a she. Secondly, you don’t know how to rope cattle.”
I hold out my hand for the rope. “Challenge accepted.”
He laughs and tosses me the bundle. “This’ll be fun.”
Jake steps back and folds his arms across his chest, wearing a bored expression.
I coil the rope into a wide circle and drape it across my body. A dead tree clings to the edge a few feet away, its thick roots dangling midway down the creek wall. I make my way there and step on a low branch. Seems sturdy enough.
“Maybe…” Jarret shakes his head.
“It’ll hold her weight,” Jake says, as if my demise has suddenly made this more interesting.
“You’ll get covered in mud.” Jarret prowls toward me.
“Are the boots waterproof?” I edge onto the trunk and rappel down a few feet, gripping slimy roots and knocking away spiderwebs.
“I don’t care about the boots. That calf weighs more than you do, and there are snakes—”
My handhold slips, and I make an ungraceful plunge down the muddy wall, landing in the creek with a splash.
The calf skitters back, screaming in fear. Shit.
“What kind of snakes?” I clamor to my feet and frantically search the water.
“The kind that bite.” Jarret squats at the ledge fifteen-feet above me. “You okay?”
My ass throbs where I landed on a rock. I’m soaked head to toe and standing in brown, snake-infested water. “Yep, just dandy. Are we talking poisonous snakes? I really don’t want to die today.”
“I got bit by a water rattler and survived.” Jake grins from the safety of his perch.
“That makes me feel so much bette
r.” I turn toward the splashing frenzy behind me.
The calf scrambles in and out of the water against the opposite embankment, determined to scale that wall.
“It’s okay, baby.” I make shushing noises and slowly wade through the water. “I’m here to help you.”
The calf goes still, and those huge brown eyes own me instantly, completely. Yep, I’m a goner.
With careful movements, I lift the rope over my head and hold the knotted end like a hoop.
This will be just like the ring toss game I played when I was a kid. Except the target is a scrambling, spinning ball of cuteness.
Movement sounds above me, followed by Jarret’s voice. “You don’t have to do this, Maybe.”
My boots are so full of water a snake could slither in. I’m going to flip the fuck out if that happens. But I have to save her. She and I just need to get over our fears and work together.
A few feet away, I toss the rope and lasso her neck. My sigh of relief is short-lived when she jerks free and snorts at me.
“Don’t be such a chicken.” I move closer. “I won’t hurt you.”
She arches her back with her butt in the air, looking all fierce and brave, like she’s going to charge me.
I throw the rope, catch her around the ears, and she shakes it off.
Laughter sounds from the ledge, only fueling my determination.
Five more attempts and I finally toss a ring that sticks. I move quickly, scrambling toward her while pulling tight on the rope. The wrestling match that ensues submerges us to our necks in filthy water, but I have her in my arms, both of us bellowing like crazy.
I manage to loop the rope around her shoulders like a harness. Then I slump against the muddy cliff, winded and worn out.
“Well done.” Jarret stands on the edge and smiles down at me.
“Thanks.” I smile back with pride and climb to my feet, gathering the rope. “Now what?”
“Can you climb back up those roots?”
“No way. I can’t even reach them.”
“You’ll have to walk out with her.” He motions to the right. “The creek levels out about a mile down. Throw me the rope.”
“I’m sorry? Did you say a mile?”