She shrugs like she’s explained this repeatedly over the course of her life. “I had ten great years with them, and Jake took over raising me without ever once moaning or complaining about it. He finished college while taking care of me, used the inheritance to start up his own business, and has been very successful.
“They would’ve been proud. I’m probably most proud that he didn’t give up on me during my teen years when I was going through that self-absorbed, know-it-all, bad-boy phase I think every girl goes through. He could’ve ditched me on a street corner and bailed, and honestly, I would’ve deserved it. But we got through it, and we’re closer for it. Even if he doesn’t ‘understand the appeal of working on a dirty, smelly, animal-infested ranch.’”
Her voice pitches deep as she says the last part, obviously mimicking her brother’s.
Luke laughs loudest, lightening the mood as he waggles his eyebrows at Sophie. “Bad boys, huh?” he says, giving me a pointed look.
We finish dinner and a dessert of Mama’s peach cobbler in companionable conversation, the weight of Pops passing and Sophie’s life summed up in one ramble left behind as we debate names for the foal.
By the time we’ve washed up the dishes, a decision still hasn’t been made, though I think Mama is leaning toward Polka Dottie. But we call a pause on the discussion either way. I offer to walk Sophie to her truck, popping my elbow out. She hooks her small hand through, resting it on my forearm.
It feels formal, like we’re walking out on the field at homecoming, but right now, I just want her hands on me any way I can get them. This seemed the most gentlemanly, especially considering I’m already contemplating some very ungentlemanly ways I’d like to touch her as I scan her sexy curves and bright eyes.
“Thanks, by the way,” I say as we come around the curve of the house. “For making it easy and not asking anything embarrassing. Luke and Mark would’ve had a field day with it.”
Sophie nods. “Sometime I’ll have to tell you my Little Mermaid story,” Sophie says, smiling. “What I mean is, I understand. Trust me, Jake was a good surrogate parent, but he’s still my big brother.”
We reach the truck all too soon, and I open the door for her as I extend a hand to help her inside the cab.
She takes my hand but turns to face me. “James, this was great. Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner.” She winks. “Or should I say, tell your Mama thanks again for forcing you to invite me to dinner. Really. I haven’t had a family moment like that in a while, so I appreciate you letting me into yours for a few minutes. I hope it wasn’t too heavy there for a bit.”
I smile. “No, I think it was just right. It seemed like Mama enjoyed it and it was good for her. It’s still a bit hard to hear for us, but we needed it, too, I think. Thank you.”
We look at each other for a moment, and I can see the moon reflecting back in her eyes, lighting her cheekbones and leaving the contours of her face in shadow. It’s magnetic, and I want to lean in to see if her lips are as soft as they look.
Sophie notices and clears her throat, although she sounds a little reluctant to leave still. “Well, guess I’d better be going. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow when I come to check on Briarbelle?”
I can hear the hope in her voice, and it makes butterflies storm in my gut, but I try to play it cool, not letting on just how much she’s affected me today.
“Absolutely. I’ll meet you at the gate. And Soph . . . truce stands.”
She smirks, apparently my coolness not played all that well after all. “Truce stands, but I’m about to get in this truck, and something tells me you’re gonna check out my ass when I do.”
I grin, enjoying the flirty tone to her voice and knowing she’s damn sure right. I lean in close, Sophie not seeming to mind at all. “You know what? I sure am.”
She nods, her smirk widening into a little grin. “Good. But make sure when you walk inside, you do it right. Because I’ll be checking out your ass too . . . you know, so we’re even and all.”
With that, she turns and climbs up in the truck, and for a split second, I get a full visual of the round globes of her ass, swaying as she swivels into the driver’s seat. Blood instantly rushes to my cock as an image comes to mind of her bent over the seat as I fuck her, jeans around her ankles as we stand in the open truck door.
Without thinking, I adjust myself for some relief, but she catches me, I think, because I see her smirk.
She grins through the open window, her eyes still twinkling. “Okay, Cowboy. Show me what you got. Fair’s fair, and even’s even.”
I grin, turning to show her my backside, and give a little wiggle before walking inside.
Her giggle at my antics is like a balm for my soul, lighting up my playful side that’s been dormant for too long.
And suddenly, life on the ranch doesn’t seem quite so boring after all.
CHAPTER 7
SOPHIE
The next day flies by as I shadow Doc and check on his patients along with him. He’s a good teacher, constantly quizzing me and humming in approval every time I answer correctly.
He’s showing me the difference between “book smarts” and “street smarts,” and that’s vital to my future. One of the most important lessons he’s taught me so far is that nothing is routine. Even the most common of appointments, like vaccine administrations, have to be treated with the utmost care.
These animals are their owners’ livelihood and their pets, sometimes as much a part of their family as their children. He’s already letting me have more autonomy, and I’ve been successful with every opportunity he’s given me so far. Including Briarbelle.
After finishing the last appointment of the day, an eye infection for a dog that got its head in the toilet at the wrong time, Doc comes in. “Hey, Sophie, take the truck out to the Bennett place again today, but can you drop me off at home first? It’s been a long day, and walking home might do me good, but doesn’t sound that appealing with how exhausted I am.”
I smile, looking forward to the drive. “Of course—it’s your truck, after all! And it’s too warm to walk anyway. Weatherman said it’s been over ninety degrees all day, and with the humidity, it’s ugly out. Load up, and I’ll be right there.”
Doc heads out to the truck, and I take a quick minute to run to the bathroom and check myself over. If I’m seeing James again, I don’t want to smell like I’ve been working in the barn and look like the mess I feel. After all, fair’s fair . . . and maybe I’ll get another eyeful.
A quick pull of my hair back into its ponytail makes my overall look a bit more perky, and a sweep of pink gloss on my lips lights up my face. Or maybe that’s the sparkle in my eyes at the prospect of seeing James?
Whatever, it’s as good as it’s getting right now, and Doc’s waiting. I pretend not to see Doc’s knowing smirk as I climb into the truck and roar down the main drag toward his little house in the residential section of town.
“So, which one is it?” he asks as we wait at a light.
I glance at him, not taking my eyes off the road for more than a split second. If anything, my parents’ accident taught me to be a cautious and conscientious driver. Maybe I can use it as an excuse for not answering him too.
“Hmm?” Doc intones slowly like I didn’t understand him. “Which one? Which brother?”
I blush instantly at the awkwardness of my boss, someone I want to impress by the good job I’m doing, seeing through me so readily and knowing that I’m obviously interested in a client. “Huh? Just wanted to look pulled together. You know, make it apparent that I know what I’m doing.”
Doc nods wisely, tapping his hand on the dash in front of him. “Ah, James, then. He didn’t give you any hassle yesterday, did he?”
I sputter a bit but decide that protesting too much might be even more obvious. “No, he was fine. We both apologized, and I even had dinner with them.”
“Mm-hmm. Did Louise make you any of her pie?”
“Cobbler,” I admit
. “It was delicious.”
“That woman can cook,” Doc says. “As for James, he’s a good man. A little wild, but nothing illegal, mind you. Just a bit of a troublemaker in his younger days.” He laughs a little. “Well, a bit of a wild child still, I guess, if you keep up with the rodeo news.”
“Mama Lou said something about that,” I say, exposing my ignorance of some of the country life. I’ve never actually seen a rodeo. “James is a bull rider?”
Doc raises one eyebrow at me, a knowing look in his eye as the light switches to green and I pull forward. “He is, but you should probably ask him about it—I only know what I read. Google James Bennett and see what you get. You do know how to use the internet, right?”
It strikes me as funny that Doc, a decidedly elderly man, is advising me to use Google, but in this case, he’s right. Maybe I should make it a point to do that tonight.
“Well, here we are, Doc,” I say, pulling up in front of his house. “What time do you want me to swing by tomorrow?”
“Make it seven thirty,” Doc says. “But keep your phone on tonight. It’s unlikely, but if I get an emergency call, I’ll need you to come get me.”
He hops out, closes his door, and shakes it to make sure it’s secure. “Sophie?”
“Yeah?” I ask, looking over.
“This isn’t advice from your boss, but an old man to a nice young woman. Be careful, okay? The heat can make people do crazy things, and this summer, it’s been really hot.”
I nod, giving him a smile. “I’m always careful. Thank you for looking out for me.”
Just like he promised, James is already waiting by the gate when I pull up, this time on an ATV instead of a horse.
“No horse today?” I ask.
“Had some work that needed me to carry more stuff than I like putting on a horse,” James says, swinging the gate open wide. “Did Doc sell you his truck or something?”
“Yep, paid fifty cents and a bowl of soup for it,” I joke as I pull through. James closes the gate and pulls up next to me in the ATV. “Is it me?” I ask sarcastically, posing with a hand on the steering wheel and my other hand running along the window frame.
“You paid too much,” he says, twisting his throttle. Today he leads the way up to the barn, swinging to the left as we get near to go over to the other building, where I guess they keep the mechanical equipment. He’s back in a minute, though, finding me just as I close the door to the truck.
“How’s your day been?” I ask.
“Just fine. Another day, another fence. Oh, and Mama insists on you joining us for dinner . . . if you’re willing. Her exact words were ‘the house needs some youthful exuberance.’ And besides, you look like you’re starving,” he says with a smirk.
He’s so cocky. I can tell by his expression that he thinks I look hungry for more than whatever delicious thing Mama Lou is serving tonight. Bad thing is, he’s right. I spent too many minutes last night and today thinking about him, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him know that. “Sounds great . . . dinner, that is,” I sass right back at him. “How’s Briarbelle and the baby doing?” I ask as we head into the barn.
“They’re good. Luke keeps a good watch on them.”
Briarbelle’s checkup goes well; she’s recovering quickly, and her foal whinnies softly, nuzzling my arm when I give her an ear scratch. “Well, I like you too,” I tell her, looking in her eyes. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
“That she is,” James agrees. He’s standing next to Briarbelle, feeding her some oat cookies slowly to ease her disquiet about someone messing with her baby. “I’m guessing you’ll be the one to teach her how to be bad.”
I grin, rubbing my forehead against the foal and pretending to ignore James. “You listen here, baby. You be as bad as you want to be; nothing wrong with that at all.”
Dinner is delicious—crunchy, battered fried chicken that Mama proclaims to be her specialty and a recipe she can only share as a wedding gift to her future daughters-in-law. She gives each of her sons a serious side-eye as she says it, but other than Luke smirking a little, they seem to shrug it off as normal.
“Makes me want to throw up my hands in despair,” Mama Lou says to me as we clean up. I insist on at least helping her rinse off the plates before putting them in the dishwasher, a very modern appliance that looks out of place in the old-fashioned kitchen, but apparently it was a gift from James. “Them boys just don’t quite get that once a woman reaches a certain age, money doesn’t matter as much as other things.”
“Like grandbabies?” I ask, thinking of some of the older women in my family. The grandbaby syndrome seems to be contagious.
“Not just that,” Mama Lou admits. “They’re good boys . . . good men. I want to see them happy, that’s all.”
Her words cause me to glance over my shoulder, where the three brothers are sitting at the table still, sipping drinks. Mark’s got a coffee, Luke’s got a beer, and James sips an iced tea. The three of them are talking about their days and planning out what needs to be done tomorrow to keep the ranch on track.
It’s pretty easy to recognize that all three of the Bennett brothers are virtual checklists of cowboy hot . . . dirty-blond, blue-eyed, muscled men with ruggedly handsome faces, and each has his own unique character. Mark’s sort of taciturn, the type who looks gruff on the outside, but he’s obviously intensely loyal and loves his family. Luke seems to be the jokester, using humor to counter Mark’s seriousness, but otherwise a bit quiet. They don’t quite do it for me, but surely they’re some lucky lady’s cup of tea.
James, though . . . that’s my flavor for sure, all wrapped up in straining cotton and denim and topped with a dose of flirty wiseass, a bad boy who’s turned the corner and making good. It’s too bad I’m only in town for the summer. I don’t want to get tangled up in something complicated or messy. Still, he might not be looking for anything complicated either. Maybe he’s up for something fun and casual?
After the dishes are done, we head out the door. He pops his elbow out at me, and it’s kind of feeling like a habit. I slip my arm through his. This time, though, instead of leading me around the house, he strikes out the other way, in the direction of the barn that I haven’t been inside yet.
“Uh, you get lost suddenly?” I ask. “Truck’s over there.” I point with my free hand back toward the brown beast sitting in the dirt parking area, but James grins cheekily.
“Nope, got something to show you . . . if you think you can handle it.”
I hear the challenge and nod my agreement. I remember my earlier thoughts about messy complications, but maybe he and I are thinking along the same lines. Either way, I want to see where this is going.
We slip farther from the house, passing the barn so that the quiet of the night surrounds us, the inky sky stretching above and the dark ground below. The only light comes from a slice of crescent moon beaming down on us, and I’ll admit that I feel a quiver of primal fear. I never experience this type of dark quiet in the city; it’s unique to being in the country, far from the flashing lights and noise of people coming and going at all hours.
Once upon a time, I thrived in that action. The sun going down meant it was time to get the day going, and more than once I saw the sunrise before going to bed. But now, even though I still feel that tremor of fear that my caveman ancestors did as they sat around the fire ready to fend off predators, I am starting to appreciate this still calmness. It feels . . . good.
Like James. It feels good to be close to his warmth, while at the same time he makes butterflies dance in my belly. There’s a tension, an attraction brewing between us, an anticipation of something. As the lights from the house disappear behind a small rise, we get deeper into the night, and I know it’s building.
I can feel it in his arm where my hand gently rests, sense it in the way his body crowds against mine as we walk. Still, the night and the enormity of what I’m sensing are beyond words. We’re silent as James leads me to a small
clump of bushes, and I hear . . . water?
“Where are we?”
James is quiet, his voice barely above a warm whisper. “This is my favorite place in the world. Pops paid more for this one acre of land than for half the damn ranch because it has a natural pond, fed by an underwater spring. It’s rare around here; the runoff from the mountains mostly goes the other way. But this keeps the cattle well watered when we use this pasture. I learned to swim right here when I was a boy—did cannonballs off the little dock on the other side.”
It feels special that he’d bring me somewhere this meaningful to him, but what do I know? Maybe he’s brought every girl he’s ever known here, and they have weekend barbecues on the bank.
We go quiet again, and I try not to let that harsh the buzzy feeling in my heart that he’s sharing this with me. James pulls on my hand a bit, and as I sit down, I discover a blanket already spread on the ground along the shoreline.
It’s too dark for him to see my smirk, but I know it’s in my voice. “Well, aren’t you the prepared Boy Scout?”
He laughs, teasing, but there’s a new huskiness to his voice . . . I don’t think this is something he does often. “No, just hoped you’d come out here with me and figured if you shot me down, a quiet night of just me and the stars wouldn’t be too bad.”
I hear him shuffling, and then he offers me a cold bottle. “Beer?” he asks.
I laugh, understanding why he was drinking iced tea while Luke had a beer. “You lugged down a cooler too?”
He chuckles a bit. “Woman, you’re just lucky I’m sharing. I could’ve had the whole six-pack to myself. Besides, I told you I had some work that needed the ATV today. I just didn’t say what exactly that work was.”
I feel him scoot closer to me, our shoulders leaning against one another, and I lean into him slightly. I feel him trace his fingertips along my arm, my breath catching slightly until he finds my hand clutching the beer bottle and he clinks his bottle against mine. “To truces and being even.”
Buck Wild (Bennett Boys Ranch Book 1) Page 5