by Emily Bowie
It’s unnerving, making me fidget. It’s not an angry stare; it’s something entirely different, like she’s trying to get a read on me. My steps slow as I walk over to her, not knowing what may slip out of my mouth.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks with more curiosity than anything else in her tone.
“You looked like you needed help, so I thought I would be nice and help,” I counter, my eyes darting between her and the bartender, searching for any clues on how I should respond.
“I also said we weren’t hiring.”
Standing up taller, I make my plea. “I don’t mind just working for tips.” I shrug and am left standing awkwardly as the two of them stare at me, like they don’t know what to do.
“Most days aren’t like this.”
“I don’t mind even being on call,” I point out, feeling myself weaken. I told myself I would take a stand, and here I am, always finding ways they can hire me for less.
She looks me over, her features slowly softening, telling me I’m wearing her down.
“Leave your name and number with Chance and we’ll work something out.” The way she smiles at me tells my instincts this isn’t a push off, trying to get rid of me the fastest and easiest way. I do believe she’ll give me a call.
Reaching my hand out, we shake on it. “Thank you so much.”
Becca’s firm shake suddenly goes limp in my hand, and I watch her peer around me.
Turning my head, I see Kellen walk into the room, and all eyes seem to gravitate toward him. The once loud room is now full of surprised whispers.
He’s dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt with the shape of Texas on it. He strides in all confident, demanding attention without asking for it. His tall stance is lean-looking, sculpted with his broad shoulders. His expression is serious, lacking any brightness to it. Like everyone in here, I have difficulty pulling my eyes away from him.
“You know Kellen?” I ask, hoping to get a bit of backstory on him.
“Oh yeah, he walked into his sister’s wedding midvows, causing a scene.” Our hands slip away from each other, and we’re now both staring.
My heart does a double thud hearing it was his sister’s wedding, relieved that it wasn’t his.
Slowly, she turns back to me, like this is the first time she’s seen me. I can already see the question of how I know Kellen in her eyes. “Be careful with that one. He is nothing but sin, no matter how sexy he may look. He’s the perfect combination for heartbreak.”
She walks away from me, satisfied with her warning as she heads over to Kellen. I can’t help but follow her, staring at the rugged mountain man who helped me on the side of the road. Becca’s warning shouldn’t have softened me toward him; it should have had me running far away.
Our eyes meet and lock, his eyebrow shooting up in question. Knowing my heart can’t handle another break, I force my gaze to leave his dark, stormy gray eyes and head out the door, allowing it to slam shut behind me.
CHAPTER 7
Apparently, finding a place to live after serving five years in jail is a bitch. Doors are slammed in my face, and application forms are placed on desks to be forgotten, with a weak attempt to cover their feeling against me. I hate that it leaves me with only one option. Stepping out of my truck, I can’t help but think everything about my family home is the same.
Brax, my older brother, is sitting outside with a beer in hand.
“Got another cold one?” I ask, stepping onto the stairs and going to sit on the doublewide padded bench.
“Is that allowed with your parole?”
Ouch. I look at my brother and for the first time see the hurt I caused from refusing to see everyone. I don’t think I could have continued my lie if I had seen them while I was in jail and viewed firsthand how they were dealing with my shit.
“You want to talk about me, or what’s going on in your head?” I take a seat without being invited. His normal happy grin is twisted into a frown. Brax loves everyone he has ever met, the feeling always mutual.
He leans to the side, picking up another beer, and hands it to me. We sit there staring out at the front of our ranch before he sighs, clearly giving up being the silent, brooding type. “Raya postponed moving here.”
I nod, trying to remember her from the wedding. I know she’s my sister best friend, but I can’t seem to put a face to the name. I was so wrapped up with Shay not making the biggest mistake of her life that my mind only focused on that and stopping the wedding. I chuckle under my breath at how wrong I had been.
“Why?” I ask, trying to do the brotherly thing.
“She got an amazing job offer this morning. One year, she’s saying, and then she will have enough experience to be able to move down here.”
“One year is a drop in the bucket if that means you two get the rest of your lives together. I should know.”
I can see him mulling my words in his head. “I know you’re right, but it still hurts. Then I feel like an ass for wanting her here, when she needs to make the best of her life too.”
I take a sip of my beer, listening to my brother and the animal sounds outside. This is home. It feels right, and all of a sudden it doesn’t bother me that I have nowhere else to go.
“How can I ask a girl to marry me, when we haven’t even spent more than a week together consecutively?”
I’m taken aback by his words. I don’t know why, but whenever Brax does something, he always jumps in with both feet. He’s the biggest romantic I know. I somehow must have missed that gene.
I wish I had an answer for him. I never had a serious girlfriend or feelings for someone else like that. He takes in my silence while moving his beer to clink with mine, understanding I’m not the best one to ask these things. I know he probably doesn’t want an answer either.
“Looks like I’m moving back in.”
Shock quickly covers my brother’s face before it disappears. I probably had the same look when I realized I would be moving back here.
Brax shrugs nonchalantly. “Good. You can help me build a house for Raya and me.” I can already see his mind working out how he can use this to his best advantage.
“Can I now?” I quirk an eyebrow, not sure if I am up for all his plans.
“I’ll even let you sleep in it till she moves to Three Rivers.”
I think it over. It sounds like a good deal to me, and I’m running pretty low on other options.
Holding out my hand, I tell him, “Deal,” while we shake on it.
*
The next morning, I head over to Sloan’s house, ready to work on her car. I had to drive out of Three Rivers to get the part I needed. I can’t help but smile, wondering what her reaction will be to me being here.
Driving up to her house I see the line of trees and shrubs that line the side of her driveway before blocking the limited view with my truck. I’ve come prepared to stay most of the day, mostly because I can already envision her being angry that I’m following through and fixing her car. Pulling out my wooden rolling board, stool, tools, and hot coffee, I create a small workstation around me, loving that I’ve made myself at home.
I open the hood, taking my time to inspect it once again before closing it loudly, hoping she’ll catch the sound as I get ready to start working on her car.
I’m about halfway done when I find a moment to pop my head out from behind her hood. As I look around, the air is still, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s up to. Maybe she’s not even home. I’m shocked to feel disappointed at that thought. I turn on my music, the silence making me feel too agitated.
A good hour has passed, and I’ve finally finished her car. I inspect my work, pleased to see I’m not too rusty on my skills, even without touching a vehicle in five years.
I debate knocking on her door to ask if I can wash my hands but think twice about it. That might be pushing my luck, but I did just fix her car. These thoughts fight over themselves until I decide to use the water bottle I brought
with me. It won’t be perfect, but I should be able to get most of the oil and dirt off that would spread onto anything.
Letting her car hood fall with a bang, I turn to see a shotgun pointed at my head, an inch from touching me.
I can’t help but look her over. She comes up to the middle of my chest, her arms holding the gun up to reach the height of my head. The one wrist is slightly turned, just enough for me to make out what looks like a map of the world in a thin black ink outline. The ends of her hair are curled, making me wonder if she spent the last hour getting ready to come out here and give me hell.
She’s steady with her aim, looking unafraid of using her weapon. My kind of gal. She’s wearing a long, thick sweater that clings to her body lazily, with jeans that look half ripped up and down her legs. She is most definitely my kind of gorgeous. A little hardened around the edges but soft and will melt in your mouth once you get past the first protective layer.
“What are you doing?” she accuses, her face straight, showing no emotions. I watch her eyes look me over, looking more curious than mad. Internally, I give myself a fist pump, knowing this will turn in my favor.
Holding my hands up, I reply, “Let’s put the gun down now.” I nod toward her car. “I’m just fixing up Betsy here.”
Her eyes flare when she hears I’ve named her car. “Betsy?”
I fake a cough to smother my grin. “Isn’t that what you called her?” I feign innocence.
“Who names their car?” Her tone is one of disgust.
“Apparently you do.”
A small growl escapes her full lips. She points her gun at me with newfound purpose. With slow movements, I allow my hand to wrap around the barrel and move it away from my temple.
“No need to shoot me. I’m just making good on my word and fixed her all up for you. She should be good as new now.”
“I told you not to come back.”
I watch as her body begins to relax—slightly. Using this to my advantage, I take the gun fully from her hands. My fingers skim the palm of her warm hand, and her mouth partially opens with the sudden zing of electricity that runs through us.
I wonder what her lips would feel like with mine pressed against them. I allow my gaze to trail over her, getting a good look at her. She seems to have a nice handful up top, and the thought that her lip color may match what’s under her shirt has me getting hard.
My legs shift under me, but neither of us makes any move to remove our hands. I catch her eyes moving down me as well, stopping at my crotch.
“Like what you see?” I ask, testing the waters to see how far she will let me go.
“That little thing?” Her lips curve upward on one side, her face lighting up as she pretends not to be impressed. She gently pats the side of my face, bringing our bodies so close together that we almost touch. “Handsome, I only have time for the real thing.” She looks down at my package and forces out a fake laugh. “Unfortunately, that is not you.”
Anticipation surges through me. Despite knowing almost nothing about her, other than she’s full of sass and takes no bullshit, I instantly like her. Like… want to take her out for dinner like her, among other things.
“Have dinner with me,” I push, my hand going up her arm, leaving small, light touches along her skin, bringing our bodies less than paper-width apart.
“You’re one of those, huh?”
I look questioningly at her, not understanding.
“Can’t take no for an answer.” She says each word slowly, her chest moving up and down faster. I’m happy to know I’m not the only one affected by our closeness.
Leaning down to her, I say quietly, “I could say the same thing about you.” I move my head back to be able to look her in the eyes. “Can’t say what you actually want.”
It may be my imagination, but I see the first sign of vulnerability before a light creep of pink comes and goes from her cheeks. Intrigued, I wrap my arm around her back, looking for any sign that says I’ve read her wrong.
The way she keeps looking at my lips before licking hers makes me take the moment we both want.
CHAPTER 8
Kellen’s intense look has me trying not to squirm. I’m not sure if a man has ever looked at me this way—like he’s ready to devour me in one sitting. It’s enough that I can feel the throb between my legs from how much I would love to do business with him.
I can’t help but look at his mouth, and this connection between us seems an awful lot like flirting, rather than the stern talking to I had planned to give him. My heart picks up its pace like this is foreplay to a much-needed stress relief my body requires—the same type of relief I have been refusing to give in to. Apparently, my body is as sick of my pink battery-operated boyfriend as I am.
I watch as his head dips down ever so slightly, and my mind begins to freeze up on me. Why did I come out here with my gun again? When his lips land on mine, my entire brain crashes, my endorphins ruling over me.
His lips are rough against mine, his tongue velvet-soft, the combination deadly, leaving me weak to his next moves. I have long forgotten everything I have set out not to do, as my arms come around his neck, connecting us. The way my chest heaves against his spikes my body’s reaction, awakening the pent-up sexual frustration I’ve been feeling.
His rugged, dangerous edge is like my kryptonite. I should have stayed far, far away from him, knowing all addicts have their weakness. Him being mine, and I’ve been in recovery for too short a time to think I could overcome the relapse he would cause me.
His hands drag down my body until they cup my bottom. The front of his pants bulges bigger, pressing hard into me. In one fluid motion, my legs are brought around his hips, his thick length pressed into my center, where my pussy is screaming to allow him access.
I can feel us turn around before I’m being placed on top of the hood of my car, allowing his hands to be free to roam up my shirt, his touch welcome on my soft skin.
A whimper, not even a moan, leaves my traitorous mouth when I feel his fingers move my bra cup down to pluck my nipple like a harp. I can’t take the overstimulation trying to rip out of me, worried I might actually have an orgasm from him touching me like this. My hands grab onto his pants, needing to get my fix. His button snaps open immediately, while my hands try to push his pants down enough so I can feel what he’s inevitably promised me.
It doesn’t take long before the tips of my fingers are able to trace the edge of his cock before I wrap my hand around it. It’s hard, thick, and long, the tip pulsing with each of my strokes.
A growl breaks through our kiss, making me grin. “I’m going to ruin you for all others,” he tells me, his hand slipping into my pants, where I can feel the tip of his finger at the top of my clit, making me shudder in anticipation.
“Don’t start lying to me now,” I pant out, trying to keep this at what it is—a one-and-done moment.
He chuckles at my words while dragging my pants down, exposing me to him. Each of his movements are skilled and teasing as he takes me in, making me feel beautiful.
“I don’t plan to,” he answers, coming back and nipping me on the lobe of my ear. His words send shivers up my body, lighting up every inch exposed to him.
His fingers sink in easily with my wetness, the palm of his hand rubbing my swollen, pink bundle of nerves, and his fingers stroke me in all the right places. My body tingles with pleasure, forcing my hands to leave his endowed cock to hold myself up. His lips move from my ear, down my neck, sucking and kissing the length. My hips rock with his rhythm, and he steals the first orgasm from me.
It shoots out of me, but he leaves no time for me to float on the feeling. I hear plastic being ripped before I feel his tip at my entrance.
“Can I make good on my word?” he asks, wanting permission to continue.
“Good boys finish last.” I pass him a coy look, wishing he would just pound into me, taking what he wants.
His expression turns into a smug grin that burns right
into me, searing me, causing me to want him even more.
“And that’s why I will ruin you. You will always finish before me.” His dark, stormy eyes heat with a small victory before I feel his cock enter me, making me moan out his name as pure pleasure runs through me with the feeling of his fullness inside me.
His drives into me, awakening the start of another orgasm that begins to stir deep inside me. I squeeze my legs harder around him as my body welcomes the domination he’s striking me with.
“Come for me, Sloan.” His words are a challenge my body responds to. His lips crash against mine, bruising them as I feel my next orgasm tear through me, wild and free. I come apart in his arms, moaning out his name like it’s the last thing I need to do on this earth. His thrusts make him press harder onto my clit, forcing every ounce of pleasure to rip through me.
His movements become frantic before he growls out my name as he deepens his final thrust into me. We pant breathlessly, and I expect him to move immediately, but he doesn’t. His cock stays tightly wrapped in my pussy as his head slowly dips back to allow his eyes to meet mine.
“What time should I pick you up for dinner?” he asks, grinning.
I begin to ease myself back, unable to think clearly while he’s still inside me. It’s only when our connection is severed when I realized we just had sex on my car, outside in the daylight. Horrified, I begin to put myself together, thinking anyone could have walked up and seen us.
“No one saw you. I would’ve never allowed that,” he answers my unspoken fears.
“I’m not having dinner with you.” My chin lifts in a condescending way before I hop off the hood, furious with myself for allowing this to happen. “Don’t come back.” I turn and stalk into the house, refusing to look behind me. I have no idea what I just let happen, and why I want it to happen again. I slam the door for theatrical effect, hoping my crazy will scare him off. Three Rivers is nothing, just a rest stop before he finds me.