by Jaye Diamond
“I have to get Caroline’s number.”
Mack lets out a snort. “Mase, you sound ancient when you talk like that. Just look her up on Facebook.”
Mack gives me the name of the city Caroline and Holly told him they’re from, and it takes less than twenty seconds for me to find Caroline on the app on my phone. I delete and re-write a sentence several times before I send her a message.
Mason: Are you still interested in my offer, City Girl?
She immediately sends me a reply. That has to be a good sign, right?
Caroline: I am, but my dad’s strict. He won’t let me go anywhere alone with you.
Mason: So you’re a city girl and a daddy’s girl. Just my luck.
Caroline: Ha, ha. I’m serious! I hope you don’t think I’m lying to avoid you.
Mason: I don’t think you’re lying about your father, but you’re an adult. So, your daddy can’t really stop you, can he? You can stand up to him or lie to him. I don’t care. Just tell me where to meet you with my pickup truck.
When she doesn’t reply, I start sweating.
C’mon, Caroline, I think. Don’t make me kidnap you and tie your curvy, untouched body to my bed.
But then I realize I have a bad signal (happens all the time on the ranch). I move around for a few seconds and grin when I get the message notification.
Caroline: I scheduled a manicure at the salon on Main Street yesterday. Meet me there in twenty. I should be able to keep my dad off my back for a few hours, but then I have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.
Mason: Alright, darlin’. I’ll see you there.
CAROLINE
“Holly,” I whisper, when my father excuses himself to the restroom. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Why are you whispering?” Holly asks, raising an eyebrow.
I move from my side of the restaurant booth, where I was sitting beside Dad, and slide in next to her. “Because, Dad could be back any minute now.”
“Oh.” A sly grin spreads across her face. “Do you want me to cover for you while you hang out with Mason?”
“Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know?”
“You think I didn’t notice you drooling all over him?”
“Was I that forward?”
“No,” she laughs. “I doubt you could be forward if you tried. You were just... obviously into him. That’s all.”
Her eyes are sparkling. She’s always encouraged me to defy my father and have some fun, but I’ve never cared enough about a guy to bother with sneaking around—not before I met Mason Wyatt.
“So, will you help me? Dad is supposed to drop me off and pick me up from the spa. Can I tell him you’ll pick me up, and I’ll be with you and your bridesmaids until the rehearsal dinner?”
Holly nods as her grin widens. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
When Dad returns to the booth, she convinces him that I’m spending the rest of the day with her. Then we get the check, and he drops me off on Main Street.
Country music was playing at the restaurant, and now country music is playing at the spa. Country music is played everywhere in this town. I wonder if the local stations play anything else.
I walk into the spa just to cancel my appointment, then I poke my head outside, making sure my father actually drove away in the rental car after saying goodbye.
He did, so it’s safe to linger in the comfortably warm spring air. The whole time I’m waiting for Mason, I’m fighting the urge to go back inside the spa and text Holly. She said she’d be busy, but would send one of her bridesmaids if I needed a ride. Some inner courage (I didn’t know I had) is showing itself though. It stops me from pulling out my phone and holds me in place on the cracked sidewalk—but, it doesn’t stop my heart from pounding in my ears.
I don’t know what makes me more nervous, lying to my father, or hanging out alone with a boy—no, MAN—for the first time.
When Mason pulls up in his green pickup truck, I take a deep breath to try to calm myself. Him whistling out of his rolled-down window does not ease my nerves.
“Shut up!” I huff, feeling heat in my cheeks.
“No can do,” he says, putting the truck in park. “You’re the most beautiful girl who has ever stood on this overgrown street—and when a man sees such a lovely young lady, whistling is what he must do to stop himself from doing something even more foolish.”
He gets out, walks around to the passenger door, and holds it open for me.
“You know what, Mason? I can’t decide if you’re a gentleman or a heartbreaker.”
He smirks mischievously as I climb into the truck. Then he shuts the door and leans in through the open window.
“Cowboys,” he tells me, “are allowed to be both.”
CHAPTER THREE
MASON
I’m having trouble keeping my eyes on the road with Caroline sitting inches apart from me. She’s staring out the window, at my town, and looks less than impressed. I have to show her this place is the right place to settle down and raise children in—but first I have to show her I’m the right man for her to give her cherry and heart to. I have to woo her the way I’ve wooed other girls a dozen times. Only I won’t walk away from her feeling cold and empty when flirtation doesn’t lead to real affection. Real affection is already here in my heart, now I just need to make the object of said affection mine.
“So, how was brunch?” I ask.
“I ate another breakfast,” Caroline says, without the slightest hint of shame. “A big stack of blueberry pancakes with cream. They were delicious.”
Hell yes! She isn’t the sort of girl who picks at a plate of scrambled egg whites and tomatoes while everyone else eats a hearty meal. Learning this almost makes me as happy as seeing her waiting for me did. She was obviously full of anxious excitement. It was coming off her in waves. Barbara never had emotions that strong, when it came to me. She’d act indifferent when I picked her up, always smoking a cigarette with a sour expression on her face.
“Glad to hear you have a good appetite, Carebear.”
Caroline lets out a groan and hides her lovely face in her hands. “Can you please pretend you didn’t hear my dad call me that?”
“I’m just busting your balls, City Girl.”
“Don’t call me that either,” Caroline says, dropping her hands from her face so she can fix me with a stern look. “I like it when you call me darling.”
“Then darlin’ it is.”
She smiles and everything is right in the world. I can see why her daddy wants her all to himself.
“So, I’ve met your father, but I don’t know anything about your mother.”
Caroline shrugs. “There’s not much to know. She left when I was a toddler, and my dad never remarried, so he took care of me all by himself. I owe him a lot.”
“That’s why you let him keep you in a gold cage?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. “Because he stepped up and raised you, like any real man would have?”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be grateful.”
“You can be grateful and still live your own life. Isn’t that what he should want for the young lady he raised?”
“What about your parents? Don’t you ever put their feelings ahead of yours?”
“Not when it comes to matters of the heart, Caroline. The only person who gets to choose what I do with my heart—and body—is me.”
She licks her lips when I say body and the sight of her pink little tongue, brushing her soft lips, completely distracts me. I get lost in the thought of claiming that mouth.
“Look out!” Caroline yells, breaking the spell as I slam my foot down on the brake pedal.
The truck screeches to a stop, just fast enough to save the bumper of the car in front of me from a dent.
“You okay?” I ask, instinctively putting an arm around Caroline’s shoulders.
She jumps at my touch, her eyes wide like they belong to a skittish animal.
“I—uh—didn’t mean to sta
rtle you.” I remove my arm, wondering what I did wrong. A girl jerking away like that when you touch her isn’t a good sign.
“Oh, it’s okay,” she says, flushing as she clutches at her braided hair. “It’s just—I’m not used to being touched by a guy who isn’t related to me. I’ve never even kissed—or been alone with—a guy.”
Fuck me. I knew she was untouched, but I didn’t expect her to be that innocent. Boys must have tripped all over themselves when she was growing up, trying to get her to break her father’s rules and at least share her lips with them.
“You sure have worked hard to obey your daddy, haven’t you?”
Caroline meets my gaze as her flush deepens. “I never met someone worth the consequences that would come with disobeying.”
I can tell she wants to add something like before I met you to that sentence, but she doesn’t. Perhaps she’s too shy. That’s alright. Her being here is all the proof I need that she knows a real man when she sees one, and she saved all of herself for him.
For me.
CAROLINE
Mason drives us to a bar called Tilt the Cow. The bar looks like a redneck’s dream come true. The walls are wood-paneled, with bull horns hung up on a few of them, and the place is full of middle-aged men in dusty work boots, surrounding pool tables.
Mason leads me over to the bar, asks for a rope, and is immediately handed one.
“They just keep that back there for you?” I ask, as I follow him to the center of the bar, where a mechanical bull looks ready to ride.
“I know the owner,” Mason says simply.
He checks the knot to make sure the loop in the rope is secure, then takes a few steps away from me. “Watch and learn, darlin’.”
He whips the loop in the air and tosses it at the mechanical bull. I can’t help but make a small sound of excitement when the loop lands around the bull’s neck.
“Bravo!” I say, clapping.
Mason bows with a little flourish of his hand, then retrieves the rope.
“Now it’s your turn, darlin’. Grab on here.”
He shows me where to grip the rope, then passes it to me. My breath catches when his fingertips graze mine, and heat spreads throughout my body. I felt that when he pulled me over to his horse, and when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders in the truck. It’s crazy what a light touch from him does to me. My body doesn’t just react. My mind is flooded with dirty thoughts. I see myself, naked in Mason’s arms, with his rough hands all over me. That would be tame for most, but inside my head, it’s a wild fantasy.
“Now,” Mason says, taking a step back, “spin the loop above your head.”
“Like this?” I ask, my mouth dry as I swing the rope up and spin it in the air.
“Yes. Don’t change that motion until the moment before you throw. Then aim for the bull’s head.”
When I let go of the rope, I’m sure it will flop straight down to the floor, but the momentum I built up in the air carries it to the bull—which it narrowly misses.
“Not bad for your first time.” Mason winks at me and my stomach flips. “But it usually takes a few tries to get it right.”
He gets the rope, and muscles flex in his strong arm as he shows me how he did it once again.
“Who taught you how to do this?” I ask, when he gives the rope back to me.
“My father, when I was about six—maybe seven.”
“That sounds fun,” I say, picturing a cute little Mason with rosy cheeks, who probably got the hang of this quicker than I am. “What’s it like growing up on a ranch?”
“Busy, but there’s never a dull moment.”
“Do you like working for your folks?”
“I do,” Mason says, sounding genuine. “They taught me how to care for things: animals, the land, and the old buildings on our property. Putting care into something is the kind of thing I’d like to do for free, so it’s nice getting paid for it.”
“What about the wedding stuff?”
“I don’t do much with that, other than scheduling, and telling the wedding planners which restored part of our hundred-year-old barn is too fragile for them to hang their decorations on.”
“I always thought it would be fun to plan weddings and events—or to be a florist who works with wedding planners and brides. I love flowers.”
“Well, the Wyatt Ranch has acres and acres of land that could use more flowers. Maybe you could plant ‘em, then pluck ‘em.”
“You’d let me do that?” I ask, spinning the lasso.
“I’d let you do whatever you want with the land that’s mine.”
That should sound crazy to me—I mean, I just met him. But the thought of Mason sharing his land with me warms my heart as I focus on my target. I throw the rope and the lasso falls around the bull’s neck.
“I did it!” I shout, jumping up and down. “I did it!”
Mason drags his eyes up from my bouncing breasts as he claps. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate. What would you like?”
“A pink lemonade, please.”
“A pink lemonade, coming right up.”
The moment Mason’s out of sight, two scruffy men leave their pool table and come over to me.
“Howdy,” one of them says. “I’m Dick, and this is Gary.”
“I’m Caroline,” I say, as I cross my arms over my chest, bracing myself for unwanted attention. It’s not like I have to really worry though. Mason could hear me scream from here and he’s tall enough to tower over these guys. I don’t think they’d try to get too fresh with him around. “And I’m waiting for someone.”
“We saw you come in with Mason,” Gary says.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s teaching me how to lasso.”
“Wow,” Dick says. “He hasn’t done that with a girl since Barbara.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Little rich girl who broke his heart,” Gary explains. “Since then, he says you can’t trust rich, big city brats, ‘because they’re all like her, and only good for one thing.”
MASON
“We’re sorry,” my old friend Dick tells me, when I come over to the mechanical bull with a lemonade in one hand, and a whiskey in the other.
“What are you on about?” I ask, before I realize my darling is missing. “Where’s Caroline?”
“She doesn’t seem like she’s from the city,” Gary says, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. “We thought she was from around here.”
“What did you say to her?” I ask, my voice calm, but menacingly low.
“We just told her what you always say about Barbara and rich girls.”
“Fuck.” I shove my drinks at them, forcing Dick to take the lemonade, and Gary to take my whiskey, before I hurry out the door.
Caroline is marching down the street, typing something on her phone. I catch up to her without much effort, due to my much longer legs. I snatch the phone out of her hand and pocket it, before I pull her flush against me.
“Hey!” she huffs. “Let go.”
“Not until you hear me out.” I tighten my hold on her and drag her into a narrow alley, where we won’t draw attention. She looks young enough for a bystander to assume the worst if they saw her struggling in my arms. “Dick and Gary don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“So, you don’t tell people rich girls are only good for one thing?” she asks, looking up at me.
Her big, hazel eyes are shining with tears that make me want to murder Dick and Gary.
“No, I did—because I thought that was true,” I admit. “Then you came along. And you’re nothing like any girl I’ve met.”
She relaxes, accepting my closeness, and I cup her face in my hands. It looks so small in them as I wipe away her tears.
“Mason, please don’t hurt me,” she says, placing hands on my chest and rubbing it through my shirt, like she’s making sure I’m really here.
“I would never hurt you,” I promise, although there will be at least one time when I won’t have
a choice—when her virgin pussy resists the new sensation of stretching on my cock. But I’ll make her cum so hard she won’t mind the pain. “I want to make you feel so much pleasure and happiness that you’ll get sick of it, like too much sugar.”
Caroline’s tears stop coming as she takes off her cowboy hat and tosses it aside. “If you want that, then you better kiss me.”
I let out a low growl and press her against a wall. My possessive side is hungry like a starving animal and her words are the most satisfying nourishment.
“If I kiss you now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop,” I warn, taking off my own hat and throwing it to the ground.
“Then don’t,” Caroline says, tipping her head back and shutting her eyes.
Fuck it, I think, crushing my mouth over hers.
She asked for it, so I’m not holding back.
I press the growing cock that’s trapped in my pants into her belly, letting Caroline feel how much I want to pierce through her innocence. She moans as I taste her hot little tongue, and heat rushes through my body, making me dizzy.
I’ve never gotten this worked up over one kiss before. I should pull away and cool off, but that’s harder said than done when Caroline is finally right where I’ve wanted her since she caught my eye and stole my breath. Her lips are even softer than I expected, and knowing I am the first man who has ever had the honor of feeling them gives me a high no drug could offer.
If she wasn’t so pure and so young, I would slide down her pants and panties, and seek an even better high between her legs. I’m leaking pre-cum just at the thought of my mouth on her virgin pussy, but I can’t eat it here. She’d be too tense and shy to enjoy it in public, and I want her to cum on my tongue without any distractions dulling her orgasm.