CHAPTER FOUR
Admitting Gramps knew what was right for the family business was as painful as putting shoes on a stubborn mule. But this time, Gramps had been right on the money. Sydney knew her way around a working kennel, and with her experience managing a handful of smaller stables in the surrounding area, she also had the potential to bring in new clientele.
If things went the right way, Hunter would be out of a job in less than a week and could put his focus back where it belonged on his ranch.
After a tour of the facility, including the dog runs and the under-construction cooling pool in the back, he'd shown her the office files, the bathing and grooming facility, the boarding rooms, and finally, the supply room and cleaning closet. After today, the day-to-day weight of running Best Friends would shift to her capable hands.
That also would leave him with his evenings free for the first time in a year. That thought brought him right back to Blythe. She had stirred something in him he didn’t think would settle again soon. A need. A desire. She’d wiggled her way under his skin and awoken feelings he’d long put to bed.
“Ms. Williams is still in the office.” Nancy nodded to the closed door when he came around the front counter and helped himself to a cup of coffee, even though the hour was approaching lunch. “She’s been in there the whole time. I offered to help when things slowed down, but she seemed to have her search under control.”
"Thanks for offering." He smiled over the rim of his mug. "I get the feeling she's the independent type."
Nancy tapped the pen she'd been writing with in his direction. "Just the kind of woman a man like you needs around. She'd give you a run for your money."
Since she’d met her husband at a Double C social, Nancy had been trying to set both him and Gramps up with just about any eligible woman within a day's drive of Fort Mavis.
"I can do my own matchmaking," he quipped with a soft grin.
Nancy wouldn’t harm a horse fly if it bit her on the ass, but she had no filter and spoke the truth, even if he didn’t care to acknowledge it.
Nancy smiled until her light blue eyes sparkled. “Good, because if you don’t make a move, I’m worried your grandfather might.” She chuckled and dropped her head back to the stack of papers on the counter.
Hunter laughed and shook his head. He wouldn’t put it past the old man to go after someone a good forty years his junior, but Blythe would be the one making the old man run for his money.
Distracted by the thought, Hunter twisted the office doorknob and opened it in slow motion to find Blythe on his cell with her back to the door and her legs propped on the counter behind his desk. She had her hair down and flung over the back of the chair, running one hand lazily through its length while she held the phone to her ear with the other.
I wouldn't mind her stroking me like that. He cursed himself for the thought, but with her so off guard and relaxed in his chair, he'd never be able to sit there again without imagining her on his lap, her teeth nibbling at the corner of her mouth, and her hand strumming back and forth over his length.
“He’s not anything like I’d imagined I’d find, Mandy. Not a cowboy hat or a plaid shirt in sight. Well, boots. He does have those.”
It was wrong, but he couldn’t help leaning on the door jam and listening in, wondering just who wasn’t anything like she’d imagined.
"I'm telling you, the whole cowboy-charm thing is a myth. I mean, don't get me wrong, Hunter's super nice, but—I don't know. There's something different about this one. Something almost sad."
Sad? She thinks I’m sad?
“His grandfather was super nice. Maybe he just fell too far from the tree.”
Too far from what tree? The cowboy hat, plaid shirt, dirty boot tree? Is this woman for real?
“But the voice.” She leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Listening to him talk could almost make me orgasm.”
Hunter raised a brow. So if listening to my voice makes you want to come, I can’t wait to see what happens when I put my mouth on those perky breasts or press my fingertips into your soft folds.
He spread his legs a little wider and adjusted his growing crotch.
"I couldn't get a room in Galveston. It seems schools around here have Spring Break the same time as ours. But I did find a bus heading to North Carolina in the morning. That would give me enough time to figure out the car situation here and leave my contact information for the Sheriff. Maybe I could talk Mike into taking a detour from Rehoboth and picking me up along the way." She laughed deeply.
Mike? The deadbeat who left you for some chick’s beach house? Damn, you aren’t contacting that jerk to help you get home. Not after making me hard as a stone just standing here. No way he gets a second chance with you.
"I'll be careful. I'm sure there's a motel somewhere near town. I'll call you in the morning. Yes, this number works fine if you can't reach me on my phone. Yeah, it's his number. Wait until you hear his accent. You'll die. Hear from you soon."
She hung up and swiveled in the chair before he could push off the wall. Caught, he had no choice but to face her.
“Were you listening?” The shock on her face was priceless.
"Only at the end." He smirked and took the chair on the opposite side of his desk, careful not to hurt his crotch when he sat. "Long enough to hear your plans to get home."
“Yeah, well.” She flung her hair over one shoulder and handed back his phone, looking a little more than flushed.
Yeah, Honey. I heard what my voice does to you. I know your dirty little secret.
"My options are limited. I can't very well stay in the apartment with Sydney. She doesn't seem the type to share well with others." Her little eye roll at the end made him chuckle from somewhere deep within.
“Yep. The apartment is full now.” It was evil, but he enjoyed watching her bite that corner of her lip until the flesh turned white when she worried it. “And the only motel is too far away. I don’t like the idea of you stranded there without a car or a way to get around town.”
“I could stay at the bus station tonight. I’ve slept in worse.”
Something hot shot through him. Anger. Frustration. Desire. He couldn't place it, but it ate away at the pleasant mood Blythe's flirtatious conversation had left him in.
"You're not sleeping in a bus station. I have an extra bedroom at the ranch house. It's not much more than a bed and a dresser, but it's yours for as long as you need it." How’s that for cowboy charm?
There she went at that lip again. He could taste the cherry ChapStick he’d smelled on her earlier. He licked his lips.
"I'd hate to impose on a stranger like that. I'm sure—"
“We’re not strangers. You stayed here alone all night last night. And I’m not taking no for an answer. As soon as I leave here, I’m putting your bags in the truck. You can come with them, or stay. I’ll leave that choice up to you. At least your luggage will get a good night's sleep in a comfy room and breakfast and coffee in the morning.”
He could almost see her pondering the decision in her head, yet what was there to decide? A soft bed in a quaint little ranch with the promise of coffee and the voice that could make her pant, or a bus station bench? If he didn't win out, his pride would be bruised for all eternity.
“If you’d rather,” he said, walking over to lean on the doorframe again. “I could drop you at the bus station. I’m not forcing you to decide between me and a night on a cold bench, but I am telling you, I make damn good coffee. You’ll never want Starbucks again.”
Not that coffee was what he had in mind when thinking of things he’d like to offer her.
"That's big talk. You don't understand my Starbucks addiction." The slight twinkle in her eye made him wonder if she'd caught on and wasn't talking about just coffee either. Oh, how his palm longed to tug at her shirt right where the V dropped between two perfectly rounded breasts. If only he could taste her there. Cherries. Somehow he knew she’d taste just like cherries.
"You wouldn't think it was big talk if you'd ever had my coffee." He pushed off the wall and turned back to the front. She would either follow or stay behind. That choice had to be up to her. But if she did come with him, he was in for a long night of reminding himself of the gentleman his grandmother raised, not the cowboy Blythe had hoped to find.
****
When Hunter said he lived on a ranch, Blythe pictured a large, Dallas-style spread with green fields stretching into the horizon and a large mansion style house dead center.
Hunter’s place wasn’t that at all. It was charming, with pastures on either side of a long, narrow drive that snaked around trees and fence posts until it ended at the foot of a modest sized stone and wood beamed house about the size of her family’s home back in Virginia.
Nothing was overly grand about the house except for the large front porch with shade trees covering one corner and a large swing sitting in the other.
A small barn sat in the back where Hunter pulled the truck to a stop. Two bay colored horses ran along the side of the vehicle. A herd of longhorns munched grass on the other.
“Beautiful horses. What kind are they?” Not sure the proper lingo, she cringed at his bark of laughter at her question.
"Arabians. Not what you typically find on a ranch, but I prefer their temperament and high spirit over the Quarter Horse."
So he likes his fillies high-spirited. Blythe scolded herself for the thought, though the more she learned about Hunter’s personal tastes, the more she imagined herself liking him.
“The house is a fixer-upper.” His voice startled her. “It was built in the early 1900s and refurbished in the early 50s. The land was used for cattle since sometime in the late 1800s. The herd belongs to Gramps. He’s been building up his steers in hopes of making a run of his place across town once he leaves the Double C. This herd will move over once they get more fencing put up.”
"He's retiring soon, right? Your grandfather." At seventy-two Mr. Cole was already ten years her father's senior, and he'd been retired from the pulp mill for several years.
The deep rumble of a laugh answered her first. It was good to hear the humor in Hunter’s voice. It helped ease her nerves and made Hunter more approachable.
"There's no such word as retire around here. You work until you drop dead, and you're glad to do it."
Hunter pulled her bags from the toolbox in the back of the truck and lugged them around the corner of the house and up the steps, stopping outside the screen door. “I’ve got to feed the horses before they bust through the gate looking for food. Go on in and have a look around. I’ll bring your bags up in a few minutes.”
Horses. Now we’re getting into real cowboy stuff. Blythe edged closer to Hunter's shoulder. "I'd like to come with you. I haven't smelled a real horse barn since I was a kid. I miss it."
His brows knitted at the comment. “Miss the smell of manure? You’re full of surprises.”
More surprises than you know.
Hunter crossed the small yard and pushed one of the two sliding barn doors open and whistled. Both bays whinnied into the air and trotted over to the feed troughs built into the wooden fence near the door. He turned on an overhead light and opened a small door next to a row of empty stalls.
There was sadness in the barn. No smell of manure or fresh shavings. No stomping feet, or high-pitched calls for food. No hustle. Just an eerie quiet that chilled her skin. It was a large space, equipped to handle at least eight horses with large birthing stalls, a wash pit, tack room, hayloft, and a hallway wide and high enough to ride in, yet the only two horses she saw on the property Hunter kept outside.
Hunter emerged from the room with two scoops of grain and a couple flakes of hay and headed to the paddock attached to the barn’s side. “The truck is their dinner bell. If I don’t feed them before I go inside, they end up breaking down the gate and meet me on the porch. Damn obstinate beasts.”
"You have only the two here? It looks like there is plenty of room for more."
By the sudden tightness in his jaw, she guessed she’d hit a soft spot.
"These two girls haven't taken to being bred." He tilted his head to the smaller of the two. "She's lost two already this year, and the other one had a stillborn in the spring."
“That’s horrible.” Not that her knowledge of breeding horses was anything above novice, but keeping the animals had to be costing him a small fortune in hay and grain. “Are you going to try to breed them again?”
He put his hands to the fence and dropped his head between his arms before raising it again to answer. “Not these girls. Stud fees are too high to take another hit. But, they’re not going anywhere. I figure they pay their keep in lawn service.”
Blythe watched the harsh lines of worry along his face soften into a warm smile that made her stomach flutter. "That's kind of you." Resisting the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug was an internal battle she came close to losing.
“I do kind things even without a cowboy hat. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
She glanced away. “You eavesdropped on my phone conversation.”
The warmth in his grin vanished, replaced by something far hotter. “Guilty. But you can’t blame me after being accused of not being a real cowboy.” He put air quotes around the last two words. "My hat's in the barn, and it's too damn hot for plaid, but if it will make me more of a man in your eyes, I'll play along. Open shirt of course. It's too damn hot to button anything up."
As if cued by his seductive glance, a bead of sweat dropped between her breasts, and her nipples tightened just at the suggestion of his appraising glare.
She backed a step and bumped into the fence post behind her. "You shouldn't have listened. The conversation was private."
“As private as my voice giving you orgasms?”
Fuck! She'd forgotten that damning comment. But she couldn’t deny it. By the heated way he was assessing her with his eyes, and the crooning of his accent near her ear, it wouldn't take much more than a touch to send her over the edge.
“A gentleman would have walked away.”
Hunter closed the small gap between them in one step. His chest bumped her sensitive nipples, and the enlarged inseam of his jeans pressed into her hipbone. "No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman."
That’s not surprising.
He surged closer until there was no room between them and nowhere for her to go. Trapped between the heat of the late afternoon and the desire coming off him in waves, she almost choked on her tongue.
“What’s my voice doing to you right now? Tell me. I want to hear every detail.”
Blythe pulled in a shaky breath and squared her gaze on him. If he wanted to play tough, she could play the game, too. “It’s not your voice that’s doing something to me right now, so much as what's pressed into my thigh.”
“And what is pressed into your thigh?”
“Sorry, you’ll have to eavesdrop on my next conversation to find that out.”
His smile deepened, wrinkling the corner of his eyes, making her want to reach out and touch the soft lines. This time, she took the bold step and traced her finger along them.
His eyes heated. His head dropped until his lips grazed her right ear. "Call it what it is, Blythe. I want to hear you make those pink lips say cock. And later, I want to feel them around mine."
Blythe settled herself against the fence post and tried to remind herself how to breathe.
Dirty. Hunter liked to talk dirty, and to her surprise, it turned her on in ways no man’s touch ever had. If his voice gave her orgasms, his words were going to make her lose control.
Hunter nuzzled his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head to give him access. He nibbled at her ear, causing a surge of pain to run from her delicate lobe to her core. She inched up on her heels, asking to feel it again, but Hunter didn’t oblige.
"Say it, Blythe. Cock. It's a dirty word. I'm willing to bet you're a dirty little girl who gets off on saying it."
She turned to look into his eyes. “Cock,” she breathed. He was right. The word was dirty on her tongue. And luscious. “I think you’re the one who likes dirty words.”
He groaned in reply, and a ripple of tingles assaulted her body at the hum of it.
From somewhere deep, she pulled out the strength to counter him with a game of her own. "I said it. Now, what?"
“All right.” He pressed a knee between her legs until she practically sat on his thigh. His mouth dropped over her ear again, and with a nibble followed by the stab of pain, she found herself craving.
“Pussy,” he breathed into her ear. The seduction in his voice tightened her clit. “Let me hear you say that one, dirty girl.”
Her body shuddered with excitement. "Pussy," she whispered into Hunter's shaggy brown hair.
She felt his approval both in the smile pressed to her ear and the throb positioned at her knee.
“Good. Now, tell me what you’d like me to do with your pussy.”
Oh, God. The sensation of stimulation at her center made her twitch on his leg and press her knee into his erection.
He rewarded that little show of sensual pleasure by undulating his thigh under her until the inseam of her jeans pressed into her swollen nub, and she closed her eyes at the growing desire for release.
“You can’t have it unless you can say it.” He pulled back long enough to show her an evil smirk.
The intensity in his eyes and closeness of his body made her dizzy with lust. “Make it come,” she whispered.
The breath he sucked in was audible.
Blythe pressed her back into the post. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and her gaze shot to his.
“Tell me what you want. Be explicit. What. Where. How. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
Being explicit was her shot, her chance to see what a real cowboy felt like. Not that she was going to let him know that.
“Fine,” she forced herself to step forward and took a fistful of his t-shirt in hand. “Take off your shirt.”
“How?”
How? Couldn’t he just pull it over his head and end her miserable attempt at being seductive?
“I don’t know how. Pull it off slow.”
Hunter started at the base, putting the hem in his fists. Deliberately, he worked the fabric up, revealing that working with dogs did wonders for the body. At his pecs, Hunter slowed long enough to take her hand in his and press it to the thick muscle there, before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it on the post behind her.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked.
What I'd like to do is explore every inch of that taut, tanned muscle with my teeth and my tongue. I want to know what you taste like. What it smells like to lie next to you in bed. How being wrapped in those chiseled arms while riding the erection puckering your jeans would feel. I want it all.
He cleared his throat, and she realized she'd been staring instead of giving more instructions. She glanced down at his jeans, but going right for it that would be too easy.
“The hat.” She smiled. “Go get the hat. I want to see what you look like dressed as my fantasy cowboy.”
The mild look of irritation on his face only lasted a second before he stomped off and back into the barn.
Feeling her legs shake from adrenaline, Blythe pulled down the truck tailgate and hopped on just before he emerged from the barn, a brown cowboy hat low on his head, and a red and black plaid shirt open at the chest with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps.
Holy hell, it is true what they say. Nothing beats a man in a uniform. Even if that uniform is country and the man was a complete stranger less than twenty-four hours ago.
“Well,” he asked, stretching his arms out wide and giving a little turn. “Is it everything you fanaticized about?”
"And more." She gave him a comprehensive look. "And so much more."
He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her. He slid his fingers over her chin and caught her cheek in his palm.
A thrill of excitement shot through her, and she pressed her mouth to his, parting her lips just enough for him to enter and explore.
He lowered his other hand to the still sensitive spot between her legs and strummed his fingers along her sensitive core. Her thighs shook, and she pulled his tongue in deeper with her teeth and bit playfully. He answered by pressing the pads of his fingers hard against the inseam of her jeans.
God, the feeling of rough fabric over her aroused center made her crazy with need. She moaned into his mouth.
“You’re wet.” He pressed into her lips. “I can feel you through your jeans.”
If Mike, or any other man, had made such a comment, she'd have been too embarrassed even to breathe. But the way Hunter said it, as if she'd just given him the gift of approval, she couldn't help but to want more. She ran her fingers through his hair. The hat fell free, and she held his face next to hers.
“Now,” she started, the word coated with a desire she had never felt before in her life. “You tell me something dirty.”
As if just given the keys to a great kingdom, Hunter's eyes lit. The smile that followed was equal parts sinful and delicious.
"I'm envious as hell of a damn pair of jeans right now."
She fisted his hair between her fingers as the tempo of his hand grew faster.
“Unbutton them,” he growled.
Wrapped in the sensation of ecstasy, she did as commanded without hesitation.
“Pull the zipper down and slide your hand inside.”
Blythe sucked in a stiff breath and stared at him until the sureness in his gaze told her she couldn’t back down from the game she’d started. She had to scoot forward on the tailgate to fit her hand into the tight inseam.
“Tell me what you feel like.” Hunter licked his bottom lip.
Blythe tilted her head back and slipped a finger between the slick folds. “Hot. Wet. Swollen.”
A deep moan broke from his throat, one that made Blythe fantasize about licking him there as she had in the truck.
“That’s good. Now circle your finger over your clit.”
She closed her eyes and tried to focus on herself. She'd masturbated before−not a fact she was proud of−but she'd been good at getting herself off. Being with Hunter was different. An audience made her self-conscious. Hunter's heated stare made her more aware of her body, and the new awareness brought a deeper level of desire with it.
"Blythe." His voice was soft, pleading with her as if he sat right on the edge with her. "Don't leave me here, hanging. I want to know. Let me hear what that finger is doing to you."
When she didn’t answer the second time, he pressed his hand to the outside of her jeans and traced her hand with his fingers. “Your fingers are on your clit.”
She leaned forward and opened her eyes to find his closed and his face lost in the same erotic moment she’d found herself drowning in.
His hand slid into the opening of her jeans and cupped over hers. His finger traced the lines she made, shadowing them until one dipped deeper between her lips and entered her core. Blythe arched her back and spread herself on the textured bed liner. The groves bit into her back, and the sun shined in her eyes and she didn’t give a damn about either.
Hunter’s fingers circled her outside while the one finger searched her soft fold and ran along the sides of her sex.
"More," she breathed and pulled her hand free, giving Hunter room to take over. Hunter answered by plunging a second finger into her opening. His thumb pressed on the swollen clit until she had to squeeze her thighs together to keep from coming in his hand.
As the sensation grew and spread through her body, she reached for his shoulders to keep steady. The wave of heat built in her core, and she bucked against his hand to release the building inferno.
It wasn’t until she sat back up that she saw the pleased expression in his eyes. The pride. He pulled his hand from her pants and leaned in, taking her mouth in one last hot, wet kiss that sent her world spinning.
Damn you, cowboy.
Hunter stood at her side, and she scooted over, giving him room to take a seat next to her on the tailgate. The silence between them held an awkward weight until he pulled her head to rest on his still heaving shoulder.
"Things haven't happened the way you wanted them too," he cooed.
“Are you about to say maybe there was a reason for that?”
“No.” He shifted and cupped her cheeks, turning her to face him. “I was going to say, stay. With me. Here on the ranch. For the week. It won’t be Galveston, but I’m sure we could find ways to entertain each other.”
Stay with a stranger in the middle of nowhere? Or, go home to an empty apartment and dinners with Mom and Dad?
Her head said no, but every fiber of her being wanted to be touched by him again. Wanted to know what it felt like to be taken by a man who could make her come in the back of a truck with just his hand. Wanted to step outside the confines of ordinary and try on a little crazy for a change.
“Under one condition.” She jumped off the tailgate, buttoned her jeans, and gave him a serious look. “This stays uncomplicated.”
He gave her a once over look and held out his hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Shaking hands hadn't been her plan, but when in Texas... She took his hand and gave it a pump. "Now, show me to my room."