Chapter Six
Charlotte feverishly typed on her laptop, pausing just long enough to take a sip of coffee and blink the sting from staring at the computer screen out of her retinas.
Late nights and super-early mornings were the only time she’d been able to put work in on the website she was building for her one—and currently only—client. Not like she was sleeping much anyway. Not with her mind and blood pumping a million miles a frickin’ millisecond since meeting Tripp Montgomery. Her skin had been buzzing nonstop for days.
And now she had a pear-picking date with the man.
Not date. More like a meet-up and exchange of services, which didn’t sound much better. Either way, she’d done her best avoiding Tripp for the better part of a week, and now she needed to harvest.
Princess Peanut Butter trotted over and put her head on Charlotte’s lap. It was like the dog knew when she needed some girl power and support. Maybe even a swift kick in the ass.
“I know, I know, I’m putting it away,” Charlotte said to her. Those big blue husky eyes looked up at her like she didn’t believe her for a second. “Don’t look at me like that. I had to get work done.”
The dog huffed out a breath, calling her bullshit.
“I am not avoiding Tripp,” Charlotte said.
Another huff, and even Charlotte didn’t buy her own line. She rubbed Princess’s ears and felt a little better. The dog was sweet…when she wasn’t running around like a crazy wolf puppy.
Charlotte shut her laptop with a sigh and got up. “Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled and headed out the front door.
With the Wyoming sun shining a soft yellow in the early-morning breeze, she rode out to the grove of pear trees.
A massive orange tractor was waiting for her.
She hesitated before rounding the last row of trees. Sure, she had on her new jeans and boots and a solid pink tank top—an outfit perfect for picking pears…and trying not to have sex with Tripp. But this was becoming a habit for them. A little privacy and a nearby vehicle and she’d ditch her panties for the cowboy. It was ridiculous, really.
“Get your head in the game,” she muttered to herself. She needed to focus on her endless to-do list. She was keeping up on the garden, though she’d started making a list of her own, things the property needed, like a better sprinkler and some chicken wire to put around the tomatoes. Wynonna was getting easier to milk. Just this morning she’d been able to squeeze a whole gallon out of her.
Charlotte took a deep breath to settle herself, and the prairie air sank into her lungs like it belonged there. Different from the air back in California, Wyoming air was richer and cleaner and made her feel awake. Alive.
She could do this.
Parking the four-wheeler a few yards away, she eyeballed the massive tractor. It had a giant bucket thing on the front that looked like it could do some serious damage to a field. Was she supposed to get in that thing? When she climbed off her machine and moved closer, the monstrosity jolted to life and started rising.
She shrieked and someone laughed. She peered around the bucket and saw Tripp, looking hot as ever, in the driver’s seat, grinning.
“Good morning to you, too,” she called.
He killed the engine and hopped down. He had on the standard cowboy flannel shirt and jeans, but today, he wore a baseball cap instead of his Stetson, and good God he looked amazing. The several-day-old stubble on his face was sexy. She wondered how it’d feel against her chin, her cheeks, her thighs…
Apparently a few days of cooling off didn’t help a damn thing.
“It would be a better morning if I’d gotten any sleep the last few nights,” he said, walking casually toward her.
“Hmm, that’s too bad for you. I’ve been sleeping great.”
Lie.
He grinned. “Oh yeah? Because I can’t get the taste of you off my tongue.”
She opened her mouth to remind him that he didn’t taste her the other night. Then she thought of how he consumed her mouth, then licked his own finger after using it on her. And her skin was back to a thousand degrees again and her entire core ached at the memory.
“Well, we’re casual neighbors who are working today. So I hope you have your professional hat on,” she said.
“No, ma’am, I have my casual hat on.”
She looked him over. He looked plenty capable, like he could handle her, this machine, and an entire ranch in the blink of an eye. But today was her turn to show him she could handle Grammy’s farm.
“Well, just because we came to an agreement on your equipment doesn’t mean I need your constant help. Everything is running great under my watch.”
He nodded once. “Well, I’m happy to oblige you with any needs of my equipment you have.”
She crossed her arms. “So I see flirty Tripp showed up today.”
“Same Tripp every day.”
She laughed. Honest to God laughed. “Same Tripp, my ass! You’re the king of 180-degree personality shifts. Or do you just reserve those for me?”
“When anything involves my daughter, I tend to look at things…differently,” he said, his serious gaze turning hotter as he scanned her body. “And I’d rather talk more about your ass, as aforementioned.”
She blew past his flirting and stayed on track with her point. “So, what is your angle?”
He frowned. “Angle?”
“Yeah. We made a one-night, casual, no-strings deal, and neither of us expected to see each other again. So now what? What do you want with me?”
“Several things,” he said with enough heat in those two words her panties almost melted off. “First, we need to acknowledge the facts.” He took another step until he was toe to toe with her. “One, I never agreed to a single night. I just didn’t think that far ahead. Two, casual is still on the table, and so is no-strings. And while I didn’t expect to see you again, that is not how things worked out. I’m going to see you, and you’re going to see me. There’s no way around it.”
He ran a finger down her throat, between her breasts, and down her stomach.
She swallowed hard.
“Which brings us to your final question…what do I want with you?” He hooked his fingertip in the waistband of her jeans and tugged, ever so slightly. “I want more casual encounters,” he said. “Because the fact remains that you’re only here a short time and I don’t want to mix—”
“Business with pleasure?” she offered.
“My daughter and you.”
“Ouch.” That stung a bit. She’d tried and failed to see things from his point of view, and she couldn’t understand why he was so adamant about keeping her away from his real life. Like the moment they were alone, he was fine. But when reality—which was Gracie—came in, he tensed up and protected her like Charlotte was the witch from Hansel and Gretel and her words were poisonous candy.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tripp said. His hand dropped from her stomach and he looked her in the eye. “I just want expectations to be clear. I don’t want Gracie hurt when you leave.”
“Okay,” Charlotte conceded. She wouldn’t fight him on this. But she wouldn’t be made to feel like a witch. She knew what it was like to not have a father, so Tripp being an overprotective one didn’t seem like a bad thing.
“Charlotte?” The way he said her name made her shiver and want to reach out and wrap her arms around him. To feel his strength surround her.
“What?” she said, trying to sound terse, but it came out softer than she’d meant.
“Wanna sit in my bucket?”
She smiled and glanced at the tractor over his shoulder. “Seriously?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “You hop on in there, I’ll lift you into the tree and you start picking and dropping the pears into the bucket.”
“That sounds…fun,” she said. Not even remotely, but it did sound easier than her original ladder plan.
She climbed in the big bucket of the tractor, and Tripp resumed his place behind the wheel. He shouted over the engine, “You ready, darlin’?”
“Yes!”
He slowly lifted her into the tree. Her body tensed, knuckles going white from the death grip she had on the bucket. Shit, she was going to fall out. No, no, she was okay. She gripped tighter to be sure, her mind flashing to her on her ass, busted leg, and sitting side by side with Grammy in that bed with Princess Peanut Butter the only one left to care for them.
She barely choked back a squeal as the machine lifted her higher. Once he stopped, she cautiously stood, slowly letting her hands relax, then moved them an inch away from the bucket. Then another inch. Then another as she moved at a snail’s pace. A thousand deep breaths later, she wiggled her legs and made sure the bucket was steady.
“What are you doing?” Tripped called up to her.
“I’m making sure this rust trap is safe!” she yelled back. Okay, so the tractor wasn’t a “rust trap,” but rather a pristine machine that had to be expensive and well taken care of, because there wasn’t a scratch on it.
“So you decided to dance in my tractor?” he said back. Tripp threaded his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “Then by all means, darlin’, dance away. I’ve got the best view.”
She rolled her eyes, but that same heat only Tripp made her feel crept along the back of her neck.
She was safe, Tripp was with her, and the tractor was sturdy. She looked around and her breath caught in her throat from the view. Golden prairie stretched so far she couldn’t see where it ended. The powder-blue sky was bright, and the sun radiated smooth hues of light yellows that made the entire state of Wyoming dazzle.
“This is amazing!” she said. “I can see over the trees and…wow.” She could see why Grammy loved it here. Which reminded her that she had a job to do. She started grabbing pears and tossing them into the bucket she stood in.
“The view is pretty great from down here, too,” he said, looking up at her ass, and she may have given an extra wiggle for good measure. Whatever this casual thing between her and Tripp was, she liked it. She had no clue what to expect, other than the expectation that this was going nowhere and there were limits he’d set. Of course, he’d also done things to her body she couldn’t forget. Every encounter with him was hotter than the last.
It took a couple of hours to finish up. Tripp drove her from tree to tree, helping her load the pears in the back bin before she went up for more. He was mostly business, except for the few times his hands “accidentally” brushed her ass or her breasts when “helping” her in and out of the bucket. By the end of the afternoon, she was starving, in more ways than one.
Tripp killed the engine and walked toward her with an armful of…was that a blanket?
“Figured you’d get hungry and forget to pack something for yourself,” he said, spreading out the blanket beneath the pear tree. He had a brown paper bag with two sandwiches and bottles of water. He grabbed two pears from the bucket and added them to the pile.
“I had no idea you were a romantic,” she said.
“Romantic?” he chuckled. “No ma’am, just being neighborly.”
“And trying to get into my pants?”
“Maybe a little,” he said with a grin.
She smiled and sat next to him on the blanket. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear so tenderly, it was like he’d done it a thousand times. It was so intimate, yet so normal.
He opened her water bottle and handed it to her, then pulled out his pocketknife and started cutting up a pear.
He was calm.
In a routine.
Like taking care of a woman was something he just did naturally.
Which he did, of course, and it made something very hot and soft break open in her chest. Charlotte’s biggest fear was family. She’d been left high and dry by both parents, which was something she never fully understood. Weren’t parents supposed to be the people you could count on no matter what? Friends ditch you, boyfriends leave you, but parents? They were the ones who stuck around and loved you no matter what.
It made her rationale simple. If parents could leave you, anyone could. The extra shitty part was that family had the capability to really hurt her. Charlotte learned young that the more she got attached to anyone, the greater that person could devastate her when they left. Grammy was the only soul she trusted, and deep down, she was afraid because she’d lose her, too, someday.
It was why Charlotte lived alone.
Ate alone.
Cried alone.
When she did cry, that is. Which wasn’t often because she refused to let the cold, empty walls of her apartment ever close in on her.
Tripp felt so warm all the time, even when he was in a mood. How he cared for his daughter made Charlotte’s entire chest turn to mush, because it was clear he’d never leave her. He was a good dad.
Charlotte couldn’t focus on Tripp’s warmth or shinning qualities, though. Her goal was getting Grammy better and helping with the farm. She refused to think about why his home felt lived-in and why Grammy’s farm made her heart twist thinking of it. She just knew those were the opposite of the numbness she normally felt.
She leaned in and kissed him. Which clearly took him by surprise, but she needed to taste him in that moment. That one moment where he looked himself. No expectations, or anger, or anything. He was just Tripp. She’d never seen a man’s true colors so vibrantly before.
He gently pulled away, and Charlotte felt stupid for being so forward. She thought they were on the same page. Casual. He was attracted to her, too.
So then why—
He closed the blade on his knife, set it several feet away off the blanket, then cupped her face in both hands.
“Safety first,” he growled, and drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She whimpered. The ache that had been growing since he’d last touched her was raging out of control, and she needed more. Wanted to feel him in a way she hadn’t yet.
She opened his shirt and ran her hands down his chiseled abs. His hard chest and smooth skin beneath her fingertips made her skin burn with lust. She was already wet, desperate to feel him use all those muscles taking her body.
“Jesus, I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you,” he said against her lips.
“I know what you mean. There’s something about you,” she said. She bit his neck, his jaw, then sucked his earlobe before returning to his lips. She scratched down his abs. He hissed and tugged her hair a little tighter.
“Tell me what you want, darlin’.”
Her hands found his belt buckle and popped it open. Still kissing him savagely, she shoved his jeans low on his hips and grabbed his hard cock.
“Fuck, yes,” he said. She stroked once as she kissed down his neck to his chest. The raw moan that escaped him made her feel empowered. Like she was taking care of him.
She ran her lips over his incredible pecs and flicked her tongue over his nipple, and the big bad cowboy broke out in goose bumps.
She smiled.
It appeared she got to him as much as he got to her. She slowly licked down his abs, never taking her hand from his throbbing cock.
“Good Lord, darlin’, what are you doing to me?” Charlotte was learning that his drawl got deeper when he was turned on. She loved the way he spoke, especially the way he called her “darlin’.” Being this close to him, tasting his skin, made her whole body buzz.
After a final kiss on his stomach, she leaned back against the trunk of the pear tree.
He was still on his knees, and she guided him by the shaft until he straddled her lap, a knee on either side of her hips, his impressive cock right at eye level.
She ran her tongue along the head.
“Holy God…” he groaned, and jolted forward. He caught himself, placing both hands on the trunk just above her head.
“This is what I want,” she said in her most casual tone. She leaned in and took another taste, closing her mouth over the head and gently sucking.
She heard the tree crunch above her as if he were gripping it for dear life.
“You know what I think you want?” she said, pausing only to run her tongue along the underside of his shaft.
“What’s that?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“I think you want to fuck my mouth.”
Okay, so she was tempting him on purpose, but she wanted to feel all that raw power she’d felt that first night with him. Wanted to give him something he’d given her.
“You want that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m enjoying this and I want to feel how you like it. So go on,” she said, and gave another enticing lick. “Take my mouth however you want.”
“Are you wet?” he growled.
She nodded, running her lips over the tip.
“Prove it,” he said.
Keeping her mouth on him, she reached down and unbuttoned her jeans. Running a finger over her clit and dipping it quickly at her entrance, she brought it back up to him to view.
He groaned and sucked her finger, so she sucked him back.
“Put that back between those pretty legs of yours,” he ordered. “You want me to fuck your mouth? Then I want to see you get yourself off while I do it.”
This was the Tripp she was crazy about. The wild, sexy Tripp who took what he wanted.
She did as she was told, touching herself, rubbing her own moisture in a circle, making heat crawl in her veins, slowly picking up speed.
With his grip still above her head on the tree trunk, he thrust his cock between her lips.
She moaned, loving how he went deep, but not too deep to gag her. He hit that sweet spot where she could feel every ridge and glide of him.
His body shuddered as he pulled back, then surged back into her mouth, her throat. “Fuck, Charlotte.”
Hearing her name on his lips, with that drawl, made her own pleasure flare. She wanted to be there with him, to please him, to know him, in ways she never cared to with anyone before.
His thrusts were even and strong as he praised her. Running his fingers over her head, her temple.
She rubbed herself faster, finding the rhythm that would take her over the edge. Dipping just enough to rewet her finger and slickening herself to a fever.
She moaned his name, but it was muffled around his cock. She sucked harder, drawing him as deep as she could get him, her eyes watering.
He slammed his palm against the tree. “Fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming uneven. “Darlin’, I’m going to come.”
He tried to pull out of her mouth, but she wouldn’t let him.
On a strangled curse, he exploded in her mouth just as her own orgasm took her over. She shook and gasped and swallowed him down while he jolted and groaned her name over and over.
They both came down together, and when she slid her hand from herself, he tucked himself back into his jeans and gathered her up to a sitting position. Only he didn’t draw away. Didn’t say anything cute or flirty. He just sat there, staring at her, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Then hugged her closer.
She breathed him in, and a weird warmth crept into her chest. She felt…calm. Happy.
“Best day on the ranch yet,” he said against her hair.
She laughed. “I’d have to agree.”
The rumble in his chest vibrated against her own.
The same chest that was getting a little warmer every time Tripp was around.