Twenty minutes later, Reya comes out of the bathroom, her hair wet but combed, her face makeup-free, wearing a pair of sexy-as-hell yoga pants and a form-fitting workout shirt. Holy shit. For most women this is not the most attractive look, but on her… I’m almost speechless. I thought she had a nice ass, at least her jeans hinted at it last night, but those pants leave nothing to the imagination. It’s perfectly round and firm and thoughts of bending her over the couch and smacking that thing before I slide inside her run on fast forward through my brain. Fuck! I’ve got to get my head out of the gutter. This woman is in grave danger and obviously still stuck on her dead husband. It’s too soon for her to even consider the kinky shit that passed through my mind just now.

Reaching down as discreetly as possible, I adjust myself and do my best to focus on the task at hand. I called my high school buddy who’s now at the FBI and asked him to see if he can find Donovan. I’m sure it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack, but it’s worth a try. Until then I have to keep Reya safe and out of my twisted sexual fantasies. It’s only been a couple of weeks since I went home with a woman from the next town over. I’ve gone longer than that without sex before so this shouldn’t be an issue, but with her being as sweet and as beautiful as she is…it’s a serious problem.

The waiting for information is killing me. As the day wears on I’m unable to concentrate on anything other than Reya. Every slide of her leg, flex of her arm, flip of her hair and sigh from her lips has my cock twitching. If I stay in this one-room apartment with her for one more hour, I’m likely to make a move on her she won’t like.

“Reya, do you have sneakers or boots you can put on?”

Her eyebrows draw together. “Yes, why?” Even her voice is sweet, almost lyrical.

“I’m getting a little stir-crazy and thought we could walk down to the barn or tour the property maybe. I won’t leave you here alone just in case, but I’ve gotta get outta here. Do ya like animals?”

For the first time since I saw her at Bud’s Bar, her face lights up with an enormous smile. “I love animals. Especially horses. Do y’all have horses?”

“Yeah, this is a cattle ranch so we’ve got working horses. Do you ride?”

I stand and pull on my boots. Even though I try not to be obvious, I can’t help but watch as she bends over her suitcase to grab socks and sneakers. God, that’s the perfect ass. I probably should’ve made her change into jeans but I couldn’t make myself ask.

“Only been on a horse once. It was part of an excursion on a Jamaican vacation, but I loved it.”

“Well, come on, let’s go see them. You can meet Bill—the ranch owner—while you’re at it. I was stationed with his son in Afghanistan.”

“Does his son work the ranch too?”

I pause, taking a deep breath. I’ve gotten better about talking about Lyle, but having to answer this question makes me pause every single time.

“No, he was killed during my second deployment.”

Her hand covers her mouth and her eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” She lowers her head and walks to the door like she’s embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry. Nothing we can do about it. He was a good guy and I hate to say it, but life goes on.”

I grab my hat from the hook and place my hand on the knob to open the door when I feel her hand on my shoulder. A sizzling sensation spreads along my skin from the contact. When I turn to look at her she leans in and wraps her arms around my middle. I don’t know if the hug is meant to comfort me or her, so I pivot, moving her to my front, and hold her close. How in the hell did I end up trying to comfort some woman I barely know? I’m generally not a cuddly type of guy, but I’m finding that I don’t seem to mind it with her. Maybe…I even like it a little.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so emotional with everything going on and I think it’s beautiful that you’re here with Bill.”

I swallow hard and nod, ready to be done with this conversation. I might be comfortable holding this gorgeous woman in my arms, but I’m not about to cry all over her.

“You ready to see some livestock?” I ask as I finally open the door.

She releases her hold on my middle and gifts me with a small grin. “Yeah, it sounds nice. By the way, why do cowboys wear hats? I never have understood that.”

“Keeps the top of your head cool and the sun off your face and neck.”

“Why not wear a baseball cap or fishing hat?”

“I don’t know about anyone else, but this was my granddaddy’s. It’s the only thing I own that matters. Just part of my history, I guess.”

She doesn’t ask any more questions after that.

This is a relatively large ranch, built by Bill’s father over 60 years ago. My apartment sits on top of a storage area and both face the main barn, which houses 12 horses, about 150 yards away, across an open dirt area. Bill’s main house sits off to the right and the driveway leading in and out of the property runs up the left side of my apartment. The smaller barn, or shed, where he keeps a lot of the equipment and the ATVs is behind the main barn. The rest of the property is surrounded by pastures of varied terrain.

We approach the main barn and Bill saunters out and takes a second to assess Reya, his face blank. When I called him this morning to explain the situation, he didn’t give me a hard time. He just said to let him know if he could do anything. I wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, Bill. This is Reya.” He pulls off one of his work gloves and reaches out a hand to shake with her. She clasps it and says, “I’m sorry I brought all this drama to your home. I hope to be out of your hair soon. Can I do anything to help you in the meantime?”

I’m unable to hide my surprise as I turn toward her. She wants to help with something? I can’t picture a beautiful woman like her working anywhere on a ranch. Her offer cracks the hard exterior of the old cowboy. “No ma’am. And don’t apologize. Sometimes we can’t help the things that happen to us. I think it’s a real good thing that it was Covington who was there to help. If anyone is equipped to deal with something like this, it’s him.” He nods in my direction.

“I can’t thank him enough for stepping in. I’d probably be dead if he didn’t help me.”

Uncomfortable with the fuss they’re making over me, I reach for her hand and say, “I’d like to take one of the ATVs out and show her the property if you’re okay with that.”

“Sure, son, whatever you want to do.”

“First, she wants to meet the horses.”

Pushing his glove back on, he nods in the direction of the barn. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he says.

“It was nice meeting you, Bill.”

“Likewise, young lady.”

After we enter the barn I lead her down the long row of stalls, half of which are empty because the other ranch hands already have the horses out on the property somewhere. My favorite horse, the one I always ride is Sampson and he’s watching us over the top of the door. We step inside and I reach up to stroke the side of his neck. “Hey, Sam. You miss me today?”

Almost as if the horse understands what I asked, he swings his big brown head in my direction and chuffs in my face, causing Reya to jump back a little.

“Relax, he likes to give me lip from time to time. He’s harmless as long as you stay away from his back legs.” She scoots in closer to me and gently strokes the beautiful animal in front of us. I glance at her and for the first time since we met, Reya is calm, peaceful even. We stay with Sam a few more minutes before I lead her to the small barn where we keep the ATVs. I snag a key from the shelf where we keep them and sit astride the nearest ATV. When I look over to help her on I find her frozen in place, staring at the four-wheeler like it’ll bite her. Her olive skin is ghost-white and I realize quickly that she may not be able to do this. Fuck! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I’m so insensitive. Sitting on the back of this thing is similar to being on a motorcycle, and judging by her response she hasn’t been on one since the accident.

I remove the key and swing my leg back over, ready to ditch this horrible idea and borrow Bill’s old 1940’s army jeep. Reya continues to stare at it, or right through it. Afraid she’s lost in a memory and not wanting to hurt her further, I say quietly, “Come on, doll. I wasn’t thinking. We’ll go get Bill’s jeep.”

Her wide eyes swing to mine, like my voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “I can do it,” she croaks. “I know I can, it just might take me a minute.”

“You don’t have to, though. I don’t mind. I wasn’t thinking of anything but fresh air when I decided this. The jeep is fine.” Can’t she understand that I don’t want to hurt her in any way and this is clearly hurting her?

“No. I want to do this. I need to do this. It’s not even the same thing so I don’t understand why my stomach hurts.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, still thinking this is a bad idea.

She nods and glances back toward the machine.

“Okay, I’ll get on and wait. You join me when you’re ready. If you change your mind, it’s okay.”

Her eyes close and she swallows hard. I straddle the ATV again and wait. She doesn’t make me wait long. There’s an audible intake of breath before her warm body slides in behind mine. She wraps her arms around my middle and rests her cheek on my back. Why does that have to feel so good? I reach down and cover her clasped hands at my middle and squeeze. I know it was hard and I’m proud of her for trying even though it’s probably the last thing she wants to do.

“Ready?” I ask.

I feel her nod but she stays quiet.

“Hold tight.”

She squeezes almost too tight, but I take it slow at first, circling both the big and small barns twice. By the time I head for the south fence she loosens up a little and after about 10 minutes her hands relax enough to rest right along my hips, not even joined together anymore.

“You alright back there?” I yell.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

I smile and hit the throttle a little more. The first time we encounter a series of bumps and bounce around a little, she clutches tight around me again, but the next time she actually giggles. Knowing she’s no longer holding on for dear life or gasping in fear, but laughing and finding enjoyment with this gives me a sense of pleasure I’m not familiar with.

We take a turn to the east side of the property and I pull up to the highest point, where the Crazy Mountain Range looms in the background of a good stretch of Bill’s land. It’s the most beautiful place on this property. When I park and kill the motor, I tell her, “Let’s stretch for a few minutes.” She climbs off and I follow, but stop dead in my tracks when I realize her ass, in those fucking amazing yoga pants, is right in front of me. Grabbing distance. Smacking distance. Caressing distance. My blood moves south to a region of my body I don’t want it in and I groan. I’m not a teenage boy. Why does just the sight of Reya’s ass have me sportin’ wood in the middle of the afternoon?

She glances back at me and I move up by her, but angle away a little so I’m standing next to her, eliminating any chance she can see the bulge in my jeans.

“It’s beautiful here,” she says quietly.

I turn to look at her and realize she’s right, but I’m not thinking about the landscape. It’s her. Her long dark hair is pulled over one shoulder and her eyes sparkle a little in contentment. The smooth skin of her face and neck, despite the long scar on one side, has me dying to see what’s underneath her clothes. She licks her bottom lip, which I now notice is slightly smaller than her top and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from it. What the hell is wrong with me? This woman lost her husband in the most horrific way and is running for her own life. She’s not thinking of all the things I could do to her out here in the middle of nowhere or back at my place in the dark of night, so why am I?

I’m a twisted fuck. That’s why.