Fucking eh.

I had no idea that Riley was coming over for dinner until Del was literally about to leave the ranch house with her car keys. When Rachel first invited Fox and I over for dinner and was rather insistent that I come, I didn’t think much of it. She’s often insistent about most things, especially anything related to family matters.

Had I known they’d invited Riley though, fuck. I don’t know. After the rescue the other night, I was left feeling nothing but confusion over my feelings for her. On one hand, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife. Which I find almost amusing, considering it’s kind of all there on the table. There aren’t words unsaid because Riley is saying them, which makes the tension even thicker. All words and, so far, no action.

On the other hand, I feel closer to her, and not in a way I appreciate. If I was protective of her before, I’m more so now. I wish I could keep her all to myself and not share her with anyone else, and that includes co-workers and family. If that makes me a caveman, so be it.

And now she’s beside me in my truck, tapping her fingers along the window ledge to Tom Petty playing on the radio. She looks absolutely phenomenal and hot as fuck, her black sweater displaying just the tops of her full breasts. I have to fight to keep my attention on the road.

“It’s a shame he died,” she says.

“Who? Tom Petty?”

“He seemed immortal. Like Prince and Bowie. I always assumed death couldn’t touch them, that it only touched the rest of us.” She glances at me, brows raised curiously. “Who are your top three musicians? Like if they died, you’d go into mourning.”

“Honestly, I’m still not over Chris Cornell being gone.”

She studies me and nods after a moment. “I can see you being a Soundgarden fan.”

“I am,” I tell her, rolling up my sleeve to show her the band’s symbol tattooed on the back of my forearm.

“Nice,” she says and reaches over, her finger tracing the outline of the tattoo, as if it’s still raised. She’s creating goosebumps along my skin but thankfully she pulls her hand away before she notices. “What else do you got?”

“I’ve got everything, darling.” I grin at her. “But unless I’m naked, you won’t be able to see them.”

Her eyes widen, like she’s appreciating the fact that for once I’m the one throwing it out there instead of her.

Even though you shouldn’t be, I remind myself. This is a dangerous path and I can’t help but think back to what I said the other night, when I told her I didn’t play it safe. The more I push and play with this, the riskier it’s going to get.

“Well, well, well,” she says. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Phew. I thought that was going to derail us for a moment, but she put us right back on track. Maybe I’ll be able to survive this dinner with her after all.

“Tom Waits, Willie Nelson, and Keith Richards.”

“Keith Richards? Really?”

I shrug. “If he died, it would mean he’s human, and honestly I’d be a little disappointed to find out otherwise. What about you?”

“Everyone I love is already dead.”

I look at her in surprise. “Really? Or are you just being morbid?”

She ticks them off her fingers. “Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, and Muddy Waters.”

Okay, now I’m really surprised. “I wouldn’t peg you for a jazz or blues lover.”

“We all get the blues, baby,” she says, voice husky. “Like you say about fear, the blues will find you. It’s better you go and find it first.”

Good lord. This woman is everything.

I’m so infatuated with her that before I know it, I’m crossing the Queen’s River and Cherry Creek and heading up to the main house at Ravenswood Ranch.

“This is it. Where I grew up,” I tell her.

She stares out the window, big eyes taking it all in. The sun is setting in the west, making the snow glow pink and purple, the barns and the buildings looking like a winter postcard. “This is magical.”

“It’s magical on the outside. I can’t guarantee the same for the inside. It will be a full house tonight.”

“Good,” she says, flashing me a wicked smile. “I like a little chaos with my dinner.”

Well, chaos it is because we go inside and, even though I thought we were a bit early, everyone is here and apparently waiting for us.

Riley stands beside me in the doorway as my grandpa gets off his chair and barks. “Shut the damn door, John, were you raised in a barn?”

“Pretty much,” I tell him, and then gesture to Riley who is smiling broadly at them all and not appearing to be self-conscious or shy in the slightest. “This is my co-worker, Riley, she just moved to North Ridge from Aspen and is the newest member of our search and rescue. Riley, this is,” and then I introduce her to my grandpa, my father and Jeanine sitting at the table, Vernalee who pokes her head out of the kitchen, and then Fox who is having a beer with Del on the couch.

When introductions are all done, Rachel comes over to take Riley’s coat and then Del brings her a glass of white wine. It warms my heart a little to see these girls being so friendly to her. I know that Riley puts on a tough face sometimes and doesn’t care what people think, but I remember what she said about loneliness and it’d be good for her to have some girlfriends in this town.

Everything goes smoothly and the only chaos is from having so many different people in the room together, but it’s a chaos that works. My grandfather is both the philosopher and the joker, alternating between bouts of wisdom and pulling your leg. Vernalee is crass at times and hard to like, but her sense of humor usually puts everyone at ease. My father is tough and perpetually a grumpy old man, and aside from asking Riley the occasional question about working the mountains of Wyoming or Colorado, he doesn’t say much, and we’re all fine with that.

Jeanine is quiet and soft-spoken and makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room when you’re talking to her. Del is very similar to her mother, though louder and endlessly curious. She asks the most questions of Riley, and when she asks if she had anyone special in Aspen, Riley is quick to brush that under the table with a smile.

Shane is more of an observer, listening and watching but rarely offering anything up himself. Rachel is more likely to ask questions and she seems just as fascinated by Riley as Del is. I don’t know what it is, maybe those girls are getting bored with people in the town, or maybe they secretly harbor dreams of being some adventurous, tattooed tough chick.

We eat really well, roast beef and roasted root vegetables that Rachel and Vernalee probably spent all day on, followed by cherry pie. A lot of wine goes around the table, but I watch what I have since I’ll have to take Riley back to her place later.

Then, when everyone seems sufficiently loose for a Sunday evening, music starts playing and the girls all start dancing, while Jeanine and Vernalee wash up in the kitchen.

I can’t take my eyes off of Riley. She called herself klutzy at one point but I’m sure it’s all in her head. There’s a difference between klutzy and goofy and if she’s anything, she’s the latter. In fact, she’s dancing like Mike Meyers in Austin Powers and laughing her ass off as she goes.

The feeling I have in my chest is completely unfamiliar. It’s like a combination of a warm bath and someone dropping a toaster in it. It’s both calming and electrifying and there’s no other way to explain it, but I have both those feelings at once when I’m looking at her. And fuck, I don’t want to stop.

“She’s a real spitfire,” my grandfather says as he eases himself into the chair next to me at the table.

“Riley?” I ask, playing dumb, as if my eyes have left her for a second. She’s currently holding onto Del’s hand and making her twirl around, taking the lead.

“Don’t play dumb, boy,” he says and then points directly at her. “That one. There. Riley.”

I gently grab his finger and push it away. The last thing Riley needs is for us to be pointing at her, though I also think she probably wouldn’t care.

“Okay, I get it,” I tell him.

“I knew a girl like her once. Before I met your grandmother. I sure did have the biggest darn crush on her, eh? But she couldn’t give a pig’s snout about me.”

Pig’s snout?

He goes on. “She was beautiful, long legs. All the boys in the class were always trying to get a look under her skirt.”

“Grandpa,” I admonish him, teasingly.

“I didn’t say I did it,” he says defensively, then thinks about it for a moment. “Anyway, trying and doing are two different things. Point is, this girl was a heartbreaker and in the end, she wasn’t interested in me and that spared me. I found your grandmother instead. But the boys she did date, oh did she ever break their little hearts.”

My eyes are still on Riley, thinking this over as Fox approaches her and asks her to dance. Del looks put out again, but she still smiles and moves out of the way, while Fox dips and twirls Riley around. The music is like 90’s R&B, it’s not really dancing music, and yet there they are. Both of them seem to be enjoying themselves and I’m sitting here with a hot coal of rage and jealousy slowly building inside me.

“You see,” my grandfather says, nudging me on the shoulder. “She’s a heartbreaker.”

I take in a long, deep breath and look away. If I stared at them any longer, I would have gone up there and broken them apart, and what kind of brother would I be then? I don’t have the right, even though every cell in my body is telling me she’s mine and mine alone.

I cough and say, “She’s my colleague, grandpa. She’s part of search and rescue. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Baloney,” he says. “That doesn’t mean a thing.”

“There are rules,” I say, voice harder. “Rules about that kind of thing.”

Now my grandfather is laughing. “Rules? Rules? Oh, John boy, you have never been one to follow rules. And you’ve been better off for it.”

He pauses and gets that wise owl look to his weathered face. “Do you remember when you were younger and we told you that the river was off-limits? And you said, ‘yes sir,’ and pretended to obey us, but you still went down there and you still played by the river. And then one day you saw a fawn that was caught in an eddy, drowning. You went right in and saved that fawn. Next thing I know, you’re holding the shivering, wet thing in your arms at the front door. We asked you what happened and you didn’t lie. You broke the rules, but if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have saved that fawn.”

I remember very well. They didn’t want me by the river because of my mother, but that’s exactly why I went every day after school. I wasn’t playing—I was paying respect. It was like visiting her grave. But that one day I did see the fawn and I went into the river to rescue it. I wasn’t afraid, I just knew I was at that place for a reason. The damn fawn was orphaned after that, and we took care of it until it was old enough to return to the wild. Sometimes the fawn would follow me into the house, wanting the bottle, and Jeanine would get so fucking mad.

“Anyway, John boy, you’re a rule-breaker at heart. No point changing that now.”

Except when my career is at stake.

Thankfully, the dance party doesn’t last for too much longer with my father complaining of a headache and then it’s time to take Riley home.

She’s drunk and funny and goofy and leaning on me all the way to the truck.

“Your family is so fun,” she says, holding onto my arm. I have to fight the urge to put my arm around her, even though it feels like the most natural thing to do.

“I’m glad they behaved for you,” I tell her, opening the passenger door for her and ushering her inside.

She’s quiet on the drive back to her place, but not in a bad way. She seems contemplative and she keeps stealing glances at me.

I end up asking, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” she says in a low voice.

I take her word for it.

We pull up to her house and for the first time, things feel awkward. She’s drunk on wine and I’m just trying to keep my head on straight. Too many things are rushing up inside me, threatening to erupt like a volcano. That sharp, tangible and irrefutable feeling that she’s mine and she needs to know it.

She unbuckles her seat belt and turns to face me and whatever resolve I have inside, that thin one that tells me to play by the rules, to play it safe for once, I feel it weaken.

She is just so beautiful. The full, sex-soaked pout of her gorgeous lips, the way they contrast with her innocent blue eyes. Her hair as it falls softly around her shoulders, begging to be touched. Everything about her is brimming with lust and intensity. Every inch of her is begging to be touched.

I swallow hard, my nostrils flaring as she leans over and puts her palm at my cheek, her skin warm. I freeze, afraid to move. I can only stare at her as she shuffles over, getting closer until her face is right in front of mine.

“What are you so afraid of?” she whispers, staring at my lips.

It takes a moment for me to speak, my heart is beating so hard in my chest it’s like a fucking jackhammer. “You,” I tell her honestly.

I expect her to smile but she looks dead serious.

“You know I can keep a secret,” she says.

Then she climbs on top of me so she’s straddling me, thighs on either side of mine, her crotch pressed against my stomach, her ass into the steering wheel.

Before I can do or say anything, she reaches down and grabs the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head. Her full breasts are pushed up by a lacey pink bra that matches her lips, her skin like cream, inches away from me.

“I bet you can keep a secret too,” she purrs, running her thumb down over my jaw, then my lip. She pushes her thumb in and my mouth opens, sucking gently. Her eyes close and her lips open and the softest moan escapes them and I am so fucking hard I think I’m going to burst right through the fly of my jeans.

She removes her thumb and stares at me, her lids heavy, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together. I am a fucking weak man in the end.

“You can touch me, you know,” she says softly, and she takes both of my hands and places them at her waist. It’s so small, so smooth, I feel like I could wrap my fingers all the way around her. I press my palms against her, holding on tight, not because I want to—because I do—but because I’m afraid of moving them elsewhere.

She leans in closer and places her lips at my neck. A small kiss, but a long kiss. I shut my eyes and groan. I can’t help it. My grip tightens around her waist. My erection is so hot and tight and hard and I’m just fucking sweating, trying to hold out. “You can do whatever you want to me.” Her lips move against my skin as she speaks, wet.

“I can’t,” I manage to say. My voice breaks with lust as I say it, my blood running hot and loud in my head. “You know we can’t. Riley…please.”

She pulls back for a moment and smiles. She knows she’s wearing me down. God, it’s going to feel so fucking good when I finally let go.

“If you could do anything to me, what would you do?” she whispers in my ear, her breath hot and sweet, her voice dripping with sex. “Pretend there are no rules and tell me everything you’d do to me, right here, right now.”

Oh, fuck.

But before I can open my mouth, my phone buzzes.

It’s Jace, at the office.

It’s a call.

I clear my throat, needing to answer the call, but at the same time, reluctant to move Riley off of me. I’m too terrified to move my hands. I know if I touch another section of bare, soft skin that I’ll lose complete control and then I won’t need to tell her what I want to do, I’ll fucking show her.

But Riley quickly moves off of me, slides her sweater back on and hands me my phone.

I nod my thanks and spend a few seconds clearing my throat, trying to calm my racing heart, before I answer it.

“Mav here.”

“They found a backpack on the mountain but no sign of the skier,” Jace says. “RCMP wants to do an aerial search in the morning, but figures we can get a head start.”

“Might be too late by morning. We’ll need everyone,” I tell him, adrenaline over the search starting to course through me, competing with my hardened lust for Riley. “Get the team, I’ll put out a call for volunteers.”

“Will do.”

He hangs up and I exhale loudly, trying to get rid of all the sexual frustration.

“Should I get my gear on?” Riley asks, her demeanor back to business.

“We’ll get enough volunteers, you don’t have to make this one.”

Her brows knit together. “Mav, it’s my job.”

“It’s your day off. And you’ve had wine.”

“It’s your day off, too. And I’m pretty much sober. Are you trying to keep me safe, or do you think I’m too distracting? Because if it’s the latter, you know how I am on the job and if it’s the—”

“It’s neither,” I lie. “I just wanted you to have the night off if you wanted. You had a nice dinner, you shouldn’t have to rush out there.”

“It’s my job,” she says again and opens the door. “Now give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back.”

She runs off around the back of the house to where the basement suite door is. I stare at her for a few moments before I thump the top of the steering wheel with my fist.

“Fuck!” I yell. I need to get it together, but damn it feels good to yell. I do it a few more times, trying to rid myself of all the tension, how close I fucking got to whipping out my cock and impaling her on it.

By the time she comes back out, dressed in her rescue gear and carrying her pack, I’ve got myself back under control.

We drive off, colleagues again, ready to search and rescue.