A hot blonde wearing a black dress ranked high on Ash’s list of favorite things.
Just above a dry-aged New York strip cooked medium rare, but below a good morning blowjob that only ended when he finished in her mouth, blondes in black dresses always put a smile on his face. Olivia Quinn was no different, and the grin he wore proved it, as did the surge of arousal coursing through his veins.
It was his unprecedented need to learn everything about her that worried him. From her middle name, to her favorite song, to her greatest fear in life.
Because that was different.
And if that, along with fighting a hard-on for the ages, wasn’t troubling enough, hounding her like a school boy with his first crush was just as mortifying. Chasing tail wasn’t his style. It usually came to him.
Ash had been around the block when it came to the ladies, though he was no player. A few of those lovely, but temporary women might disagree with his favorable assessment, but Ash had been forthcoming from the get-go. The Unit demanded too much of him for anything permanent. Dinner and drinks before doing the dirty was all the commitment he could make.
Which made his remarkable reaction to Olivia that much more troubling.
The boner was predictable given he was on a months-long dry spell, thanks to an Islamic terrorist group’s horrific campaign of violence in a West African rainforest. Hunting bad guys in ankle-deep wetlands, hoping he didn’t run out of fresh water and have to resort to an infested pond riddled with God only knew whose fecal matter, left little time to contemplate getting laid. Most operators considered getting lucky to mean if you made it through a mission without eating something so vile it could make one of the Jackass guys puke, or if you only caught one communicable disease per deployment.
So, physical aside, it was his mental reaction that had him pacing the ground near a dented white Honda, questioning his deductive reasoning.
She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was smart and stacked. She was personality plus.
She was his father’s right-hand woman. Right-hand woman, for fuck’s sake.
Marshall’s comment had sent a clear and concise message. Back off.
She was tight with her boss, and he was tight right back, that was obvious to anyone looking. And considering he didn’t trust Marshall as far as he could throw him, he’d been looking plenty when he should’ve been walking.
His life was going according to plan, far removed from Coleson Creek, the sublime setting of an affluent, lonely childhood. Working his way up the Army’s chain of command had paid off, his tenacity gifting him with his dream job in The Unit. Any connection he’d felt to this vineyard had been severed the day his mother died. The day Marshall gave him his marching papers.
Didn’t matter. He’d been going anyway. Boot camp was calling.
Checking on Rosa and Hope was the only reason he’d returned, sparing just a few minutes to do so, and since Hope was weeks away from high school graduation, this would be his last visit.
But now, this woman. The hot blonde in the black dress who made her living here, showing up in the middle of his perfectly planned life.
And suddenly the family vineyard built on lush countryside in a scenic California valley wasn’t looking so bad when Olivia Quinn was a part of the view.
Goddamn, that jungle had fucked with more than his libido.
It had screwed with his mind.
“Hey, soldier.” Her sweet southern drawl, completely out of place a stone’s throw from the Pacific, interrupted his disconcerting thoughts.
He turned, watching the sexy sway of her hips in that tight, strapless dress as she approached.
“Look what I found.” Her saucy grin sent a double shot of lust straight through him when she held up a six-pack of Coors Light. “Guess it’s your lucky night.”
Damn right it was. “How’d you make that happen? Or does the local liquor store deliver now?”
“Called in a favor. Somebody owed me.”
Nodding toward the black Jeep he’d parked behind the Honda, he admired her toned arms holding his favorite beer. “Hop in. I know a great drinking spot not far up the Coast Highway. Decent water view with this full moon, too.”
She looked from the Wrangler to her car, then back at the bustling house, guests milling about as the party wound down. “I’m not leaving with you in full view of everyone.”
That was a blow to the ego.
“Got a reputation to maintain? I get it.” He tried not to hold it against her. Marshall was onto them and none too pleased about it. “Wouldn’t wanna be seen with the black sheep.”
“No, you silly man.” Her short laugh was musical. “It’s not you. It’s everyone seeing up my dress while I climb into that thing.” Her brows rose as she assessed his Jeep, the beefy tires lifting the cab higher than normal. “Either I do a trust fall into the passenger seat while you pull me in from the other side, or I rip the seams right out of this dress and flash a bunch of people my beaver.”
His smile grew. It wasn’t him. It was his ride. And when she used words like beaver, it made his cock grow, too.
“I’m having a hard time identifying a problem with that scenario.” He grabbed the beer from her hands. “I’m pro-beaver.”
Her grin matched his. “Son of a mother duck. That charm of yours is gonna put me in the unemployment line. That and your nice ass.”
Chuckling, he stowed the six-pack in the Jeep’s center console before appraising her, wavy blonde hair to high-heeled toe. “It’d be a shame to ruin that dress. How about you just take it off. I’ll unzip you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do need to maintain some civility, considering this is my workplace and I’m technically on the clock. I’ll drive my own car and maybe we can meet somewhere?”
“No can do, darlin’.” He didn’t want her out of his sight. She might wise up and take off on him. Scrolling through the contacts on his phone, he put the outgoing call on speaker. “I’ll set up a cover story for you.”
Benny, the farm manager Marshall hired before he was born, answered on the first ring and Olivia’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“Hey, Benny. It’s Ash. I’m over here by the barn with Ms. Quinn and her car won’t start. It’s been a long night, so I’m gonna run her home and come back out in the morning to take a look. Not sure if it’s the battery or the alternator.”
“Sure thing, sir.” He didn’t seem surprised by the call. “You want me to come jump start it for you? I’m not that far away.”
Benny lived in a cottage on the northern edge of the property, tucked away in a strand of cottonwood trees.
“No, it’s late. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
“Okay, then. Good having you home, son. It’s where you belong, no matter what Marshall thinks, but I sleep better at night knowing you’re out there fighting for our freedom. Spent some time overseas myself, back in the day. Hell of a mess for a guy to be in, it was.”
“Thanks, Benny. We’ll swap stories over a few drinks sometime.”
“Make sure to tell Ms. Quinn how pretty she looks tonight. Nobody plans for car trouble, but when it happens, you can’t fight it. Probably the best thing to ever happen to you both.”
Disconnecting the call, Ash smiled confidently, knowing any gossip would be tempered. He also knew their storytelling session would never take place. The Unit didn’t really exist. What they did, didn’t really happen. Not on paper and not off the lips of any operator worth his rank.
“Okay, darlin’.” Gesturing at his Jeep, he clapped his hands together. “You ready to rock out with your cock out? Let’s slide that dress up. Oh, wait. I think that’s what I do. You jam out with your clam out, right?”
Still shocked silent, she blinked those big eyes at him.
“There’s not gonna be any cock or clam out, Ash! Benny knows you’re fibbing! He was the one who owed me. I asked him to bring me the beer for, and I’m quoting here, a private after-party I’m hosting.” Gripping fistfuls of dress, she lifted the hem and looked toward the house, ready to run. “He’s doing the math right now and it only adds up to two, me and the boss’s son.”
“Liv, look at me.” He grabbed her hands, small and soft against his. She was the most delicate thing he’d touched in months. Maybe ever. “Benny’s not gonna say a word. He’s been around a long time and sees through Marshall’s bullshit. Plus, he and Rosa have a secret thing going, stretching back years. Marshall doesn’t have a clue.”
“Really?” Her grin was lopsided. “Well, those dirty horndogs. Now I know why he handed me the beer, turned beet red, and told me where the closest twenty-four-hour drugstore is. I wonder if her priest knows she’s showing Benny her religion every night?”
“I try not to think about it.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s always going to confession. Probably feels the need to come clean with God or she won’t get into heaven.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll get in,” he said, with a wink. “God is pro-beaver, too.”
Not his best as far as pick-up lines went, but it must’ve done the job.
Wincing at the tightness behind his fly, he watched Liv hitch her dress high, the ruffled hem brushing the tops of her bare thighs. Struggling, she flashed miles of creamy smooth skin as she alternately climbed and jumped into the Jeep.
With a huff of spent energy, she settled into the seat with a frown, a pool of black taffeta surrounding her. “I think I broke a sweat.”
Graceful she wasn’t, but there was an elegance to her that enchanted him. Whether they got naked later or not didn’t matter. It was the luckiest night of his life, either way.
“Let’s go, soldier.” She spurred him into motion with a suggestive grin and the impatient waggle of her fingers. “You’re not gonna see my beaver just standing there. Hustle that ass.”
He didn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t.
It hit him like a Mack truck. A blindside ambush out of nowhere. A walk-off home run by the opposing team in the bottom of the ninth.
And Asher Coleson amended his favorites list.
A hot blonde in a black dress would always make him smile, but if it happened to be Olivia Quinn, then she would also make his head spin, his dick hard, and his heart pound. And even though he’d never felt this urgent, exciting, and terrifying feeling before, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to know what it was.
Love. Or something dangerously close to it.