by Em Petrova
“I’ll wake up when you do,” she told him.
He liked her gumption. “Suit yourself. The offer’s there.”
“I’m all right.”
“I’ll knock on your door. Give ya a wakeup call.”
“I got it, thank you anyway.”
Her smart tone didn’t take a minute off, did it? Even dead tired after hours of work, she still had something to say in return.
“Suit yourself,” he said again. “G’night.”
He took two steps to his own bedroom door and stopped to throw her a look. She was watching him. A sizzle zapped between their stares, bringing him to a strong awareness that she would be sleeping next door to him. Paces away.
He walked into his room and closed the door. A moment later, he heard hers shut too.
When he offered for her to live here and work for him, he didn’t give a thought to the living arrangements. Who got the bathroom first? Did she want to shower tonight or in the morning?
There was also a matter of the house being a mess. He really should attempt to clean up a little and make her feel more at ease. He didn’t like living this way either.
He unbuttoned his shirt and cast it toward the hamper in the corner of his room. His socks followed. After he stripped off his belt and dropped it to a bench at the end of his bed, he opened the door again.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway and spotted a long pair of naked, toned, golden-tan thighs, he stopped dead. His stare lingered on the spot between those thighs, and shifted upward to where the hem of a long, oversized T-shirt stopped him from seeing Liberty’s perfect ass.
She whirled. “Sorry, I was going to…” her stare landed on his bare chest, “shower.”
A thump of attraction hit his cock, and it stirred behind his fly. The feeling reminded him how long it’d been since he had his hands on any woman let alone one he wanted so bad.
“I’ll wait.” His tone came out splintered.
Her gaze darted to his chest again as she backed into the bathroom and quickly shut the door.
Jesus Christ.
The woman had more allure in her pinky finger than most he’d slept with. He closed his eyes momentarily, trapping the vision of her into his mind, as he’d seen her just before she disappeared into the bathroom—hair down around her shoulders. Collar of her T-shirt so wide it nearly hung off her shoulder. And those legs.
God, even her small tanned toes left him burning for her.
If they were going to cohabitate, he’d need to find a schedule where his path didn’t cross hers.
He walked into his room once more. Damn, he couldn’t shake that off. Seeing her in such a state of undress would throw him off for days. She wasn’t so immune to him either, if her inability to draw her eyes from his chest told him anything.
He plunked down on the edge of his bed and listened to the shower, trying like hell not to think of her naked and wet, rubbing soap all over her curvy body.
Hell.
He wasn’t gonna sleep tonight either.
The minute he heard the shower switch off, he was achingly hard again. Envisioning water beaded on her skin and how sweet her moans would be as he slid his mouth down her body to the juncture of her thighs…
He swung his legs off the mattress. After he dressed, he cracked the door before stepping into the hall. He wanted a glimpse of her.
No, he didn’t.
Yeah, he damn well did but he was going to repress the hell outta that shit.
Going out to check on the cow would be his only distraction from the wicked thoughts swirling through his mind and making his libido act like it was seventeen again. He was going to pass it off as sleep deprivation and temporary insanity.
As soon as he drew in a deep breath of the night air, he centered himself. Liberty actually had helped quite a bit today. She didn’t hesitate to step in and get her hands dirty.
All right, so he was trying to distract himself from the other things he liked about her.
The quiet of the barn drew him in. Even as a kid, he’d found it to be a safe haven from the world that sometimes annoyed him too much. He’d hide out in the hay loft and think or dream. Around that time, he realized he wasn’t a people person, and that wasn’t a bad thing. He simply needed social activities in small doses.
For that reason, he’d avoided hiring a ranch hand. Funny enough, being around Liberty all day hadn’t bothered him.
The horses made rustling noises as he passed down the center aisle of the barn. In the rear stall near the doors, they’d installed the cow around one in the morning. Liberty had fussed over the animal excessively by stroking its side and talking to it, all while he fetched it plenty of water and fresh hay.
The cow seemed to be holding its own right now. Not better but not declining more, at least. Leaning against the side of the stall, Aidan assessed the animals. “I’ve spent two nights with you already. What’s another?” He wouldn’t get any sleep in the house anyhow, lying awake listening to every small noise from Liberty’s room. Picturing her naked legs and how it would feel to spread them and slide between.
He issued a low groan before dragging a couple hay bales toward the rear of the barn near the sick cow and stretching out on them.
Damn uncomfy, but a slight improvement over a constant hard-on.
* * * * *
Liberty hadn’t lived with anybody besides her ex-husband in quite a few years, but scanning over the wreck of a kitchen made her groan. Running on few hours of sleep and zero caffeine since the previous morning, she had little patience for this mess. Where was that slob of a man anyway?
Listening hard, she didn’t hear Aidan stirring in his bedroom, and she hadn’t met him outside the bathroom as she had the previous night.
The image of his broad, muscled chest tapering to washboard abs and God, those ridges of muscles riding around his hips had kept her awake for too long after she finally fell into bed.
By looking at the cowboy, she could tell he was layered with muscle from day after day of hard work. Seeing it with her own two eyes—and in the flesh—was another thing.
Well, she needed food. As soon as she could make a trip into town, she’d grab groceries for her half of the fridge. Until then, she was stuck eating…she opened the fridge door and stared at the contents.
An open can of beans with the spoon still in it was front and center. She thought only men in cowboy movies ate like that. The slightly sticky refrigerator also boasted ketchup, mustard and a gallon jar of pickles.
She steered clear of the conspicuous-looking lunchmeat and reached for the eggs. After opening the carton, she found a single egg there.
“Guess it’s mine.” She turned to the stove and searched the cupboards for a skillet. Of course it sat in the sink, dirty. Which meant she had to wash it.
Heaving a sigh, she scoured the pan of its burned on residue and set it on the stovetop. Two minutes later, she had her egg and some toast. Next to the coffeemaker, she located not two bags of good quality coffee but three. At least the man kept coffee in massive supply.
How odd to sit in a strange kitchen alone, eating a stranger’s food. She felt like an imposter. Wondering how her life had come to this stopping point would do no good, so she ate her breakfast and chased it with coffee. After that, she went into her room to administer her morning insulin.
Maybe she better knock on Aidan’s door. He may have overslept.
Standing outside his bedroom left her feeling jittery in a way she didn’t want to contemplate. When she rapped softly, she received no response. She knocked again. “Aidan?”
No answer.
He must not be in the house.
She hurried through the routine of injecting her insulin so she could slip on her boots, grab her jacket and quickly went outside. He told her he began the morning by checking the horses, so she headed there first.
When she entered the barn, a couple horses greeted her with whinnies. She scanned the dim interior, and there, aga
inst the wall, she spotted a tall figure stretched out on two hay bales. His booted feet hung off the end, and one long arm draped over the side, the fingertips brushing the floor.
She jerked her gaze to the cow, who stood there in the stall munching on hay as if a man slumbered nearby on the hay every day.
Liberty shook her head. She’d met plenty of ranchers over the years, but none so dedicated as Aidan Bellamy.
She stole down the center aisle to the sleeping man. Staring at him when he wasn’t aware seemed wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze latched on to his handsome face. How could he appear even harder in an unconscious state? The angular planes of his cheeks and forehead, his straight, manly nose and that jaw that stirred a woman’s ovaries into a fit, all drew Liberty’s attention.
His hat had toppled off in the night and lay on the floor. But it gave her a chance to really make note of how soft his hair looked. If she threaded her fingers into those strands, would they trickle through her fingers like she thought they would? A thick lock lay on his forehead, and she experienced a sudden urge to brush it away.
Her throat clicked as she swallowed and continued her study of the artwork before her. God had surely reached deep into his creative well when he designed Aidan Bellamy.
The top button of his plaid shirt was open, revealing a triangle of tanned neck. Seeing his pulse throb there had her own heartrate spiking. At least she thought so before her gaze traveled over his chest, hit his belt buckle, and dipped lower.
Holy. Hell.
The man sported a bulge in his Wranglers impressive enough to bring a silent gasp to her lips. Morning wood didn’t begin to describe what she was looking at. More like morning artillery. A warhead.
It might be the low lighting and the lack of enough caffeine in her system playing tricks on her eyes, but she thought the man must be hung like the proverbial horse.
Okay, enough. She needed to wake him so they could get to work.
Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, steely even in his relaxed state. She shook him a little.
His arm dangling to the floor whipped up, caught her around the hips and dragged her down with him. She landed on his chest with a hard thump that slammed the air from her lungs. Or maybe his musky scent did that. Or the way he buried his face against her neck and nuzzled her.
Her eyes slid shut on the sensation of warm lips meeting untouched and neglected flesh. He eased his mouth up to her ear and parted them around her earlobe. A shudder racked her, and she planted a hand on his chest, thinking to push him away. Instead, her fingers clamped on his shirt front.
Dark heat oozed into her belly as he prodded her earlobe. When he grazed it with his teeth, she tightened her hold on his shirt, twisting it in her grasp. A croak left her throat.
Aidan went still. The arm banded around her hips tightened momentarily before loosening.
He raised his head and stared at her. For a moment, she saw the aftereffects of sleep lingering in his icy blue eyes. Then the fog cleared and realization set in.
“Hell,” he grated out. “Sorry, I was dreaming.”
She bolted to her feet and strode to the cow, mind murky with the sensation of being locked to the rancher’s solid body while he worried her earlobe with his lips and teeth.
She stared at the cow but only saw Aidan.
She realized what he said. Dreaming. Whoever he dreamed of was one lucky woman. The bulge in his jeans said he wanted her bad.
For some reason, this hit like a blow to her ego, and she snapped her arms around her middle.
Focus, Liberty. Focus on work. Ranching. This cow.
Her attention narrowed from man to ranch to the cow before her. The animal appeared to be completely fine as she ground the hay between her teeth and went for more in the trough.
A boot thump on the floor behind her sent a shiver of awareness through Liberty. Would Aidan say more about what happened?
“You slept out here,” she said to change the topic before it even came up.
“Yeah, I couldn’t clear my head from worrying.” He stepped up beside her, rumpled and smelling of hay and the hottest thing she’d ever set eyes on. He pulled his hat down over his messy hair as he surveyed the cow. “She’s lookin’ better.”
Liberty nodded.
“Something we did worked. We’ll keep an eye on her, let her stay here for the day before turning her out with the herd again.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Her voice had a breathless quality she wished would vanish along with the tight knot in her core.
He turned his head to pierce her in that intense stare. Her heart picked up its pace again.
“Did you get breakfast yet?”
“Yeah, I ate your last egg. I’ll buy some later today.”
“That’s fine. One’s not enough for me anyway. I’ll grab some cereal.”
“I didn’t see any milk in the fridge either.”
“Yeah, I guess I used it up and forgot to buy more.”
“Well.” She stole a look at him. “There’s always beans.”
His hard lips, that minutes before had been wrapped around her earlobe, quirked at the corner. “Good source of protein.”
What felt like fizzy soda bubbles rose inside her. She smiled despite her wish she was more immune to this man’s dark, rugged good looks. Having a crush on her boss would make working with him more difficult.
“I’ll head into the house for a few.”
“I made coffee,” she said.
He nodded. “I appreciate it. What kind did you make?”
“The dark Colombian roast.”
“Good choice for a morning cup.” He drifted to the barn door and turned as if about to say something to her.
Her heart practically launched inside her chest. After he dragged her down on top of him, her body already felt like it was orbiting. Now her mind floated out into the nether too as she considered the things she was learning about Aidan Bellamy.
Devoted rancher. Coffee connoisseur. Galant rescuer of crying women.
And capable of heating her with a nibble at her ear.
Since she wasn’t certain what to do for the cow for the time being, she began with the horses. Her knowledge of their routines was limited, and she could only think to fill their feed boxes with grain. Within minutes, Aidan returned, wearing fresh clothes and holding a thermos of coffee with the lid open.
He stood in the open doorway, watching her progress and generally unnerving the hell out of her. Was he looking at her like a boss watched an employee to make sure they were up to snuff? Or was he seeing the woman he’d yanked down and rubbed his hard body against?
Either way, she refused to lose her poise. During the rougher years toward the end of her marriage, poise was all she had, holding her head up, thrusting her shoulders back and acting as if nothing in the world could get to her.
Though Aidan Bellamy did. She wanted to hate him for now being the owner of the ranch she had her heart set on, and that warred with her attraction for him.
He’s not a love interest. He’s the owner of this ranch, and I work for him now. At least until she decided to mosey on down the road.
Unable to tolerate him standing there staring at her another minute, she turned to him, hand planted on her hip. “I’m not sure of the horses’ morning routine.”
“You’re doin’ just fine.”
Her stomach cartwheeled at his deep, throaty drawl that sounded as though he hadn’t yet shaken off the remnants of sleep. Her gaze latched onto his lips that minutes ago had been wrapped around her earlobe.
Biting down on her lip, she nodded. “Oh. Okay. I’m finished giving them all grain. What’s next?”
“I usually let them munch on that a while,” he paused to dip his eyes over her body, leaving behind a trace of heat equal to that of molten iron, “and I check on the other horses. When I’m finished with that, I come back here and lead all these horses to pasture.” Even the way he lifted the thermos to his mouth
made him look hot.
She shot her attention to the cow. “She looks pretty sturdy on her feet today.”
“Yeah, she does. I woke twice in the night to check on her, but she seemed to be holding her own.”
Liberty rounded on him. “Do most ranchers spend the night with their animals?”
He arched a brow at the forceful delivery of her question. “Not unheard of. Though I don’t talk to many ranchers about such matters.”
“Yeah…” She chewed her lip a little. “Guess it’s not a topic that comes up.”
When he sauntered over to the stall, standing a mere foot from her, she had to clench her hand into a fist to keep from pressing her palm over that hard, muscled chest again and maybe even using her nails on it.
She didn’t even want to think about what was going on with her. She’d blame it on stress and not the gorgeous rancher who acted as if he hadn’t nearly ravished her while in a sleep state.
He tipped his thermos and swallowed more coffee. She tried to ignore the way his throat worked when he swallowed and to purge the scent of him from her memory. Leather, hay, pine, musk. In that order. Or maybe hay came first because he’d been sleeping on it?
She shook herself from the crazed urge to lean into him and sniff just to find out.
God, it was going to be a long day.
* * * * *
No denying that Liberty Baker had everything a man like Aidan admired. Brains, skill, drive…and a body men fought battles over. Hell, he was fighting one right now—with himself.
He twisted his gaze from her for the tenth time and swung it back to her for the eleventh. Something about watching her run that brush down the horse’s flank turned him on. Come to think of it, so did seeing her toned arms and ass flex as she mucked out the stalls. Or spread them with clean bedding.
But seeing her drive his front end loader equipped with a round bale had gripped him by the balls.
She patted the horse’s side and said, “Good job,” as if the horse had done a thing to make himself look pretty. She swung her stare his way. “Does this horse have a name?”
