by Em Petrova
Oh Lord. Her inner scientist was awake and busy analyzing her reason for this attraction.
She just needed to wake up. She wasn’t feeling herself right now.
He stepped forward. “I remember you from high school.”
“Yes.” Even better—now she felt the heat climbing her cheeks and knew she’d be bright pink.
He smiled, but the expression held no mocking, just a warmth in his eyes. “Do you have a minute to talk? I have a proposition for you.”
Oh yeahhh, her body liked the sounds of that. Under her folded arms, her nipples puckered.
He took a step closer, giving her an up-close-and-way-too-personal view of every hot inch of the man.
He’d changed into worn jeans and a white T-shirt, which not only showed off his chiseled physique but the warm tan of his skin too. Her gaze lingered over the ridges of muscle evident beneath the tight-fitting cotton.
After ripping her gaze away from his shirt, she met his stare. He gave her the first smile she’d ever seen from him.
Damn, now her knees were giving out too. She looked away.
Talk. He wants to talk. A proposition.
That word led to thoughts of her legs wrapped around his hips. Dear God, what had gotten into her, anyway? It must be more like smoke inhalation, a lack of oxygen or maybe toxins overtaking her brain.
He waited for her answer.
“Come in.” Heart thumping, she pushed the door open and allowed him to pass into the mudroom.
He glanced at the row of boots along one wall, all covered in varying amounts of mud. Above that were coveralls she used for emergency farm calls, a thick barn coat and a denim jacket—the cleanest among the bunch.
“Sorry it’s such a mess.”
“It looks like our mudroom. You got animals, you got mud.”
“Yeah. Uhh, we can go into the kitchen. I’ll put on some coffee.” Caffeine would wake her up and switch the power on inside her brain, and whatever was happening inside her body would be turned off.
She led the way, aware of the man on her heels. She resisted looking over her shoulder at him. In the kitchen, she realized she hadn’t turned on any lights and purple evening shadows gathered in the space.
She flipped on the light and moved to the coffeemaker. “Have a seat while I make a pot.”
The scrape of his chair legs on tile sounded odd—she never had visitors here. Having the man in her house unsettled her.
Her nerves struck, and she spilled some of the water while filling the machine.
“Brennah.” His low drawl made her turn.
The sexy cowboy sprawled in her kitchen chair.
Annnd, now I’m having hot flashes.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
The question raised alarm bells. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
“Hard to tell what you think about my character, me bein’ a Moon.”
One look at those soft amber eyes fringed with dark lashes and she knew he’d never lift a hand to harm her.
“No. I’m not afraid of you. Besides”—she grinned— “I’ve been well-trained with a scalpel. I’m sure I can hold my own.”
His jaw dropped. Then amusement lit his eyes. And finally, he laughed so hard that he doubled over. “God, woman, you’re a surprise. So you’ll gut me is what you’re sayin’.”
She busied herself with the coffee grounds, but his deep chuckles had her looking at him again and again and noting the flash of white teeth, the twinkle in his eyes… and the way he sat on her chair, legs spread and with his big frame swallowing the entire thing.
Leaning against the counter, she tried not to notice other things about the man, but she got too distracted by the veins snaking over his forearms and climbing his bulging biceps.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just didn’t expect to be threatened when I came up here.”
“Why did you come again?”
He sobered, but his eyes still held the warmth of laughter. “I’d like to help you out. You need that field for your animals. As it stands, the perennial grass will take two, maybe three years to bounce back from the fire. If I till the soil and plant, the field will grow quicker than if you let nature take its course. What do you say?”
Behind her, the coffeemaker began to gurgle. She crossed the kitchen and got out two mugs. “I think that’s nice of you to offer. What would you charge?”
Slowly, he stood, unfurling from the chair like the wood didn’t want to let him go. Who could blame it? She stood rooted to the floor, unable to move as he approached her. The stretch of denim over his hard thighs would mesmerize any person with a heartbeat.
He took the mugs from her hands and set them aside. “I don’t want payment. I want to help you.”
“You can’t possibly—”
He moved closer, ‘til she could feel his body heat wash over her. His scent too—fresh soap and man. “Look, Brennah. I refuse to take a dime from you. I’ll start tomorrow morning, bright and early.”
“Dane, that’s not necessary. You aren’t to blame for the fire. I couldn’t have saved my animals without your help.”
He dipped his head, catching her stare—and holding it for what felt like an eternity. The coffeemaker burbled to a finish. A wave of dizziness came over her, and she lifted a hand to her face.
“Crap, you’re not okay. Have you eaten? Come sit down.” Without waiting for her response, he took her by the shoulders and led her to the chair he’d vacated. She sank to the seat, definitely feeling the effects of an adrenaline-filled day, and the sandwich she’d grabbed earlier long gone from her system.
“I guess I could eat something.”
He poured the coffee and brought her a mug. “Here, drink this. Let me see what I can rustle up.”
To her shock, he went to the refrigerator and opened the door. He bent to look inside. After a minute of perusal, he flicked a look at her. “Is your fridge alphabetized?”
A hot flush climbed her face and she buried her nose in her mug to get away from the laughter she saw in his eyes. How had he figured out her method of storing groceries? Nobody ever noted her habit until now, and she’d spent her entire adult life putting the avocados and apple juice on the top and moving down through the alphabet ‘til she got to steaks or watermelon or whatever else she happened to buy that week.
He pulled out a pack of steaks. “You got a grill?”
* * * * *
“Out back.” Her voice was weak. And she was still pale. He didn’t like the dark circles under her eyes either. Feeding her was the only way he knew how to care for her, and she deserved much more after her ordeal. Especially if he was to blame.
“Good. I’ll go fire it up.” He stepped out the kitchen door onto a small deck. The grill looked as though it had never been used. He was starting to connect the dots here—a doctor during the day and a hobby rancher by night, and she didn’t always take time for herself.
After he started the grill warming, he went back inside. Brennah gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to cook for me.”
“I’m cookin’ for the both of us, as long as you don’t mind sharing this pack of steaks.” He paused before slicing open the clear wrap.
“Of course not. You’re welcome to it.”
He tried to keep from staring at her. He’d seen a lot of beautiful women in his day…but Brennah didn’t exactly fit into that category. Her beauty was untouched, unexplored if he could wager a guess. Her wavy hair probably never saw a salon or curling iron and her skin was never touched by makeup. He centered on her lips for a long minute. Plump but pale.
He carefully seasoned each side of the steaks and dug around in her fridge once more, coming out with a small container of potato salad.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Let me help—” She started to get up.
He waved her back down. “So…you’re Stokes’ new vet.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I don’t remember much ab
out you from high school. Too busy raisin’ hell. Did you always want to be a vet?”
“Yes, forever. I didn’t want to return to Stokes, but then the position came open just after I completed a residency in Chicago. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to come back until I researched some housing and found this place up for sale. Dane, really. I’ll put the steaks on the grill.”
He looked her in the eyes. “Have you ever had a good neighbor before?”
She considered it. “No.”
“Well…you still don’t. But let me give it a whirl.” He grinned and carried the steaks outside.
When he returned, he picked up his own coffee and faced Brennah. A silence lay between them as they sipped, but didn’t leave him uncomfortable. She had settled in the kitchen chair too. Her pose spoke of a woman who was more than at ease in her own skin. No twisting of legs to give the best view of her shapely calves. No jutting of her breasts.
She lowered her cup. “What have you been up to, Dane?”
“Right now, I guess you could call me a ranch hand.”
“I know your brother must appreciate the help. And before that?”
His lips quirked as he lifted the mug again. “I was a male dancer in Vegas.”
She had just taken a sip, and the coffee went down wrong just as his revelation probably did. Raising a fist to her mouth, she tried to conceal a quiet cough.
“Interesting choice of profession,” she said in a high voice before coughing again.
He chuckled. “How do you like your steaks?”
She stared at him for a long minute. “Medium, thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re not one of those vegetarian types.”
“A lot of my friends from vet school were. I’ll get the plates while you flip the steaks.” She got up, looking a little steadier for the strong, hot coffee. He stood watching her for a moment, noting the graceful confidence in her moves.
She handed him a pair of tongs to flip the steaks, and he went outside again. The scents of a good cut of beef had his stomach growling, and he realized he hadn’t eaten all day.
Christ, what a long day. Putting up hay with Zayden seemed like a week ago, not just this morning.
When he entered the kitchen again, Brennah stood at the coffeemaker. “Want a warm-up?”
Yeah, he did. But not of coffee.
Brennah was undeniably beautiful, alluring—and everything his ex was not. She also reminded him that it’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman.
He held out his mug for her to fill. They stood in silence, sipping. How odd that he didn’t feel the need to talk himself up, and she didn’t chatter to fill the quiet.
Finally, she lowered her mug. “Good coffee always makes you feel like a new person.”
“That’s true.”
“Thank you for all you did today, Dane.”
“What any neighbor woulda done.”
“You told me you’re a bad neighbor, though.”
“I am. The worst. I’m a Moon. Let me get the steaks off the grill.”
Chapter Five
After the steak and potato salad, Brennah felt her long day hitting. She leaned back in her chair and placed her napkin next to her plate. Dane had wolfed down his steak, long ago finished. A big guy like him could have packed away a 16 oz. porterhouse at least, and she’d insisted that he polish off the rest of the potato salad.
Their gazes met. “The steak tasted great,” she said.
“Haven’t grilled in ages. But I had my share of practice growin’ up. My brothers and I would camp out a lot, to get away from our old man. As middle brother, I always got designated camp cook.”
She felt a pang at his words about his father. More than once in their teen years, he’d come into school sporting a bruise or cut, and speculations would begin. Dane got into a fight. One of his brothers punched him. He got beat up and went to jail. But the ones that always made her listen harder were people saying his father was responsible. Too well she knew what a loved one was capable of when they drank too much.
It had taken her years of college and vet school to come to terms with her own upbringing. Somehow, a mother getting a bit too tipsy on white wine didn’t sound as bad as a father pouring whiskey down his throat. But either way, she knew Dane’s plight. Maybe that drew her to him more than she’d first thought.
“What did you cook when you camped?” she asked.
“Anything we could get our hands on. Mostly rabbit. Some squirrels.” He cocked a dark brow at her. “You aren’t outraged by me sayin’ I ate those things, are you?”
She shook her head. “I grew up eating meat. And I took enough science classes that I realize we need a food chain to maintain a balance. Though, I’m not sure I could eat rabbit or squirrel.”
“You would if you were hungry enough, and we were. Wasn’t much else.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, and she experienced that rush of pleasure hormones again.
She propped her feet on the empty seat next to him and slumped in her chair. “I bet you were up early working on the ranch, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, we were loadin’ hay.” He reached out and grabbed her by the ankle. Shock hit her as he nonchalantly drew her foot into his lap. She tensed to pull away, but then he dug his thumbs into the ball of her foot.
She groaned as he found a sore spot and worked at it.
He gave her that notorious crooked smile, which only solidified the belief she should not let him touch her.
“You were on your feet all day, I bet.” The low rumble of his voice also hit her in all the right spots.
“Yes. But…should I let you do this?”
He chuckled. “Why not?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you since finding you in my barn.”
“You mean finding me drunk.” He worked his thumb down to her heel, and ripples of pleasure spread through her.
“Yes, that.”
“Haven’t touched a drop since.” He held up two fingers in a Boy Scout oath.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You saw me in the tack shop.”
“That was hardly a getting-to-know-you moment.”
“And battling alongside you to save your animals from fire wasn’t?” He cocked a brow.
A shiver ran from the sole of her foot up her calf. Any farther and she’d clamp her thighs together, letting him know just how much he turned her on.
“Honey, after all that, we ain’t strangers.” He massaged her heel, always painful from standing long hours day in and out. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes.
When he worked up to her toes, she released a sigh. “Where did you learn to give a foot massage like this?”
“My ex-wife was on her feet a lot.”
“Oh?” He had an ex-wife, something that only lent to the air of mystery surrounding the cowboy.
“Yeah.”
“What did she do?” Brennah looked at him.
“I guess you could call her a stripper.”
Brennah’s jaw dropped.
* * * * *
She started to pull away from his touch, as he knew she would. Who could blame her? A nice, wholesome woman like Brennah wouldn’t have anything to do with a man like him.
He released her foot, and she shifted so he couldn’t reach the other. That’s my cue.
Pushing to a stand, he grabbed his hat and settled it on his head. “Thank you kindly for the steak, Brennah.”
She stood as well, facing him. A few inches away. Christ, he knew that deep ache in his core well enough to know he wanted to kiss her…to taste those sweet, plump lips and put a little color into them. Then tip her head back into his hands and kiss her neck, her ears.
“Thank you for grilling them.”
“I’ll be up bright and early tomorrow to start on the field.”
Her eyes traced over his face. Of course, he’d never been strong enough to resist a damn thing in his whole fucking life, and Brennah proved to be one of those t
hings.
Reaching out, he cupped her face. Only one step brought his body up against hers.
“Dane…”
“Shh.” He leaned in slowly, giving her time to jerk free, slap him or run. She did none of those things, and his heart tripped faster.
When he hovered a breath from her lips, he rumbled, “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”
He kissed her, a gentle brush of his mouth over hers. A soft moan escaped her. Fuck, that was too good. I want more.
Pressing a hand against her back, he tugged her closer, barely bending to reach her mouth this time because she stretched onto tiptoes.
As he claimed her mouth again, she gripped his shirt, and damn if that didn’t key him up good. Their mouths moved in soft brushes that grew more insistent with each pass.
She should stay away from him. But he couldn’t push her away, either.
A soft noise left her lips, and he kissed the sound away, returning with a stifled growl of his own. When was the last time he’d touched a woman so pure? The answer to that was never.
He pushed his fingers underneath her hair and tugged lightly to angle her head back. The desire to slide his tongue deeper, to taste more of her drove him on. He lifted his other hand to cup her throat.
After tearing his mouth free, he looked into her eyes. Only then did he realize the position of his hands and how she must feel, being trapped and held so unmoving.
A shudder ran through her.
Fuck…did she like it?
In seconds, he was hard and aching. A dam burst inside him, a canyon of want washing out with the wild river rapids rushing through his system.
He could take what he wanted and to hell with the consequences.
He searched her eyes. Confusion crinkled her brows.
“I don’t understand myself,” she whispered, throat working beneath his hand.
His fingers flexed in her hair, and her head dropped back even farther. Under his fingers surrounding her throat, he felt her pulse, a fast drum.
Hell, he felt just as perplexed by his own actions. He shouldn’t have laid a hand on her in the first place.
And when he had, he cradled her throat and tugged at her hair. Her refusal to step away or kick him in the balls for his behavior allowed the darker side of himself out to dance with the devil. His chest swelled with more desire.
