by Maisey Yates
Desire.
It was embarrassing, to be that close to him feeling this. If he could read her mind...
Well, it would be embarrassing for several reasons. The first of which being that it would probably horrify him. The second of which being that it would only betray her lack of experience.
Because while the desire coursing through her was hot and sharp, the actual focus of the desires was a little bit fuzzy.
“I know that,” she said, knowing that she sounded a little bit breathless. “If you were... If you were a dog I would just scratch behind the ears and tell you to go lie down.”
His lips curved and she felt it. Somewhere deep inside her. “You’re welcome to try that.”
Just the thought of touching him, particularly the thought of touching him like that, after their thighs had just been so close together made her feel like she’d pressed her face against a campfire.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she said, taking a step back for him, her breathing labored. She was embarrassing. Everything about her and her response to him was embarrassing.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s getting late.” And she could tell that he was getting tired. His voice certainly wasn’t rough for the same reasons that her own throat was tight, and her words strangled.
She nodded, and headed out toward her truck. It was a big vehicle for somebody her size, she knew, but it was practical. She often picked up animals that she found on the side of the road, and sometimes she needed the space. She also often needed it for supplies for the cabin, or for the animals.
Dane got into his own truck, and Bea led the way down the highway and toward the little turnoff before the official winery entrance that led to her cabin. Dane parked behind her, and Bea rounded to the front of the house, relieved when she saw that the window was shut.
“What are you doing?”
“I had to make sure that Evan hadn’t snuck back inside while I was gone.”
“How does Evan get inside?” he asked.
“The latch is loose on my window,” she said. “He’s able to work it open and then he slips in. Usually, he just gets into the pantry, but sometimes he...” She was not in a position to be talking about her underwear with Dane Parker. She cleared her throat. “He gets into other things. I would rather not have a raccoon disaster to clean up.”
“I can fix that too,” he said.
“Really?”
“Whatever you need, Bea. You’ve been helping me, and it sounds to me like you’re pretty busy. I’d hate to think that you were helping me at the expense of your own place.”
It was so weird to have him paying so much attention to her. He’d always been nice. But he’d been distant. He’d been...well, at the rodeo. Visiting Lindy when he came back into town. Going out drinking.
The past few months had forced him to slow down, and she was kind of in his path as a result.
“You’re not causing me to neglect anything. But you know, with the studying... It would definitely be helpful for you to do this.”
He nodded. “Well, show me the chicken coop.”
She led him back around behind the cabin, down the little narrow path that led to the little coop.
“I’ve never used it,” she said. “There’s a bunch of rot, and the chicken wire is damaged in a few places. But for the most part, I think the fencing is salvageable.”
“Yeah, this is something I can fiddle with over the next few days. It really shouldn’t take much time.”
“I don’t want you to overtax yourself.”
“Beatrix,” he said. “The point of coming over here was to get away from being micromanaged.”
“Fine. I won’t micromanage you.”
“See that you don’t.”
She stared at him for a while, as he tried to navigate the soft, uneven ground. As he appraised the chicken coop and grimaced as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Is it so bad to have a whole bunch of people care about you?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “That’s not... That’s not the issue.”
“I think the issue is that you’re a stubborn ass,” she said, kicking a stone and looking at him defiantly.
“Really?”
“Yes. You’re in denial about what your body can and can’t do, and I kind of get that, Dane, but at a certain point, you just have to deal with the fact that you’re not invincible. That’s the thing you were in denial about the entire time you were riding. This was always a risk. Always. And now you have to...deal with it.”
“I would actually rather if you told me to go lie down and scratch me behind the ears,” he bit out.
“That’s ridiculous. Why would anyone tell a man to do that?” she asked stiffly.
“I wonder if any of these methods work on you?” he asked. “Go lie down, Bea.” And before she could react, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, rubbing the sensitive skin back there with the tips of his fingers.
He was scratching her behind the ears.
She felt it between her legs.
Oh...
“Good girl,” he said softly.
She jerked back, going stiff, her entire body feeling like it was shot through with fire.
He looked amused with himself, and he thought it was funny. Because he was acting like she was a kid sister, and he could just touch her like that, and it wouldn’t mean anything. And she wouldn’t feel anything. But of course, neither would he. Why would he? It was appalling. And horrible.
But not more horrible than the fact that what she really wanted to do was lean into his touch, and beg him for more. Even this teasing, condescending touch that should enrage her left her on fire in ways that made her feel...
Small.
It all made her feel very small. That he had so much power over her, and she had so little. And he didn’t even know it.
She was so very tired of wanting affection, wanting caring, from people who didn’t want to give it to her.
“Maybe I will go lie down,” she said. “You can... You can come over tomorrow and work on the chicken coop.”
“Did you want to come up to the house for a little bit?”
“No,” she said. “You can get your own beer tonight.”
“Beatrix...”
She knew he had no idea why she was upset, and that she was being confusing. She also knew that she didn’t care. Not right now. Not when she felt electrified and she knew that he wouldn’t have any clue why what he’d done was painful.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Tomorrow.”
Then she dashed into the cabin. As soon as she cracked the door open, Evan appeared, scampering in behind her. She closed the door, locking it, which made her feel like a silly, immature girl. It wasn’t like Dane was going to come in after her.
Bea looked down at Evan, who was gazing at her expectantly. Then she sighed and opened up the fridge, digging for his food.
There. She had Evan to take care of, anyway.
And tomorrow was going to have to take care of itself, because tonight she was just too exhausted to cope with it.
Reluctantly, slowly, she reached up and touched the place where Dane had touched her.
It didn’t feel warm. It didn’t feel different.
But she felt different.
And she didn’t know how long it would take for that feeling to go away.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS CHICKEN coop day. Dane felt oddly relieved by that. Mostly because he was ready to get something done that was both useful and not under the watch of Lindy or Wyatt.
He’d been doing work on the winery for the past few weeks, but the fact of the matter was, it had been busywork. He’d had no real goal beyond moving around and doing something with the fe
eling of futile restlessness that was churning in his gut.
And by the end of the day he’d been completely and totally wiped out. All for nothing.
But Bea needed the coop. For her...chickens. There was a chicken deadline.
Hell, it was good to feel useful. And it wasn’t really about the chickens. It was about Bea.
She was special. Hell, she was about the only person to successfully make him laugh in the last eight months.
He could still see her cheerily telling him she hated him that day in the house.
Only Bea.
He drove down the dirt road that led to Bea’s little cabin, tucked back in the wood on the winery property. It was surrounded by trees, with a river at the back. Beyond that was more land that had once belonged to the Leighton family. Fields that had now gone fallow. Totally unused.
It seemed wrong to let a piece of land just sit there like that. Not that he had any real call to an opinion on that. He didn’t even own a house. He traveled so much that there had never been any point to him having a permanent residence. He’d stay with Lindy when he was in town, or in a place on the property, the cabin Bea lived in now, before she’d lived there.
He knew nothing about managing a property long-term. Hell, he knew nothing about...sitting long-term. Which was where he’d been for the past eight months, and he didn’t like it at all.
The little cabin came into view, and so did Bea, who was standing out front, wearing an ankle-length dress, a small basket in her hand. Her head was bent down low, the sun creating a fiery halo around her riot of chin-length curls. She stooped down in the grass, setting the basket down.
He couldn’t see what she was doing, but he already knew it was creature-related.
Her lips were moving. If he had to guess, she wasn’t singing to herself, but talking to whatever animal she’d spotted in the grass.
For some reason, he couldn’t look away from her. It was like the light had wrapped itself around each strand of hair and set her on fire, her skin glowing like a mythical fairy.
There really wasn’t another person quite like Bea.
She sometimes seemed like she was from another world.
She straightened, and looked up, her eyes meeting his, a cheery smile crossing her face.
He parked the truck and got out, grimacing when he stepped down, bracing himself on the door.
“What were you talking to?” he asked.
“A robin,” she said. “I was afraid he might be injured but he seems okay.” As if on cue, the bird hopped, revealing himself over the blades of grass, then took flight, fluttering into the nearest pine. “He should be careful. Evan would probably find him to be a decent snack.”
“Are you an actual cartoon princess?”
She tilted her head to the side. “What?”
“That birds don’t even fly away from you.”
She laughed. “No. He was after a worm, I think. Birds are funny like that. Sometimes they hop when they could easily fly away, and I don’t really understand why.”
“That sounds like a metaphor.”
“Mmm. But it isn’t. It’s just birds.” The breeze came up and ruffled her curls, and a soft smile curved her lips.
He found it hard to look away.
“What’s in the basket?” he asked.
“Pie. Alison Donnelly brought it from Copper Ridge for the tasting room, and there was extra leftover at the end of yesterday. I figured maybe you could use some sustenance, for your chicken coop building.”
“I’ll never say no to pie.”
“Me either.”
He rounded to the back of his truck and got his toolbox, slamming the truck door when he walked by it again. Bea trailed after him as he walked down the path toward the coop.
“What are you going to do first?” she asked.
“Well, I’m going to take measurements and get an idea for what we actually need to buy.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Right.”
“I can pay for the supplies, Bea,” he said.
The woman worked part-time at a veterinary clinic and was taking college courses. He doubted she could afford random repair expenses. He, on the other hand, had almost no expenses and a hell of a lot of money socked away in a bank account.
It was something he could do, along with the repair work.
Her laugh, airy and sweet, cut through the morning air. “I have money, Dane. I’m not going to enlist your help to fix the thing and then make you pay.”
“How do you have money?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s a trust fund situation.”
“Your dad gave you money,” he said, unable to imagine Jamison Leighton doing anything of the sort. He didn’t know Bea’s father well, but because of Lindy he’d met the man on more than one occasion, and he had Lindy’s accounts of what a rigid ass the old man was.
Bea cleared her throat. “It was something that was set up a long time ago. But yes. It’s from my parents.”
He looked past her, at the cabin. He couldn’t imagine...well, anyone, coming into a trust fund and choosing to use it—or not use it—like this.
“I’m surprised your dad would have had all that to spare from the family fortune, considering that Lindy ended up with the winery.”
“Well, that was all part of Damien’s inheritance. He might have lost the winery but he still got some money. He’s fine.”
“I really never worry about him.”
Bea huffed out a laugh. “Sometimes I do. But, he seems happy. I guess that’s... It’s hard. I love Lindy. But, I do care about my brother.”
“Of course you do,” Dane said.
Though, in his world, there really was no of course. There was no real family loyalty to fall back on. Not in the traditional sense. His father had left. Never looked back. His mother... Well, she was wrapped up in her own stuff.
He and Lindy were all each other had. So, on that level he could understand loyalty to a sibling. But even then, it was different. It was them against the world. And that was another scenario entirely.
“She’s done so much more with Grassroots than he ever would have though. He would have used it to make passive income. She’s made it into a dream. And I really appreciate it.”
“You never feel like any part of it should be yours?”
Bea wrinkled her nose. “You know, she asked me that yesterday. I wonder if she’s ever asked Sabrina.”
“I’m not sure about that. But then, I imagine Sabrina has quite enough on her plate with running the tasting room in Copper Ridge and taking care of the business at the Donnelly ranch.”
“Maybe,” Bea said. “I’m happy with what I have.”
“Except you aren’t,” Dane said.
He walked over to the chicken coop and began to take measurements. Checking out which sections of wood were completely shot and which might still have a chance at being salvaged.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“The vet tech thing,” he said, by way of explanation. “You’re obviously not completely happy with where you’re at or you wouldn’t be trying for anything new.”
“I guess so. But I just meant... That’s the only thing I really use any of my money for. For the vet tech thing. I’m not sure what else I want to do. I want to do something. That’s part of the problem with sharing about school. I really do want something different. But it hasn’t all come together yet.”
“You don’t have any ideas?”
She frowned. “I mean, I could keep working at Valley Veterinary. I could get a full-time position. But that doesn’t feel like...it.”
“You have time to figure it out, I guess.”
Bea had a whole bunch of opportunity spread out in front of her. As for him, his days of building toward anything more were likely over. Even if he
did get back on the circuit, chances were he wasn’t going to be more successful than he’d been when he was completely able-bodied.
The whole thing was a damned mess. Bea had time, and opportunity. Two good legs.
It was a damn good place to be.
“I’m going to head down to the feed store,” he said. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’ll drive,” he said.
She squinted, looking at him skeptically. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“I’ll drive.”
He wrote down his measurements and took the toolbox and the measuring tape back to the truck. Bea scrambled into the cab on the passenger side. He backed out of the driveway, and before long the two of them were headed down the two-lane highway that would take them into Gold Valley.
It was a strange thing to drive down these familiar streets with the perspective he had now. He remembered well being a child and going down the same road in his mother’s car. Looking at all the facades on the brick buildings and mentally inserting dollar signs above every door. Whether or not it was a place they could go.
Bellisima and Gold Valley Inn, two of the nicest restaurants in town, were out of the question, always. Mustard Seed had been an occasional treat, but something that they didn’t do often. When he’d gotten his first summer job, Dane had spent every Friday there. After every football game. A chocolate shake and a burger. It was when he’d first truly understood the way that money and prestige would allow him to take control of his life.
Because when he was a hero on the football field, he had mattered.
Before that, he had just been fatherless trailer trash.
And he was realistic—no matter how well a kid played for a small school like Gold Valley High, it wasn’t going to translate to college success or any kind of professional career. But it had given him a taste of what it might mean to pursue something like that.
That was where the rodeo came in.
It had been such a small thing back then. Enjoying being someone people worshipped. Enjoying being able to buy a burger when he felt like it.
And he got sucked right into the circuit. And frankly, into Damien Leighton’s circle.
