Wrangled (Steele Ranch Book 2)

by Vanessa Vale

  They nodded before I headed off, cutting through the thick crowd to the hallway at the back. I’d have to stop by the store and thank Betty for her help. I blended in perfectly and the boots were fun and completely not me. No, maybe they were the new me.

  A guy stepped into my way, put his hand on my waist. “Hey there,” he said. He was mid-twenties, big. But his smile wasn’t kind and his touch was rough. I flinched away, but his fingers dug in.

  “Hi,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “Headed for the bathroom.”

  I stepped to my right trying to veer around him. He stuck his arm out, planted his hand on the wall, blocking me.

  “I saw you out there dancing. I like your moves.” His hot breath fanned over my neck and I cringed.

  “Thanks. Look, I have to pee.” I quickly ducked under his arm—a perk for being so short—and dashed into the bathroom. Exhaled. I stayed longer than I should, for once thankful for a line, hoping he’d give up or find someone else to chat up. Someone who was interested. I certainly wasn’t.

  But when I came out, he was still there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Took you long enough.”

  I frowned, started walking down the hall choosing to just ignore him, but he stepped in my path. “Come on, baby.”

  “My name’s not baby.” I veered to the left. He stepped in front of me.

  “What is it then? ‘Cause I need to know it so I call out the right name when I fuck you.”

  Gag.

  “Not happening.” I shook my head, stepped to the right, then the left, trying to get around him. He wasn’t the first asshole I’d dealt with and he certainly was persistent. But when he stepped into me, turning us so I back stepped and was pressed against the wall, every hard inch of his body pinning me in place, I began to panic. He smelled of stale beer and BO.

  And when his big paw settled on the back of my thigh, I began to fight. It was only a matter of time before it crept upward.

  “Let me go.” My hands went to his chest to push him off, but he was just too big. Too strong.

  “Not until I at least get a little feel.”

  3

  BOONE

  The bar was packed. I hated crowds, hated loud music. I wouldn’t have come through the doors for anything—or anyone—but Penelope. I’d been damned lucky to be out at the Steele Ranch when she’d arrived the other day and all because Davies needed a follow-up visit for his concussion. He was fine, would be back in the saddle within a few days.

  As for me? Just the sight of her tight little body made me feel like I’d been the one who’d fallen off a horse and whacked his head on a fence post. The damage was done; I’d never be the same again. She wasn’t my type; I’d never gone for tiny, curvy blondes, but maybe that was why I was still single. Penelope Vandervelk was one hot, little package and I wanted to unwrap every layer of her until she was bare before me. And Jamison.

  I didn’t just mean her clothes. Since the other day, I’d checked her out online. Besides being gorgeous, she was smart, too. And that made her even more incredible.

  But that didn’t mean jack shit if I couldn’t get her alone. Jamison had been adamant that we were too old for her. He was right, we were. Hell, going after a twenty-two-year-old when you’re thirty-five was close to cradle robbing. She wasn’t jailbait, not even barely legal. She had a fucking Master’s degree and a few years under her belt to know how things went. How to handle a man with those hourglass curves and hot pussy. My dick found everything about her hot as fuck, even that brilliant mind of hers. I’d left the ranch the other day and had to pull the truck over, take out my dick and rub one out. On the side of the road.

  I’d fantasized about how her little pussy would feel dripping all over my dick. How it would be hot and wet and eager for my tongue to lap every drop of it all up. And that’s when I’d shot like a fucking geyser all over my hand. I hadn’t been that horny since I was fifteen.

  And Jamison thought we were too old. I’d just had to be fucking patient waiting for Jamison to get his head out of his ass. Fortunately, I’d had two twelve-hour shifts to get my mind out of Penelope’s panties. Three days. Three long days of waiting for him to give up the fight. Finally. Fucking finally, he’d let his other head think for him.

  I shook my head with impatience as I walked into the bar right behind him. He was immediately hailed by a friend and was forced to say hello. Focusing solely on our gorgeous target, I steered clear and went in search of Penelope, my hard dick practically leading the way.

  I spotted the guys from the ranch and pushed through the crowd to their table. A new song came over the hidden speakers and I had to shout to be heard as I looked around. “Where’s Penelope?”

  Patrick held up a clean pint glass. “Want a beer?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want a beer. I wanted my woman. I repeated the question. Patrick leaned in, shouted, “Bathroom.”

  “Alone?” I countered.

  Shamus slapped me on the shoulder. “Since when do we follow a woman to the bathroom?”

  I glanced around, took in all the ladies who were scantily dressed, all the men who were checking them out, ready to fuck.

  “Since this place is a meat market.” I cocked my head in the direction of a woman walking by in a jean skirt the size of a Band-Aid. If she lifted her arms in the air, she’d be ready for a GYN exam. She was beautiful in a fuck-me-now sort of way, but she wasn’t Penelope. “You bring a lady to a place like this, you keep a close eye on her. If she goes to the restroom, you wait for her in the damned hallway.”

  The two boys—they were fucking boys—finally looked away from the passing woman’s ass and nodded as if I’d imparted some amazing advice.

  “She’s been gone, like, ten minutes,” Shamus said, glancing at his watch.

  I knew women and how long it took to do whatever the hell it was they did in the bathroom. But ten minutes? I saw Jamison approach and I angled my head toward the back. Veering, he caught up to me.

  “Leave me alone!”

  I heard Penelope’s voice before I saw her. That was because this big asshole had her pinned against the wall, blocking almost all of her from view. I couldn’t miss the way his meaty paw was sliding up beneath her thigh or the way she was twisting and shifting to avoid it. She lifted her knee to try to make contact with his balls, but she was just too damn small. Instead, she brought her heel down on top of his foot, which made his hand jerk away.

  “Let her go, asshole.”

  He didn’t move, only turned his head to look at me. Sneer. He wasn’t from around here. Most guys had better manners than this pig and if they didn’t, they knew me, knew Jamison and would’ve walked away by now, his brains—and balls—intact.

  “She’s a wild one,” he replied. Obviously, he had shit for brains.

  I heard Jamison’s growl a split second before he knocked me to the side and launched himself at the man. The crack of his fist in the asshole’s face was loud enough to be heard over the music. So was the heavy thud when he hit the dirty floor. Jamison stood over him, breathing hard, making sure he didn’t get back up. A few people skirted around him as they left the bathrooms, but no one said anything.

  I went over to Penelope, put my hands on her shoulders and leaned down so we were eye level. Did a quick professional assessment of her. No blood, no marks on her. Her eyes were wide, the pale blue irises only a thin circle.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, licked her lips. Her breathing was ragged, but she was holding it together. I couldn’t miss the thrum of her pulse at the base of her neck.

  “I saw his hand on your leg. Did he—”

  “No. I’m good. I was about to scream, but you guys, well…you guys took care of him.”

  I felt a shudder run through her and I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tight. It wasn’t for her as much as for me, knowing she was safe and whole, that we’d taken care of her threat. A scream would have worked, and I had no doubt others would have interven
ed. But seeing the guy have his hands on her…to have him touch what was so perfect, what would be ours—no, what was already ours—fuck that.

  She was all softness and warmth in my hold, her head resting on my chest as I stroked her silky hair. I felt her hands on my lower back, her fingers curled into my shirt and gripping tightly. We watched as two bouncers dragged the guy toward the back door at the end of the hall, Jamison following, hands on hips, to ensure he was put out with the trash.

  I leaned down so I could murmur in her ear. While the music was muted here in the hallway, it was still loud. I couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against the silky strands. “I’m getting you out of here.” She nodded. “Jamison will catch up.”

  I turned her so my arm was slung around her shoulders, her body pressed right up against mine. No way was there going to be any space between us. If we took up too much room, people could just move out of the fucking way.

  “You,” I growled, pointing at Patrick, Shamus and the others with a narrowed gaze. We approached the table, only slowing down enough to talk. They knew instantly something had happened, and looked to Penelope with a mixture of panic and worry. This was going to be a lesson for them, one they would never fucking forget. If they didn’t protect a woman in their care, I would make sure Jamison kicked them off the ranch. If Penelope was going to live alone in the main house, I had to know she’d be safe.

  After what happened to Kady Parks the month before with a fucking hit-for-hire, door locks weren’t enough in my mind.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I didn’t wait for them to do more than nod, just cut through the bar and out to my truck, never releasing my hold on Penelope. I lifted her up into the passenger seat—she was so fucking light—and stood inside the open door, trying not to think of how tiny her waist was beneath my hands. How I wanted to slide them up and cup her lush breasts, slide my thumbs over the already hard nipples. Now wasn’t the time.

  I took a deep breath, let it out.

  “You know I’d never hurt you, right? That you’re safe with me?”

  “Safe with both of us,” Jamison called as he approached, his footsteps loud on the asphalt. “You saw what happens when someone else gets their hands on you.”

  The parking lot lights cast her in a harsh orange glow, but she’d never looked prettier. Especially since she was sitting in my truck, her jean skirt settled halfway up her thighs exposing a few extra inches of her gorgeous legs. I’d wanted her here, alone with both of us, but not because of this reason.

  “I know,” she replied, her voice soft, steady as she glanced from me to Jamison. “After I met you, I-I looked you guys up online. Know you’re good.”

  Good? Hell, if she knew the things I wanted to do to her, she’d run back inside. Every dirty plan I had that involved her naked, willing body was very, very bad.

  Jamison smiled, which was a rare sight. “What did you find, Kitten?”

  I expected his voice to be harsh with anger, the adrenaline hard to burn off, but he sounded almost…tender. Especially with the endearment that suited her perfectly. I was used to it from working in the ER and was acclimated to the quick burn of energy. At least he got to punch the fucker. That must have felt damned good.

  “I know you run the ranch and that you used to be a police officer in Denver. And Boone, you’re a doctor.”

  “None of that ensures we’re the good guys,” I told her. But I didn’t mention I’d done some research on her as well. I had no idea how she’d made it out in the world all fragile and tiny as she was. She could be hurt so easily and that fucker who was sprawled by the dumpster was the perfect example. I doubted he was the first, but he definitely was the last to fuck with her.

  Instead of climbing out of my truck in fear, she rolled her eyes and smiled. “I understand all too well. Someone’s resume doesn’t ensure they’re not jerks. But I’ve got a good sense about you two. I just…feel, know you’re good.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I glanced at Jamison.

  “We’re not taking you home now. Not after that,” he said, putting his hand up on the truck cab, leaning in. “Let’s get some coffee. Let things settle first.”

  Damn straight. The guy had been aggressive, and if she was going to break down, she wasn’t doing it alone.

  She glanced between us, offered us a small smile. “All right.”

  She might have been comfortable with us, but we were sure fucked. She’d slipped right past an attraction and become an obsession. With something bad almost happening to her, it only proved how much she meant to me. And that was fucking insane since I’d known her all of fifteen minutes.

  Yup, fucked.

  4

  PENNY

  “We can kill him, you know. Just let us know and no one will find the body,” Jamison said.

  We were sitting at a hard-laminate booth in the gas station at the intersection with the county road that led to the main highway. While I didn’t think either of these men brought dates to the Quik-n-Lube, with the scent of hot dogs kept warm all day on metal rollers and the store’s fluorescent glow as poor mood lighting, it was the only other place open at this time of night. Besides the Silky Spur. I sat on one side, facing the wall of refrigerated beverages and the hallway to the bathroom. Boone was across from me, his knees bumping into mine beneath the table. I tried not to think about the innocent touch, but it was impossible. Boone was big and gorgeous and hot and just the touch of his knees had me flustered.

  Where Jamison was all rugged cowboy, Boone was all broody with his dark looks and quiet intensity. Black hair that was a little too long, piercing eyes, strong jaw…strong everything. He wasn’t darkly tanned like Jamison, but being a doctor obviously kept him indoors more. From what I’d read of him, his quiet and watchful demeanor hid his intelligence. They might think I’ve got some diplomas on the wall, but Boone had a few more than me.

  He was a watcher. I recognized the signs, because I was one, too. Jamison seemed to assess a situation and when needed, didn’t hold back. Like with the guy at the bar. He punched first, asked questions…never.

  Jamison had dropped off two coffees for us and returned with his. He placed it on the faux wood surface, grabbed a metal chair with a vinyl cushion, turned it to face backwards and sat down, his forearms on the high back.

  “What?” I asked, my mouth falling open.

  “We’ll kill the guy who touched you. Steele Ranch has thousands of acres to bury him,” Jamison repeated. His tone and the serious look in his eye made me realize he wasn’t joking. A guy had touched me and he’d not only knocked him unconscious, but would kill him if I wished it. “I’d make Patrick, Shamus and the others do the hard work of digging the hole, nice and deep, just because they didn’t protect you.”

  Boone’s look said he was in complete agreement, but probably couldn’t voice the words since he’d taken an oath as a doctor to do no harm. No, that wasn’t it. He’d back his friend in a heartbeat.

  These two…they were intense. Fiercely protective. A thrill shot through me because that intensity, that fierce protectiveness, was directed all at me. It was potent.

  “That…um, won’t be necessary.” They stared at me intently—Jamison’s gaze a piercing gray, Boone’s almost black. “I’m fine. Really. And it’s not their fault.”

  Jamison leaned forward more. “Kitten, it is their fault. They take you out, they keep you safe. Period.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him about it because nothing I said would sway his opinion. My mind got stalled on the way he called me Kitten. I liked it. A lot. I cleared my throat. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  I was thankful. I’d spurned unwanted advances before on my own, many times, but it felt really good having someone step in and help. I’d just never expected it to be these two. I hadn’t even known they were at the bar, much less keeping an eye on me. God, watching them in action had been exhilarating. The testosterone in the hallway had been so great I cou
ld practically breathe it in. It had been elemental. Like two cavemen staking a claim and fighting for what was theirs.

  Slightly unrealistic, because I wasn’t theirs. They’d just been gentlemen. Protecting me. I had no doubt if Patrick or the others had found me first, they’d have clocked the guy, too. I doubted, though, that any of the others would make me feel eager for them to drag me by the hair back to their cave after. Oh yes, and then they’d have their way with me, doing whatever it was to continue to show their dominance. Not that I had any idea what that was first-hand, but I had a good idea.

  I’d seen movies. Even some porn. Being a virgin didn’t mean I was clueless. Although…I’d thought that had been true up until now. With Jamison and Boone, I had a feeling what I thought happened between a man and a woman was simply Tab A in Slot B. They seemed like guys who would be very thorough and didn’t stick to the basics. No doubt they were experienced. Ridiculously so. I glanced at their hands wrapped around their disposable coffee cups. Big with long fingers, veined. Strong. I shifted in my seat because my pussy throbbed. Even their hands were hot.

  “You don’t have to thank us for keeping you safe,” Boone said. He spun his cup around on the smooth surface. “Tell us about you.”

  I shifted, the backs of my thighs sticking to the hard bench. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” they said at the exact same time.

  My eyebrows went up.

  Boone leaned forward, put his forearms on the table. Fixed his dark stare on mine. Didn’t even blink. I swallowed, licked my lips and he watched that action closely.

  “Well, I’m from North Carolina. I just finished graduate school.”

  “You’re pretty young for that,” Jamison said, then took a sip of his coffee. Winced and put it down.