Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  “Give me an hour. As much as I want to follow you upstairs right now, ditching my brothers like this would cause a mountain of trouble.”

  “I guess you haven’t realized. I am trouble.” She undid the silver scarf that had doubled as shoulder strap. His gaze focused on her bare breast. This wasn’t her smartest decision, not with a bustling kitchen down the hall and his brothers only feet away in the restaurant. “No one knows were in here. The door is locked. And no one will miss us for a few minutes.”

  “Do you think we can do minutes?” He reached into his back pocket and came back with a condom. Score!

  Before she could respond, he bent down and licked her nipple. As he pulled it into his mouth, she tried to think how to make this happen. The exposed brick the wall would surely ruin her dress. She didn’t care, but Drea might notice as she left. There was a small counter next to the sink, but it was stacked with bar mop towels. And how was she supposed to think while he was revving her engine like that?

  She arched her back and clenched her pussy, her body begging for more. A soft thud caught her attention. Slade kicked a box of something or other toward the sink. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her.

  “You sure you want fast?” They were so close the rest of the closet faded around the edges.

  “Please.” She licked her lips and then closed the distance and licked his.

  He carried her to the sink and set her on the box. She wobbled on her heels, finding her balance as his hands skimmed her thighs and tugged her panties down. There was no time to step out of them before he turned her around and lifted her dress over her ass. The condom wrapper crinkled and she reached for the counter, spreading her legs to the edge of the box. Her panties cut at her ankles, but reality faded away when his big hands grabbed her ass.

  “I’ll make this up to you later,” Slade said before surging into her with one long thrust.

  She gasped as her whole body lurched forward, her head on the stack of towels, her arms on the counter. The heat of him warmed her back as he leaned down, his jean-covered thighs pressing against the back of hers. She circled her bottom against him, the sensations taking her breath.

  And then he gripped her hips and pushed in deep, controlled for a few seconds before his restraint gave way to the frenzy. He thrust into her over and over, so long and deep she wanted to cry out from the thrill of it. But she couldn’t. They had to be fast. Quiet. The sound of their hard breathing and his body slapping into hers echoed in the small space.

  His fingers dug into her hips as he picked up speed, filling her body, her need to be wanted. Her orgasm hit like a sneaker wave, unexpected and all at once. She pressed her face into the towels, letting them muffle the sounds of her pleasure. Her legs quivered and he buried himself deep one last time, his big body heavy on hers as he shuddered, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

  “That’s the best appetizer I’ve ever had.” He kissed her shoulder and then straightened up.

  By the time she pulled up her panties and turned around, he’d fixed his clothes, his smile the only tell. She retied the scarf and smoothed the lace of her dress. “You look like this never happened. What about me?”

  He stepped closer again, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m sure no one else will notice, but your eyes have that freshly fucked glaze to them.”

  “What?” She pushed his hands away and settled her hair herself.

  “After you come, your eyes go soft for a minute. It’s gone now.”

  “Well good.” Her eyes went soft? What did that even mean? “You go out first. I’m done for the night so I’m going upstairs.”

  “Jules, you’re…” He stared at her and she saw what he meant, her emotion reflected in his eyes. The yearning, the adoration. She’d have to put that on lockdown.

  “Horny? Sexy? Naughty? What word are you going for?”

  “Fantastic. And all of the above.” He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I won’t be long.”

  He ducked out of the closet and she leaned back against the counter, her body still humming. Sure, she’d come, but she was far from satisfied. Slade Weston was like an addiction; every time she took a hit she wanted more. Good thing she was leaving soon. She doubted she’d be able to quit without a country between them.

  …

  Everything about Jules O’Connor gave Slade a buzz headier than any beer. She said she was trouble, but to him she was an adventure. The back door to the kitchen of Cattlemen’s pushed open as he started up the steps to her apartment. He froze mid-step, like some teenager caught after curfew instead of a grown-ass man. With a shake of his head and a smile, he took the stairs two at a time. As much as he enjoyed the clandestine thrill of keeping Jules to himself, he wouldn’t act as if there was something about her—about them—that needed to be kept hidden. She was better than that, and frankly, so was he.

  Two adults could make their own decisions, at least for the next five weeks. Her leaving seemed so much closer now than it had last week. Disappointment knotted in his gut. He ought to have talked to her months ago, right about the time he noticed she never wore the same dress twice. Maybe then… No. He wouldn’t go there. He knew the road to shoulda-woulda-coulda led straight off a cliff.

  He knocked on her door, not caring who might hear. He wanted to be right here, and he didn’t care who knew it. She opened the door and reached for his arm, pulling him inside just as she’d done downstairs. Sheer proximity ignited something between them. Without a word, he threaded his fingers into the silken strands of her blonde hair and urged her closer. He kissed her with the white-hot need she’d sparked during their trip to fantasyland in her supply closet.

  She hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and their tongues did the talking. He tasted cherries and sweet wine on her lips while he indulged in her the way he’d wanted to earlier. Like he almost had when Nate asked her out.

  Damn reality. They needed to talk, and not just with their bodies. He reluctantly tore his mouth away. Jules turned her attention to his throat, her agile fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

  He gripped her shoulders and took a step back. “I owe you an apology.”

  “No you don’t. Unless you’re leaving.”

  “For earlier, at the restaurant.”

  “Oh sweetie, the closet was completely my idea.”

  “Right, but you wanted to talk and I completely lost it.”

  “I didn’t have anything to say besides fuck me.” She walked her fingers down his chest. “Right. Now.”

  He stalled her hand before she got to his belt. “Put pause on that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk about why I didn’t say anything about us to my brothers. Especially when Nate asked you out.”

  “There isn’t an us. Just you and me. I don’t have enough time left in this town to deal with gossip drama.”

  “I don’t sneak around. I agree that we don’t need to take out an ad in the paper, but if you had said yes to Nate I would have gone a little nuts.”

  “Nate’s a good guy, but I am so not his type.” She tilted her head to the side, her sleek hair brushing her shoulder. “I know it goes against popular opinion in this town, but I don’t bed hop. I have no interest in fucking my way down the Weston family tree.”

  “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

  “Well, good.” She nodded emphatically. “Now where were we? Because I have to cake an hour early tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I let my staff close instead of doing it myself, so I need to check things.”

  “Why do you run the restaurant and bake?”

  “Oh, I don’t bake. I cake. Big difference.”

  “I don’t think so.” He stared at her because that made no sense at all.

  With a shake of her head, she turned and retrieved a glass of white wine from a table piled with pink polka-dot boxes. He followed her into the spac
e, noticing the Dressed Up logo on the boxes. He recognized it from the tag on April’s cowgirl apron.

  “My daughter loved the apron. I want to get her some more, and pay you for them this time.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry about it. Is she more fifties housewife or princess?”

  “She’s two.”

  “A little of everything then.” She set down her wineglass and set about collecting tiny aprons from plastic bins along the far wall.

  “It’s your business. I’ll pay you for them.”

  “How about no.” She set a pink, a yellow, and a green apron on the table, then went back for more. “Do you think she’d like one for her doll? I have those too.”

  “She doesn’t have a doll. She has a rabbit.”

  Jules turned slowly, her brows knit together like he’d just started talking in pig latin. “She doesn’t like dolls?”

  He opened his mouth to argue that his sister hadn’t played with dolls, but then closed it. He’d never given April the chance to try. Add that to the list of ways he was failing her. “I’ll buy one tomorrow.”

  “Don’t. Toddlers bang up everything.” She tucked two aprons under her arm and pulled open a tall cupboard. She came back to the table with two more aprons and a doll with a blue dress and long blonde hair. “Belle, Aurora, Tiana, doctor and little black dress. Hang a row of hooks on her wall beside a mirror and she’ll be in heaven. Let me get the matching ones for the doll.”

  “Jules.” She ignored him, just busied herself with packing everything in a polka-dot box. “I really appreciate this. I don’t know a damned thing about little girls.”

  “I’m sure your mom or your sister would help if you asked.” She wrapped the box with a sparkling white ribbon.

  “My mom was winning ribbons as an equestrian when she was four, and my sister would rather be in a barn than the house. I thought April would be like them.”

  “And she’s not.” She tied the tiny cowgirl apron on the doll and set her on top of the box. “You’ll figure it out. I liked dolls and dress-up, my sister was all about her play kitchen. Toy stores have aisles of girl toys. Take her shopping and see what she picks.”

  If only it were that easy. She started to cry if he so much pulled into the parking lot of a store. Crowds made her cling or curl into a ball. The tears he could deal with, but when she went quiet and still, like she’d given up on anyone understanding her fear, his heart broke for her. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “This isn’t nothing. It’s like two or three hundred dollars. And a doll.”

  “I can’t use the doll. She fell off a table and has a scuff on her nose. You’d need a magnifying glass to notice it, but people use the zoom tool when they’re ordering from my website. And the aprons are a gift.”

  He opened his wallet. She worked two jobs at the restaurant and had this business. She couldn’t afford to be giving so much away. Her hand closed over his before he could pull the bills out.

  “You can’t give me money and then fuck me. That’s gross.”

  Well, when she put it that way. “Are you paying me in dress-up clothes for services rendered?”

  “They’re not for you.” She set her hands on her hips and huffed. “Forget pause, we need a reset. Go back outside and come in again. This time I won’t let you start talking.”

  “I like talking with you.” He closed his wallet and set it on the box along with his keys. “One apron is a gift, a collection is a purchase. You can’t afford to give that much away.”

  “Don’t worry about what I can afford.”

  “Come on. I respect your work ethic, but you wouldn’t be hostessing and baking if this business turned a profit. I don’t want to fight about it.”

  “Couple of things, cowboy. I manage Cattlemen’s. From the front door to the kitchen door, that’s my show. I cake, I don’t bake. I didn’t come with a trust fund like my sister did and I needed to earn my keep with Ben. I don’t pay rent on this apartment, I cake for it. And Dressed Up isn’t a hobby, it’s a lucrative business.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay, I didn’t realize.”

  “Well, now you know. New York is expensive and I want to do internships while I’m in school, not work. That’s why I hustle. I could buy this building from Ben tomorrow with just what I have in my savings account.”

  “Wow.” Her blue eyes sparkled with determination. He’d pissed her off, but damn if this side of her wasn’t sexy as hell.

  “Yes, wow. I get that you’ve gone out with some trolls who were interested in the Weston name and all that brings, but I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I take care of myself.”

  “I believe you.”

  She tilted up her chin. “It doesn’t matter to me whether you do or not.”

  But he could tell that it did, very much. “One last thing before we move from talking to me begging for forgiveness.”

  “Yes, please, let’s get to the good part.” She smiled, her shoulders lowering ever so slightly. “I’m all worked up and I need to burn it off.”

  “What do you mean you cake not bake?”

  She waved off the question like the answer was obvious. “I only do desserts. Breads are Ben’s domain. I dropped his sourdough starter six years ago and he fired me from baking. But he still needs me to cake because he was serving bland cheesecake and a sorry excuse for chocolate cake. We made no money on desserts because no one wanted them. Now we get take-out orders just for cake.”

  “That’s just…hot.” Last week he’d had no idea how deep her layers went. He’d been blinded by pretty and fun. This girl had a plan and the determination to make it happen.

  “Cake is hot to you?”

  “No, you’re hot. Gorgeous is a given, but you’re talented and an astute businesswoman. It’s kind of amazing.”

  “Why thank you.” She gave an exaggerated curtsy and then started walking backward toward her bed. “I’m pressing play. You really ought to get to apologizing and making it up to me.”

  He shrugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor as he strode across the room. “My pleasure.”

  “No, my pleasure. You said you were going to make it up to me, remember?” She undid the tie on her dress, then shrugged it off. She’d ditched the panties she wore earlier.

  “I’m really glad you never wear the same dress twice.”

  Her laugh lilted through the room like music. “Why is that?”

  She sat on the bed and he knelt down. He took off one strappy heel, then kissed her ankle before he started rubbing the arch of her foot. “Because I’ll get hard just remembering what I did to you in that dress.”

  “That makes me want to wear it again.”

  “Go ahead. We can play that game over and over.”

  Chapter Five

  Slade stared at the heavy doors of Cattlemen’s and his gut twisted. This was all kinds of fucked up. He should probably head back home right now, because he didn’t think he had it in him to do this. If only he had a password lock on his phone, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

  But he didn’t, because Gus had a couple games on it he liked to play. And when Denise had texted him to reschedule dinner, again, his mother had thought nothing of agreeing. Hell, she’d done it before and he’d thanked her. His Friday night Not My 1st Rodeo dates were common knowledge with his family. No one knew he’d planned on never taking a woman to the restaurant again, and they had no idea he’d kept so busy these last few weeks because he couldn’t stop thinking about Jules.

  And now he had to go into her restaurant, and have dinner with another woman, and pretend he was okay with that. And he wasn’t. Even though there wasn’t a future with Jules, being with another woman in front of her felt like a betrayal. Of what he didn’t care to examine.

  “Slade Weston?”

  He turned at the sound of the feminine voice. Denise Cody had somehow walked right up to him, and he hadn’t eve
n noticed. She looked exactly like her picture, long brown braid over one shoulder, jeans, and boots. Exactly what he’d been looking for when he’d tipped his hat on the website. Maybe if they went someplace else.

  He forced a smile. “Hi Denise. I’m glad you didn’t have any trouble finding the place.”

  “I’ve heard about Cattlemen’s, so I’ve been looking forward to it. I’m glad neither of us have sick kids this time.” She gave him a friendly grin and tilted her head toward the door. “Shall we?”

  “Right. Of course.” He held open the door, then followed her into the restaurant. He hadn’t seen Jules since he’d left her bed last Saturday, but his gaze attached to hers like a magnet. Her big blue eyes widened, but she gave a slow blink and a wall went up between them. Which he deserved. He shoved a hand through his hair and stared at the floor.

  “Mr. Weston, we’ve been holding your usual table.” She stepped out from behind the hostess stand and he clenched his fists. The dress she wore wrapped around her body the way he wanted to. Completely appropriate, and yet all he could think of was untying the ribbon at the side and unwrapping the silk to find her naked underneath. She turned and led them to their table, and he was certain she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the dress.

  He wanted to pull her aside and explain that he was only here because they’d tried to reschedule this meet-up three times before, because his mother had texted an address, because on her profile, Denise checked all the boxes of what he’d been looking for. And Jules had said she didn’t want anything serious, she didn’t want to be a wife or mother, and that’s what he and the kids needed.

  So he said nothing at all as he pushed in Denise’s chair and took his seat.

  “Can I get your drinks started?” Jules asked as if this were just another Friday night.

  “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Denise offered with a smile.

  “He likes his beer pretty hoppy.” Jules gave a smile that sparkled, dimming the glow of every other woman in the room.