Shadow Maverick Ranch Box Set

by Parker Kincade

  Jesus Christ, his dick hardened fast enough to force the breath from his lungs. He sat forward, leaned his elbows against the table in an effort to look bored as he took a second to cool his shit before he embarrassed himself.

  He downed the rest of his beer and signaled the waitress for another. “How’s the PT going?” Clay asked, successfully diverting the attention back to the table and away from the pool game.

  Dakota grimaced and rubbed his thigh. “It’s going. Hurts like a motherfucker some days, but nothing like having it shattered to begin with. They’ve assigned me a new therapist. Pretty little thing, but damn is she bossy.”

  Clay laughed. “Won’t let you flirt your way out of the hard stuff?”

  “Tried once,” Dakota said. “She made me do extra reps, so I figured I’d best keep my charm to myself.”

  “Doc say you’re done?” Colt asked, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

  Dakota’s expression hardened. “That’s what he recommends.”

  Clay reached over and squeezed Dakota’s shoulder in a show of support. “We know it’ll take more than a broken leg to keep you from getting back out there.” Broken leg, three broken ribs, and a gash across his torso that had been mere inches from spilling Dakota’s organs all over the arena.

  “You got that right,” Dakota agreed. “I might be down, but I’ll be damned if I’m out. I’ll do the exercises and whatever the hell else they want me to do, but they can’t make me quit. I’ll be ready to roll in the spring.”

  Dakota’s resolve was clear. Clay didn’t doubt him for a second. As a professional bull rider, Dakota had been hurt before. More times than Clay could count. And he’d always come back, stronger than ever. He’d do it this time, too.

  Colt didn’t agree. “Don’t look at it as quitting. You’ve suffered serious injuries that could affect your ability to ride … and ride well. This wasn’t like the time you dislocated your shoulder, or when you broke your wrist. Next time could mean your life.”

  “So could driving home tonight. Hell, I could have a fucking heart attack right here in this chair. I appreciate the concern, Doc, but last I looked, your patients were more of the four-legged variety. You stick to doctorin’ livestock and don’t worry yourself over me.”

  Colt’s jaw hardened. “Fuck you, Dak. I’m not worried about your stupid ass. My concern is where yours should be. For your mom and sisters. You ever think about what will happen to them if you get yourself killed?”

  Dakota’s nostrils flared. “My family isn’t any of your business, Colt. Back the fuck off.”

  As the oldest of the three of them, Colt had always been the logical one, the voice of reason, even when his opinions weren’t appreciated. As Clay watched a silent exchange pass between his two friends, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed something.

  Colt’s chair scraped the hardwood floor as he stood. “I need some air.”

  Dakota leaned his head back and yelled after Colt. “Bring three shots of the good stuff when you’re done pouting.”

  Colt flashed his middle finger over his shoulder.

  There was more going on than Dakota’s return to the circuit, but Clay didn’t press. Slick D’s on a Saturday night wasn’t exactly the greatest place to have a heart to heart. It wasn’t his problem anyway. Colt and Dakota could work their own shit out.

  Clay had other things on his mind.

  His gaze wandered back to the pool tables to catch his pretty lady chalking her cue with a suggestive grin directed his way.

  Oh, yeah. She’d be his tonight.

  Done pretending to be covert, he tacked on his most charming I’d-like-to-see-you-naked grin and tossed her a wink.

  Dakota caught the gesture and turned to see who’d received it. “You know her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, now’s your chance.” Dakota rose from his seat. “There’s a brunette at the bar who looks like she wants to dance. Gotta keep the leg mobile, right?”

  “Absolutely. Enjoy.” Clay was barely aware of his friends’ absence from the table. Instead of feeling deserted, he welcomed the chance to openly watch the game that appeared to be nearing its end.

  Sure enough, she cleared the table with two more strikes. She laid her cue on the table, a sure-fire signal she was done for the night.

  Collecting her winnings, she offered the men around her an apologetic smile, and her palm came up, not to offer high-fives, but to ward off the apparent whining at her departure.

  Clay relaxed, content to wait for her next move.

  He didn’t have to wait long. She headed straight for him.

  “Hi.” The simplicity of her greeting belied the hungry way she took in the length of him, from the top of his hat to the tips of his boots.

  She had the prettiest eyes. Pale, almost translucent green, as though they’d wanted to be blue, but hadn’t quite made it.

  “Hi.” He stood and pulled out the chair Dakota had vacated. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She brushed against him as she slid into the seat. Damn, she smelled good too. Not the flowery scent of overpriced perfume that always made his nose itch. She smelled of summer—warm with a hint of citrus.

  “I’ve had plenty, thank you.”

  Clay took his seat and readjusted to face her. Is that why she’d singled him out? She didn’t appear drunk, but what did he know? Maybe she’d scoped him out as a potential designated driver because of his minimal alcohol consumption. “You need a ride somewhere?”

  “Depends on the kind of ride you’re offering.”

  Her bold statement traveled over him and landed in his lap. He crossed his leg, dropping an ankle on the opposite knee in hopes of slowing the blood supply rushing to his dick.

  The tip of her pink tongue touched the corner of her bottom lip, then disappeared behind the teeth that tugged the plump flesh inward. “Look, it’s been a long night. You want to get out of here?” Her cheeks bloomed red, and she looked away as though embarrassed by her own words.

  He grinned, fascinated by the contradiction she presented. Oh, she talked a good game, but Clay suspected she didn’t make a habit of propositioning men in bars. The thought was strangely comforting, and all the more intriguing.

  Yes, he’d very much like to take her out of there. He’d like to explore that pretty mouth of hers, learn if her lips tasted as ripe and delicious as they looked. Wrap her sand-colored ponytail in his fist and trail his mouth lower, down the slender column of her neck to where her pulse beat at her throat. He’d like to test the boundaries of her adventurous spirit. And he’d only be getting started. For some inexplicable reason, Clay wanted to take his time with this woman. Oh yeah. Slow and easy sounded just about right.

  She aroused his curiosity. Something he hadn’t felt where a woman was concerned in … well … ever.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  She glanced to where Dakota and Colt stood together at the bar. “You come with your friends or something?”

  “No.” He saw Dakota scowl at something Colt said. “I’m free to leave whenever I want.”

  Shit. The sooner the better it seemed. Before he had to break up a fight and ruin what was left of his night. So much for wanting to take it slow.

  “So?” Her tone dripped with expectation.

  He laughed at her impatience. “What do you have in mind?”

  “If I’ve got to spell it out, cowboy, maybe we should part ways now while there’s still time to find other company.”

  Clay’s reaction was immediate. Visceral. His blood heated, heart pumped, muscles tightened in preparation to challenge any man who thought to touch what belonged to him. She didn’t belong to him, of course. The idea was utterly ridiculous. He didn’t even know her name. But he hadn’t not-so-covertly checked her out all night—enjoyed the smooth escalation of arousal she provoked—only to give some other asshole the satisfaction of making her come.

  Fuck no.

  She’d chosen him. And he sure as hell
wanted her. Wanted her taste on his tongue. Wanted to sink into her. Wanted to hear her moan his name. Repeatedly.

  She wasn’t his, but her pleasure belonged to him. Hell yeah it did.

  He stood. “My truck’s right outside.” He towered over her, and because he had to, his fingertips skimmed her cheek on their way to cup the back of her neck. Her skin was so warm and soft he almost groaned.

  There was no denying the shiver that went through her as he bent and put his mouth to her ear. Clay’s ego hoped his touch was the cause, but just in case, he reassured her. “You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Whatever you want. It’s your show.”

  He nuzzled her hair. Goddamn. He’d just developed a new love for oranges.

  Her voice wavered. “If you don’t want—”

  “Oh, I want.” Clay tugged her to her feet and didn’t stop until she was flattened against his chest. His arms draped around her. He added a little pressure against her lower back. “You feel that? Does that feel like I don’t want you?”

  Clay saw her confidence return. Her eyes darkened and her voice turned sultry smooth. Her nails bit into his chest.

  “Whatever I want, huh?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve anyone but us, or end with my naked ass in a jail cell, I’m game.”

  “Nothing like that. Just a no-strings, one-time-only deal.”

  Her blushes were damn near killing him. “Just once, huh? You don’t strike me as a one-time-only kind of girl.”

  Her stubborn chin rose as she met his gaze head on. “You don’t know me.”

  He suddenly wanted to. Very much. “You do this a lot then?” he goaded. “Pick up strange men in bars?”

  Tiny lines appeared between her delicate brows as her lips thinned into a flat line. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  The subtle display of feminine temper had him wondering what she’d be like if she really cut loose. There was a wildcat hidden in there, he just knew it.

  “Why, then?” he heard himself ask.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He loved sex. What guy didn’t? He’d never needed a reason to fuck before. He shouldn’t need one now.

  Maybe it was her sweet smile, or the vulnerability he sensed lurking just below the surface. Maybe it was the longing in her eyes. Whatever the hell it was, she had his protective instincts working overtime.

  “First time for everything, right?”

  Never one for games, Clay held his ground. “Try again.”

  “Look, cowboy. If you’d been the one to come to me, you wouldn’t ask me why I’d have sex with you. You’d simply ask me to get naked. You think because I’m a woman I shouldn’t ask for what I want? I’m unattached and looking to relieve a little stress. Figured you might be interested. Was I wrong?”

  Jesus, he liked this woman. And he’d really like to stop thinking of her as this woman. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

  She went up on her toes and nipped his chin. “Of course I do, but you don’t need to know it. One time, no strings.”

  The contact fueled the fire in his blood as her words sparked his irritation.

  “Oh, no. You want no strings, fine. I’ll play your little game.” Except he wouldn’t agree to the one-time deal. He didn’t have to get her naked to know once wouldn’t be enough to get his fill, but he’d concede to no strings if it was what she needed.

  Hell, it was what he needed. Strings meant complications. Why would he want to invite that kind of thing into his life? Just because his older brothers were ridiculously happy in their relationships didn’t mean Clay had to follow suit. His life was fine. Damn near perfect, in fact.

  Clay loved being a rancher. His family had owned Shadow Maverick Ranch for generations. He was proud to be a part of it. He rarely thought about what it would be like to have a spread of his own, to have his own legacy to pass down to the sons he hoped to have someday—when the right woman came along.

  “Well?”

  Did his right woman have expressive, blue-green eyes, and a body that fit perfectly against his?

  Fuck. “I’ve got a condition of my own. Give me your name.”

  Her eyelids lowered, and she toyed with a button on his shirt. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like this is more than it is.”

  “I asked for your name, sweetheart, not for your hand in marriage.” Although the idea of getting hitched wasn’t as abhorrent as it would’ve been a few hours ago.

  Clay kept his expression passive as she considered him. Miss One-Night-Stand would run like a scared rabbit if she guessed where his thoughts had gone. Maybe he should be the one hightailing it.

  “Ainsley,” she sighed. “My name is Ainsley Russell.”

  Chapter Three

  Three seconds.

  That was how long it took the sexy cowboy to release her and step away.

  Wow. Ainsley had been rejected before, but his speed at doing so had to be a personal record.

  Men went for the pretty ones. Women who spent time on things like hair, makeup, pretty clothes, and shoes. Feminine women. Women with soft hands.

  Ainsley’s hands weren’t soft. She didn’t own a single dress. And the highest heel she’d ever had on her feet were on the boots she wore around the ranch.

  She’d understand if the cowboy had seemed disinterested. He hadn’t. So being shut down because of her name? That left her feeling all kinds of what the hell?

  She wasn’t anyone special. A girl from nowhere who’d inherited a failing ranch from an uncle she hadn’t known. An uncle by marriage. A man named Lawrence Nelson, or so she’d been told.

  Mr. Sutherland had called her a gypsy. He hadn’t been far off. Ainsley hadn’t known anyone in her family. Not her parents. Not aunts or cousins, and certainly not an uncle-by-marriage. Oh no. Her life had been a series of bad foster homes and even worse luck. With her history, she shouldn’t be so surprised the mere sound of her name had been enough to cut the heat on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  Aside from the rejection, at least the night hadn’t been a total loss—her pool game hadn’t deserted her. She’d be able to eat for the next couple of weeks without digging into her operational funds.

  Ainsley took the wins where she could get ’em.

  She should’ve just taken her money and gone home. Not tested her fragile prosperity by giving in to her body’s need for the warmth of another human being. But goddamn it. The cowboy was seriously hot. And for one brief moment, Ainsley wanted to feel as if she weren’t alone.

  Pretending wouldn’t change the facts. She was alone, fighting to make a life for herself and for the ranch she hadn’t known she wanted.

  She sighed. Time to go.

  Ainsley tilted her head to look him in the eye. “This was a mistake.” God, the man was tall. Intimidating. And staring at her mouth as though he either didn’t understand English, or he was thinking about kissing her.

  In one swift motion, he jerked the hat from his head and ran fingers through a mess of thick black hair. “Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”

  She stared at him, wondering what difference it would make. His image would haunt her as it was. His powerful build. The tattoo covering a good portion of his right forearm and disappearing under the rolled-up sleeves of his black button down. His cocky grin showing off a row of pearly whites. Tack on his dark eyes and unshaven jaw … god. Knowing his name would only add insult to injury.

  It would make his rejection too … personal.

  “Nope.” Ainsley turned to leave. His hand shot out to encircle her wrist.

  “Clayton.” At his insistent tug, Ainsley turned back to face him.

  “Okay, Clayton.” As though that should mean anything to her. “You want to explain to me what just happened?” And why his rejection hurt so much? Jesus, she’d been tossed aside all her life. Why this man had the power to hurt her where so many others had failed was beyond comprehension.

  His harde
ned gaze nailed her in place. “Mathis,” he bit out. “I’m Clayton Mathis.”

  Ainsley gawked up at him as the name registered. How had she missed it? His face was so similar to Gavin’s it was a wonder she hadn’t made the connection before now.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Of all the… Of course he was Clayton Mathis. True to history, Ainsley’s luck was right on target. Why else would the sexiest cowboy she’d ever seen turn out to be the same fucking one who’d been trying to steal her ranch?

  Okay, steal might be a tad dramatic. Clayton’s brother had been relentless in pursuit of her property, but he hadn’t actually done anything illegal. Not that it mattered. The ranch was hers. She’d be damned before she’d let anyone take it from her. Problem was, if her loan didn’t come through, there wasn’t much she could do to stop it.

  Ainsley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hating how out of control she felt. “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  Her body reacted with alarming speed to the firm response. Her skin pebbled, her breasts grew heavy, and her pussy clenched tight. Ainsley jerked her arm. “I told you this was a mistake.” Another tug. Clayton’s hold was unrelenting.

  “Stop, Ainsley. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  Her belly fluttered at hearing her name spoken in his husky drawl. So sexy. So dangerous to her resolve. “Then let. Me. Go.”

  He sighed. “Are you going to take off on me?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then, no.” Amusement flickered in his warm, chocolate gaze.

  Ainsley held her temper in check. She’d had plenty of practice dealing with annoying men. She loosened her muscles and took a step toward him. She raised her unshackled hand and placed her palm against his chest. Warm, solid muscle flexed under her touch. She glanced up at him through her lashes. “I’ll promise not to walk away if you let me go.” She didn’t promise not to run, though.

  He clasped her free wrist, effectively binding her against him. “Nice try, but it’s not gonna happen. We’re going to sit back down, all civil-like, and have a chat.”