His for Now (The Byrne Brothers Book 1)

by Sofia Tate

  Before she could ponder that thought more, her phone buzzed with Clea’s name on the caller ID. Blakely put on her ear buds and answered the call.

  A strong, confident voice came over the phone. “Good morning, boss.”

  “Morning, Clea. I’m sorry I’m late calling in.”

  “No worries. I thought I’d make sure you were up, that’s all.”

  “Very considerate. That’s why you’re my assistant.”

  Blakely had hired Clea right out of college three years ago. She was short with brown pixie hair and wore small oval-shaped wire-framed glasses, giving the impression that she was quiet and timid, but it was an illusion, because she was everything Blakely could ever have wished for in an assistant. She was sharp, efficient, required no supervision, and was an expert at research.

  Blakely put on her glasses and began to scroll through her emails on her laptop. “Okay, we need to talk about the Chicago deal first. I need you to get me everything you can on—”

  Three solid knocks on the door interrupted Blakely’s end of the conversation. “Crap, it’s probably Gigi again. Hang on, Clea.”

  “No problem. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Blakely smiled as she approached the door and swung it open. “Gigi, I can’t talk—”

  Oh God. Please tell me this is not happening.

  Ronan stood on her cabin porch, dressed in a tight dark grey t-shirt, jeans, and boots, holding a fishing rod in his right hand, and smiling from ear to ear.

  Blakely’s mouth dropped in shock, then quickly pressed her lips together.

  “Boss, what’s going on?”

  She’d forgotten she still had Clea on the line. Her voice brought her back to the present moment, as Blakely mentally reviewed her current state, the state Ronan’s eyes were taking in from head to toe.

  Pajamas? Yes.

  Facial mask? Unfortunately.

  Headband? Yup.

  Glasses? Sigh.

  Humiliation beyond belief? Yes fucking yes.

  “What is it, Ronan? I’m busy.”

  Ronan kept on smiling. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Clea’s voice chirped over the line again. “Boss, he sounds so hot.”

  “If that’s all…” she started saying dismissively.

  “No, wait! I want to hear what he has to say,” Clea pleaded.

  Ronan began to speak quickly. “I wanted to know if you’d be interested in going fishing with me later. I promise I’ll have you back in time to get ready for the bachelorette party.”

  Blakely could hear Clea swoon on the other end. “Oh my God, his voice is so deep and warm. Like a one hundred year-old Scotch going down your throat.”

  She realized it was too late to turn off her phone now because Ronan would realize someone was on the other end.

  Then another voice came into Blakely’s head. The conversation she had just had with Gigi.

  Sean told me he asked about you.

  I think you should give him a chance.

  Clea spurred her on. “Will you just say ‘yes’ already, boss?”

  Ronan’s eyes bore into hers. He seemed nervous, anxious for her answer.

  The dance. The dessert. He’s not letting up. I want to know why. I need to know why.

  With her mask cracking on her face by this point, Blakely gave in, looking at Ronan dead on.

  “Okay. What time?”

  Clea cheered over the phone. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Ronan’s sapphire eyes glistened in the light, the blue in his irises ablaze. “I’ll come by at one.”

  Blakely nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

  Ronan turned and started to walk away as Blakely headed back into her cabin.

  “Oh, and Blakely…”

  She turned back to Ronan at the sound of his voice.

  His eyes narrowed, aiming his stare at her. “Please don’t wear your Yale sweatshirt.”

  As she watched him walk down the hill, Blakely paused for a minute, then smiled curiously. She wondered what would happen if she did.

  Clea’s voice snapped Blakely back. “Tell me he’s as hot as I think he is.”

  Blakely smirked. “Nope, he’s butt ugly.”

  “Yeah, right. Then why did you keep me on the phone the entire time?”

  “Good question.” Blakely paused for a second, then finally replied. “I needed a witness.”

  “For what?”

  “To make sure that really happened.”

  Without a doubt, Ronan knew that when he was taking the final breaths on his deathbed, one of the last memories he would have would be of Blakely and what she looked like that morning on the porch of her cabin.

  He had smiled, but he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from laughing, though it definitely wouldn’t have been a laugh of derision, but of pleasure. Sheer pleasure.

  She looked so adorable in her pink cotton pajamas, her hair pulled back to reveal the shape of her face, and the mask and glasses had only highlighted her wide-set eyes in all of their beauty.

  He asked her not to wear her Yale sweatshirt, not because it offended him, but because he missed what was underneath it.

  He wanted to see her curves again. To feel them. Those luscious curves he had held in his hands when he danced with her.

  So, at exactly one o’clock, he knocked on her cabin door.

  She opened the door wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, a black cardigan sweater, and her rain boots. No sweatshirt.

  Yes!

  He couldn’t help the smile that came over his face. He held out the bouquet of daisies to her that he collected that morning.

  “Hi. Are you ready?”

  “Umm, yes…” she stammered, looking at the flowers in his right hand. “You really didn’t have to.”

  “What can I say? I saw them and thought of you.”

  She hesitated for a moment, and quietly smiled. “I’m sorry, Ronan. Thank you, they’re lovely. Let me put them in water. Come in. Please.”

  He cautiously stepped inside while Blakely took the empty crystal vase from the mantle over the fireplace and walked away with it, returning with it full of water. She placed the daisies on the coffee table.

  He smiled seeing where she had put the flowers, exactly where anyone could see them. “Are you ready to go?”

  Blakely nodded and walked out of the cabin, with Ronan shutting the door behind him. They walked down the path to the bottom of the hill where an old Jeep was waiting. “This is our ride. We use it to get around the ranch. Just hop in on the other side.”

  Blakely sat down in the passenger’s seat as Ronan started the motor. The Jeep roared to life. He was used to driving it without wearing a seat belt, but she obviously wasn’t. He noticed Blakely out of the corner of his eye, gripping onto the sides of the seat with her hands, practically white-knuckling it.

  Ronan smiled. “Blakely, you’re perfectly safe with me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  He burst out laughing. To him, it sounded like the first true emotion that she expressed in his favor because he couldn’t tell if she was joking or deadly serious. But when he snuck a glance at her again, she smiled right back him, straight into his eyes. He went hard instantly.

  Ronan had to clear his throat to regain his power of speech. “I’m going to take you to the other side of the lake. I want to show you my favorite spot.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  Ronan rounded a curve in the road. The trees became thicker as they kept driving, their branches intertwined as if they were reaching across the road for each other. The temperature dropped slightly because of the shade.

  Ronan brought the Jeep to a halt on the side of the road. “We’re here.”

  As Blakely stepped out of the vehicle, he jumped out, grabbing the fishing rods, tackle box, and a jar of fresh bait.

  He pointed to a path on the other side of the road. “This way. We can come back for the pic
nic basket when we’re done fishing.”

  Blakely nodded and followed Ronan as he led them toward the lake. The area he had brought her to was secluded. Because of the lake’s shape, this specific corner couldn’t be seen from the other side. The copse of trees ensured total privacy.

  “Wow. This is lovely, Ronan,” Blakely declared. “Do you come here often?”

  “Sometimes. When I need to think. Come on, let’s bait some hooks.”

  Who the hell am I kidding?

  Blakely couldn’t stop staring as Ronan pulled out a worm from the bucket and carefully slid it onto one of the hooks. His biceps strained against the cotton in his t-shirt, while the jeans he wore stretched across his waist, emphasizing the bulge down below.

  Ronan Byrne is sex on legs.

  She’d realized this on the drive to the lake. Blakely had taken in the surrounding landscape, but something else had caught her eye. The way Ronan had handled the gears turned her on. He was so assured, so confident. As if the stick shift was an extension of his body. He barely needed to hold onto it when he changed gears, which came so effortlessly for him. While she was holding onto her seat like a life preserver as he drove over the divots and bumps, he handled them with ease. She wasn’t used to a sight like this, arousing her to her core.

  Ronan’s voice caught her attention.

  “Hello? Blakely?”

  She looked at Ronan, smiling and holding a fishing rod in both hands. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

  “Ready to fish?”

  “You bet your ass I am.”

  She snatched a rod out of one of his hands and walked closer to the water. She burrowed her boots deeper into the ground to get a firm footing. Then she cast her line, reveling in the plop sound of the bait landing in the water.

  A small breeze picked up, gently brushing her hair. She listened to the sounds around her-the wind whispering in the trees, the birds singing, the waves of the lake lapping onto the shore. She was fishing. Blakely couldn’t remember being this happy in a very long time.

  No, not happy. Content.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Blakely ignored him.

  “Blakely…”

  “Shhh…”

  “What?”

  “Can you hear that?”

  “What?”

  Blakely smiled. “Exactly.”

  She didn’t hear another word from Ronan after that. Time passed. Blakely didn’t bother to look at her watch. Occasionally, she would glance over at Ronan, who stood a few feet from her, his gaze fixed on the water.

  Suddenly, the line on her rod began to pull.

  “Oh my God! I got something!”

  “Well, start reeling it in then, Blakely!”

  “I can’t yet. I have to set the hook.”

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And you call yourself a fisherman.”

  “I call myself a rancher’s son.”

  “My apologies. I stand corrected. In layman’s terms, I have to let the fish take the bait, then I can start reeling it in.”

  “Something your grandpa taught you?”

  “Yes. Now be quiet. I have to focus.”

  Blakely dug her heels further into the ground. The fish tugged harder on the line. She slowly pulled on the reel. The fish was fighting her, but with her feet planted firmly into the soil, she had a tight grasp on both the rod and reel.

  Ronan dropped his rod and rushed over to her, grabbing her around her waist and placing his hand over hers on the rod.

  “Don’t worry, Blakely! I’ve got you!”

  “Jesus, Ronan! It’s not Jaws, for God’s sake! I can handle it. It’s probably a five pounder at the most.”

  “No way! Ten pounds at least.”

  “I’ve got it under control!”

  “Will you stop being so stubborn, woman? I’m just trying to help.”

  Blakely smiled from ear to ear, knowing Ronan couldn’t see her face. She wasn’t going to stop anything, because with his hot breath on her neck and tight arms coiled around her waist, her pussy was getting wetter by the minute.

  Ronan sighed. “Will you just give me the damn rod?”

  “Like hell I will.”

  “Just start reeling him in harder.”

  Blakely frowned, knowing the fun was coming to an end. “Fine.”

  She slowly brought the fish out of the water. The trout fidgeted on the hook, desperate for oxygen. She swung the rod over so Ronan could hold the fish steady and remove it from the hook.

  As Ronan held the fish as firmly as he could, Blakely dropped her rod and quickly stepped over to him, placing her hands over his. She admired the trout, its scales glistening in the sun.

  “He’s a beauty. My grandpa would be proud. Now throw it back.”

  Ronan’s mouth dropped. “What? But you caught it.”

  “I know. Catch and release. You did bring something to eat, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So do it. Hurry!”

  Ronan hurled the fish into the air toward the water. Once the fish went under, he turned back to her. “Happy?

  “Very. Now let’s eat.”

  Blakely waited until Ronan returned from the Jeep, watching as he spread a blanket on the ground, setting the basket on top. He patted the blanket, indicating where she should sit. She eased herself down onto the ground. He began opening various containers. Blakely’s mouth watered as he laid out fried chicken, potato salad, and various fruits and cheeses.

  “Crap!” Ronan exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you were a vegetarian.”

  She couldn’t help but smile.

  He looked at her curiously. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I just haven’t had fried chicken in a long time.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Are you on some kind of diet?”

  “Something like that. But I love it. When I was little, my mom always made it for me when my dad went away on business.”

  “Only then?”

  “Yeah. He thought fried chicken was ‘too common.’”

  Ronan rolled his eyes. “Wow.” He popped open two bottles of Stella Artois and handed one to her.

  She clinked her bottle with his. “Cheers.”

  Once they finished the main course, they began to pick at the plump green grapes Ronan had brought. Her eyes widened when she saw what was in the plastic container that Ronan had just opened.

  Ronan saw the look on her face. “Why do you look so surprised? You said you were lactose intolerant, so I brought two different types of cheese. This vegan one and a chunk of Brie.”

  She recognized the label on the vegan cheese because the exact same one was sitting in her refrigerator back in Manhattan.

  He remembered.

  Blakely averted his eyes when she felt them growing moist, turning her head and biting her lower lip.

  “For crying out loud, Blakely, it’s just cheese.”

  She started laughing. She knew he wouldn’t understand why a simple food choice would make her so emotional. His thoughtfulness overwhelmed her because she’d never encountered it from a man before. She shook her head to dismiss her tears, quickly wiping her eyes away from Ronan’s view.

  She shifted back to him, taking the container from his hand and removing a slice of the vegan Swiss cheese.

  “You’re right. It is just cheese,” she smiled at him, who returned it back to her.

  As she alternated between bites of cheese and popping a grape into her mouth, Blakely looked around her. “How long has this ranch been in your family?”

  “My grandparents bought the property back in the 1930s. They immigrated to America from Ireland in 1935. They wanted to live in the American West, found this place for dirt cheap, and settled here. End of story.”

  “And the dude ranch?”

  “My parents started that in the ’60s. It really grew in the ’70s and we thrived for a long time. Business is down, but we’ll be okay.”

  Blak
ely’s eyebrows narrowed. “I don’t know. I would think about investing in renovating the cabins to start with. You have to start with the basics first. Then there’s social media to think about. If I were you—”

  All at once, Ronan snapped at her. “But you’re not me! You don’t know my family. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Blakely dropped the bunch of grapes she was holding. “Hey! I was only trying to help! I have an MBA from Yale, so yeah, I do know what I’m talking about.”

  “I know you went to Yale, Blakely. Georgina told me. You don’t need a sweatshirt to advertise it. I’m just wondering why you insist on wearing it. Is it because you’re hiding something underneath?”

  Blakely’s eyes froze.

  Run. Run now.

  Without warning, she shot to her feet. “You know something, Ronan,” she began saying, her voice shaking, “you don’t know anything about me. I have a good life. And I can’t wait to get back to Manhattan once this week is over.”

  Blakely began to walk off as Ronan scrambled to his feet. “Where are you going?”

  “Back!”

  “Oh, for crying out loud! Will you just stop?”

  She kept walking despite the sound of Ronan’s boots behind her. He grabbed her roughly by the arms and pulled her towards the nearest tree, pressing her against it.

  Blakely pushed her hands into his hard chest with all her strength to get him to release her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Come on, Blakely. I’m sorry. Listen to me. I know why we always end up arguing.”

  “So do I. Because you’re a Neanderthal who’s a stubborn ass to boot!”

  “No! It’s because we want each other.”

  Blakely laughed, her hands now forming into fists, pounding on Ronan’s chest. “Are you out of your mind? I don’t want you! Now just let me go!”

  “No, Blakely, you let go.”

  “What?”

  Ronan’s voice dropped a few octaves. “Let go.”

  The calm in his voice momentarily stopped Blakely from pummeling him. Ronan slowly encircled her with his arms, wrapping Blakely against him. The moment was fleeting, because now Blakely felt truly trapped by him, under his control.

  Stop! Please stop!

  Ronan watched in shock as she suddenly transformed into a wild animal, her entire body flailing against him, her hair flying all around her as if she were an untamed beast. A savage going into self-preservation mode by doing anything it can to protect itself from an unwelcome presence.