by Em Petrova
And it wasn’t the set of Redemption Falls that had her so excited to wake up each day.
After a while, she noted a dip at the end of the field. Something that from the other end, she hadn’t noticed. But as she neared it, her hands grew clammy in her work gloves. It looked steep and not at all safe. Did she mow that part too? She could leave it be, but what kind of help would that be to King?
She wanted to do a good job.
As she drew close, she did gear down to a slow crawl. No sooner had she felt the wheels dip on one side than she knew she was in trouble.
The tractor was tipping.
Chapter Nine
King rose and fell in the saddle as he cut back across the field for home. Bellarose would be arriving soon and there was surely some mess the film crew had left behind. Last time had been a water hose left out and it had dripped all over a few bales of hay, soaking them so they were unusable.
The sun was high, and it was hotter than usual. He’d rolled up his sleeves and knotted his bandanna around his neck to catch the sweat. Working on the fence for the dozenth time this season had him thinking hard about foregoing his dream and shooting for practical.
Playing it safe, his mind wanted to say. But he’d shut up his mind before and could do it again. Better cattle fence was needed. As were many other things around here.
Sweat ran down the back of his neck and dampened the cloth around his throat. It was time to get out of the sun. But first—
His gaze landed on the tractor in the middle of the field. Only it looked weird… crooked?
It took his brain five full seconds to catch up and for him to realize what was happening.
Jesus Christ.
Bellarose was on the tractor. And she was in big trouble.
He dug his spurs into the sides of his mount and the mare shot forward. “Ya!” He crushed his heels into the horse again, leaning into the wind.
Shit. Fuck. Hell. The tractor was about to go over and with Bellarose on it. What the hell had she been thinking to get on the thing?
Under his breath, he muttered curses mixed with prayers. When he neared, he saw the tractor give a shudder as she cranked the wheels, setting the front left one onto more solid ground.
King’s mind took in the moment in a flash. She’d gotten bogged down in the one mucky part of the ranch where a spring welled up through the ground and created a low spot as well as a muddy one. With the tires buried, she’d started to tip it.
Which was dangerous as hell.
But for now, she was safe, on more solid ground if not level. She ground the gears, and he winced but didn’t rush forward to save her. He gripped the reins and watched, prepared to rescue her, but for now, he watched to see what she could do.
The tires spun. She grew more bogged down. She began to tilt again, and he surged forward.
But just then she got enough tread to grip the ground and haul her up and out.
His heart gave a loud whoop of victory to see her roll safely along flat land once again.
She came to a stop, cut the engine and lowered her face into her hands.
Oh shit.
He raced up to her and leaped off the horse. Reaching up for Bellarose, he pulled her out of the tractor seat.
She was shaking hard enough to make her teeth chatter.
“Oh darlin’…” He enfolded her against his chest, tucking her beneath his chin. “You’re okay.”
“Y-you saw?”
“I did. And it took all my willpower not to intervene.”
Her voice came muffled against his shirt. “Why didn’t you?”
He nudged her chin up with his knuckles. Her amber eyes were clear, not full of tears though traces of fear lived in the depths. “I saw you were safe enough and making moves to get yourself out of the mess. I knew you could do it.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m glad one of us knew I could. I got myself out completely by accident!”
A chuckle left him and he brushed his lips across hers. “You did well. All but one thing.”
She drew back and threw a look at the tractor. “Did I break it?”
“No. You forgot to put on sunscreen.” Touching a fingertip to her reddened cheek, he brought it away to reveal the whiteness of her real skin tone.
She brought her palms to her face. “Oh no. I’ll look awful for filming!”
He looked out over the portion she’d mown. “You did really well, Bellarose. You should be proud of yourself. But what made you do it?” He met her gaze.
From beneath her curled auburn lashes, she peeked up at him. “I wanted to help.”
A warmth closed in around his heart, making it hard to breathe.
“And I… admire the photo of your mother on the tractor.”
Hooking an arm around her, he brought her close again. He kissed the top of her head, which was most likely the only thing not sunburned. She was going to be in a world of hurt tonight.
“I think you’ve officially become a rancher, baby.”
She sliced a look at the tractor. “Do I have to drive it back?”
“Yup.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’ll be on solid ground, but after you’ve had a scare—in a car, on horseback—you have to get on again or your fears get bigger.”
She nodded. “All right.”
He whistled for his horse, who was a short distance away grazing. As he swung into the saddle, he said, “See ya at the house. I’ll have the aloe lotion ready for ya.”
* * * * *
Bellarose wasn’t only feeling a little embarrassed by her escapade of the day, but she was extremely miserable.
She was afraid to look into the mirror and see how bad the sunburn was, and she knew by nightfall it would be worse, as all burns were.
For a decade she’d taken good care not to get sun exposure, even when doing makeup commercials on a beach in Malibu that one time. How had she forgotten today?
“Flip over.” King’s voice ordinarily would have excited her, and the insinuation in his tone would have her panting for more.
With a groan, she eased from her back to her belly. “Everything hurts except my knees.”
“Good thing those were covered or you’d be walkin’ stiff-legged. Maybe we could still achieve that.” He ran his rough fingers over the naked curve of her buttocks.
Her breath hitched. “I think you’re taking advantage, King. Only the backs of my arms are burned.”
“Uh-huh.” He inched his fingers between her thighs and found the strip of fabric of her thong underwear. She moaned at his heated touch, forgetting the fire deep in her skin and how feverish she felt as he walked his fingers over her pussy, molding her panties to the seam.
“Spread your thighs for me.”
His deep tone sank into her system, heightening her awareness. When she slid her legs apart, he hooked his finger into her thong and tugged it aside. Exposing her damp pussy.
“Mmm. You don’t even need the aloe,” he rumbled, finding her already wet.
Wanting.
A gasp left her as he found her clit and pressed down on it gently. Each nerve ending awakened, and she rocked upward. After he circled her clit a few times, he drove his fingers into her—without warning.
She cried out. “More, King.”
He answered with a growl and added a third finger, stretching her wide. He withdrew them slowly, causing her to moan through the entire experience. Then plunging in again. Working her inner walls until she was slick and frenzied to reach that peak.
Her breaths escaped as harsh, begging moans. Her body clutched at each inch of his fingers all the way to the base of his hand.
All of a sudden, he left her. Quaking, she gripped the sheets, waiting for what came next. The soft noise of the drawer closing had her burning up.
She heard the tear of the condom packet. King’s belt buckle clanked and his zipper moving down raised the hairs on her neck, which would have hurt if she wasn’t so aroused.
Her thong slipped back over her pussy, and he pulled them down and off her thighs before jerking her back into him.
He sank in with one thrust, and they shared a sound of bliss. He rocked, she bucked into him. He withdrew and she shivered for more. She was so turned on from his rough breathing, her body responded a thousand percent.
Need spiked in her core. She clamped around him. He pushed past her tightness, burrowed so close.
“Jesus, I’m right there,” he groaned.
His words shot her over the ledge. Ecstasy hit with an orgasm so strong that her mind blanked for a minute, rolling and tumbling in the heated waters of pleasure. He jerked his cock in and out of her for several more pumps and stiffened.
“Come for me, King,” she whispered.
“Fuck!” He slammed into her once, twice. Unloading in hot spurts she felt even through the barrier.
He held her hips, fingers digging in almost deliciously. Long heartbeats spanned between them. She wiggled against the sheets, finding them suddenly scratchy against her abused skin.
“Oh shit, that probably didn’t feel good on your sunburn.” He pulled out and a second later returned. She’d flipped onto her back again, which was less painful than her face, throat, and arms.
He stopped at the end of the bed and chuckled. “You poor lobster.”
“Not funny, King. How bad is it?”
“Let’s just say you won’t be filming for a few days.”
She let out a groan. “Just what Dickson will want to hear. I’d better text him and let him know the schedule’s changed. We were supposed to do a riding scene tomorrow.”
“You could still ride, but they’ll want to film you from behind.”
“I’d cover my face with my hand but it hurts too much,” she said. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Get my phone and look up remedies for speed-healing from a sunburn. I’d do it myself but it hurts to move.” To demonstrate, she wiggled one finger and the tight, hot skin of her arm reminded her it wasn’t a good idea.
Chuckling, he headed out of the room. “I’ll do what I can.”
The bedroom was peaceful. Outside the window, the day had faded to darkness. When she closed her eyes, the low chirp of some sort of wildlife struck up a musical chorus. The house was silent, and she couldn’t even hear King.
This was a very unusual moment in her life—lying here alone, with no demands set on her, silent and content. Back in Hollywood, she’d be checking her phone, taking calls, obsessing over… Well, stuff that didn’t matter. Out here, she felt all that stripped away and found herself caring about different things that seemed much more important.
King’s footstep on the floorboards had her cracking an eye. “Even that hurts,” she said.
“No wonder. Your face looks like a stop sign.”
“Oh God. I really don’t want to look in a mirror. I practically feel myself blistering.”
“This should cut it and reduce some of the pain.” He held up a bottle of vinegar.
She blinked. “You’re going to pickle me?”
His smile stretched across his handsome features, stealing her breath away. Great—now she was going to die of sunburn and lack of oxygen.
He set the bottle on the nightstand’s rugged oak top. There was a small iron knickknack of a cowboy there, and she had a suspicion King hadn’t placed it there but the set crew had worked it in.
She shifted only her eyes to the bottle—anything else pained her too much. “What does the vinegar do?”
“My momma’s own remedy for sunburns. Went to bed many a night smelling of it.”
“I can’t apply it in your bed—you’ll never get the stench out.”
His lips quirked up farther. “We could go to the tub. Cold water could help too.”
“Anything,” she said. “I’ll do anything to feel better and to look halfway decent as soon as possible.”
He extended a hand to her. Stiff, she let him draw her to her feet while impersonating an ironing board. Of course she’d been wearing a sleeveless top and her gloves had left her hands completely white. She really couldn’t ask for a worse farmer’s tan.
With the bottle of vinegar in hand, he led her to the bathroom. She’d never showered or bathed at King’s place, but the tub was sparkling clean and the curtain already drawn back. When he bent to start the water, she admired his backside in low-slung jeans.
He checked the water temperature and then sat on the edge to pour a good amount of vinegar into the water. Looking at her, he said, “You poor thing.”
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and twisted aside. If she saw how bad she looked, she’d start to panic about work, and that was the last thing she wanted to do right now with a shirtless hot cowboy pouring her a bath.
“C’mere, darlin’.” He opened his arms and she stepped up to him. He dropped his head against her waist, and she raised her hands to his thick hair. The top was mussed from his hat, and he had a swirl of hair growth on his crown.
Somehow, this touched her, and she cradled him to her, exploring the intimacy of the moment and how it made her feel.
Attached.
As if she belonged here.
Both scary thoughts. She had no idea how deep King was, and they both knew there was an expiration date to this arrangement. Eventually, she’d be experienced enough with horses to stop coming here. And when filming wrapped up, there wouldn’t be any reason for her to remain in Washington.
His warm breath tingled against her midsection, and he gripped her buttocks, his big hands a perfect fit.
“I think the water’s deep enough,” he said, lifting his head.
She studied his eyes. The dark brown depths gave little away, and she wished she could read him as easily as she could a script.
Taking her by the hand, he moved out of the way for her to slide into the tub. Luckily, her jeans and shirt had saved her from a worse fate, but her arms and face were bad enough. Her throat too. She glanced down at the fiery red V where her top had been open.
“The vinegar smells,” she said.
He sat on the toilet and watched her. “You get used to it.”
“How many times have you done this?”
“Not for a while. The last was after haying season and I spent two solid days in the baking sun. We were all burned to a crisp. You should have seen Johnny. He was wearing sunglasses and looked like a reverse raccoon.”
She giggled at the image. “How long have they been married?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, drawing her attention to the muscle of his bare torso. “Handful of years. I don’t really keep track.”
“Yes, a rancher doesn’t really do those sentimental things.”
“Not when it’s not my marriage.”
“Ever come close to being married?” she asked.
“No.” His gaze zeroed in on hers. “You?”
“When I was nineteen… Well, you might have heard about it?”
“No. I don’t keep track of gossip like that.”
“Right. It’s probably a healthier thing not to. I had a lead singer of a top-forty band in my life and I was heading to New Zealand to film Little Man Under.”
He registered no recognition.
“It’s a movie about an autistic child and how these animals in a small zoo help him— Never mind. Anyway, Jett proposed to me before I left. I think he was afraid I’d fall for some brawny New Zealander and he’d lose out.”
“Did you say yes?” he asked.
“I was nineteen. So yes. The thought of a gorgeous singer like Jett wanting me… It went to my head.”
“I know the feeling.”
She met his stare, a soft smile on her face. “Y
ou know I’m just a real person, right?”
“To be honest, I don’t know much about your real life besides seeing you a few times on set. To me, you’re real. It’s the other side of you that worries me.”
Her brows creased, and it pinched the skin but so did reaching out for his hand. She enveloped his dry hand with her wet one. “What worries you?”
He shrugged again, as if his skin hurt too. “Seems a little unreal. My family’s reaction to you reminded me of who you are.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you think of me as more than my name and occupation. When I was lying on your bed just a bit ago, I couldn’t help but think how at home I feel. Almost not like myself and yet… like I’m finally finding a part of myself. Does that make sense?”
“Does to me.” He raised his other hand and rasped at the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. “Growing up, I loved our ranch and my parents and sister. But I never felt as at home as I did at my uncle’s place.”
“What was different about him?”
He handed her a washcloth. “Soak that in the water and lay it over your face while we talk.”
“You just don’t want to look at my ugly sunburn. I can’t believe I’m a redhead and forgot redhead rule number one is sunscreen. I guess it slipped my mind, not having some assistant badgering me.”
She took the cloth and dunked it into the cool vinegar bath. Then she lay back on the porcelain slant and draped the wet cloth over her face. She hissed as each pore stung but in seconds, it calmed and she felt slightly eased.
She let out a low sigh, and King began to speak. His low voice edged through her senses, plucking at them, making music in her body just like those creatures had outside the window.
“My uncle was a horse breeder and trainer. It’s where I learned the most, though my father was good at handling stock. My uncle’s entire life was devoted to putting the best stock into the world that he could afford to. I wanted to grow up and follow his footsteps.”
“What happened?” she asked from under the cloth.
