His laugh is a deep baritone, and Brody and Bruce roll their eyes at his ridiculousness.
“The hell I won’t. I’ll be strutting out there in heels, owning that catwalk.” I do my best impression, making Sophie snort while Bobby just looks horrified at the idea. “For real, though, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Bobby, because I know you forget sometimes.” I lean in close, stage whispering, “I’m a woman, girly parts and all, and I like doing girly shit sometimes, just for the hell of it.”
“Ahh,” he hollers. “Don’t say shit like that, Shayanne. Next, you’re gonna say the V-word.”
I laugh, pushing my luck and his boundaries. Batting my eyes as innocently as I can, I say, “What? You mean, vagina? Should I say pussy instead? Or cunt?”
Brody stops me, his voice pretty hard for him. “Goddamn it, Shayanne. Have some fucking manners in front of a guest.”
He looks to Sophie, shaking his head like he’s the long-suffering one who has to put up with all our antics. Truth be told, we learned half our craziness from him.
“Sorry,” I tell him, obviously not sorry in the least. “Guess I’d better go before my mouth gets me in any more trouble.”
I grab my bag, blowing air kisses their way. “Bye, guys. For real, don’t call me unless something’s on fire.”
Outside, we hop in Sophie’s truck and she heads down the driveway. The gate closes behind us as we hit the asphalt, and my breath escapes with a huge smile. “Freeeedom!” I yell out the open window.
Sophie’s laugh is big and boisterous, and I feel like we’re Thelma and Louise on the cusp of a great adventure.
* * *
The bags of clothes Sophie talked me into are stored by the customer service-conscious receptionist at the spa while inside, I’m wearing nothing but a fluffy cotton robe and a big ol’ smile. I definitely went overboard, but it’d been hard not to when Sophie was oohing and ahhing over every stitch and begging me to let her live vicariously through me since she’s stuck in maternity stretchy crap for a few more months.
Now, we’ve been rubbed, scrubbed, and pampered beyond measure. The only thing left is the mani-pedi, which is why we’re sitting with our feet soaking and hands being worked over while my hair’s wrapped in another huge cotton towel, my skin feeling flushed and soft.
For two women who work hard with our hands, this might be more necessity than treat, but I still picked a pretty bright pink color. It’ll chip in days, but for the moment, I’m ignoring that fact.
“Which dress are you going to wear tonight?” Sophie asks me, though her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back on the pillow-cushioned chair.
“I think the green one,” I reply, remembering the way I’d felt curvy and feminine in it, two things I rarely feel. “Where are we going to dinner again?”
Sophie’s eyes crack open and sly smirk steals across her face. “I didn’t say. It’s a surprise.”
I can’t move my right hand because the lady is filing my nails, but I shove at her with my left, trying not to move. “Surprise? You didn’t tell me you were hiding things from me. So no sausage pizza?”
“Pshaw, sausage pizza? Honey, tonight’s about anything but sausage . . . pizza. And I’m not the one hiding things. Such as, Shayanne Tannen, I saw you and Luke making all kinds of eyes at each other at the clinic. What’s up with that?”
Luke said Sophie threw him under the bus about that little non-incident, but I wasn’t prepared for her to hit me up on it too. Thinking fast on my feet, even though they’re currently soaking in mango-scented bubbly water, I grin innocently, shrugging.
“What? That was weeks ago. No big deal at all.” That sounded normal, I think, though my voice might be a smidgen tight.
“And he’s virtually running away from the family dinner table at night,” Sophie continues. “I mean, he’s a bit of a loner sometimes, but it’s not like we’ve suddenly started smelling bad and he needs the fresh air.” She drops her chin, looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Though I do smell some manure. Of the . . . bullish variety.”
Damn, I forgot about Sophie going out there for family dinners so frequently. I’m so busted.
It’s been hard keeping this from her, anyway. She’s my best friend, and I know she’ll be happy for me. Just as importantly, she can keep her mouth shut so that my dad and brothers, save Bruce, don’t find out.
I make the decision to spill my guts, partially because I need to celebrate this momentous thing with someone and partly because I really do value her input. She’s a smart cookie and way more experienced with guys than I am, though that’s not a hard barometer to pass.
“Soph, you have to promise me . . . not a single word to anyone,” I whisper, serious as can be, and she crosses her heart with a maroon-tipped finger, much to the not-delight of the manicurist.
“Okay, so we danced, and we might’ve run into each other a few times since then and hung out.” Even though the words seem casual, my tone tells an entirely different story and she raises a skeptical brow.
“Hung out?”
“Or more than hung out. We’re . . . dating, I guess? Though we don’t really go out, just to the tree, or the barn, or on walks or rides. But that’s dating, right?” My tongue is running away like a leaky faucet, spilling all the dirt in one big gush that I’m powerless to stop.
Sophie’s grin is one of smug satisfaction. “I knew it. You little minx, sneaking all around, getting your freak on with my damn brother-in-law. I should be mad,” she says, giving me a long, pregnant pause before chuckling, “but I’m too happy for you both to work up much of a fuss.” She looks to the manicurist again, a brow raised in defeat as she sits still. “Honestly, though, if I could give you a high-five and a smack upside the head, I so would.”
The manicurist, probably just being careful, grips Sophie’s fingers tightly, not letting her move, and Sophie rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
Sophie sits up straight, all prim and proper. “Okay, hit me with it. I want the full story, every dirty detail. And don’t leave a single thing out. You owe me that, at least.”
My smile feels giddy, like there are bubbles shooting through my body and fireworks sparkling on my skin. I’m not sure where to start, but somehow, I find the brain power to tell her everything. It’s a gigantic jumbled mess, starting with the chemistry we both felt at Hank’s and ending somewhere around our dinner date at the tree.
I still try to be careful, though, because while I’m spilling my guts to Sophie, I don’t want every damn person in the salon to hear what Luke and I get up to. So in a voice so low I can barely hear it myself, I even tell her about my first trip to the barn and how sweet and slow Luke’s been taking it with me.
“Is that what you want? Slow and sweet? Not that there’s anything wrong with waiting, but are you a ring-first sort?” Sophie asks. We’ve talked about my virgin status, but not at length. It’s just not the kind of thing I go around announcing.
“Fuck, no. Have you seen Luke?” I ask incredulously, and Sophie shakes her head as she laughs. “I’ve been so close to jumping his bones and riding him like a damn pony that I can barely stand it.” Oops, that was kinda loud, judging by the laughter the two nail ladies are fighting. Shit . . . and the ladies in the chairs across the way. I’d assumed they were watching the television over our heads, but it seems their eyes are drifting down to Sophie and me, and they’re probably eavesdropping more than watching the latest Fixer Upper episode.
Lowering my voice, I try again. “I just never met anyone, had time to care about someone until now. My brothers were this huge threat when I was in school, and even after that, I think they scared off any guy who even considered approaching me.”
“But not Luke,” Sophie reminds me in sing-song tones. “He’s not scared of anything, I don’t think. Even though your brothers would probably slice and dice him if they caught him near you. Luke’s brave, though, traipsing all over the continental US, doing his thing with zero fucks given to the old-b
oys school that says a young guy like him doesn’t have a place in a world of big-money horses, but he’s been making winners and money left and right. And now, stealing away the heart of my best friend in the whole world right under the nose of her big, mean brothers.”
Her insult’s said in a playful tone, so I don’t feel the need to defend the family name with Sophie. At least not this time, because she’s right. My brothers have been known to be big and mean. They’re doing better, growing up and maturing, but reputations are hard to change, especially when folks’ minds can be more stagnant than they should be.
Also, I suspect that Sophie actually likes my brothers a little. She’s worked out at our farm, and she knows them well enough to see underneath their rough exteriors. And Sophie just likes most people, in general.
Especially her new in-laws. “Luke’s just a quiet sort of courageous, dependable and steady and solid like an oak tree.”
I never really thought about Luke that way. To me, he feels adventurous, and that’s not just because he’s some dirty little secret or there’s a taboo ‘don’t get caught’ risk. It’s because he makes my heart race, my body heat, and my brain short-circuit.
But I can see Sophie’s point. Even when Luke’s driving me wild or getting me to do things I’d never even considered, like rubbing one off in front of him, he does it with surety and confidence, a swagger that says he knows what he’s doing. I’m always comfortable with him, feeling like nothing could ever go wrong when I’m safe in his arms.
My face must show some firestorm of emotions because Sophie is looking at me carefully. “Shayanne?”
I meet her eyes, my wide hazel ones to her blue. “Shit, Soph. I’ve really fallen for him.”
Instead of being worried, Sophie’s face breaks out into a huge, delighted grin. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations. It’s about damn time.”
I laugh and think she might be right. It’s definitely time.
* * *
I come out of the hotel room bathroom to catcalls and whistles. “Whoo, Shayanne! You look hotter than a jalapeño fart!”
I do a solid 360 twirl, capping it off with a curtsy. Though I’ve never been a ballerina, I think it’s passably graceful. If not, it’s as graceful as I get, so it’ll have to do. “You think? This okay for dinner?”
Sophie hums approval, but she’s looking at her phone. “You said you had the all-clear for the weekend, right? Nobody expecting you home until late Sunday night?”
“Yeah, why? Everything okay?” I ask, worried that James is texting her or she’s not feeling well. I know pregnancy can be a roller coaster, feeling fine one second and wanting to crash onto the nearest couch the next. It wouldn’t be the first time Sophie-the-Go-Getter has overdone it, and we did have a busy day. “We can do room service if you’d rather?”
Before she answers, there’s a knock at the door and Sophie looks up. Her bottom lip is behind her teeth and she looks as guilty as sin.
“Could you get that?” she blurts out.
I give her a weird look but move toward the door.
“Hey, if it’s room—” I start before my voice dies in my throat.
Luke. He’s dressed up in a pressed white dress shirt and black jeans that are darker than velvet, and overall, he just looks . . .
My heart jumps into overdrive.
His face switches from nerves to a blossoming smile as he sees my eyes widen in recognition and then happiness. I watch the way it spreads across his face, the flash of white teeth only brightened by the spark in his eyes as he sees me in all my fancy-schmancy glory. The heat burning in him calls to the butterflies in my belly, like polar magnets pulling together.
“Hey, honey,” he drawls out, casual as can be.
No fair. He’s using that voice, the gravelly baritone that tells me to ‘fucking come on me, woman’ when he’s fingers deep inside me and about to lose control. Like Pavlov’s dogs, I’m trained, and I’m instantly wet.
“Luke.” I’m breathless with surprise. With happiness. With need.
At that moment, Sophie scoots between us, her weekender bag already tossed on her shoulder. “Be good, kids.” She points at Luke, her voice still light. “You owe me big time, buster. Drop her off on Sunday and I’ll take her home.”
She winks at me and then she’s gone.
I’m alone with Luke Bennett, apparently for the weekend, at a hotel with a bed . . . right . . . here.
Hell fucking yeah!
Chapter 15
Luke
To say that Shayanne looks stunning is an understatement. I’m just not poetic enough to properly describe her. She’s wearing a green lacy thing that’s riding her curves almost as tightly as I want to, and her hair is styled and curled, sculpted in a way that makes the ends caress her breasts, and her eyes are almost as wide as the O of her surprised mouth.
When she says my name in that panting husky way, quiet enough that only I can hear her, every bit of blood in my body rushes south and my best jeans are suddenly way the fuck too tight.
Thankfully, Sophie interrupts the eye fuck with her blasé attitude as she scoots between us. I don’t hear a word she says. My attention’s too locked on Shay to pay Sophie any mind, but I get that she’s pointing at me and issuing some directive. Whatever. I’ll deal with her later. Much later.
After I get to spend the whole damn weekend with my woman. Just me and Shay.
“What did you do?” Shayanne asks, but the shock is starting to give way as the situation dawns on her.
I push in closer, pinning her up against the door frame as I loom over her. I feel like I could engulf her, consume her, devour her and that she’d be right on board with that too. But that’s not the plan, and I’m sticking to the plan. She deserves it. She deserves everything and more.
“I might’ve enlisted a little help in the form of a city girl turned vet and conspired to steal you away for the weekend,” I tell her, letting the cocky arrogance that I pulled one over on her, her dad, and her brothers sink in.
Her eyes spark with merry devilment. “Why, Luke Bennett, are you saying I’m stuck with you for the next thirty-six hours, give or take? Whatever will you do with me?” Honey coats her tongue as she coyly flirts, knowing damn well what I’m going to do with her.
I know exactly what she wants. The same thing I want.
But it’s going to have to wait because though I’m desperate for her, I’m not an asshole. Going out in public with her, to dinner and dancing, feels just as important as what we’re going to do in this hotel. It’s the point of this plan, to show her off, to stand by her side and declare to everyone we can that she’s mine and I’m hers.
We need this, maybe as much as we need to push back inside this hotel room and not come up for oxygen until Sunday night. I could survive just breathing her in, I’m sure of it.
“Anything we damn well please, honey. Now grab your shoes while I wait right here.”
Her bare toe, in a pretty shade of pink I’ve never seen on her before, digs into the carpet. “You don’t want to come in?” she asks, a sexy siren leading me to the rocky shores of her body. Her lips pout, making me want to kiss them into a smile.
So I do.
I lay a rough hand on her waist, squeezing the swerve where her hip dips in as I pull her tighter, pressing her body against me. Lowering my lips to her, I catch the slightest whisper of candy. It must be her lip gloss, or maybe it’s just her addictive sweetness. I savor it, slow and easy, as I drive us both to the edge. The thrill that we’re right here in a hotel hallway, barely contained in the doorway, just adds to the feeling.
Against her lips, I murmur darkly, “If I come in there, honey, you know as well as I do that we’re not coming out until we have to. I aim to take you out on a proper date, dinner and dancing. You deserve at least a little bit of courting, Shayanne.”
The intensity of my tone sends a ripple through her, and her breath hitches sexily. I want to chase that sound down her throat, press my lips there
and feel the vibration as she does it again and again.
But I stay strong. One step at a time.
“Now, Shay. Git!” I order, popping her ass sharply with a smirk.
She jumps and laughs, swatting at my chest. “Just you wait, Luke. You’d better eat well tonight because when we get back here, I’m going to make you pay for your conspiring and sneaking around.”
I’ll gladly take any punishment she wants to dole out. “Promise?” I tease, hitching my thumbs in my belt loops. “I hate having debts.”
She huffs like she’s accepting that challenge, and I know I’m in for quite the night with this firecracker.
Two minutes later, I realize just how woefully unprepared I am.
Shay doesn’t walk back out so much as she struts out in heels I’ve only heard called ‘fuck me pumps’, and damned if that’s not exactly what I want to do to her. They lift her already delectable ass, and as she walks, my mind floods with images.
I want to push her legs up high over my shoulders as I pound into her. I want to wrap her legs around my waist and let those spikes dig into my ass as she prods me on. I want to turn her over and ride those upturned globes as I pull her hair, making her mine forever.
I am so fucked, and we haven’t even left for dinner yet.
* * *
This is the fanciest place I’ve ever eaten. By far, by like nine levels of white tablecloths, French accents that might actually be real, and more forks than any man needs to eat a single meal.
Shayanne looks like a kid in a candy store, or maybe a peasant invited to dinner at Buckingham Palace.
That’s basically how I feel too.
We’re dressed for this, her in that sexy as hell green dress that makes her eyes seem more mossy and deeper than usual, and me in a black suit coat I’ve only worn a few times before. I was just glad to have a reason to wear it besides to discuss money or for a funeral.
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 16
