by Jami Alden
Since when did he use recipes? Every time she went into the kitchen he appeared to be throwing ingredients together willy nilly, somehow producing a culinary masterpiece at the end. She gave herself a mental shake. She was getting sidetracked.
"And Damon is on board with this plan?"
He shrugged. "He's not happy about it, but he knows I wouldn't leave you all in a lurch if it wasn't important."
"Really, so what's so important?"
"Family emergency," he said curtly.
"You have a family?" she said, feeling stupid the second the words left her mouth.
He let out a rough laugh. "Doesn't everybody?"
"You never talk about them."
"You never ask about them," he said, his light eyes gleaming with a look she couldn't quite read.
She felt a pang of guilt and wondered why. She could barely tolerate Brady, with his surly moods and inappropriate comments. She certainly never aspired to be his friend. While she would sorely miss his cooking and its benefit to the business, personally she should be relieved not to have to deal with him on a near daily basis.
And yet, the way he was looking at her right now, there was nothing snide in his look, no indication that he was trying to goad a reaction from her. He almost looked... wistful.
Suddenly she was feeling a little wistful too, her heart inexplicably aching a little bit at the prospect of not watching him bang his pots and pans around, then carefully assemble his plates with the precision of an artist.
"I'm a horrible cook," she blurted out. "You said so yourself, my omelet was like eating a plate of raw peppers and snot."
"Did I say that?" he said, but a rare smile stretched across his face. "I might have been exaggerating for affect. Trust me, after a few days of my kitchen boot camp, no one will be able to tell the difference between your food and mine."
"No." She shook her head. "I'm hopeless at anything but slinging drinks. With me in the kitchen, even part of the time, this place is bound to fail—"
"Shut up," he snapped, cutting her off. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "Sorry. That was rude."
Her head jerked in surprise. Brady, apologizing for rudeness? Did a Porky Pig just soar overhead?
"Listen, you're capable of so much more than you think. You have to stop underestimating yourself."
Molly got a weird, swoony feeling that he wasn't just talking about her cooking. "I—I don't know. Maybe we can hire someone else. I have so much going on—"
"I know, you have a wedding to plan. Except it's hard to use it as an excuse when it's not even on the calendar." For the first time in memory, when Brady mentioned the wedding, his voice wasn't dripping with exasperated contempt.
No, this time what she heard in his voice was even worse.
Pity.
She set her jaw and straightened her shoulders, refusing to let him see how that, more than any of his snide remarks, his digs at Josh tapped into her fears and sent them roiling to the surface. That Josh would never marry her. That the only reason he was still in her life was because she'd dug her claws in and refused to let go, refused to see any possible future that didn't include him.
"Fine. We can start tomorrow."
###
As much as Sadie tried to keep a certain distance—emotionally anyway—over the next few days she found it nearly impossible not to fall more completely in love with Dylan.
How could she not? During the days, he was her rock, busting his ass in the field, greeting her at the end of his day with a stolen kiss as he smoothed the lines between her eyebrows with his callused thumb.
And the nights...
Though she knew she was only digging a deeper hole for herself, she was unable to make herself stay away after that one night. Even then, she had lain awake, restless, twitchy, like a junkie craving a fix.
Enjoy what's happening now. Don't worry about what happens next. God knows right now being with Dylan is one of the few high points of your days.
Although she knew her secret desire for some thing more serious was one sided, it didn't mean Dylan was completely casual about everything.
As proven by the way he bristled when she told him Tucker Madsen was coming out the following afternoon to pick up the horse her father had finally deigned to sell him.
And the way he so coincidentally showed up back at the barn mere minutes after Tucker arrived.
Almost as though he'd been watching the road from the hay meadow, waiting for the sight of Tucker's shiny new Ford pulling a trailer turning into the drive.
Sadie walked over to the truck as Tucker got out of the driver's seat followed by one of the hands from his ranch.
Tucker flashed her a wide grin. "Sadie, it's great to see you again," he said. As he pulled her into his arms to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, she could feel Dylan's stare burning a hole in her back.
"Great to see you too," she said, pulling away as unobtrusively as possible.
"This is Rob," Tucker said, indicating the lanky cowboy to his left. "He's here to help me make sure Thunder gets to our place in one piece, since my trailer hauling skills are still developing."
"Ma'am," Rob said, giving her a quick tip of his straw hat in a typical cowboy greeting.
"You remember Dylan," Sadie said, wincing when Dylan offered no more than a grunt as he shook Tucker's hand.
She motioned for Tucker to follow her as she went to the barn to retrieve a halter.
"I've been looking forward to seeing you," Tucker said as he fell in step next to her. "I'm going to be in town for at least a month—maybe we can grab dinner again."
"Maybe," she replied, unable to keep her gaze from flicking over to Dylan, and what she saw wasn't good. Jaw clenched, every muscle radiating tension, he looked like a bull about to charge. "Dylan," she said as she pulled a halter off a hook on the wall, "do you mind taking Rob to Thunder while Tucker and I take care of the paper work?"
He held her stare for several long seconds, his eyes narrowed, before he finally gave a curt nod and motioned for Rob to follow him.
"So you and Dylan..." Tucker said as she retrieved the papers for him to sign.
Sadie sighed and gave a reluctant nod. "It's not serious."
"I don't think he knows that."
Her lips pulled in a reluctant half smile and she gave him a quick overview of Dylan's situation. "So really, there's not much long term potential."
"Maybe I can try again once he's out of the picture," Tucker said with a chuckle as he took the paperwork from Sadie and signed where necessary. "And this is for you," he said and handed her a check for the agreed upon sale price.
"Then I guess we're all set," she said and started outside, where she could hear the metallic clang of the tailgate being lowered to load Thunder.
"There is something else I wanted to talk to you," he said, staying her with a hand to her elbow. "I've recently invested in a company in the Bay Area—a former colleague of mine is starting a company that offers online personal stylist services, and they're looking for someone to run their mobile division. I think you'd be a great fit."
"Wow," Sadie replied. "That sounds like an amazing opportunity, and I'm really flattered. But right now everything is still in flux, and I don't know that I can plan to move back any time soon."
Tucker shrugged. "Ideally you'd work on site, but they're willing to be flexible if you're really interested in the role. You could start out remotely, until things here settle down to the point where you can leave. Just think about it."
"I will," Sadie said sincerely. How could she not? From the little Tucker said, it sounded like her dream job. And once her father was healthy and able to take over again full time, it wasn't like there would be much keeping her in Big Timber.
Admit it. Your father could pass his physical tomorrow, but if Dylan weren't leaving and you thought there was even a hair of a chance for the two of you, you wouldn't even think about moving to California. She shoved the thought out of her head. No u
se wasting her time wallowing in what ifs.
"Good." He grinned. "I'll send you some information and tell the founder to give you a call."
A few minutes later, Thunder was safely loaded in the trailer and Rob was turning the truck down the drive, and Sadie went back to the barn to retrieve the paperwork she'd left inside.
Dylan followed so closely she could feel the heat emanating off of his big body. "So, you two plan another hot date?"
"Nope."
"Why not? He seems like the perfect guy—someone you could get serious with."
She wondered if he even heard the jealousy seething in his voice.
"I think we've established I'm not looking for anything serious right now." Not with Tucker, anyway. She wandered over to one of the stalls where a little bay mare stood with her head over the door, ears pricked forward as though she was absorbing every word of their conversation. "Who said I wanted anything more than a little fun?"
"Anyway, Tucker is a nice guy, smart, attractive, and I'm sure he'd be fun to date," Sadie said. She held her hand for the mare to nuzzle her palm. "But it all comes down to the fact that I don't want to fuck him."
She dared a look over her shoulder, hiding a smile when she saw her words had the desired affect. Dylan swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing as a grin teased his own lips.
He stalked toward her in that long-legged, hip-rolling gait that never failed to get her pulse pounding. "Is that so?" He stopped behind her, settled his hands on her hips, and pulled her back against him. "And who is it you do want to fuck?"
Just the sound of his voice was enough to send a rush of wetness between her legs, make her sex swell against the seam of her jeans. "I think we both know the answer to that."
"I want to hear you say it," he murmured as he sucked her earlobe between his lips and gave it a little nip.
"You," she sighed, the feel of his lips on her neck enough to make her nipples harden against the thin fabric of her t-shirt. "You're the only one I want to fuck."
"Good," he murmured. His hands slid up to cover her breasts and he ground himself against the curve of her ass.
Then he was tugging her shirt from her waistband, sliding it up so his hands could get at her bare skin. She had the vague thought that at any point someone could walk in the barn and see them.
He must have had it too because he turned her in his arms and started moving her away from the stall. But instead of heading for the door and making a break for his cabin, he pulled her into the tack room, closed the door, and pressed her up against it.
The scent of leather mingled with his own musky, grassy smell as he wrapped his fist around her ponytail and took her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. She groaned and sucked his tongue into her mouth.
###
"Say it again," Dylan murmured as he tugged her shirt up her chest and slid one hand inside the silky cup of her bra. "Tell me I'm the only one you want to fuck, the only one you want touching you like this." He needed to hear the words, needed to hear that he was the only one she wanted like this.
For a guy who claims he doesn't want anything serious, you're acting awfully territorial.
Dylan shoved the thought aside, not wanting to dwell right now—or ever—on why it was so important for him to hear her say the words.
Why it had pissed him off so much when he'd felt her pulling away, when he'd sensed she was trying to keep part of herself from him these last few nights, ever since his blow up with his father.
All of her.
That's what he wanted—no needed. Though he knew he had no goddamn right, he refused to settle for anything less.
He bent his head, tugged a nipple in between his lips and bit down with just enough pressure to get her to make that high pitched sigh he couldn't get enough of.
"You're the only one I want," she said, her voice breaking as he slid a hand between her legs, the heat of her burning his palm through the heavy denim.
And you're the only one I want. The thought flashed in his brain but he didn't dare say it out loud. Afraid that if he did it meant he would have to think about what that might mean, about how he ached when he thought about how little time they had left. His feeling for Sadie grew stronger with every second he spent in her company.
Every time he touched her.
He couldn't think about that right now, not with the silky feel of her skin under his hands, the hard bud of her nipple pressing insistently against his tongue. He couldn't think past the urge to take her, claim her, so that even when she eventually rode off into the sunset with a "nice" guy like Tucker, she'd never forget Dylan.
Never forget that he was the only one who made her feel this way.
He popped the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. His hand slid down, his fingers delving into the waistband of her panties.
Their moans echoed filled the small space as he stroked her slick flesh until they were drenched with the evidence of her need.
He shoved her pants down her hips and legs, swearing when his progress was impeded by the boots she wore. He knelt, grabbed one foot and wrestled a boot off. He tugged her jeans and underwear off one leg and left them dangling from the other.
Within seconds his own jeans were shoved down his hips and she was wrapping those mile long legs around him and—holy Christ—he was sliding inside her wet, tight heat.
Good, so good, he thought as he started to thrust. It always felt amazing, but this time it was, tighter, hotter, every sensation ratcheted up to the next level.
And she was feeling it too, her moans echoing in his ear as his elbows hooked under her knees, holding her impaled on his cock until he was as deep as he could possibly go.
Within minutes she was coming, her slender body shaking in his arms, her fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she clenched and pulsed around him.
That was all it took to send his own release roaring through him. And only as he felt the first pulse and the answering clutch of her body did he realize why this time, in particular, it had felt even more mindblowing than ever.
"Oh my God, we didn't use anything," Sadie said shakily.
"Shit," Dylan muttered as he jerked from her body—for all the good that would do—and gently lowered her feet to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan to..."
"Corner me in the barn and fuck me senseless?" she said with a shaky laugh that tugged at his chest even as a smile tugged his lips. "It's my fault too," she said, quickly tugging her shirt down and her pants up. "I mean, I'm not some irresponsible teenager, getting carried away."
He didn't bother to tell her that even when he had been an irresponsible teenager, he'd never gotten too carried away to have sex without any kind of birth control.
No, it was only Sadie who made him completely lose his head.
"I'm totally, you don't have to worry about," he said clumsily, feeling like his tongue had wrapped around itself.
"Me too," she said a little too brightly. "And as far as..." she broke off. "I'm sure everything will be fine."
Something in her voice told him she wasn't a hundred percent about that. "Sadie, if anything happens—"
"Don't worry," she cut him off. "I would never expect you to... I know what we're doing here isn't—" she snapped her mouth closed with a shake of her head.
"Isn't what?" he couldn't keep himself from asking.
"Isn't anything remotely close to something we should bring a baby into," she said.
Even as he acknowledged the truth of that, his brain flashed on an image of Sadie cradling a grinning baby that had her auburn tinged hair and his blue eyes.
He shook his head, panic rising in his chest. At his last psych eval, they'd told him he had no major psychological issues.
Maybe someone had made a mistake.
"Right," he said. "But you'll let me know?" he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
"Of course," she smiled, but he could see the tinge of anxiety looming in her eyes. "But let's make sure we're care
ful from here on out. Neither of us wants a permanent souvenir once the 'fun' is over."
###
Over the next few days, whatever worries Sadie had about their slip up in the barn took a back seat.
"There's a storm front moving in," Pete said grimly over dinner. "If we don't finish in the next forty eight hours we stand to lose the last twenty acres."
The already dry bite of chicken Sadie was chewing turned to dust in her mouth. "That's over fifteen thousand dollars."
"We'll get it done," Dylan said.
Before she could ask him exactly how—even if he worked from sun up to sundown, there was no way he could bale that much hay in such a short time—Dylan abruptly left the table.
He was back five minutes later. "We're all set. JT is lending us the extra equipment we'll need and Damon will be out tomorrow to help us finish up."
Sadie flashed him a grateful smile as he gave her knee a secret squeeze under the table.
"Thanks, son," Jim said gruffly.
"I'm happy to help out," Dylan replied.
"You've done more than help out," Pete joined in. "You're saving our bacon. We couldn't have done this without you."
"Let's not forget Sadie," Dylan said. "She's been pulling more than her weight, covering the bills out of her own pocket," as he said this, his gaze narrowed first on Pete, then June.
"And they say young people these days don't know how to work hard," June said, her round face creasing in a smile. "You two make a wonderful team."
Stupid, but the words made a lump form in Sadie's throat. June was right, they made an excellent team. But not for much longer
###
The next morning, two hands from the Lazy Creek guest ranch delivered the extra baler as promised, and Damon showed up just after breakfast.
After a quick tutorial on how to operate the baler, Dylan and his brother headed out to the fields. They worked for several hours before breaking for a quick lunch.
