CHAPTER TWO
MY, OH, MY. Hope hadn’t seen the kiss coming, but it turned out that seeing it wasn’t really necessary anyway. She felt it—mercy, did she—and that was much, much better than getting any advance warning that Josh was going to do it.
Actually, she figured he hadn’t known he was going to do it, either. This was no doubt a knee-jerk reaction to his parents’ jerk remarks. But Hope would take it, and for these few scalding moments, she would pretend that it was the real deal.
Finally!
She’d wanted this to happen for so long that it certainly felt real. Deep-immersion fantasizing could do that, and she’d been fantasizing about Josh since he’d first walked into her office three years ago and applied for a job. Like now, he’d been wearing those Wranglers that were snug and worn in all the right places. With his rumpled black hair, and chiseled body, he’d looked ready for a photo shoot for one of those magazines that put tough cowboys on the covers.
He’d looked ready for her to take him to bed, too.
She hadn’t, but Hope had thought a lot about it. Because of his experience training horses and references, she’d hired him on the spot and had put him in charge of the other hands, but she’d done that knowing that the notion of kissing him and having sex with him was always simmering just beneath the surface. Right now, the simmer was a full boil, and there was nothing beneath about it.
It was a nice touch that he’d made the kiss French. And that he’d smashed her against him. A good kind of smashing where all their parts lined up just right to make her remember that she wasn’t wearing panties.
And that his parents were right there watching them.
Josh must have remembered that, too, or maybe like her he was just in critical need of oxygen because he finally broke the kiss.
He pulled back, their eyes meeting, and a single word left his mouth. “Shit.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly what a woman wanted to hear after getting the kiss of her dreams, but if he was feeling all the things she was feeling, then every part of his body was tingling and reacting. Again, not necessarily a good thing to happen in front of parents.
“So, it’s settled, then,” Hope said just to fill the awkward silence. She didn’t even aim the comment at anyone in particular.
Josh’s mother huffed and lifted her nose in the air as if she’d gotten a whiff of the crap on Hope’s boots.
“Think long and hard about this,” his father warned him. “This could be the biggest mistake of your life.” He huffed, too, took his wife by the arm and marched her out of there.
Whoa, that was pretty deep gloom and doom for just a kiss. And it told Hope loads as to how they felt about her. In their way of thinking, she was the wrong woman for their son. They probably thought she was a pampered rich girl who only wore the stinky cowboy boots to try to fit into this ranch world. They didn’t know that this place owned every bit of her heart and that she’d spent nearly every penny of her trust fund to buy it when her parents had sold it.
Hope had wanted the place to be hers, and it had cost her plenty, including some of her parents’ ire—they had outright refused to sell it to her because they wanted bigger things for her. The ranch was as bigger of a thing as she’d ever wanted, so she’d made the man they’d sold the place to an offer he couldn’t refuse. Basically, Hope had paid nearly double what the ranch was worth on paper, and all these years later, she knew it was the best investment she’d ever made.
Josh stood there a moment, staring at the empty doorway and repeating that one word of profanity again. “I guess I need to change for the party,” he finally grumbled, and he headed out the back of the barn and in the direction of his log cabin.
The cabin had once been a guesthouse, but he’d moved there when they’d expanded the ranch a year ago and brought in the palominos. Good thing, too, since he worked as many hours as she did and never took a day off.
“Everything okay?” Termite called out to them.
“Fine,” Josh snapped. “Just take care of the gelding and do the other chores I told you about before you quit for the day.”
“Will do. Have fun at that party.”
There was zero chance of that, and Hope suddenly felt guilty that she’d roped him into doing this. Of course, if she hadn’t, she might not have gotten that kiss.
“I’ve had some experience with parents’ disapproval,” Hope said, catching up with him. “My folks had rather me be at their corporate office in Austin so they can groom me to take over the world.”
He glanced back at her as if to see if that was an exaggeration. It was only a slight one, but then, he’d almost certainly heard about her parents’ quest to gobble up as much money and stuff as they could—only to get bored with the stuff they’d gobbled and go after something else to conquer. Their latest venture was the buyout of a cookie company, and they were on the track to world domination of snickerdoodles, her father’s favorite sweet treat.
Once, the ranch had been their quest, one they’d bought her senior year of high school. Once they’d grown tired of it, they’d moved on. They’d probably thought she would have the same mind-set as them and move on, too, but it’d been ten years now, and Hope had never felt more grounded. That was saying something since Josh’s kiss had practically lifted her feet off the ground.
Josh threw open the front door of the cabin as if it’d been the object that had riled him, and he went straight into the bedroom. Hope stayed put in the living room, figuring the time had come to go ahead and offer him an out.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
No answer, and a split second later she heard him turn on the shower. She went closer, peering into the bedroom, and saw the trail of clothes he’d dropped along the way to the adjoining bathroom.
She didn’t mean to snoop, but it was hard to miss the homey way he’d decorated the room. The deep blue Lone Star quilt on the bed and framed photos of the back pasture that rimmed the creek. She knew the spot, also knew it was one of his favorite places to ride. Apparently, he had a knack for photography.
And reading.
There was a foot-high stack of books on the nightstand. Books about horse management and pedigree studies mixed in with horror paperbacks and one simply titled Sex.
Hope found herself moving toward it. A moth-to-a-flame kind of reaction. All she wanted was a peek, and she blamed it on the kiss. She suddenly had sex on the mind—and in her hands. She plucked the book from the stack and got an eyeful on the very first page. A couple engaged in...something. She turned the book to get a different angle of the page, to see if she could make sense of it, but then she got another eyeful.
Of Josh.
He came out of the shower, his back to her, while he dried off with a towel. His body was about the only thing getting dry right now because Hope responded. To his naked butt. To all those muscles pulling and tightening as he moved. And speaking of moving, he did. He looked over his shoulder at her and then said something very confusing.
“You found my trap.” Then he tipped his head to the book she was holding.
Hope slapped it shut and put it back on the nightstand. “Trap?”
He nodded, and with the towel covering the most interesting parts of him, Josh walked out of her line of sight and into the closet on the other side of the bathroom. “Yeah, a couple of the books are actually props with hollowed-out centers where I keep spare cash. I never lock my doors, so I figure if someone with sticky fingers comes up looking for something to steal, then Sex will distract them.”
Well, it had certainly distracted her, but it was nothing like the distraction that happened when Josh came back into the room. No more towel. He was dressed, for the most part, and was tucking in a crisp white shirt.
God, had his jeans always fit like that, framing his...? Great balls of fi
re, she was looking at his crotch! And Josh was looking at her looking at his crotch.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I think we just opened Pandora’s box,” he drawled.
* * *
JOSH PAUSED. THEN he cursed. There were a lot of smart things he could have said to Hope, but that Pandora’s-box comment sure wasn’t one of them.
“We should probably close that box, though,” he quickly amended. “Especially after that kiss. Sorry about that, by the way. I was trying to make a point to my folks.”
Exactly what point, he wasn’t sure. Again, not a smart thing.
“I’m not sorry it happened,” Hope blurted out.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one putting his foot in his mouth tonight. Of course, a foot was better than her tongue, something that’d happened during the kiss that a) he had already decided was a mistake and b) every blasted inch of his body would remember for the rest of his life.
Josh just stared at her, his right eyebrow sliding up. He was reminding her that employee-employer sex complicated the devil out of things. Especially things framed in his jeans that she’d been staring at.
She nodded, mumbled something he didn’t catch and nodded again. “So, we’ll put in an appearance at the party, silence our parents, and tomorrow we’ll pretend that I never saw you naked.”
“Ditto,” he agreed.
Of course, they were lying to each other. Like the kiss in the barn, there was no chance of them forgetting something like nakedness when the air was suddenly scalding hot between them. Scalding hot and next to a bed and a book filled with X-rated sex poses. If she looked at page sixteen, then the “ditto” facade would evaporate as fast as the wrapper on the condom he carried in his wallet. That “threat” was definitely his cue to get them moving.
“And no more kissing,” she added as they left the cabin. It sounded like a question, but Josh decided it was best if he treated it like an iron-clad contract that they’d both signed in blood.
Hope made a stop by her house to change into the sparkly sandals, but thankfully she hurried—saying something about the sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave. Josh agreed. As it was, the party was going to be packed enough, and that would mean having to gab with more people as they trickled in. He wasn’t antisocial—by his own standards, anyway—but he preferred being at the ranch...and avoiding their parents. He wouldn’t be able to do either tonight, but at least he could try to minimize their interactions if they made a quick exit.
They used Josh’s truck to drive to the Granger Ranch. It wasn’t far, less than five miles, but then, it didn’t take long to get anywhere in Wrangler’s Creek. The town itself was primarily a Main Street dotted with mom-and-pop businesses, and it had ranches surrounding it on all sides. The Granger Ranch and the one owned by their cousins—yet more Grangers—claimed a good chunk of the acreage. Considering their ancestors had founded the town, that only seemed right.
“I need to talk to Karlee,” Hope complained as Josh drove. “To chew her butt out for throwing away my pants. And then once we find Roger Hawley and put in some face time with him, we should be able to leave. We haven’t shaken hands on the deal with Roger, and I won’t breathe easier until we do.”
Josh nodded, not to the chewing-out-Karlee part but to the other. He’d yet to meet Roger Hawley, but Josh certainly knew who the man was. He was one of the largest horse brokers in the state and was critical to Hope’s plans to bring in a new champion line of palominos.
Actually, it was Josh’s plan, too.
It would improve the stock and give the Applewood Ranch even more respect than it already had. More important, it would help Hope fulfill that dream she’d always had for the ranch to be the place where everyone went when they were looking for quality, well-trained horses. Her parents might even be impressed by that and get off her back.
Might.
Josh would definitely be impressed, and he was glad to be part of it. Because the ranch felt like it was his, too.
He’d been right about the party being packed, but the Grangers had taken down one of the fences to turn a pasture into a huge makeshift parking lot. There was a sea of trucks and Cadillacs with longhorns on the grilles. The sea continued inside with dozens of people threading in and out of the multiple rooms that fed off the giant foyer.
The word giant applied to the rest of the house, too. Once Josh had asked one of the owners, Dylan Granger, how many rooms were in the place, and Dylan had said they’d narrowed it down to somewhere between thirty and thirty-three. Josh didn’t think that was a joke. The place was so big that it would have been easy to lose count.
With all those people, there should have been plenty of food, beer and conversation to keep everyone occupied, but when Hope and he walked in, the immediate areas went silent. All eyes landed on them. Not smiling, approving eyes, either.
Gossip eyes.
It wouldn’t be long before the rumor mill embellished their arrival together as a full-fledged affair, complete with reenactments from page sixteen of the sex book. From there, it would morph into talk that Josh was a man-whore/gold digger and Hope an airhead for falling in bed with the hired help.
“I told you people would notice my flaky toenail polish,” Hope mumbled.
Josh laughed before he could rein it in. God, it was hard not to like her. Even harder not to lust after her, but he reined that in, too, and forced himself to walk into the crowd. He wasn’t going toward anyone per se, but he did see a gleaming silver tray of longneck beers on the back side of the foyer. He snagged one for himself and a glass of wine for Hope, but when he turned around to hand it to her, she was bringing him something.
Or rather someone.
“This is Roger Hawley,” Hope said. She bit her bottom lip, her nerves showing, a reminder of just how important this meeting was.
“I’m Josh Whitlock.” Josh gave Hope the wine so he could shake the man’s hand. First impression wasn’t good. The guy had a wimpy grip, and he didn’t make eye contact. That was because Roger was looking down the front of Hope’s dress.
Since it was best not to punch the very man who was critical to the ranch’s future, Josh slid his arm around Hope’s waist and eased her next to him to rob Roger of his peep-show angle. Roger noticed the maneuver, too. And frowned. Maybe because he was no longer able to see Hope’s boobs or it could be that Roger was filling in the blanks along with the rest of the gossips. In this case, the filling in might lead Roger to believe that Hope and he were lovers.
“I promise I won’t stay up too late tonight,” Hope told Roger. “I’ll get plenty of sleep before our meeting tomorrow.”
Roger slid glances at both of them. “You’ll be there at the meeting, of course.” His glance settled on Josh for that.
Josh nodded. “We’ve worked up some breeding charts so that Hope and I can show you what she’d like for you to supply the ranch.”
“What she’d like,” Roger repeated. He did more of those glances, even one aimed at Hope’s breasts.
Crap. The guy was one of those assholes who didn’t respect women. Josh had run into them from time to time. It could happen in a business like theirs, but it riled him to the core that this turd had dismissed Hope because she had breasts.
Maybe Roger saw the bad fire in Josh’s eyes or perhaps he picked up on the fact that Josh was about to shatter his beer bottle with his grip. Either way, Roger mumbled something about seeing them tomorrow, and he wandered off. However, before Josh could get Hope’s take on what had just happened, or vent about it, he spotted someone else who wasn’t going to loosen his grip on the beer.
Alister and Beverly Applewood. Hope’s parents.
Her father went straight to Hope, pulling her into a hug before he shook Josh’s hand. Definitely not wimpy, nor had it been the one other time Josh had met him. And Alister made
good eye contact. Not Beverly, though. Her attention went straight to Hope’s feet.
“My God, don’t they have a nail salon in Wrangler’s Creek?” Beverly asked her daughter.
“They do, but I’ve been too busy running the ranch and opening Pandora’s box,” Hope grumbled, causing her mom to frown even though there was probably little chance that Beverly got the reference. Josh hoped the woman hadn’t, anyway. “How’s the cookie business these days?”
“We’re baking along,” her dad answered, causing Hope to smile over the groan-worthy joke.
No smile from Hope’s mom. Beverly turned her frosty, toenail-disapproving gaze on Josh. “I suppose you’re here because of business obligations.” She didn’t give Josh even a second to respond to that. “It’s the same for us. We just sealed the deal to supply Oscar Pendleton baked goods for all six of his dude ranches. Applewood snickerdoodles will be in every one of his guesthouses and restaurants.”
It was hard to keep a serious face when discussing cookies, especially those with a funny name, but somehow Josh managed it.
“But we’re mixing some pleasure with it, too,” Beverly continued a moment later, “and we were hoping our daughter would do the same.”
Well, the earlier kiss had been plenty pleasurable, but it was best for Josh not to mention that.
“Mark came with us,” Beverly went on. “Mark Wainwright,” she added to Josh. “He’s a real-estate mogul in Austin. Hope, you should spend some time tonight getting to know Mark.” She turned toward her daughter. “And maybe he won’t look at your feet.”
Or her breasts. But that particular wish from Josh might have been motivated by a tad of jealousy. Roger was just a horn-ball ogler, but this Mark was obviously meant to be Beverly’s version of Mr. Right Son-in-Law.
“Actually, I don’t plan to spend time with Mark,” Hope said, “because I’m here with Josh.”
Josh had been on the receiving end of plenty of stink eye, but the one Beverly gave him qualified for the Stink Eye of the Century award. She did a quick follow-up with a huff.
Cowboy Dreaming Page 2
