by Sam Crescent
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
Not used to being questioned about her well-being, Sarah stared at him. Why would he ask? Why did he even care?
He stopped working and came over to her, ran his hand through her hair and kissed her on the lips. A quick brush, but it was still a kiss. His closeness thrilled her, and that kiss! The feel of his mouth on hers lingered as though his lips were still there. She dashed out her tongue in an effort to taste him, but he hadn’t left anything behind except the tingle of his touch. Her knees weakened, and his breath, hot on her face, almost had her sinking into a chair.
“Did you sleep well?” he repeated.
Sarah frowned and touched her lips.
Travis just kissed me?
The urge to run a finger over her lips was intense but she fought the battle.
“Yes, I did, thank you.” She wasn’t sure what to do at that moment and nodded in a jerky motion.
“Take a seat and I’ll pour you a coffee.” He pulled out a chair for her.
“Thank you.”
Sarah sat and couldn’t take her gaze away from him as he busied himself in her kitchen. She admired his fine ass and noticed he didn’t walk with a limp. A man who’d been shot in the foot the previous night would start to feel the injury of a bullet wound after being on their feet all day, wouldn’t they?
Travis brought her a cup of coffee with milk—exactly how she liked it—and she glanced at his foot, covered by a work boot.
Wouldn’t that hurt like a son of a bitch?
Curiosity getting the better of her, she returned her attention to his face.
“How’s your foot?” she asked.
“What?”
“How’s your foot? You got shot last night, remember? And I noticed you didn’t tell Stephen about that.”
He moved away from her. “My foot’s fine.”
He continued his work on the door in silence, but Sarah wasn’t fooled. Last night she’d applied her limited skills to his foot, and she knew he should at least be feeling sore, if not a constant burn.
She sighed and let it go, knowing she wouldn’t get a straight answer from him. She’d let him fix her door—she didn’t know how to so she might as well sit back and enjoy the show.
“There’s a lot of work that needs doing around here,” he finally said, gesturing to the whole house.
Sarah snorted.
“You noticed that?” She couldn’t help but laugh. A lot of work was an understatement. She wondered if it would be easier to demolish the house and start from scratch—that might be quicker to fix. Not the cost, though. To rebuild this beauty from scratch would be a nightmare.
“It’s an old house?” he asked.
“Several generations on my dad’s side, or so he told me.”
“Makes sense. A house like this needs a lot of love, time and attention.”
“Along with a lot of money, and the last time I checked notes weren’t growing on trees,” she snapped.
Why did she speak to him like that? One minute she wanted him to care for her, and the next she fought for control. She ought to watch her damn self. She’d chase him away if she wasn’t careful. It wasn’t Travis who pissed her off. The constant pain in her ass were the repairs needed to bring this place up to its original glory.
“Have you had quotes off people?” He shut the door and then opened and shut it again.
“What are you doing?” she asked, agitated by her spiralling emotions.
“Testing the door. No squeak, and it’s opening and closing with no problems. I just need to fix these bolts into place and the job’s done.” He pulled out a couple of new bolts and began to open the packets.
“You don’t need to do that.” She got to her feet to test the door. “How much do I owe you?”
“Yes, I do need to do this, and you owe me nothing.” He visually measured a large bolt against the door.
Sarah wanted to refuse the help but knew it would be useless. “Show me?”
“Sorry?”
“If I can’t pay you and you won’t stop, then please show me what you’re doing so I know how to do it next time.” Not the best way to spend her Friday afternoon, but it was better than going stir-crazy thinking about confronting Clark James tonight.
“How about you make me dinner and we’ll call it even? I can do these repairs no problem, and as payment you can feed me sometime,” he suggested.
“No. Show me and I can still do everything else.”
“This is not something I want you doing,” he warned.
Sarah spread her arms wide. “Look around you, big guy. Who else do you think the upkeep falls to? Me, that’s who, and I’m not having anyone else telling me what I can and cannot do. My house, my repairs, my rules. Now show me,” she ordered.
He charged towards her, blocking her against the wall with his body. “Not a chance. I’m doing these repairs and I refuse to sit back and watch a woman fix her house with no man waiting for you in case you fall.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Watch your language. Swearing doesn’t become you.”
Fire burned in her belly, smouldering with his instructions and reprimands, but she didn’t want to get into a fight with him.
“Please, just show me the repairs. I have a place to be tonight.”
The moment the words sunk in, he tensed. “What did you just say?”
“I’ve got a place to be tonight.”
“You’re so not talking about going after Clark James on your own, are you?”
“What if I am?”
Bad move, Sarah, very bad move.
Chapter Five
“What if you are?” Travis stared at her, wondering just how far her pig-headedness would go. She was serious, he could see that all right, but holy fuck, he couldn’t let her do it. “If you try and tackle him alone…” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Sarah, that man… I heard him in the mini-mart yesterday. He was with that asshole Rodney Dukes.”
She stared at him as if to say, ‘So what?’
Should he tell her? Let her know exactly what Clark had in mind? Fuck it. She had a right to know. The break-in had made this a whole lot more serious, and if she wasn’t going to let him hang around her place after work hours, he’d have to shift and patrol the grounds every night. With his sense of smell fucked up for whatever reason and his hearing less than stellar, he might not be much good even then. Add on to that a lack of sleep, and she’d be in danger anyway.
“He said if you didn’t want his attentions he was going to force them on you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Stop doing that shit.”
“What shit?” She rammed her hands on her hips.
Crap, she had that look about her—eyes ablaze, mouth in a tight line, a deep frown growing deeper—that told him she’d mastered going from soft to stubborn in an instant. She was up one minute and down the next, prickly as hell, too. He didn’t need another sparring match with her—God knew they’d had too many to count since he’d started working here—but he couldn’t let this rest.
“Making out like you don’t know what I’m talking about. That shit.” He sighed and decided on a calmer approach. “Listen, honey.” Damn, he’d called her baby and honey earlier and honey again just now. He had to get his brain into gear before he let his mouth give him away. A woman who wasn’t interested didn’t want to hear that crap. “Clark’s a time bomb waiting to go off. He wants you, isn’t going to rest until he has you, and I’m fucked if I can allow him to push into your life like this. You saw what he did in here.” He gestured around the kitchen.
“We don’t even know it was him.” She cocked her head a little and studied him hard, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, come on! Don’t give me that bullshit, woman!”
So much for the calmer approach.
She widened her eyes, looking at him as though he’d seriously overstepped the mark, and perhaps he had, her bein
g his boss and all. But this was more than just a boss/employee situation. This was a man protecting a woman. Fuck, he couldn’t let her go off on a mad mission to have words with Clark. That bastard wouldn’t think twice in showing her up in front of his cronies…although if women were present Sarah might be treated to the nicer side of the man. He was the type to keep his options open, and once he’d had Sarah, he’d move on to the next pretty face and hour-glass figure. No, Clark wouldn’t allow his future lays to see the nasty side of him.
“Where were you planning on going?” he asked, voice even.
She moved as though to turn away, so he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him, pressing her back against the wall. She winced at his tight hold and, disgusted with himself for exhibiting force, he loosened his fingers. She’d think him a bully if he didn’t watch himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, if I let you go, will you just hear me out?”
“So long as you take a damn step back and give me breathing space.” She glared up at him, hair almost free from the knot she’d tied it in this morning. “I haven’t got any work done today either, so you need to be quick. I napped, remember? The men are going about their business, but I wanted to sort out the purchase of a new mare for Sholah to get used to. That idea’s out the window until Monday now. Shit!”
“Are you deliberately changing the subject? Trying to take my mind off what we were discussing?” He still hadn’t let go of her wrist—wouldn’t until he was sure she wasn’t going to bolt through that doorway to chat with one of her workers as an excuse not to continue their conversation.
“Are you deliberately accusing me of doing that so I get angrier and you can do what you usually do and tell me I’m proving just how hotheaded I am, which then leads to you being able to say that’s exactly why I can’t do what I want to do?”
She had an answer for everything, he’d give her that. Christ, her mind was sharp. “No. Listen, please, we have to talk this through. Will you just give me a minute?” She didn’t answer, so he pressed on, keeping his tone low and soft. “If you’re thinking of going to Macy Jo’s bar, then maybe you ought to let me come with you. Clark goes there on a Friday to get rat-assed, you know that. Rodney Dukes will be there, as well as all his other freaky friends. None of them will stand in Clark’s way if he turns on you. He broke in here without making a sound—neither of us heard, anyway—so, if he’s stealthy enough to do that, think what he’ll do if you piss him off with your accusing finger and threatening tongue!”
Sarah stiffened, staring at him as if she teetered on the brink of giving in.
Please let her see sense. Just once…
“Macy won’t let him hurt me.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“But what if Macy steps out a while? What if John Baines is the only one behind the bar? That guy is almost as bad as Clark with his wild ways at times. I worry about you, Sarah. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
She huffed out a blast of air. “You only worry because if something happens to me you’ll be short on wages.”
Ouch.
“What the hell’s gotten into you? You really think so little of me as to believe that? I don’t give a shit about the wages! I give a shit about you!”
Fuck. Aww, fuck.
She gawped at him, blinking rapidly, high colour staining her cheeks. “No, no you don’t.” She backed away, unable to get far with his grip on her wrist. “Let me go. I must see to the men.”
“Sarah?”
“What?” She gritted her teeth.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Of course I did, I’m not deaf!”
“So me telling you I care about you means nothing?”
He didn’t want an affirmative answer, but, hell, he had to know one way or another. If she said his affection meant jack shit, he’d pack his bags and get the hell out of town. Staying here when she didn’t want him would hurt too much. He could start again—he’d done it countless times before when people started getting too close to finding out what he was—but he was fucked if he’d ever forget her.
“It means nothing,” she whispered. “Now let go of my goddamn wrist and move the hell away!”
He’d sworn he’d never push himself on a woman, but instead of letting her go he pulled her to him, holding her clamped to his chest. Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips, praying she’d open up for him. If she didn’t, then he’d have a firmer answer than that she didn’t want him.
She closed her eyes and parted her lips, flicking her tongue out to invite his inside. Fierce longing overtook him, and he held her closer, tighter, showing her the best way he knew how that she meant more to him than being just his boss. A low whimper left her, reverberating on his tongue, and he took it as a sign she was eager for more. Braver now that she’d melted a little, he closed his eyes and trailed one hand up her back, caressing the swell of her ass cheek with the other. Fuck, but she felt good, moulded to him the way she was, as though she’d been made just for him.
She raised her hands between them, smoothing her palms up his chest and over his nipples. Sensation rocketed through him, goosebumps spreading right along with it. Excitement pooled in his belly, transferring from there to the root of his cock. He moaned, holding her tighter still, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her ass. His cock twitched, growing so damn fast he almost lost his breath. He canted his hips, gently pushing into her lower belly so she could feel his need.
Sarah broke their kiss, gazing up at him, all anger erased from her eyes. He felt for her, for whatever reasoning she had going on in that pretty little head of hers that forced her to rebuff help from any man. But, hell, if she pulled away now…
“I don’t want you to care for me,” she whispered.
“Why the hell not?” He swallowed, throat tight. “What’s so bad in letting me help you every now and then?”
“Every now and then. That’s why. I can’t just have you every now and then, and that’s all it would be, isn’t it?”
“Why would you think that?” Had someone in her past loved and left her? Used her? He didn’t know—didn’t know much about her because she gave very little away. When she’d cried earlier, let out whatever emotions she’d been holding in, he’d thought he’d made some headway. Her icy veneer had turned to water—it had washed away whatever sorrows made her seem so cold and angry most of the time, only for them to return now—mistrust the main culprit if her words were anything to go by.
“Because you’re a man,” she said.
“I don’t understand.” He frowned. What bastard had upset her apart from Clark? If he got his hands on them… The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Fuck, he didn’t need that now. He willed himself not to shift, to remain a man so he wouldn’t scare her shitless, make her even more wary.
“Men don’t want bossy women like me. They want someone they can control. Who’ll do as they’re told.”
He threw his head back and laughed then, loud and hearty. The danger of him shifting disappeared. “You think I don’t know I can’t control you? Shit, the arguments we’ve had would tell anyone you’re a stubborn woman who wants things all her own way.”
“You really think that?” She furrowed her brow.
“Well, don’t you?”
She nipped her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking, he’d bet, and he took the time to caress her some more, softly, with no rush. She felt fine, so damn fine, and she didn’t move away, didn’t look uncomfortable from what he was doing. That was something, wasn’t it? A start?
“Is that how I come across?” she asked, running a fingertip around the neck of his T-shirt.
Her skin met the dip below his Adam’s apple for a second, and he held his breath. Fuck, his cock and bollocks ached. He could taste her on his tongue and wanted another sample, but kissing her now wouldn’t wipe the creases from her forehead and the hurt from h
er eyes.
“Kind of.” He rushed on. “But it isn’t a bad thing to want your independence, and I understand it must be hard allowing other people to help you out when you’ve been used to doing it all yourself. The men working for you—that’s different, I get that. But a man around the house? Yeah, I can see why that would get your back up. But I’m here for you. I’ll help you out when the work day is done.”
“I can’t—”
“You can, honey. It doesn’t make you weak. Think of it as delegating. You’re the boss. You can ask the men for help by way of giving orders if it makes you feel better. Anything to take the load off you, give you more time to devote to this place. You pay them, for fuck’s sake. They’ll be earning at the same time as doing what you usually do out there. Your house needs sorting out—it won’t be long before it gets dangerous to live here. We’ve got a hard winter coming on. What if you tell the other men I’m on house duty? That you’re paying me to fix it up?”
“I suppose…”
“And as for Macy Jo’s.” He kissed her soundly before she could say anything then eased back to look down at her. “I don’t have to go in with you, but I can wait outside. Look through the window, see if things get nasty. Right?”
She nodded, eyelids growing heavy.
“It’s been a bad day, Sarah, honey. How about you go out there and tell the men to take the rest of the day off? I can make sure the horses are stabled. If you go lay on the sofa, you’ll be rested enough for tonight.” He eased off on holding her so tightly. “Did you feel that?”
“What?” She frowned again.
“There you go again. Making out you don’t know what I mean. That!” He raised his hips some.
“Uh, yeah. I feel that.”
“It isn’t just about sex, you know.”
“It isn’t?”
“Not with me, no. You want me to come clean?”
“If you must.”
“Oh, yeah, I must. I’ve thought about you all day, every day since I first started here. You’ve gone and burrowed yourself right into my goddamn heart and mind, you know that, woman? I want to care for you, be there for you—if you’ll have me.”
