by Tessa Layne
“Stay a sec. Don’t you want to know what we think?” He tilted his chin toward the scones.
Swallowing hard, her throat suddenly dry, she could only nod. Simon had already stuffed half a scone in his mouth.
Brodie reached out and ruffled his hair. “Easy there, kiddo, you don’t want to choke.”
“Mmmupmhf.” The kid nodded vigorously.
She poured out a glass and handed it to Simon. “Here. This will help wash it down.”
“Thanks. Better than yesterday.” Simon grinned and took the glass, gulping down the contents.
Brodie hadn’t stopped staring at her during the whole exchange. Keeping his eyes locked on her, he spoke. “Simon. Can you hike over to the Big House and ask Blake or Ben to bring up the posthole digger?”
“Can I take Captain?”
“No way. If you want to ride, saddle up Sunny. I’ll check the cinch before you go.”
The boy scampered off to the stable.
Brodie snagged a scone off the plate. Breaking off a chunk, he popped it into his mouth.
Jamey couldn’t stop staring at the crumbs sticking to his lip. She must have gasped, because lust flared in his eyes and his tongue flicked out to capture the crumbs. Then he slowly scraped his thumb across his lower lip, catching the remains.
Her stomach dropped to her ankles while an ember flared to life in her ribs. Before she could stop herself, she reached a finger out to his lip. “You missed a spot.” Her voice came out breathy.
Electricity arced between them as she ran her finger over the corner of his mouth. Blood buzzed in her ears, and it registered that his body had gone tense. His hand whipped up, capturing hers and keeping it there. He slanted his mouth and captured the digit between his lips, tonguing and sucking on the tip.
Jesus and all the saints.
Flames licked up her arm and straight down to her clit, as her knees started to shake. There were a dozen places she wanted those lips right now. She fixated on his mouth as he licked the tip of her finger again before dropping her hand.
The air between them lay heavy and thick.
“Delicious,” he breathed, his own voice rough at the edges.
“They taste okay?” she finally asked when she could find her voice again.
A devilish, all too knowing smile curved his mouth. “I might need another taste.”
He was so not talking about the scones. Taking a shaky breath, she offered another bite, breaking off a piece and bringing it to his mouth. She was playing with fire, but the sensations he was causing were too yummy to stop. He made her feel… womanly. Keeping his eyes on hers, he took the bite she offered.
He looked like he was going to say something more, but Simon walked up leading Sunny, and the moment fizzled.
With a regretful look in his eye, he gave his attention to Simon, and checked the cinch. “Looks good, kiddo. You’re getting better.” He gave Simon a leg up and sent him on his way.
“You’re good with him, you know.” Jamey tilted her head toward the retreating form of Simon astride Sunny.
Brodie shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s just a kid.”
“A lot of people your age wouldn’t take the… care you do with him.”
Brodie’s expression hardened. “It’s adults who fuck up kids. Simon’s a good kid. Least I can do is make sure I don’t fuck him up.”
She stood rooted to the ground, thunderstruck. She’d have been less surprised if a meteor dropped out of the sky.
Brodie grimaced. “What. Does that surprise you?” The edge in his voice dared her to admit it.
She wasn’t sure how to answer. He was acting like she’d just caught him with his pants down. But… seeing him gentle with Simon like that was… a total turn-on. She shook herself and moved to gather the lemonade. “You’re sweet, Brodie,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I don’t know why you try and convince everyone you’re not.”
She needed to get out of Brodie’s sight before she dropped her pants and jumped on him in the middle of the yard. She was halfway back to the kitchen door, when his voice reached her.
“Jamey, wait.”
She stopped, heart pounding like a teenager. What exactly was she hoping for here? A relationship between them was impossible. Imprudent at best. She could hear Jarrod’s voice in her ears scolding her about mixing work and love. And yet…
“Help me?”
She shook her head. “I should really…”
He puffed his chest and grinned slyly. “Afraid you might not be able to control yourself, darlin’?
“Cocky bastard.” If only he knew how close he was to the truth. Hell. Who was she kidding? He did know and that’s why he was challenging her. And she was already moving back his direction. She put down the lemonade and continued toward him, steeling herself. “All right, I’ll help. But no funny business.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You gonna tell me what you’re building?”
He grinned. “Nope. You’ll figure it out soon enough.” He handed her the pair of work gloves Simon had been using. “These should fit you.”
“So I’m not just the beauty bonus? You really want me to help?”
His gaze raked over her again, leaving pricks of attraction pebbling over her skin. “You’re definitely the beauty bonus.” He gave her a funny smile. “But I do need your help. Take these nails and hold this post.” He popped a few extra nails in his mouth, and set to work hammering.
“Why the second layer of fencing?” She’d seen chicken coops before, but not like this one. And she’d bet her bottle of Redbreast that’s what they were building.
Brodie chuckled. “Patience, grasshopper.”
“Why the secrecy? Why not tell me what it is?”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “What is this, twenty questions?”
“You are a cocky bastard.”
He winked at her, then refocused on the post. The way he teased her warmed her insides. Set her nerve endings alight. The sexual tension between them grew daily. It was a delicious distraction. But one or both of them was bound to get hurt, and then working together would become impossible. There was no way she’d ever do that again.
She offered him a nail.
“Don’t need it yet.”
“Yes you do. You missed a spot.”
His eyes bored into her. “You bossin’ me?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “Just pointing out you missed a spot. Don’t be so touchy.”
“I’m not.”
She snorted. “You are.”
He moved to the next post. “I need an extra pair of hands, not a foreman.”
“Well I’m a forewoman. So there.”
His arm swung the hammer, and she took a moment to enjoy the curl of his bicep as he moved.
He grunted out a laugh. “Like what you see?” He didn’t miss a thing.
But she didn’t either. It was like she had hyperawareness radar whenever he was nearby. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She handed him another nail. “Don’t you need to brace this post before moving on?”
Instead of taking the nail, he put down the hammer and stood, bringing his body toe to toe with hers so that she was nearly eye-to-eye with him. He studied her intently, his blue eyes honing in on her mouth. “You keep tryin’ to boss me.”
The air sizzled between them. A breeze floated through the yard, ruffling his dark hair and bringing with it the clean tang of his sweat. And musk. God, she could lick him like a popsicle right now. Trace her fingers down over the light scattering of hair to where it disappeared into his denims. She wet her lips at the thought, her breathing coming more shallowly.
Lust flared in his eyes. “I don’t need bossing.” His voice ran over her skin like sandpaper.
“What do you need then?”
His mouth pulled into a sinfully sexy smile. “You can boss all you want in the kitchen, but out here – this is my territory. I do the bossing.”
It wasn’t a threat. Ther
e was no antagonism in his voice. Only pure confidence and the undercurrent of sexy promise.
“Where else do you boss, Brodie?” she blurted before she could stop herself. “Who bosses in bed?”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
“What if I do?”
Every cell in her body vibrated in anticipation. He tilted his head forward, eyes daring her to stop him. He was going to kiss her and end this crazy weeklong dance of touch and retreat.
This time, she was ready.
The rumble of a truck turning into the drive snapped the invisible cord between them, and Brodie stepped back.
The breath she was holding whooshed out of her body, as heat flushed her face. Embarrassed, she gathered up the lemonade and scones as Blake hopped out of his truck. “Hold up, Jamey,” he called. “This concerns you, too.”
She glanced over to Brodie, whose face was a mixture of curiosity and worry.
“What’s going on?” Brodie’s tone was even, but she could see how tightly he held himself.
“You’ve got guests coming,” Blake said, surveying the two of them.
“We do. This weekend.” Brodie crossed his arms, shifting his stance.
Blake tipped back his Stetson. “Just giving you a heads up. Mason Carter, his foreman and two ranch hands will also be here this weekend. I need you to put them up here. He’s coming to purchase fifty head of bison, but he also wants to see how you’re running the lodge.”
Brodie scowled. “So he can spy on me for you?”
“No,” Blake shook his head exasperatedly. “I told you, this is your gig. I’m not going to babysit you. Mason wants to see the set up so he can do something similar at his spread in Montana.”
A little of the tension left Brodie’s shoulders and he glanced at Jamie. “No can do, bro. Sorry.”
Blake fisted his hands on his hips. “Why the hell not?”
Jamey glanced between the two men. Not good. Not good at all. “Umm. Blake?” She felt awkward interfering, but the way Brodie had looked at her seemed like he was asking for help. “We’re already full this weekend. Ben has some college friends coming up for the county fair. We’ve only got one bed left.”
A look of surprise crossed Blake’s face, quickly followed by pride. Brodie shot back a look of triumph.
Her mind was already in problem solving mode. She’d been overbooked before at the restaurant. “I’m sure we can come up with a solution.” They could manage this. Hell if they pulled it off, they’d look great.
“We could put the foreman in the homestead. It needs a cleaning, but would be fine for sleeping,” Brodie offered.
Blake nodded. “I can make sure that’s taken care of. What about the other two?”
“Can they stay in one of the bunk houses? We can feed them here.” Brodie looked to Jamey for confirmation. She nodded, mentally reformulating her dinner plan.
Brodie stood a little taller. “I won’t boot paying customers. Even if they’re Ben’s friends. Especially if they’re Ben’s friends.”
Blake grimaced. “Of course not, but it’s less than ideal.”
“Well if you were expecting a little Luck ’O the Irish, you waited too long. Last minute surprises like this send us assways downstream with no paddle. You of all people should know better, Blake,” Jamey chastised. “I don’t have unicorn magic stored in my cookie jar. I have to reformulate my menu planning and pay retail for last minute groceries.”
Blake’s mouth quirked as Brodie’s laughter erupted behind her. “Shoulda known better than to set off her Irish, brother. I can tell you all about it.”
Blake threw his head back, laughing. “You’re right. I apologize. Mason only called this morning. I’m sorry I’ve put you in a bind.”
“We’ll make it work,” she and Brodie spoke in unison.
“I sure appreciate it,” said Blake, his voice filled with gratitude.
Jamey nodded, toeing the dirt. “Did you bring the posthole digger Brodie sent Simon for?”
“It’s in the back of the truck.” Blake moved to grab it, and she risked a glance at Brodie.
He met her gaze head on, a mixture of triumph and admiration in his eyes.
He lowered his voice. “You’re… good.”
She winked, giving him a saucy smile. “Teamwork.”
Admiration was quickly replaced by a stare so hot, her mouth turned to dust. Her ears buzzed. Not from the August locusts, but from the speed at which lust ignited her insides, making her pussy clench with want.
Bad Jamey. Bad idea. No… very good as far as her body was concerned.
“Jamey… I–”
“Menu. Gotta go fix the menu.” Clutching the lemonade for dear life, she swung around toward the kitchen, mentally revising the weekend’s menu as she walked, and failing miserably to banish the idea of rubbing up against the solid mass of cowboy hotness she’d left standing in the yard.
CHAPTER 14
Brodie sat stewing in the office, tapping his fingers on the desk. How was he going to come up with two more mounts for the weekend? Especially during the county fair, when everyone’s horses were in use? Mason’s ranch hands could use the extra horses at the Big House, but that still left him needing two more horses and tack for Mason and his foreman.
His only hope was talking to the Hansens to see if they could work something out for the weekend. Not his first choice, but things had softened enough between the Hansens and Sinclaires when Blake and Maddie had married, that asking them for help wasn’t so bad.
Ultimately, he’d have to see about purchasing two more horses. That was an expense he hadn’t counted on. His eyes slid to the closed laptop. He needed to buckle down and figure out the spreadsheet. Keeping loose track of expenses in his head wasn’t working anymore. But every time he opened the damned laptop the numbers seemed to float away and take on a life of their own.
“We have to talk.”
He swiveled the chair to see Jamey lounging in the door. She’d taken off her bandana, and her curls stuck out every which way. There was a streak of flour across her arm, and more at her cheek. Like she’d wiped her face with the back of her hand. The urge to pull her into his lap and brush the flour off her and then some had him clutching the chair arms.
“Breaking up with me so soon?”
She rolled her eyes. “I need a second pair of hands in the kitchen this weekend.”
Shit. Another unexpected expense.
“Nope. No can do.” He spun back to the desk and opened a drawer looking for a pencil.
“What do you mean ‘No can do’? I need a second pair of hands.”
“You were fine with eight of us, what’s a few more?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “There’s a big difference between eight ranch hands and paying guests. Especially when one of them is a billionaire with a discerning palate.”
“Then don’t go high falutin’.”
“You think my food’s too snobby?”
“I think it’s a waste of money to hire help.”
“It’s an investment. Besides, at some point I’m going to need a day off.”
“Why? Ranchers never take a day off.”
She fisted her hands at her hips. “Maybe you would be a bit more pleasant if you took a day off every now and then.”
“What do you mean?” he said, glancing up and grinning. “I’m Prince fucking Charming.”
She rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. “Is that what you think?”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “That’s what I know.”
“Don’t think you can distract me, Captain McCharmypants.” She narrowed her eyes. “Where are we at financially? Is that what this is about?”
He spun the chair back around. “That’s my business.”
“It becomes mine when I can’t do my job.”
“Then do your job better,” he growled. Why in the hell did she have to be so pushy?
“Brodie. I need a second p
air of hands this weekend. It’s just temporary.”
“I don’t care if it’s for thirty seconds. Answer’s still no.”
Her eyes sparked. “Why the hell not?”
“’Cause I said so.”
“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t know where we’re at, do you?”
“’Course I do.” He spun the chair to face the laptop, avoiding her persistent glare.
“You don’t.” She stepped up beside him, bending to reach for the computer. “Just let me take a look. It’s not that hard.”
Her movement launched him to action. In one fluid motion, he pushed out of the chair and, coming to stand behind her, pinned her hands flat to the desk.
Wrong move.
Now the base of her neck was exposed to him and he was overwhelmed with the scent of her. How in the hell did she manage to smell like sex and cookies all wrapped up into one?
“Brodie. You should… let me go.” Her voice had gone velvety and sweet, sending ripples of craving straight to his cock.
He should.
But right now his cock was calling the shots and he wanted a taste of her.
Just a little taste.
He lowered his lips to her neck, lightly brushing the skin just below her hairline. She shivered underneath him, the skin on her neck pebbling. She exhaled a tiny sigh, letting her head fall farther forward, and exposing more of her neck to him.
He took another taste, flicking his tongue out and savoring the slightly salty tang of her skin. She gasped, rolling her hips. Grinding her ass that way against his straining cock was torture. He’d fantasized about this and more, for weeks. Sucking in a steadying breath, he ran his hands up the length of her arms, pausing where her biceps bunched under his palm.
There was nothing soft about her.
Just strength and fire.
Goddamn if that didn’t turn him on more than anything in his life. An all too familiar ache throbbed deep in his balls, begging for release.
“Tell me to stop,” he muttered into her neck, his breath ragged from holding back.
She whirled, leaning back into the desk, her eyes glittering.
Everything slowed.
