Prairie Passion (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #2)

by Tessa Layne

  He stiffened at her touch, eyes wary.

  But now she was touching him, she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. She moved her fingers from his mouth, caressing the stubble along his jaw and reveling in the rough sensation tickling her palm. Fuck professional distance.

  Her own breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat. She gently scraped the pad of her thumb across his full lower lip, her thighs clenching at the sound of his sudden intake of breath. His eyes darkened and narrowed.

  Slowly, as if something else was guiding her movements, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head the few inches to hers. His hands came to rest on her hips, searching for and finding the bare skin underneath her chef’s coat.

  She brushed her lips against his, murmuring against him. “Thank you.”

  His whole body shuddered and relaxed into her as he deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue across her lip. She sucked him in, and pulled him closer, pouring the words she didn’t have into his mouth. The ache between her legs built as his fingers skittered across her bare flesh. But then without warning, he stepped back and she felt the loss of him immediately.

  He flashed her a somewhat sardonic smile. “You’re past your four minutes. Thought you didn’t have time for me.”

  Oooh. His comment lit a spark in her, and an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. How did he manage to be all sweet one minute, and completely infuriating the next?

  “Right. I’ll be in the kitchen.” So much for professionalism. She’d gone and thrown herself at him again. She spun on her heel and marched back across the yard to the kitchen door, shutting it extra firmly behind her. Only then, as the buzzing registered in her ears, did she remember the scones.

  Flying to the oven, she yanked down the door and pulled them out.

  Great.

  She’d nearly burned the scones, too.

  Maybe she needed to ban him from the kitchen. Or ban herself from him. Did he always have to be so damned cocky? What was she thinking, opening herself to him? Sex between them had been a blip. A consensual release. Nothing more. The quicker she got that through her skull, the safer she’d be.

  “Everything okay?” Mason paused in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Grab some coffee. Eggs will be out in a sec. Try a scone will you?” She waved a hand toward the basket of scones on the island.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Am I allowed back in here?”

  “My kitchen. My rules.” She threw him a smile. Banter with Mason was so much easier.

  Probably because he didn’t turn her insides into quivering custard the way Brodie did.

  He approached the island and peeked under the cloth covering the scones. “These look great, but I’ll pass.”

  She jerked the egg pan a little harder than she should have, flipping him a quizzical glance. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I don’t do carbs anymore.” He winked at her. “I need to keep my girlish figure.”

  She groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re a paleo.”

  “In the flesh.”

  “And you waited until now to tell me?” Disappointment rushed through her. She needed someone with a developed palate to try them. Without knowing they were gluten-free. Maddie would automatically tell her they were wonderful, and she sure as heck wouldn’t give Dottie the satisfaction of criticizing her baking. She plastered on her best professional smile and scooped the eggs out into a chafing dish.

  “What was there to tell? Your food is great, and there’s plenty for me to eat without you putting yourself out on my behalf.”

  “Puh-leeze.” She rolled her eyes and gave the chafing dish a little shake. “I don’t know whether to thank you or smack you.”

  “You’re not bothering my chef are you?” Brodie stepped through the back door, his eyes narrowed at Mason.

  “Back off, cowboy,” Jamey snapped. “Or the only thing you’ll get for breakfast is shoe leather.” Why did his charm disappear the second Mason was around?

  Brodie grabbed a scone from the basket and broke it apart, popping a corner in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, grinning. “Mmm. That’s good. Maybe now you’ll stop sneaking out for Dottie’s biscuits.”

  She opened her mouth then snapped it shut, her face flaming with embarrassment.

  “Here.” She shoved the egg pan at Brodie. “Make yourself useful and take these out to the sideboard.”

  Brodie took the pan and slipped through the door, giving Mason the stink-eye as he passed.

  She heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. He’s got cactus prickers shoved up his ass.”

  Mason shot her a knowing smile. “I don’t think that’s his current problem.”

  “Oh?”

  Mason shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, Jamey. I think he’s smitten.”

  Her insides clenched and flamed again. She shook her head vehemently, and pinched her nose. She hated that her emotions showed on her skin. But she was a redhead. There was no way to avoid it. “Just. Stop.”

  “Shall I quote you Shakespeare? Something about protesting too much?”

  She pointed toward the door. “Out. Go eat your eggs.”

  Mason paused at the door. “It’s obvious there’s something between you.” He took a breath like he was going to say more. Then he stopped, shaking his head. “Brodie’s a good guy once you get to know him. You should give him a chance.” He disappeared into the dining room, leaving her more flustered and confused than ever.

  Should she give Brodie a chance? They had chemistry for days, but was that enough? Could she trust him? With her heart and her business?

  CHAPTER 20

  Brodie waited for the signal to maneuver Captain into the box for his final team-roping round. He adjusted his grip on the rope one last time and rubbed his lucky competition buckle.

  So far, he’d sucked.

  He’d never been more embarrassed. Especially in front of Jamey.

  The last two rounds, he’d missed the steer’s heels entirely. He and Ben had slid from reigning champions in team roping, to town laughingstocks.

  Hell, he’d have to get out of the fairgrounds fast if they didn’t make it out of dead last. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes and had no intention of participating in the ritual dunking that all the last place losers endured. It had been easy to go along with the ritual in years past, because he never lost.

  Ever.

  “Hey, Sinclaire,” Jimmy Benoit called down from the fence. “I can taste that beer already.”

  Ben rode up alongside him, also checking his rope. “Don’t let him rattle you.” He spoke low. “Jimmy’s right though, you need to get your head in the box and off a certain lady.”

  Brodie shot Ben a little scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We’ve all seen how you can’t keep your eyes off Jamey. Blake know you’re involved with the help?”

  He bristled. “She’s not the help and you know it.”

  “You know what I mean. Blake’s always insisted we stay away from anyone on the payroll.”

  “It’s none of Blake’s damned business what I do in my off time.”

  Ben’s mouth flattened and he fixed him with a stern look. “You’re not thinking with the right head, brother. Blake put a lot of faith in you with the lodge. Hell, I vouched for you. We can’t afford a repeat of the vaccination fiasco.”

  Even though it had been more than fifteen years since the vaccination fiasco. Shame still gnawed at him. His whole life, everyone had assumed the worst about him, and he’d let them. It had been easier to hide behind a façade of clowning than to explain why he kept making mistakes. But he was gonna prove himself this time, or die trying. “Are we gonna rope or are you gonna sit here and lecture me?”

  The cowboys motioned for him to enter the box.

  Ben’s eyes softened a fraction. “Be careful, okay? And for God’s sake, keep your head up and your ass in the saddle. I don’t wan
na get dunked.”

  Brodie shook himself. Ben was right. His head wasn’t in the box at all. He wheeled Captain around and backed him into the corner of the box, blanking his mind. He had to get this right, at least.

  He loosened his grip on the rope and rolled back his shoulders, squeezing the saddle with his thighs. The steer came bursting out of the chute and Captain’s muscles bunched beneath him.

  Quick as lightning, they were off and through the barrier, ropes swinging. Ben’s rope landed around the steer’s horns and tightened, swinging the animal away and leaving a clear opening for him.

  This time his rope sailed through the air, encircling the steer’s hind legs. At his signal, Captain wheeled, and backed up. People could give him all the shit they wanted, but he had a damned fine horse.

  Five and a half seconds.

  Not great, but enough to move them up from dead last.

  Ben cocked his chin, grinning as he circled Sergeant Pepper around. “Guess we dodged the bullet, huh? Good work.”

  “You still owe us a case of beer, Sinclaire.” Jimmy’s voice carried across from the fence.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your beer.”

  First things first. He wanted to see Jamey. He looped his rope over the saddle horn and trotted Captain out of the arena.

  Jamey and Maddie were waiting for them. “You’re a little rough around the edges today,” Maddie chided with a soft smile.

  He dismounted. “What do you expect when you’re stuck working a lodge instead of livestock?” He should be grateful. Instead, he was just irritated.

  “Could have been worse, Mads,” Ben jumped in. “He could have gotten us dunked.”

  Jamey hung back, a little smile playing on her lips.

  Brodie zeroed in on her. “What did you think?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. A bundle of nerves settled in the pit of his belly. It shouldn’t matter what she thought. She was just… what was she?

  He didn’t like where those thoughts were taking him. And yet…

  “Yeah, Jamey,” Maddie elbowed her, smirking. “What did you think?”

  She shrugged, color tinting her cheekbones. But she met his gaze dead on, like she was really seeing him for the first time.

  “Well?” He rocked back on his heels, waiting for her answer.

  Maddie didn’t wait. “I think her exact words were ‘Jesus and the saints, that’s hot. Like sex on a stick with chocolate sauce, hot.’”

  His brows shot up, heat pooling in his groin at the thought of one or both of them covered in chocolate sauce. “Yeah?”

  The pink in her cheeks transformed into a full-scale flush that started well below the scoop of her white shirt. His mouth went dry at the thought of her tits exposed and flushed like the rest of her.

  “Hey. Eyes up here, cowboy.”

  He dragged his eyes back to hers and liked what he saw. Her eyes filled with appreciation… and invitation.

  “So you liked what you saw?”

  Her lips twitched. “You? On horseback? You were good.”

  “Wait ’til you watch the tie-down roping.” He didn’t want to brag or set up false expectation, especially after his piss poor performance in team roping, but a burst of confidence shot through him, expanding his chest. Hell, he could beat Captain America if she’d just keep looking at him like that, her eyes lit from within, and her wide mouth turned up at the corners.

  “Enough with the heated stares, you two,” Maddie interrupted. She tugged on Jamey’s arm. “Come on. I want to get a corn dog.”

  Jamey wrinkled her nose, still staring at him. “Eww. You shouldn’t put carney food in your body Mads. Especially in your condition.”

  Was she telling him she would rather stay?

  Shit.

  He’d never been good at reading signals. Especially from women. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to walk away. “Ben could take you, Maddie. Just as soon as he puts up Sergeant Pepper. I want to give Jamey a behind-the-scenes tour while I walk Captain.”

  That wasn’t all he wanted to do, not by a long shot.

  He’d hardly seen her out of her chef’s clothes, and here she was, wearing a short skirt and a pretty white shirt, looking downright edible. He could overlook the hideous purple patent leather Doc Martens on her feet because he wanted nothing more than to pull that shirt up and run his fingers over the creamy skin at her waist.

  Yeah.

  Getting her alone would be a step in the right direction.

  “That line work on all the skirts, cowboy?” Jamey winked at him.

  He winked back. “Nope. Good thing you’re not a skirt. Although you look mighty fine in that one.”

  Maddie arched a brow his direction. “I recognize that look in your eye. You be a gentleman, Brodie.” She shot a look over to Jamey. “I’ll be expecting a full report later.”

  Jamey reached out and patted Maddie’s arm, a hard glint in her eyes. “For feck’s sake, Mads. Do I look like a virgin about to be devoured on the way to confession? Have you forgotten my brothers?” She smirked and winked at him. “I could take Brodie in my sleep with one hand tied behind my back and the other mincing onions.”

  The picture of her bent over the kitchen counter, skirt rucked up and ass bared, swelled his cock to full mast. He could practically smell her arousal mixed in with the scent of barnyard and sweat. He held out his hand. “Come on.”

  CHAPTER 21

  He couldn’t quite keep the rasp out of his voice. He swallowed hard, willing his tongue to form words. “I’ll show you around.”

  “Be good, you two.” Maddie’s voice floated in the air behind them as Jamey slipped her hand into his.

  “A little naughty’s okay, though.” Jamey glanced over at him, a sly smile playing at the corner of her lips.

  “Not a lot of naughty?” His pulse quickened as he pictured her bent over a hay bale in some out-of-the-way corner. He led her away from the crowd toward the backside of the fairgrounds. “Tell me, what’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is this confession time?”

  He shrugged, giving her a mischievous smile.

  Her eyes filled with speculation. As if she was assessing him. He stood a little straighter as they wove through the rodeo contestants and he tightened his grip on Captain’s reins. Lord, he hoped he measured up to whatever standard she was setting in her mind’s eye. Finally, her silence moved him to speak. “Well?”

  She gave his hand a little squeeze. “I’m trying to decide how much to tell you.”

  He leaned over and nuzzled her ear. “Don’t worry darlin’. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  Her scent tantalized him. Sent little tingles across his chest, settling neatly in his balls. A man could get drunk on her just by breathing her in.

  She hummed in the back of her throat and began to face him. But she pulled back. “You tryin’ to butter me up?”

  He drew her close, wrapping his arm around her back, bringing his mouth to within a breath of hers. “Would you let me? Butter you up?”

  Her eyes lit, and she gasped a little, rocking her hip against his. Her free hand splayed across his chest, but she didn’t push him away.

  “Hmmm…. tempting.”

  He’d never played cat and mouse like this. Had never worked for a woman’s affection. It frustrated him and, at the same time, was the hugest turn-on. He couldn’t remember being this worked up from a conversation.

  Ever.

  He’d always scoffed at the notion that half of sex was in the brain, but maybe there was something to it. She made him want to keep pushing the verbal stakes higher. How far could he go before she’d blush and turn away? Or they’d finally kiss and burn up the energy between them?

  A slow smile curved her lips. “All right.” Her voice had gone low and husky. “You go first.”

  He stepped back. “Wait. What? You want me to go first?”

  Shit.

  The naughtiest
thing he’d ever done was have sex against the wall of his office with her. The second naughtiest thing he’d ever done was lose his virginity to Kylee Ross in the back of the family pickup truck after the homecoming dance when he was sixteen.

  Tangling with Kylee had brought him nothing but years of bitterness, culminating in the discovery last spring that she was the mother of his little half-brother Simon. It had taken him years to get over her veiled barbs about his inexperience their first time, something he’d set about remedying immediately. Thanks to her, he always made sure the lady he was with was satisfied. Problem was, he’d never liked a woman well enough or been driven crazy enough by a woman to care about sexual adventure.

  That is, until Jamey.

  She drove him wild.

  Rutting stag wild.

  He suddenly understood how two-thousand pound bulls could bash down a fence to mount a cow in heat. Every lascivious and naughty thought that entered his head he wanted to bring to life. With her.

  He cleared his throat and swallowed. “Ahh. Okay…” He waited a moment, letting her anticipation build. “Back of the family pickup truck after the homecoming dance.”

  She raised her eyebrows, eyes laughing. “You have some catching up to do, cowboy.”

  He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “Usually takes two to play naughty.”

  “So it does. So it does.”

  The air charged between them like the atmosphere right before a big thunderstorm. “So you sayin’ you like to play naughty?”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips before she captured the bottom one in her teeth. She looked at him straight on, her eyes hungry and hot. “Maybe…”

  God, if that didn’t just send his libido into overdrive. His cock pushed painfully against his zipper, eager to be let out. Even though it wasn’t as crowded where they stood, there were still too many people around. Especially for all the images that filled his head of the two of them, sweaty and tangled.

  He shook himself. He had one more event in less than an hour. He needed to be sharp when he leapt off a horse going thirty, not sex drunk and slow. He reached up and slid his thumb across her lower lip.