Her Billionaire Rancher Boss

by Genevieve Turner

  “All right,” she agreed. “If Javier has an answer, I’ll listen. Without arguing.”

  Javier made a noise of disbelief.

  She ignored him, held her hand out to Ms. Ramirez. “Thank you for seeing us. I’m sorry it wasn’t more productive.”

  Javier ignored her as they left the office, veering off the opposite direction when they reached the parking lot.

  “Where are you going?” she called after him. “Benedict’s truck is this way.”

  “I know where it is.” He didn’t turn back.

  “Then where are you going?” Was there once, just once, where he could behave normally and not like the world’s most stereotypical teenager?

  “To Ernesto’s. I’m staying the night, so don’t wait up. Not that you would.”

  He disappeared before she could light into him.

  If he knew how many nights she did exactly that, watched and waited in the kitchen, wondering where he was…

  She blinked back her tears of hurt and anger. Javier probably didn’t even care how deeply his words had cut her, which made the burning in her eyes even worse.

  She made her way numbly back to Benedict’s truck. He came out as she approached and helped her in, then went back to the driver’s seat.

  “How was it?”

  She stared at nothing for a time. “He… he won’t go to college. Absolutely refuses.”

  How could she make Javier see how important this was? Why wouldn’t he just listen to her?

  “What will he do instead?”

  She shrugged, then laughed humorlessly. “That’s exactly what he did when I asked him that. Just shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.” Her voice rose on the last. “I don’t know how to get through to him. I’ve tried and tried and tried and… nothing. And it’s not the money—I’ve saved more than enough to send him wherever he might want to go.”

  All he had to do was show the slightest interest, exert the slightest effort, and he could go. She’d made it so easy for him.

  “Where is he now?” Benedict asked. Gently, without reproach. It soothed away some of her hurt, the softness of Benedict’s questioning.

  “He—” She gestured wildly at the high school. “He said that he was crashing at a friend’s, that I shouldn’t wait up for him—not that I would anyway, is what he said.”

  She sniffed and bit at her wobbling lip. Okay, maybe the hurt wasn’t really going away. Maybe it was getting worse.

  Benedict handed her a tissue. “Teenagers are a pain in the ass.”

  She wiped at her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. She was so close to losing it; so, so close. “It’s almost like he resents me. God, how badly did I screw up to make him act like this?”

  “Hey.” Benedict laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “It’s not you. This is normal for teenage boys. Even I was little shit when I was his age.”

  She gave him the side eye. “I really doubt that. You were probably born responsible.”

  He laughed. “I bet you were born that way too.”

  “No.” She’d been a good student, a dutiful daughter before. It was only after she found herself responsible for Javier that she realized what true responsibility was. “I mean, I did all the good-girl things expected of me growing up. But when I got to college, I kind of pulled away from my family. I spent most weekends at school, didn’t call that often. And I should have come home more, spent more time with all of them.” She’d known at the time that it was the right thing to do, to go home whenever she could—and she hadn’t. Which had made her parents’ deaths hurt all the more.

  “You didn’t know what would happen.” His thumb began to rub her shoulder, and that one little contact was so comforting. “College was your time, your achievement. You know how proud your parents were that you went. And now you want the same for Javier.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t want it. And I don’t know how to make him want it.” She wiped her eyes once more, the tears slowing. But the hurt stayed, emptier now that she’d cried some of it out. “I’m sorry. You wasted over an hour on this.”

  “Wasn’t a waste.”

  Kind of him to say so, but of course it was. He was Mr. Important Businessman—time was money and she’d just wasted both.

  “I’ll work late to make it up.”

  “It’s almost five o’clock. I’d say we can quit early today.” His hand left her shoulder and he turned the key in the ignition, the diesel roaring to life. “And I know just what’ll make you feel better.”

  “What?” She stopped dabbing at her eyes to peer at him.

  He grinned rather boyishly. “It’s a surprise.”

  Benedict Merrill behaving like a schoolboy. She liked it. And she liked surprises. Maybe it would be a sexy one, involving the both of them getting buck naked. A distraction like that would make her feel better.

  He turned them toward the resort but took them past the hotel and into the private area of the ranch, the part where only the family went. But they didn’t take the road up to the family residences—instead, he took them down a dirt road that wound up into the hills. The truck climbed through vegetation made plump and green by spring rains, orange and yellow and purple splashes marking the patches of flowers. The buckwheat lining the road scraped at the truck as they passed, the narrowness of the track testifying to how little it was used.

  Night crept on the higher they climbed so that, by the time he pulled off into a lookout, the sky was a deep purple going to black.

  On the other side of the windshield, the ranch and resort were laid out on the valley floor below them. The pool was visible from here, a great glittering sapphire set amidst the pavé of the streetlights.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “It’s so pretty.” He was right; this was exactly what she’d needed, seeing Cabrillo shrunk down like this, sparkling amidst the mountains surrounding them. Her problems seemed much smaller from this perspective.

  “Isn’t it?” he asked, looking pleased that she was pleased.

  “I bet you take all the girls here. Your own little private make-out spot.” No one outside the family would likely have access to the road up.

  “A few,” he admitted. “Back in high school. I haven’t been up here since senior year.”

  “Why not? It’s gorgeous.” Not that a man like him needed any help seducing a woman.

  “Well, there was college,” he said, “and then business school. When I came back, I started working at the ranch, and then Dad got sick and had to retire, and Josh…” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “There just wasn’t time.”

  For all that he was the son of the richest family in the area and she… wasn’t, their time after college sounded very similar. Responsibility was the watchword of both their lives.

  Only she was leaving in three months, her responsibility discharged. And he was staying for a lifetime of it. Rather sad to think of him all alone, trying to do the right thing by his family, the ranch, the resort, shouldering that burden for the rest of his life.

  But he’d brought her here to be happy, not sad.

  “Not even time to bring a woman up here to make out,” she said with mock sympathy. “Pobrecito.”

  His gaze was hot, even in the dim light. “You’re the first woman I’ve wanted to share this with.”

  God, that was romantic. Too romantic—she needed this to be only about sex so that she could leave in three months without leaving part of her heart behind.

  She set a hand to his jaw and pulled him toward her, the stubble there deliciously raspy against her palm. It would be even more delicious along her inner thigh.

  “Kiss me,” she ordered softly.

  He laughed gently, a caress of air against her lips. And then his mouth was on hers, as hungry as she was, as ready to devour as she was. She curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled, wanting more of him.

  “Hang on,” he gasped. He slid his seat all the way back, and in one quick, strong movement, he lifted her straigh
t up onto his lap.

  That was hot. So hot.

  She leaned down to kiss him again, setting her hands on his shoulders for balance. The muscles there were as tense and hard as steel. His hands slid up her skirt, his thumbs hooking into her panties.

  “Thank God you’re not wearing those stupid tights,” he muttered.

  “I thought something like this might happen. Well, I wanted something like this to happen.”

  “The two of us necking like teenagers in the front seat of my truck?”

  “Not this exactly. But now that it’s happening, I wouldn’t change any of it.”

  “I’d change the fact that I don’t have any condoms on me.” He smiled with tentative hope. “Do you have any?”

  “Nope. Remembered to leave off my tights and forgot to pack the condoms.”

  He shook his head gravely, the twinkle in his eyes giving him away. “I ought to teach you a lesson. So that you don’t forget again.”

  Her breasts tightened. “Really? What lesson might that be?”

  “This.” He swiped his fingers along her sex, through the fabric of her panties. A muted promise of what was to come when he breached that barrier.

  “You’re already so wet,” he muttered into her neck. “Do you know how fucking hard that makes me, to feel that on my fingers?”

  All she could give in response was a shaky moan.

  He rubbed her clit, the fabric making it that much worse. She could feel the wetness now, her panties clinging to her folds.

  And he’d only just started.

  He nudged aside the cotton covering her, his fingers trailing along her inner thigh, catching in the ticklish fold that marked the boundary between her leg and her sex. She squirmed and moaned because he was so close and yet so far from where she wanted him, the tease.

  “That’s right, baby girl,” he growled. “Tell me how much you like this. Moan for me. Scream for me.”

  How could she do anything but that now? “Make me scream,” she dared him.

  He set his thumb just above the head of her clit, heavy against the hood and the nerves buried there. Then he slid a forefinger inside her, slow and stretching—but not near as thick as his cock, which pressed hard and hot against her inner thigh…

  He crooked his finger inside her even as his thumb made deliberate, deep circles around her clit—and she did it. She screamed as an orgasm tore her mind to shreds, her hips jerking out of her control, her lips sputtering out something like “Fuckfuckfuck.”

  She folded against him, burying her face into his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath and her thoughts.

  That was quite possibly the best orgasm she’d ever had. And they both had on all their clothes—although hers were askew—in the front seat of his truck.

  And to think she could only cram in three months’ worth of those orgasms.

  “I won’t forget the condoms next time,” she promised solemnly.

  He laughed, the force of it making her jiggle as he shook with it. “And I’ll try to get us to a bed next time.”

  He kissed her on the corner of her mouth, a gentle touch that a man might give a woman he’d been giving orgasms to for forever.

  But she wouldn’t be that woman. This was only for three months.

  “What about you?” she asked, wanting to put this back into safe—and solely physical—territory.

  “Me?”

  “Well…” She slipped the tongue of his belt free of the buckle, the one he’d been wearing forever, the one she remembered him holding in that newspaper photo. “I figure you had just as much of a responsibility as me to bring the condoms. So maybe I should make sure you don’t forget.”

  His smile came on as slowly as his hands slid up her ass. “Yeah, you probably should.”

  She leaned back until she was lying against the steering wheel. His eyelids were heavy, and he sprawled as if he hadn’t a care in the world—but his fingers sank tight into the curve of her ass, and his cock pushed hard against the zipper of his jeans.

  “That looks painful,” she said with mock innocence. She rubbed his bulge, loving the choked moan he made. “Better?”

  He only lifted his hips to rub himself against her hand again.

  “Hmm, maybe not. Let’s take a closer look.” She flicked his jeans button open, then slowly, slowly, lowered the zipper.

  He bit his lower lip, the lines of his neck going stark. She leaned in, took his lower lip gently between her own teeth, and tugged it free, sucking on it for a moment.

  And then she pulled out his cock. She couldn’t see it in any great detail, but it felt long, the skin smooth, the head softer, with a slippery bead of moisture at the tip. She wrapped her fingers around it and slid down and up and back again until her hand was buried in the nest of hair there.

  But she could make this a lot better for him. She lifted her hand to her mouth and ran her tongue over her palm.

  “Jesus,” he wheezed. “Do that again.”

  She widened her eyes. “This?” And she did it slow and nasty that time, watching his reaction. His eyes went wide, then fluttered to half mast. Such a delicious expression on him.

  She grabbed his cock again and started to pump, her hand slick with spit and his own fluid. He lifted his hips with each stroke, trying to drive himself deeper into her hand. He bared his teeth, gripped her ass as if she were the only thing holding him to the earth, and grunted.

  “That’s right, baby,” she crooned. “Tell me how much you like it.”

  “So fucking much,” he ground out. He rolled his hips, lifting both of them clear off the seat. “The door… tissues…” He reached for them, only to jerk his hips helplessly once more.

  She grabbed them instead, just in time to catch his come. He released a low, tortured sound as his cock spasmed with his release.

  “Jesus,” he said, dazed. “Jesus Christ.”

  She’d never seen him so disheveled, so knocked for a loop. Even in all her dirty imaginings, he’d always been cool, in control. She was the one screaming and losing her head.

  Which she’d definitely done here, but to make him look like he did now, all inside out and pleasure wrecked? It was heady stuff.

  “Tissues,” she said, with an amused shake of her head. Any other man would have simply thought, “Damn these clothes—I’m about to come.”

  “I couldn’t come into your hand,” he said, embarrassment shading the words.

  Now it was her turn to put a soft kiss on his lips. He was so chivalrous, even when she was giving him a hand job in a make-out spot in his truck. It was really cute.

  His expression went solemn, and he smoothed her hair from her face, leaving his hand to cup her cheek. And then he just stared, as if he couldn’t look at her enough. He leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth again.

  “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, serious as a heart attack. “Thank you.”

  Suddenly she wanted to cry. She ought to say it was nothing, but right now… right now it felt like everything.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The rap at her front door had Pilar cursing—although it was a Sunday and she tried very hard not to take the Lord’s name in vain on that day.

  But she had one leg in her tights and one not, and now she’d have to wriggle into the other leg as quickly as she could before whoever was there left because taking off the tights would take just as long as putting them on.

  “Coming,” she yelled, hopping on one foot to the door and pulling on the tights as she did.

  There. One last shimmy and tug and she was ready.

  Except for her skirt.

  “Fu—crap,” she muttered. “Be right there,” she called again.

  A dash back to her room, grabbing the doorknob to keep from falling as she put on her skirt, and then a dash back to the entryway.

  Whoever had knocked had better still be there.

  She opened the door to find Lucia, her neighbor, standing there.

  “Did he come home last nigh
t?” Lucia asked.

  “Yes. But not till midnight.” She’d sat in bed until then, ears straining for the door, eyes staring into the darkness. “He’s sleeping now.”

  Lucia reached for her hand and squeezed. “He’s young. He’ll straighten out. Just watch.”

  Easy for Lucia to say. Cabrillo usually sent one kid a year to Stanford and next year that kid would be Lucia’s sister.

  “I know he will.” Pilar didn’t, but it seemed like the right thing to say. And it was nice of Lucia to come comfort her. “Oh, and I have that novela recorded for you on DVD.”

  “Oh! Did you watch the latest one? What happened with Rodrigo?”

  “No.” Pilar made a face. “I haven’t liked it as much since they killed off Manuel. Rodrigo just isn’t the same.”

  “But he isn’t really dead…” Lucia trailed off as she turned to look down the street.

  The low grumble of a diesel reverberated through the neighborhood. Hugo had a diesel, but it didn’t sound quite like that one—

  Oh no. Pilar knew that truck. She’d had a screaming orgasm in it just three days ago. Please don’t stop, just be driving through…

  The truck parked right in front of her house.

  What the hell was he doing coming here?

  They were supposed to be discreet about whatever it was that they were doing. And she had to be at Mass in half an hour.

  Benedict climbed out. He was wearing a light blue button-down, black jeans, and a black Stetson pulled low over his eyes. He looked… ready for church. Or maybe he was coming from church. Maybe he was one of those annoying people who went to the early Mass because it was quieter and more formal.

  “Pilar.” He touched his hat as he came up the walk. “Lucia.”

  Ooooh, touching his hat like that, like an old-timey cowboy paying his respect to a lady… She blew out a breath, wriggled her toes in her tights. He melted her with that stuff.

  Lucia gave her a quick look that said What is this?

  Pilar’s answering look said, I don’t know. She certainly couldn’t explain the appearance of the Merrill heir on her front steps on a Sunday morning.

  Now if it had been a Saturday night…