by Emily Bishop
Wait that’s not a rock… is that a chest?
I tried opening my eyes, but I was so damn tired. I drifted and faded as his steps lulled me back to sleep.
When I next came to, I was flat on a couch. I opened my eyes and was greeted by James’s concerned gaze. “Here, drink this,” he said, thrusting a steaming mug into my hand. His order was so natural that I did as I was told and took a long sip.
Mmm. Wait. Was that hot chocolate? Panicking, I spit the drink out of mouth, coughing and choking.
He took the mug away from me and rested his hand against my back and patted it, guiding me back to a normal breath.
“Sorry, was that too hot?” he asked, frowning. I shook my head venomously.
“No, no. It’s not that. I don’t drink dairy,” I rasped out. I decided to leave the vegan out of my statement, considering I was still woozy and not in the mood for a long talk about diet.
James chuckled, kneeling, so he was almost in line with my vision.
Fire shot through my pussy. I moaned out loud, then slapped a hand to my mouth. His effect on me was embarrassingly powerful.
He studied me for a long minute, and then broke into an earth-shattering, panty-dropping smile. Such a genuine warmth radiating out of him, in such stark contrast to his brooding manner, that I drifted my gaze towards his sexy lips, lost.
“It’s not every day that I have a trespasser pass out on my porch,” he pointed out. “How are you feeling?”
That cut off my chance to come back with a smart comment. “Considering I smacked down face-first into gravel, I guess I’ve had better days.”
He smiled again, his eyes lighting up with mischief, and then he called out behind him. “Juanita ,can you fix a sugary lemonade and some food for Summer here please?” Every inch of him was imposing and overbearing.
Footsteps shuffled off, and at last we were alone.
With trembling hands, I lifted myself up on the sofa. The room tilted again, and James gripped my arm, steadying me.
An electric current connected us, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking down at his hand. It was huge, just like the rest of him. Such manly hands. “Hey, look at me,“ he said, gently, and then rested his hand under my chin, as if it belonged there. He tilted my head upward, so that I melted into his gaze. A shiver ran down my spine. “You have to take it easy, Diane Sawyer,” he said.
“You know your journalists,” I pointed out.
His face hardened at that comment, and just as I was beginning to warm to him, he snuffed it out, cold seeping back into his features. “What are you doing here, Summer?” he asked. The way he spoke my name, holy hell, it was magical. He said my name with care and gentleness, almost as if he was singing the syllables.
I stamped down on those thoughts. “You did bring me here.”
“Don’t be smart with me.”
“I struggle not to be smart,” I replied and winked. Okay, so that’d been a little cocky, but he’d asked for it.
James didn’t find it cute. “There’s a reason I’ve put up fences all around the property. I like my privacy. And if you’re looking for a story, it’s not here.”
“Without even hearing me out, huh?” I tried getting up, but my head spun again and James placed an arm on my shoulder, grounding me in the present moment. His face was a battle of emotions now, a storm of worry, frustration, and heat.
“I already know what you’re gonna say.” James growled. “Look, you are not in a condition to go anywhere right now. Juanita will fix you some lemonade and get you something to eat, so stay put. I’m sure you can tolerate my company for a few more minutes.” James lifted himself up from the floor, his biceps flexing underneath his flannel shirt, and he ran a hand over his loose waves.
“Look, I’m interested in investigating your farm for Discover Magazine. I’ll keep your name out of the story if that’s what you want. I take confidentiality seriously. All I’m asking is a quiet few days to observe and learn about what you do. I’m happy to compensate you for your time.” Which was ridiculous really, considering my bank account was almost depleted and considering he lived in, well, a mansion.
James snorted, casting an incredulous look my way. “Absolutely not. You could have a million dollars in your pocket and the answer would still be no. You could be from the New York Times, but guess what? The answer would still be a no. Go investigate elsewhere.” He shut me down, and the gap in my gut widened. Three days in Dripping Springs, and this was proving to be more difficult than I’d anticipated.
Sensing my disappointment, James looked away. And then the phone saved us, cutting through the tension. James seemed almost relieved to answer it. He walked away, barking orders left and right.
He was so commanding. So obviously used to getting what he wanted.
I turned my attention toward the room. In a way, private spaces were windows into people’s identities, and James’s living room screamed back at me with intrigue. An entire wall was encased with books on the left-hand side, and I longed to go over there and bury myself in his literature. Loads and loads of records, stacked like books on some of the shelves, covered another corner, and a spark of curiosity gripped me.
A man that loved reading and vintage records—what was next?
Glancing over toward the large French windows, I caught the last remnants of the afternoon sun, dipping below the horizon and retreating into another night. A sloshing and tinkling noise pulled me back to the present.
Juanita walked toward me with a tray piled high with sandwiches and lemonade. My stomach growled, and I smiled gratefully at her. Bending over, Juanita set the tray on the coffee table in front of me. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’ll be okay. I’m prone to getting these dizzy spells. I’ve got low blood sugar,” I offered by way of explanation.
“To be on the safe side, these sandwiches have only cucumber and tomato in them. Sorry about the hot chocolate.” Juanita added.
“That’s OK. Thank you so much.” I smiled again and dug in, savoring the crusty bread and cold cucumbers that assaulted my senses. I took a large sip of lemonade and reveled in the freshness of citrus fruit.
A throat cleared, and I looked up.
James studied me from the doorway. He pointed at his cheek, grinning. “You got some cucumber there.”
Mortified, I wiped my mouth and cheek with a napkin from the tray.
“Look, I’ve got to go and help out one of my friends. His Jeep got stuck in the mud. Juanita, make sure she doesn’t go anywhere for the next hour at least. Watch her like a hawk. She’s a stubborn one.”
Frowning, I opened my mouth to protest, but James stormed out of the room before I could say a word.
Yet again, I was reduced to a hot speechless mess, gaping at empty space.
Chapter 4
James
Over the past two days, Summer had wormed her way into my mind, and there was nothing I could do about it. She was strong and stubborn, and fuck, that mermaid hair was my obsession. I pictured dragging my fingers through it, how soft it would be, how it would smell. How it would look draped across her back as I fucked her from behind.
It had taken an immense amount of willpower to control my dick at the sight of her all flushed and determined right on my doorstep.
And I hadn’t expected her to pass out like that. The way she’d hit the ground sickened me. Gut churning, I fought against the panic that hit me. I hoped she was safe. I might have been too harsh on her, but she couldn’t just charge into my world, demanding to interview me, and drag my identity back into the spotlight.
I was brought back to the present, out in the barn, by Atohi, who had been trying to convince me to go to some party up at the Barber Shop.
“I know you’re a grouch and hate society, but come on, man, I don’t want to be single forever. It’s just one party.” Atohi was desperate to get laid. I’d give him that.
“Who could you possibly find in this town?” I asked, incredu
lous. Atohi was a special guy. No woman was a match for him, not any of the ladies in Dripping Springs, at least.
“At this point, my only contact with females are through cows and Pinkie. Come on, have some sympathy.”
I racked my brain for something, anything, that would get me out of this. An image of the pounds of shit waiting to be scooped out of the horse’s stables hit me.
I smiled at Atohi and said, “Well, I guess I could come with you. If, and only if, you scoop out the shit waiting for us back at the stables.”
I was positive Atohi would crumble and let go of this ridiculous fantasy that the Barber Shop equaled a good time. After all, with the strict rosters in place for shit duties, Atohi had just done his fair share of scooping yesterday.
Atohi groaned and then burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You are unbelievable. But I know you better than you think. And I won’t let you win, not this time. Deal.” Atohi caught me off guard by grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly.
Here comes trouble.
*
As I waited for Atohi to come back with our drinks, I loosened up. The music wasn’t insufferable, and the Barber Shop had done a half-decent job of stringing up the beer garden with lights.
The night was warm and lit up with a slew of stars in the endless sky. The 90s hip hop was mixed with some progressive R&B, and I threw a glance over at the DJ deck. He nodded along to the music, one ear to his headphones while his hand adjusted the sound mix.
I scanned the room and landed on a pair of giggling women who eyed me like cotton candy. They burst into laughter when they caught my gaze, and one of them blushed ten shades of red.
I frowned and pulled my gaze away. I was sick and tired of being gaped at like a circus freak.
Atohi made his way back to me, grinning, and thrust a suspicious-looking glass into my hand. “Here you go, boss,” he shouted over the music. I murmured my thanks and observed the murky brown liquid.
“Let me guess, cheap whisky and fizzled out-coke?”
Shrugging, he took a large sip of his drink and looked around the party. “Alcohol is alcohol. Not bad for the Barber Shop!”
I gave a half-grunt of acknowledgment and took a sip of my own drink.
My gaze collided with hers, and I almost choked, spitting the drink back out again.
Her again. This was unbelievable.
Summer stood across the garden, wearing a flowy white dress dotted with petals. It was the perfect contrast to her shining tan. Her mermaid hair spilled down her shoulders in twirls, reaching over the curve of her breasts. Her whole face glowed, and she gazed back at me, amused.
I strode over to her, nudging people out of the way. She was full-on smirking at me now, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“Stop stalking me,” I commanded.
She was so small and supple that it spurred a protectiveness in me to stand guard and shelter her from… what, I didn’t know.
“Don’t be so self-centered. Dripping Springs is small enough to not make this encounter a complete coincidence,” Summer replied, smoothly. Her eyes were soft and filled with warmth. I relaxed in her presence.
“Have you had any more fainting spells?” I asked, changing the subject.
“You mean, have I smacked my face down in dirt again? You’ll be surprised to find that I haven’t.”
A chuckle slipped past my wall. “How many years have you spent in New York?”
“How did you know I was from New York?”
“You’re looking at a man born and raised there.” I shrugged. “I can recognize an accent when I hear one.”
“Not long, actually, so that’s just a lucky guess. I’m from Colorado originally, but I’ve spent the last three years up in Brooklyn.”
“Ah, a girl from the mountains,” I said.
Something unknown shifted in her eyes. I had a damn good ability to read people, but Summer was a mixture of openness and secrecy. Her reaction to me was obvious and real. She was affected by me, just as I was by her.
Still, I couldn’t suss her out entirely, and it drove me crazy.
“A girl that used to be part of the mountains. Not anymore.”
Mysterious as hell. I sensed that there was something unspoken there, perhaps for another time. I took this opportunity to look down at her hands. They were empty. “Do you want a drink?”
The music soared several decibels, drowning out my offer.
“What?” she yelled.
I leaned in, breath tickling her ear, and she shifted under me.
I inhaled her scent. Fuck, she smelled like almond and honey with a hint of lavender, all in one. How could another human smell so delicious?
Briefly, my mind lingered to what else she smelled like. What her sweet cunt tasted like…but just as quickly, I shot down that idea. “Would you like a drink?” I repeated.
“I’m OK for now. It’s funny how you’re offering to buy me a drink but aren’t letting me anywhere near your ranch,” she commented, catching my frown.
“Hardly the same thing.”
“You’re offering to buy me a drink, which means you have settled for spending at least another what, half an hour, in my company. But you refuse to discuss what I’m really here for,” she said.
My mind simmered in anger, yet my cock twitched again, and I ached to pin her against the wall and make her come so hard she’d forget her own name.
It was the perfect contradiction: She both infuriated and moved me. But no. I had underestimated the media once, and it had almost destroyed me. It was as plain as daylight. Her profession toyed with people’s lives, and I couldn’t stand here and say nothing.
“You can’t take no for an answer, can you? You journalists are all the same—noisy and so demanding. Almost as if you think you have a right to snoop into other people’s business and shatter their privacy.”
The harsh words hit their mark. She looked taken aback. Hurt washed over her face, and Summer retreated from me, dragging her eyes from mine to survey the party. Her entire body tensed up.
Guilt tugged at me. My words had consequences. Summer didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Something inside me softened, and I broke down my barrier. “That came out harshly. I’ve had some bad runs with the media in the past, so I’m skeptical of journalists in general.” Bad runs was an understatement. The media had slaughtered me, ripped me to shreds.
Summer re-focused her eyes on mine and a small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s OK. But we’re not all bad eggs, you know? I happen to take my profession seriously. For all its toxicity, the media is supposed to be about truth and facts, from the environment down to the food on our plates.”
There was truth to her statement. “I used to be a corporate lawyer. Skepticism was part of my profession.”
Her eyes widened. “Like a suit-man from Suits?”
I got that all the time. Television definitely romanticized the profession. “Sort of, yeah.”
“Let me guess, you were like Harvey, weren’t you?” She nudged past my barrier, and I decided to give her another piece of me.
“Was I ruthless with my opposition? You could say that.”
“So you dueled with people in court?”’ she pressed.
I hadn’t just dueled with people, I’d fucked up their lives. I’d torn families to pieces with my ambition. I’d never lost a case, regardless of who was on the receiving end of my wrath. I’d personally watched people’s lives shatter as a result of my case wins. Shame flooded in as the past threatened to resurface, and I flicked the switch, relishing the numbness. The mask slipped on, and I cast Summer a blank look.
Her gaze brightened. Summer was smart. Too smart. She had witnessed my inner conflict, yet she had spared me the dignity in that moment by looking away, giving me a moment to piece myself back together.
She was incredibly intuitive, and I liked that about her.
And then Summer’s features morphed into suspicion.
“Do you know that woman?” s
he asked me. Following her gaze across the dance floor, I landed on the one woman who made my blood boil. Bruna.
She stood there, sipping her drink, batting her eyelashes, watching us with curiosity. When she noticed she had my attention, she flashed me her infamous cat-like smile. Game on.
She had the nerve to show up here, of all places, and what? Try and win me back after what she had done?
“Who is she?” Summer asked, curiosity getting the best of her.
Instead of replying, I grabbed hold of Summer’s hand and pulled her deeper into the crowd, away from Bruna. “Let’s dance,” I shouted. I spotted Atohi chatting to a red-headed woman in a skimpy mini dress. He broke his conversation with her and frowned at me. “What are you doing?” he mouthed.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I was most definitely not a dancer, but I had to protect Summer from my ex.
Summer was startled herself, but she played along. I swung her around in a twirl, and a laugh escaped her lips.
She moved along the beat, her curvy hips following the rhythm with ease. I watched her for a second, licking my lips as the fire subsided within me and was replaced instead with growing awe at this woman who had so stubbornly collided with my life.
She caught my intense gaze and blushed. Then Summer bit her lower lip, and I had to suppress a guttural groan.
She drove me fucking nuts.
“What are we doing on the dance floor?” Summer rested her hands on her hips. “Besides making that woman over there insanely jealous right now.”
“Stop asking questions.”
“I’m not letting this one go that easily. Whatever she’s done, you looked pissed as hell. I should know, considering I’ve been exposed to your glares.” She’d caught me off guard, and she grabbed the drink from my hand and took a large sip. Fighting the urge to spit it out, she scrunched up her face, looking up at me in mock horror.
“I take it you’re not a fan of whisky?” I teased.
“Correct. Now, stop skirting around my question.” Summer was irresistible, and if I wasn’t careful, she would penetrate through the barrier I had spent a year building.
