by Maisey Yates
There was a slight pause, and he heard her shift next to him. He resisted the urge to look. “Since I have not slept with half the eligible population of Copper Ridge, I think it’s safe to say I have less experience than you,” she said, her tone honed to a razor’s edge.
“I’m not going to apologize for my actions. Not to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You don’t have to be young to be naive. My mother was twenty-five when she had me. She wasn’t young. She wasn’t stupid. She was blinded by her feelings for a jackass who didn’t use a condom. And who sure as hell had no plans of sticking around and helping her raise me. So forgive me if I don’t trust my species around you.”
“You don’t need to trust your species around me. You just need to trust my aim with a .30-06.” He didn’t say anything, and she continued staring at him. “That means I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Ever?”
His stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Yeah. Ever. Why would I want you to get hurt?”
“Getting hurt is a part of life. I’ve been hurt plenty.” He looked at her then. Because he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t really think some guy seeing me naked and never calling is going to hurt me more than my mom abandoning me when I was two. Or my dad dying after spending most of my life as a worthless drunk. Or losing my sister-in-law, who was pretty much the only woman I had around. Yeah, I guarantee you sex will hurt less than that.” She blinked rapidly, looking straight ahead. “There are some things I’m inexperienced with, Jack. That’s true enough. But I have more experience with all kinds of other shit than any one person should have. And I’m still standing. I’m not all that breakable. So you can stop with the gallant crap. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t need it.”
“So instead you want me to do my damnedest to hurt you?” he asked, his voice rough. “I don’t want to add to that.”
His head was pounding, the pressure building behind his eyeballs. And his cock was still hard. He was pretty sure it had been since their lips had made contact in the arena. He had just more or less successfully ignored it during the hours since. He was less successfully ignoring it right now. Because the cab of his truck smelled like the no-nonsense soap Kate washed her skin with. It also smelled like hay and grass and sunshine. Stuff Kate had tracked in.
Hell, it was Kate.
She was the earth with everything unnecessary stripped away. Leaving behind a kind of beauty a man couldn’t make with his hands. As wholesome as a damned apple pie. And for some reason that wholesomeness had worked its way beneath his skin until it had settled in his gut, growing into a dark and twisted need. A need he would have to try to choke out.
He nearly snorted at that. That was potentially a bad way to phrase that. Even internally.
“How could you hurt me?” she asked. She was innocent. So damn innocent.
He could think of a hundred ways. Ways that would be fun for a while but could very well destroy them both in the end. So he didn’t say anything.
“I’m serious,” she continued. “I know you. I know exactly what I would be getting myself into.”
“If you’re propositioning me, Kate Garrett, you had better be sure you know what you want,” he said, his patience snapping.
She didn’t hesitate. “Kiss me.”
That need, the one that was all knotted up inside him, started to bloom like a poisoned flower. Spreading desire through his veins like a sickness. When he had no hope in hell of fighting. Not now. Not anymore. And even though he knew it would lead them straight to hell, he let it grab hold of him.
He reached across the distance, pressed his hand against her back and drew her forward, his lips crashing down on hers with a desperation that would have shocked him if he hadn’t been beyond that.
She gasped, the little intake of breath giving him the perfect opportunity to do what he’d held himself back from when she’d grabbed him in the arena. He slid his tongue against hers, the illicit friction sending a shiver of pleasure running down his spine, then settling lower, making his cock hard. Heavy.
He was very aware that these were Kate Garrett’s lips beneath his. Because that scent that had been teasing him from the moment they had gotten into the truck wasn’t just surrounding him now. It was in him. He inhaled deeply, trying to recapture his earlier thoughts. That she was somehow simple, wholesome.
But that connection was gone now. Her scent was now linked, inextricably, to her kiss.
And her kiss was nothing like apple pie.
She still smelled like grass and sunshine, but now he could only think of pressing her down into the grass, exposing her skin to the golden rays of the sun while he kissed every last inch of her.
His head was still screaming at him that this was wrong. But his heart was raging, and his body was on fire. And so his brain was outvoted. Two against one, poor bastard.
Kate. It’s Kate.
The mantra his mind was pounding through him like a drum didn’t do anything to satisfy the hunger that was roaring through him like a hungry animal. The only thing for that was to get more of what he craved. And right now that was Kate.
He lifted his other hand, cupped the back of her head and held her hard against him, deepening the kiss. She whimpered, arching against him, closing some of the distance between them. Then she rested her hand on his thigh, and heat exploded in his gut.
Too much. Too fast.
He couldn’t force himself to care about that, either.
Kate had asked for a kiss, and his instincts were racing five steps ahead. To what it would feel like to strip her top off. To what her breasts would look like without the boxy shirt she favored concealing her curves.
She wore the most unflattering clothes. And right now he appreciated it. It left a whole lot to his imagination. He couldn’t guess what he might find when he unwrapped the beautiful present that was Kate Garrett.
Would she have a long slender torso that gently curved into hips? Or did she have a more dramatic contour to her waist?
And her breasts... It was impossible to tell just how large they were. Whether they would be tight and perky or whether they would dip softly, perfect for him to cup in his hand.
He wanted to know. He needed to know. And at the same time he wanted to draw out the torture. To leave the questions unanswered for as long as he possibly could so he could revel in the pain, in the deep, intense longing that had sunk its teeth into his throat.
A raw sound escaped Kate’s lips, vibrated through her entire body and through his own.
She was wearing denim, dammit. And a big-ass belt with one of those big-ass buckles. It would have been so much easier if she were wearing a skirt, something he could shove up her hips quickly while he pushed her panties to the side.
But she didn’t have on a skirt. Because the woman had never worn a skirt in her life.
And he well knew it because he had known her for most of it.
Kate. It’s Kate.
Holy shit.
He wrenched his mouth away from hers, his chest heaving, breathing a serious challenge. He straightened, facing forward, his hands on the steering wheel. “Get in your truck.”
“Jack...”
“Go get in your truck. Please.” He didn’t mean the last part to sound quite so much like begging.
“Or what?” Her question was muted.
She was baiting him. And he was tempted to take that bait. To try and shock her. To say something to her he had no right to say to a woman he should think of as a sister. But he didn’t take it.
“There is no or, Katie. Get in your truck and go home.”
He expected her to argue. She didn’t. He listened to the sound of the truck door open, and he didn’t watch as she got out.
&n
bsp; “We’re going to have that distance we talked about earlier,” he said, his voice rough. “No more flirting lessons. No more rodeo instruction.” He raised his head and looked at her, only for a second. “No more kissing.”
Her expression was defiant, flat. Her eyes were glittering again and he knew that she was going to go home and cry. And it would be his fault.
He couldn’t stop her. So he looked away from her instead.
She didn’t say anything. And he didn’t look at her again.
Didn’t even look when she slammed the door.
He waited a few minutes, then looked at her truck, watched as the headlights came on, as the engine started and as she drove away. He looked at the truck. He wouldn’t allow himself to look at her. But he assumed that as long as the truck was making it away from the Grange safely, so was its driver.
Now all he had to do was put distance between himself and a woman he saw every day. Without rousing the suspicions of her brothers. Who he also saw every day.
He would have to relearn to look at her and not wonder about what she looked like naked. He would have to look at her and forget that he had ever wanted to know about the mysteries of the curve in her waist.
Easy. It would be easy.
He started his truck and let the rumble of the engine drown out everything else. But it didn’t quite manage to drown out the voice in his head that was telling him it wouldn’t be easy at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ONLY FORTY-EIGHT HOURS ago Kate would have said nothing could’ve possibly made her dread the bridesmaid dress fitting for Sadie’s wedding more than she already was. But she had officially found a way to make herself dread it even more.
A dress fitting with only a crappy night’s sleep and a few hours between making out with Jack and getting rejected by Jack made the situation seem even worse.
She still couldn’t quite believe she’d kissed him twice. That she had gone from kissing virgin to fully initiated since just yesterday. And that it had been him. Jack.
Her face burned and she leaned forward in the driver’s seat of her truck, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. She’d been sitting out in the parking lot of the bridal store for the past ten minutes, avoiding going inside.
Because she was afraid that last night’s transgressions would be written across her face in red ink. And if not quite literally, the permanent blush she’d acquired would do so metaphorically.
Sadly, she couldn’t avoid facing Liss and Sadie forever. She allowed herself a fantasy where she managed to dodge both of them, and wearing a dress.
Alas, it was only a fantasy.
Still, if recent events with Jack were any indicator, sometimes fantasies came true.
Or at least half-true.
She thought of the way his big hands had moved over her back, the way he’d cupped her head. The way his tongue had felt against hers.
She shivered, restlessness growing between her thighs.
Who knew that having a man’s tongue in her mouth could be so damned erotic? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know she wanted sex. She’d been very aware of men as a species for a while. Quite a while. And had taken great pleasure in tormenting Eli and Connor with her awareness simply because...well, she was their sister and tormenting them was what she did right along with breathing.
But her fantasies on the subject had been hazy, confined mainly to enjoyment derived from looking at men, rather than deep imaginings of what it would be like to be kissed by them. To be touched by them.
And all of that was changing because of Jack Monaghan.
The thought was becoming less and less disturbing. Because kissing him felt so good.
It wasn’t like she wanted a relationship with him. She wasn’t sure she wanted a serious relationship with anyone, ever. Her parents’ marriage hadn’t exactly been something to aspire to. Then there was the heartbreak Connor had experienced with his first marriage.
And sure, everything was going great for him now. And Eli was in love, blah blah blah. But they were also in their thirties. She had a long time until she was in her thirties. She didn’t know the ins and outs of the love lives of her brothers, and she frankly didn’t want to. But she doubted that either of them, Eli especially, had been monks before falling in love.
Frankly, she felt as though she had to have some sex before she ever worried about marriage. And sex with Jack... If he was half as good in bed as he was just kissing in the cab of his truck, it would be electrifying. Altering. Potentially ruining her for other men.
No. She wouldn’t let it.
Of course, it was kind of a moot point since he had rejected her. And what was she supposed to do? Beg?
Just get on her knees in front of him, eye level with his...belt buckle. And then she would put her hands on said belt buckle, pull the thick leather of the belt through the loops, undo the fly and button on his jeans...
Holy sock monkeys, she was having a full-on sexual fantasy in the parking lot of the bridal store. And she still had to go face Sadie and Liss.
She pulled her keys out of the ignition and slowly opened the driver’s-side door, pressing her foot down slowly onto the blacktop, listening to stray gravel grind against the hard surface. She was in no hurry. Officially in no hurry.
She looked at the store, at the three large windows in front, each with two glittering dresses on mannequins displayed proudly in it. And the building was purple.
The whole thing was Kate repellent.
She’d never seen the point in this kind of thing.
The cowgirls she raced against always complained about rhinestones falling off their jackets and hats. Kate, for her part, didn’t have rhinestones on her jacket or hat and therefore never had to worry about them falling off. Really, her take on life seemed a whole lot more practical to her.
But she was a twenty-three-year-old virgin. And she doubted Sierra or the other girls had that same issue.
Maybe men were like magpies and their dicks were attracted to shiny things?
She kept pondering that as she walked through the door and into a ruffle-and-rhinestone wonderland.
Sadie and Liss were standing at the front counter, and both smiled broadly when she entered. For some strange reason Kate had the feeling of walking into a lion’s den with two hungry predators staring at her. Only instead of the background being littered with bones, it was littered with silver racks full of gaudy, shimmering dresses. It was not, in her mind, a less grisly prospect than seeing the picked-clean carcasses of previous victims.
Bones or gowns, it spelled doom for her either way.
The pristine dresses were packed in tightly, covered in plastic. Probably to catch falling rhinestones. Maybe her fellow cowgirls should consider wrapping their hats in plastic.
She had a feeling that idea wouldn’t go over well.
“There you are,” Sadie said, reaching out and grabbing hold of Kate’s arm, drawing her in close. As though Sadie knew that Kate was a flight risk. She was not wrong. “Lisa May already pulled a few dresses in your size. They’re waiting in the fitting room. Along with my wedding gown. Because I’m going to put it on and you’re going to stand next to me. To assess visual compatibility.”
“She’s gone full Sadie,” Liss said, somewhat apologetically. But Kate noticed that Liss was not prying Kate’s arm out of Sadie’s grasp. No, Liss was interested only in saving herself.
“This is a huge wedding. And since we had to put off fitting and style selection till the last minute because of—” Sadie waved her free hand in front of Liss’s baby bump “—that, now we have to get cracking.”
They’d already known special order would be futile, since there was no way to know just how Liss would expand. They’d also decided that matching dresses wouldn’t work, because the same style
wouldn’t be flattering on Kate’s slender frame and Liss’s ever-rounding one.
And by they’d decided, Kate meant that Sadie had decided.
Sadie pulled Kate along to the back of the store with her. There was a row of dressing rooms, each separated from the public by a purple curtain.
Three were open, one with a wedding dress hanging inside and two with an array of dresses in various shades of fall colors.
Eli and Sadie were having a barn-set harvest-themed wedding, which meant absolutely nothing to Kate. Apparently, it meant burnt orange to Sadie.
“Okay, they’ve been organized by the order you’re supposed to try them on in, because some of them pair with each other more nicely than others,” Sadie said, releasing her hold on Kate in order to make broad hand gestures. “Of course, there will be some leeway for mixing and matching. I want you both to feel comfortable in the dress.”
“You want me to feel comfortable in a dress?” Kate asked. “Because that isn’t going to happen. I say just pick what you like. I’m not going to like anything.”
“Kate,” Sadie said, “I love you. But you’re going to have to try to love the dress and make me feel good about it, or I will kill you.”
Kate made a mental note to lie about whichever one Sadie looked the most enthused about. As long as it didn’t have ruffles.
“I’ll try. Because I don’t want to be dead,” she said, stepping into the dressing room and unhooking the curtain from the pullback before tugging it closed.
She started to undress, her mind blessedly blank until Liss’s voice penetrated through the connecting wall of the dressing room. “So how are all the charity plans coming along? Do you all have the venue confirmed?”
Kate pushed her jeans down her hips and turned to face the dresses. “Yes. All that’s taken care of.”
She picked up the first dress, one with fluttery orange ruffles all down the skirt. She ran her fingertips over the fabric, watching as it caught the lights above. It was shiny.
She pulled the zipper down and lowered the dress to the floor, holding it gingerly by the straps as she stepped into it.
