The Rancher's Proposal (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 3)

by Paula Altenburg

  Posey bent over to pick up the chiseled brush Zack had asked for, and thanks to the spectacular view, his train of thought shifted. He’d never pictured her in tight, frayed denim shorts or a plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves—she seemed more the country club type—but here was living proof of what his imagination had been missing out on. She spent a lot of time in her garden in this same position because he saw no tan lines marring the firm, rounded cheeks topping those long, fantastic legs.

  She was killing him. He’d never had to wait so long for a woman before. Not even in high school. What was worse, he suspected she honestly had no idea what she did to a man.

  He’d been patient. Unbelievably so. He’d spent the majority of evenings over the past month on her porch, sitting beside her on her swing, pretending his imagination didn’t have her on the grass, underneath him, under the stars.

  She talked to him, however, so the tradeoff was worth it. He’d learned more about her marriage and the abuse she’d endured.

  He’d also learned she was a lot like Andy, who she admired, in ways she’d never truly considered. She had no concern for herself—or not as much as she should—but when it came to her daughter’s wellbeing, she was ferocious. She might be timid in her relationships with people, but when trying new experiences, she could be incredibly bold. This new business venture was an excellent example. Once the decision was made, she’d gone all in.

  What might she have been like if she’d been raised by two supportive, loving parents? Parents like his? Or if she hadn’t gotten caught up in a relationship with a man who’d had so little appreciation for her true worth?

  She straightened and handed him the brush. He dipped it in the can of bright yellow paint and showed her how to angle it so she wouldn’t smear oil paint all over the latex-based walls. She’d done a fantastic job of taping around the windows, doors, and baseboard. As with everything she tackled, she was methodical and precise. Trim work would suit her.

  By midafternoon, they were finished.

  “What do you think?” she asked him, her paint-spattered hands on her hips as she looked around. Gray eyes shone with satisfaction and tentative pride.

  He thought she was perfect. She’d wisely covered her blond hair with a scarf, a precaution he wished he’d thought of, but painting trim didn’t spray as much as painting Lydia’s nursery walls with a roller had, so his own hair was likely safe.

  But that wasn’t the question she’d asked him. He considered his response carefully, trying to look at the room through her eyes and from a business perspective, when all he really saw was her glowing presence.

  He could hardly believe the changes she’d already made to her future preschool. She’d divided the open space into six different play stations, each with its own activity. There was even a corner area, with thick, colorful mats on the floor, as a place for children to nap. The front wall was crafted entirely of mirror-filmed glass. By day, it was private. All anyone would see from outside was a reflection of the street behind them. After dark, however, this place would turn into a giant fish bowl, and since the occupants were primarily women and children he didn’t like it, but it wasn’t as if Posey and Trixie ever had to be here late at night.

  Besides, the worst thing that could happen to a woman in Grand was the one local crazy who liked exposing himself, and a can of bear spray would take care of that. Austin Peters had been maced more times than a riot squad and knew to run when a woman reached for her purse.

  “I think you’ve gotten an incredible amount of work accomplished in a short period of time,” he said, not holding back on his admiration for her. “You did a great job. When you put your mind to a task you’re an unstoppable force.”

  Gray eyes quit examining the room to zoom in on his face. She was anxious. About what, he couldn’t say. From a business readiness perspective, she’d covered her bases. In a few weeks, when school started, she’d be good to go. This wasn’t the time for her confidence to fail her.

  Maybe money was the issue, despite Dan’s professional opinion and her denials. He wished he knew how much she’d spent.

  “Do you really think it’s great?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I really do.”

  She drifted toward him. He remained very still, trying not to make any sudden moves that might spook her.

  “Let her come to you,” he heard his father’s voice say in his head.

  So far, his father’s advice had been solid. She’d grown more comfortable in his presence. There had been plenty of heated kisses between them over the past weeks, not all of them instigated by him.

  And then, she made the move he’d been waiting for.

  She threaded her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed against the top of his ribs. Bare thighs warmed the fronts of his legs. She tipped her head back so she could gaze into his eyes. A peep of blond hair grinned at him from under the navy scarf.

  Finally, at long last, everything changed.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Zack’s patience ran out. He captured her mouth. There was nothing undemanding about it. She was beautiful and sweet and he wanted her. Now.

  She made a soft sound, a tiny sound, first of pleasure, then one of demand, in the span of a breath. Her fingers plunged into his hair, caressing his scalp at the back of his head.

  All he could think of was how much he wanted to be inside her. But he had to be certain she wanted it, too. There wouldn’t be any misunderstandings between them.

  His hands skimmed the rounds of her bottom under the frayed cuffs of her shorts, tugging her tighter, and he deepened the kiss. The tip of her tongue swept the underside of his. She shifted her hips, the movement rubbing against his erection, sending hot sparks to his brain.

  She pulled away from the kiss. Doubt nudged the desire from her eyes.

  “The windows,” she said.

  She knew where they were headed. Thank God.

  “The door is locked and no one can see us.”

  He boosted her into his arms and she wrapped her long legs around him. Now he was the one who had to look up. Her hands went to his shoulders, clinging to him. The scarf fell from her hair. It swung in a swathe against his cheek. He recaptured her mouth. He liked having her above him this way, with her weight on his arms and her thighs hugging his hips.

  “We can’t do this,” she whispered, lifting her head, eyes locked on his.

  “I sure as hell can. And I get the distinct impression you can, too. So what makes you think we can’t?” he asked. “Do you want us to stop?”

  “No. But…”

  Victory was so close he could taste it. “Give me one good reason.”

  “I’m covered in paint. I’m not wearing makeup.” A slight hesitation. Then, “I’m not good at this.”

  Her soft certainty over her own lack of appeal broke his heart.

  “Who says you aren’t good at this?” he whispered back, even though he could guess. What a bastard. “So far, I’d say you’re doing pretty damned fantastic.” She couldn’t miss the evidence of that, since she was practically sitting on it. “As for the rest of your reasons, you’ll notice I’m also covered in paint and not wearing makeup. That makes us even.” Besides, he liked her this way. She hummed when she worked. Contentment exuded from her.

  He’d rather have her happy than fancy any day of the week.

  She tilted her head to one side and tucked her long hair behind her ear. Paint speckled her forearm where the sleeve of her shirt slid away. “I like what we already have. If we do this, and it’s awful, then it’s going to ruin our friendship.”

  And… his heart kept on breaking for her. She thought she meant so little to him that he’d turn away from her all because sex didn’t measure up to initial expectations?

  “If there’s one thing I can guarantee,” he assured her, “it’s that this is not going to be awful. And even if it is, so what? It won’t ruin our friendship. The worst that will happen is we figure out our limi
tations. Personally, I don’t think we have any. At least none that need to be there.”

  She smiled down at him. Heat returned to her eyes. “Is this what ‘friends with benefits’ means?”

  “I couldn’t say. I’ve never had one of those.” He’d never bought into the whole casual sex crusade. He preferred his relationships monogamous.

  She cupped his face between her palms. “Now you do.”

  No, he did not. “You mean a lot more to me than that.”

  “Thank you.”

  She didn’t believe him. But they’d talked long enough. He planned to show her exactly how desirable he found her—and how good she could be when she had the right partner. This might not be the most romantic of places, not for their first time, but there’d be plenty more nights under the stars to make it up to her.

  Besides, spontaneity would go a lot further toward helping her discover her own worth than some staged, artificial seduction.

  She’d set up an office in a small room just off the main entrance. He flipped her over his shoulder, which made her laugh, and planted his hand on her ass to keep her from falling, then carried her toward it, stepping carefully around paint cans and drop cloths.

  The office contained a desk, a filing cabinet, and best of all, blinds because the traffic passing by on the street was a distraction for her and that wouldn’t do. He twisted the rod on the blinds, flipping them shut. The street outside vanished, but daylight remained. Good. He wanted to see every inch of her. Every bit of her reaction to what he had in store for her.

  He bent slightly to ease her from his shoulder to her feet. The scarf tying her hair had gone completely AWOL somewhere between the front room and here. The top buttons of her plaid shirt had come undone. A quick brush of his hands sent it drifting to the floor, leaving her in a lace-trimmed, flimsy white bra and cutoff denim shorts. She was breathless and beaming and she’d lost one of her sandals in transit. They both smelled of paint and linseed oil.

  He’d dreamed about her for weeks, and finally, she was about to be his. Anticipation left his throat dry. He reached for her, running his hand from the small of her back to the clasp of her bra. He flicked it open, then tracked his hands to her bared breasts. Her skin was smooth and warm, and so delicate beneath the work-roughened pads of his fingers he was half afraid he might damage her.

  He would never do that.

  The bra joined the shirt on the floor. Nothing remained but the shorts. He hooked his finger inside the waistband and popped the button above the zipper. He eased the zipper down on the ragged breath she sucked in. His knuckle brushed against bare skin and more lace. He dipped his finger under the band of lace and discovered tight curls and damp heat.

  Like hell this would be awful.

  But he wanted it to be better than okay for her too, and he was moving too fast. Things were in danger of becoming one-sided. Undressing each other was half the fun.

  Let her come to you.

  He withdrew his hand, running a knuckle from the opened zipper of her shorts, past the flat plane of her belly, to the soft underside of one breast. He bent forward and caught the dusky nipple with his lips, flicking his tongue over the tip. She fisted her fingers in his hair, holding his head as she arched into his mouth. The sigh that shuddered through her slender body transmitted itself to his groin.

  There was nothing more satisfying than satisfying a woman.

  He lifted his chin. And, yeah, the blissful look on her face cranked his anticipation a notch.

  “Help me with my shirt?” he said, putting it out there as an invitation.

  Her hands shifted to his shoulders, then lower, until they reached the hem of his T-shirt. He leaned from the waist, lifting his arms forward so she could peel it off him. He toed out of his sneakers, one at a time, and kicked them aside.

  He straightened. His erection pulsed against the fly of his jeans. “I could use a little help with my zipper too,” he said.

  The shy smile on her lips said she’d caught on to the game. “Like this?”

  She tucked a finger into his fly, the tip brushing the head of his penis. Then, the back of her hand grazing his belly, she slipped her palm inside. Her fingers closed around him and he clenched his eyes shut, afraid to look at her. If he did, he’d never last.

  “Yeah. Exactly like that,” he ground out, his voice hoarse.

  Her palm slid up and down. Her other hand fumbled with his zipper, setting him free. He stroked the length of her naked back under the mass of her hair, mimicking the rhythm she set, nudging her close so that he had her in his arms.

  He opened his eyes. They still wore too many clothes.

  He wriggled her shorts and panties over her hips, lowering them past her thighs. They dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of them and he lost his ability to speak. She was so far beyond his wildest expectations he didn’t know how to express it. Head to toe, she was perfect, as he’d known she would be.

  The flush on her skin warned him that his staring unsettled her, however, and making her doubt herself wasn’t his intention. “You are so unbelievably beautiful. I’ve got to be the luckiest man alive right now,” he blurted out.

  He’d said the right thing. She glided her hands over his waist to his hips, her touch skimming his ass as she eased his jeans off. Seconds later, he stood naked before her. He caught her hands and drew her in for a kiss. He buried his face in her hair, wanting to put her at ease.

  “Would you think it creepy if I told you I carry condoms in my wallet?” he asked.

  “It would depend on the timing of your announcement,” she said. “Right now seems about perfect.”

  He retrieved two, tossing the spare on the desk. He tore the foil packet open and held up the contents. “Want to help with this, too?”

  She took the round scrap of latex from him, and after a bit of fumbling that said she was either nervous or she’d had little experience with them, she rolled the condom in place. He lifted her so that she sat on the desk. He parted her thighs and edged his legs in between them. With her hands on his shoulders, and one of his on her hip, he guided himself into position. A single thrust, and he was home.

  A soft, low gasp of startled pleasure was his reward. Tight muscles tensed. He stopped to savor the moment. She lifted her legs, bringing her pelvis forward to take him in deep, and digging her heels into the backs of his thighs. His arm circled her waist. His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her hip. He kissed her throat, then eased part of her weight onto the fronts of his legs. She rocked against him, her breath as ragged as his.

  She had her eyes closed, her long, dark-blond lashes skimming her cheeks, as caught up in the rhythm they’d established as he was. He’d never experienced anything quite so erotic as the sight she presented. He felt the beginnings of her orgasm approaching. Tiny ripples built steadily, a progressive wave, then began to strengthen in intensity. He clenched his teeth, trying to hang on to his self-control. She cried out his name.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” he said.

  She gripped his hips harder with her thighs. Her arms tightened. She pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck. The ripples became an earthquake as she came. Her entire body trembled.

  He shuddered, coming with her. A hoarse cry of relief escaped him. He’d waited so long for this. Too long, it seemed. But it had been worth it.

  She opened her eyes. Long lashes fluttered. Slumberous gray pools of brushed steel held a hint of bemused wonder.

  Pride made him grin. So much for her fears that it wouldn’t be good.

  Chapter Ten

  Posey would never have believed that sex on a desktop could be this good if she hadn’t just experienced it firsthand.

  Zack had her in his arms, holding her upright against him, supporting her weight. Her buttocks rested half on the desk, half on his thighs. She’d wrapped her legs around his hips. He remained buried inside her, his cheek burrowed into her throat.

  She couldn’t believe it. She’d had sex in a plac
e that bordered on public with a man who definitely knew his way around women. And she was ready to do it again. So much for her fear it might end up being awful. It had been amazing.

  Her orgasm still tingled, pulsing around his semi-hard length. The room smelled of sex, paint, and oddly enough, bubblegum shampoo. Identifying the elusive odor made her smile. Men. They used whatever toiletries they found in the shower.

  It was oddly intoxicating. He was so made up of so many complex little pieces.

  She wriggled backward until she sat on the desk, not his thighs, forcing him to withdraw, which he did with reluctance, but she no longer completely trusted birth control that she didn’t provide. She pushed her hair away from her face and watched him as he disposed of the spent condom in the trash can.

  She didn’t mind that he carried condoms. She’d known what he wanted. She simply had to keep her expectations in order. He’d definitely convinced her that the sex would be worth it.

  But she was so woefully out of her depth at the moment. She wasn’t worldly. She wasn’t cavalier about sex. She had no idea what being ‘friends with benefits’ even entailed, but she wanted him to have an out, which was why she’d thrown it out there. He’d have to guide her in this.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Zack leaned over her, his hands on either side of her on the desk, pinning her down, and gave her a searing kiss that left her lightheaded and clutching his shoulders.

  “That sounds so grim. It’s too late for buyer’s remorse and I don’t give out refunds. Rain checks, however, are as good as cash.” He paused. He studied her face. He had incredible blue eyes that told her a lot about what he was thinking. Right now, they reflected concern. “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?”