Ropin' Hearts: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 4 (16 page)

“I’m going with you.”

“Oh hell no.”

He almost laughed. Then she disappeared into the barn and came out with her mare saddled. He jerked his arms into his sleeves, letting his shirt hang open. She edged her horse so close to him that he rocked back.

Grabbing her round thigh, he looked up into her face. “Wait for me.”

“Just try to catch me,” she cooed. Spurring her horse, she darted off.

He ran for the nearest mount and was after her in seconds. God, she was gorgeous, leaning over her horse’s neck, racing across the field. Her hair streamed out behind and her heart-shaped ass in the saddle spurred him faster.

When he caught her, he was going to—

His heart seized as she flipped over the side of her horse. “Yaw!” He dug his heels into his mount’s side, terror freezing his fingers.

She hung off. She was going to fall and be dragged. Maybe killed.

With heart thumping in time to his horse’s hooves, he pushed harder.

She flipped again, rolling upright in her saddle, riding with the perfect posture of an English lady.

What the fuck?

He no sooner blinked and she flipped off the other side, legs pointed straight toward the dark blue sky.

“Damn trick rider,” he ground out. Wait until he got her bare ass under his hand. He’d let her know that scaring him wasn’t a good idea.

By the time she did the fourth trick, his heart had resumed a normal beat. But when she stood in the saddle, he almost lost it.

Because she’d slowed a little, he caught up. She rode alongside him, shooting him a sideways glance.

“You break your pretty neck and I’ll make you pay.”

She laughed, the sound caught on the wind. Sounding like summer and picnics and all the good things in life. She eased down into the saddle with all the grace of a professional ballerina.

He didn’t know what to say. She moved him, made him want to be a better man. To have more just to give it all to her.

In silence they rode up to a group of cows. A small herd, freshly branded by the looks of it.

“New cattle?” he asked.

She circled the group and back toward him. “Yes, quarantined.”

His brows shot up. “Why?”

“Couple died two days ago. Daddy had a vet up here but he didn’t know the cause of death.”

“Where’d they come from? Might have been travel stress.”

“We don’t think so. Daddy thought it best to keep them away from the rest of the herd, so they were brought here. Help me count.”

A minute later they said at the same time, “Fifty-six.”

She smiled, stabbing him in the heart like sun to the eyes of a man too long in darkness.

He wet his lips. “Is that the right number?”

“Yes. We haven’t lost any.”

“Good.” He snagged her reins and yanked her horse to a stop. Then he pulled her right out of the saddle and into his arms. She thumped against his groin, her ass nestled against his hard-on, her lips close.

“Ty.” Her voice was a warning but her body quivered.

“Ride with me. Let’s just talk.” He settled her into the saddle before him, leaving her horse to crop grass as they trotted in a leisurely pace across the field.

He placed his lips near her ear. “Favorite toy as a child?”

She turned her head, placing her delicious lobe right between his teeth. He bit down gently, and she burrowed closer. “Uhh…a baby doll I called Jenny.”

“Bet you took good care of her.”

She giggled and writhed as he nibbled up the shell of her ear. “Not really. I cut off all her hair and left her in the rain.”

“Bad girl.” He pinched her ass, raising a gasp. God, he wanted to keep her panting under him all night long on sweaty, twisted sheets.

He kissed the sensitive spot on her throat, and she fell still. “Favorite meal?”

“Chicken and biscuits.”

“Mmm. Good choice.”

“What’s yours?”

“Bree with a side of whipped cream.”

“That’s…”
pant, pant,
“…not a meal.”

“It will be, I promise you.”

“I thought we were…talking.” Her breathing hitched as he swirled his tongue over the column of her throat, flicking down into her open shirt collar. He loved her in ranch attire. All buttoned up and wearing everything but spurs, she was more tantalizing. Maybe because he knew what was underneath all that fabric.

“We
are
talking, baby girl. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“What—is this a job interview?”

“Answer the question.”

She was silent for so long he grew concerned enough to stop sucking her neck and turn her face to look at him.

“You don’t know, do you?” he asked.

Her eyes were too bright. With tears? Damn, he didn’t want to upset her.

“No,” she whispered.

“That’s okay. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know either. That doesn’t mean we can’t do great things together.” The emotions he had for her needed more time to settle in his mind. He needed to see where they fit into his life—and hers.

She stiffened until he thought she’d shatter. “Take me back to my horse, Ty.”

“Bree—”

“Take me back.”

Feeling the change in her and the electricity that fizzled out, he sighed and grabbed the reins. Maybe he’d done the wrong thing in coming here. Maybe all they had was the sexual chemistry and talking didn’t work. Getting to know each other was a dead end.

Didn’t she understand how much he cared, just by how hard he was trying to get to know her?

At least by day five he’d have a better sense of whether their relationship could be more or he needed to prowl the bungalows again, making other women smile.

As he watched Bree gallop ahead of him the whole way home, all he could think was how bad he wanted this to work. But how to loosen her without a spanking?

Chapter Twelve

Flames shot into the air, tickling the sky with orange sparks. As Bree grew mesmerized by the bonfire and the low, rough voices of the men sitting around it, something nudged her ankle. She looked down to see one of her favorite barn cats.

She bent and scooped it under its plump stomach, cradling the fuzz ball against her chest. “What are you doing out here? You should be in your bed.”

The cat pawed at her and she scratched its ears. Then she moved around the outer circle of men, looking for an open stump to pull up to the fire and enjoy the social gathering.

A big hand came out of the darkness and clamped around her wrist. She looked down at the hand and followed the hard knuckles to a strong arm spattered with dark hair, and all the way up to the man.

Her heart squeezed.

“Sit with me,” Ty said.

Somehow he’d managed to snag one of the half logs for a seat, rather than the upright stumps. And since this wasn’t the Boot Knockers Ranch, there was little chance of two cowboys cozied up side by side.

Bree hesitated and the cat pawed at her again.

Ty reached up and closed his hands around the animal, bringing it into his lap. With a thumping heart, Bree took the seat. Immediately the cool of the night fled. Between the raging fire and Ty at her side, she was toasty warm. The urge to lean against him was strong but she resisted.

She couldn’t give in to his nearness. It was so easy to slip into his arms and close her eyes while he stroked her spine with those perfectly rough fingers, but that couldn’t happen ever again.

She’d been there, done that, and she’d had the wet panties to prove it.

The ranch foreman was talking, but it wasn’t about work. He was a great storyteller and sometimes Bree came here just to listen to him. She’d grown up around most of these men and they all felt like family. Secretly she’d believed her father would want her to marry one of these hardworking men to help carry on the legacy of the Roberts ranch, but she wasn’t sure.

Daddy
had
given Ty a job. Maybe…

Movement beside her caught her attention and she grew entranced by Ty’s hands moving over the cat he held. With every stroke, the tabby stretched and arched. Bree had never wanted to be a cat so much in her life.

Of course, if she inched closer to Ty, he’d put his hands on her too. Heat coiled low in her belly, creating a satisfying ache between her legs. As she listened to the foreman, she felt herself leaning toward the solid wall of muscle beside her.

Her sleeve brushed his arm and she snapped upright.

He gave her a crooked smile that ratcheted up her desire tenfold. So easy to cuddle against him and listen to the stories of great-grandfathers who had shaped Texas into the land as they knew it.

Several men grunted greetings and she stiffened her spine as her father entered the ring and took a stump. His gaze searched her out right away. Ty gave her daddy a nod and let the cat slip to the ground. It padded off into the night.

Someone was passing a flask. It reached her and she took a deep pull. Then another.

“Have a third sip, baby girl. I’d like to see you lose your inhibitions,” Ty rumbled low enough only she could hear.

“You want to take advantage of me.”

“Hell yeah. You know I didn’t come to work here for the great view and to learn the ropes.”

His words lassoed her heart, tugging too hard for her sanity. One more word would be the strong pull that sent her tumbling. He’d come here for her. But why? Did it have to do with her admitting her feelings?

Panting around the burn of the whiskey, she passed the flask to Ty. He didn’t take a single sip, just handed it to the next guy several feet away.

The talk went on but Bree didn’t follow it. Her mind was occupied with Ty. When he spoke, she burned.

“I knew a man like that once. A real hard-ass. He rodeoed for a while before he busted too many toes to make it comfortable to wear boots.”

“That so?” someone asked.

“Yeah. They were all curled up-like and he was forced to wear orthopedic shoes.”

Men laughed. “Imagine a cowboy in orthopedic shoes.”

Ty shook his head, his grin wide and the creases around his eyes thickening Bree’s throat. She wanted to lean in and trace them with her lips, down to the brackets around his mouth and then on to his stubbled jaw.

She shifted on the seat and he pegged her with a knowing gaze. The one that turned her to pudding.

“I always wondered how he’d get the spurs to attach to his shoes, ya know?” Ty’s words roused more laughter. Bree stole another glance at him. He fit right in here. Even her father was laughing.

One man got up and dumped a lapful of peanut shells into the fire. The flames licked upward and the foreman chuckled. “Don’t worry, Boss. You’ve got Cook in the kitchen and this cowpoke won’t be taking over.”

Her father’s smile weakened a bit and his gaze met Bree’s. They were thinking the same thing.

“I’m not sure our greenhorn knows the story about the fire of ’96.”

“No, probably not.”

At the word “greenhorn”, Ty perked up, listening.

Bree’s brain started to hum. This story was legacy on the ranch but it hurt her to hear it. Whenever someone mentioned her mother, it raised good and bad emotions.

“I dunno if I’m the best person to tell that story. Bree was there.”

“I was three years old, Daddy.”

“Three years old? In ’96? Hell, I had three wives by then,” one ranch hand said to several guffaws.

Feeling heat infuse her face, Bree hunched her shoulders.

Ty’s fingers crept across the bench and covered her hand where it was planted. She turned her head his way, finding their faces too close. His scent too good.

“Tell me the story,” he said.

Pulling her hand into her lap, she tried to make sense of what she remembered and what she’d been told. After a minute, she figured it didn’t matter. It was a campfire story and the guys would like it regardless.

“Momma never had a cook growing up, so she didn’t want one when she took on my daddy.” She inclined her head slightly toward her father, whose eyes looked suspiciously glassy. She went on before her own tears threatened.

“She knew how to cook, but not for thirty-odd cowboys with hollow legs.”

More peanut shells made the fire flare once again.

“She was good at making hearty soups—stews and chili.”

“Oh, her chili was the stuff that sticks to a cowboy’s ribs!” a man added.

“And kept the rest of us up with yer farts,” someone else said. More laughter and Ty’s shoulders moved with his chuckle. Each brush against Bree shot new sparks through her body.

She took command. “This is my story. Am I telling it or are we talking about gas in the bunkhouse?”

Ty’s gaze was on her, and she grew aware of how bratty she’d sounded. She folded her fingers and started again.

“Momma had a big kettle of turkey noodle soup on the stove. I don’t remember this part, but I hear that I was a demanding little girl—”

“No!”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Never saw such a cute little thing, though,” the foreman said.

She glanced at Ty. His face was unreadable, his gaze steady.

“I was screaming that I needed help with my cowgirl boots and Momma left the stove. Next thing you knew, the whole kitchen was on fire. Hands came running from all over the ranch at the sign of smoke. There was a bucket brigade.”

“Then Bree went missing.” Her father’s words still echoed his fear from that day—fear she couldn’t remember. She only recalled thinking the colors of the fire were so pretty. She’d been awed by its power as it licked up the walls after turning the corner and seeing it.

She held her breath. Maybe she’d always been drawn by forces bigger than she was. No wonder Ty drove her insane.

“They searched everywhere for me while about half the cowboys kept pouring water on the fire. Momma was frantic. I remember her face when she found me.” Bree’s voice cracked.

“Where were you?” Ty asked.

“’Round the corner pettin’ the dog.”

“Oblivious,” her father interjected.

“I was too little to care. I was upset not to have turkey noodle soup, though. And about the drawings on the refrigerator that burned up. After that, Momma gave in and hired a cook.”

Daddy’s smile was soft, his gaze far off.

Ty leaned in until his mouth was a breath from Bree’s ear. “You still miss her and honor her with your memories.”

Her throat closed.

Warm fingers threaded under her hair, searching. When Ty discovered the velvety patch she kept shaven, her heart stopped.

“I know, Bree. All of it.”

Because you know me.

Tears were too close. She jumped up and made a show of dusting her jeans. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late, y’all.”

She didn’t make it past the barn before Ty overtook her. He caught her around the waist and she snapped her arm around his neck, lifting onto tiptoe as his lips crushed hers. The decadent scents of male and musk chiseled her resolve and bricks started to fall.

He worked his hand around her nape and under her hair, stroking back and forth over the spot she kept because of her mother. It made their kiss all the sweeter.

Angling her head, she parted her lips for his tongue. He didn’t invade swift and hot, as she’d expected. Instead, he gently tangled his tongue with hers, tasting, searching. That damn L-word jumped into her head again. She tried to pull back but he wouldn’t let her.

He hooked her leg high on his thigh and rocked slowly, rhythmically, maddeningly against her pussy. She flooded with want and something bittersweet lodged in her soul.

“Don’t turn me away,” he murmured between kisses.

It broke through her haze. Dropping her leg from his hip, she shoved back. He wouldn’t let her go. He forced her gaze up to his.

“I’m not a Boot Knocker right now, Bree.”

What did that mean? She stared at his eyes, so dark under the thin light of the moon. Rowdy laughter from the bonfire floated on the air, and Bree found the strength to disentangle herself from the man she loved.

He slipped his hands into his front pockets, head bowed, looking as dejected as she’d ever seen a man. She wanted to share more sweet kisses but she needed to get her head on straight.

“’Night, Ty.”

He thumbed his hat. “’Night, baby girl.”

As she walked back to the house, she couldn’t ignore the slickness between her legs. Or the slow melt of her heart. She didn’t know how much longer she could resist him.

Ty’d shoveled more in the time since he’d met Bree than he had since he was a boy. Seemed he was always trying to clear his head and manual labor helped.

Not enough.

He didn’t know how to convince her that he was here to try to make a go of it. Of course, he wasn’t good with expressing his emotions. She might not be getting what he was trying to convey. Did she need him to tell her he loved her? She was a smart girl. Surely she’d see that he’d left the job he’d loved—for her.

Last night their tender, unhurried kiss had felt like a milestone. In many ways their relationship was backward—they’d jumped right into sex before getting to know each other. The courting part needed to happen. At least that’s what he thought, but there was no handbook for women. He knew a lot from his job, but none of those women were Bree.

“You’re doing a hell of a job for me, greenhorn.”

He looked over his shoulder at Bree’s father. The man chewed on a sliver of grass in the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I think you’re more responsible for other changes around here, though.”

“What do you mean?” Ty leaned on his shovel, sweating freely.

“My daughter. I see a difference in her.”

Ty drew a deep breath and released it. “Good difference?”

“Yeah,” he drawled as if he wasn’t sure either. “She’s softer somehow. More grown up.”

“She isn’t a child.”

“No. But around you she acts like the woman I always knew she could be. A lot like her mother, actually.”

Ty nodded. Bree had grown more serious and mature since even he’d met her. Their sex play had morphed into something adult and deep enough that they’d both grown. Now if Ty could convince her that he wanted that…

“Keep doing what you’re doing and she’ll come around.”

Ty met his boss’s gaze. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because she isn’t only her mother’s daughter. My blood runs in her veins and I know myself, Ty.” He nodded toward the shovel. “Get back to work.”

His words were overlaid by shouts. A horse and rider tore around the corner. “Come quick! It’s Bree.”

Ty dropped the shovel and ran with Dan Roberts at his side. His insides churned as he spotted the ranch hand on horseback prancing in agitation. Ty ran to the nearest corral, ripped the gate open and hurled himself onto the nearest horse. He gave it the spurs.

“Where?”

“This way! Royal went down.” The rider whirled and took off. Dan shot past Ty on his own horse, and they thundered toward the distant field.

Ty set his lips in a fierce line as he imagined his baby girl sprawled under 900 pounds of animal, injured or worse. He kicked his horse faster.

The minute he spotted the hump of flesh on the ground, time slowed. Images of Bree flashed through his mind in rapid succession, a slideshow on superspeed. Her smile, her eyes when he entered her, her bound and at his mercy. And the way she’d looked last night after he’d told her he wasn’t a Boot Knocker right now. Did she understand that he meant he wasn’t acting, putting on a show? He was close to her because he’d chosen to be.

His horse skidded and he leapt off, boots digging into the turf. Bree lay on her side, coughing.

Punctured lung, broken ribs. Internal injuries.
His brain shot through different diagnoses but he had no idea what he’d find. He ran to her side and dropped to his knees.

“Daughter.” Dan hit his knees too and they both reached, united in their love for her.

Love.

Ty had to tell her.

She rolled onto her back, face smeared with dirt and grass clinging to her silky hair. “I’m…okay.”