Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (15 page)

His release washed up, a wave towing him under, and he roared.

Only when Tabbart was lying boneless in his arms did he realize he’d given himself up to more than the moment—he’d just handed himself to the woman he only had days left with.

Chapter Nine

Tabbart’s heart thumped as she crossed the ranch in broad daylight with her Boot Knocker. His hand was solid around hers, and she gave him the lead. If he took off running to keep her from being spotted, she was prepared to sprint a 10K. But he calmly strode across the turf toward the grub house.

Voices carried on the Texas air, and her fingers twitched in Stowe’s. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. As he led her to a back door, Tabbart thought about digging in her heels.

She might not be willing to risk confirming she was really on a sex ranch. Scenarios and excuses ran through her mind.

“Love?” He was looking down at her, and she realized she’d really stopped. “Trust me, okay?”

She nodded.

He clasped her hand more firmly and pulled her through the heavy steel door. The instant it slammed behind her, a feeling of homecoming washed over her. The scents of food and the shiny stainless surfaces welcomed her.

As did the petite woman barreling forward with a smile the size of Texas.

Tabbart faced her fully and looked her in the eyes. She took Tabbart by the shoulders and hugged her. Surprised and more than amused, Tabbart returned the embrace.

“I told Stowe what a lucky man he is having a lady like you to take care of him.” The cook lightly punched Stowe in the arm and didn’t even wince. Just a glance of the knuckles off his bulging muscle would cripple a lot of women. But Cook’s hands were toughened by work.

Tabbart laughed. “
He’s
been taking care of
me
.”

Cook’s strong fingers wrapped around Tabbart’s arm and she was dragged away. Looking back, she found Stowe staring after them with a crooked smile and a light in his eyes that made her pulse thrum. She tossed him a wave and he gave her a panty-searing jerk of his chin in response.

The tour of the expansive kitchens at the Boot Knockers Ranch didn’t put Stowe out of her mind, though. Too easily she pictured whipping up some tasty dish for him. Feeding him her food bordered on pornographic. Watching his lips close around a fork…

She suppressed a shudder and diverted her attention to the woman holding open the door to a walk-in cooler. Appreciation rolled through Tabbart and she released a low whistle.

The best fruits and vegetables lined the shelves. From homegrown root veggies to exotic fruits. “You seem to have everything,” Tabbart said.

“Yes, yes. I like variety and so do my cowboys. Now let me show you my smokehouse.”

A rustle of activity at the door and Tabbart saw another cowboy there. Stowe spoke to him furiously, but she couldn’t see his expression. Then he caught her gaze. He held up two fingers to indicate he’d be back soon and disappeared outside.

Cook led her out another door to the smokehouse. She didn’t like the look on Stowe’s face. What had happened?

On the air currents, she heard a thud. A grunt. As Cook discussed her drying meat, Tabbart kept half an ear on the conversation. Another thumping noise and Cook ushered her into another small room within the smokehouse.

There Tabbart saw firsthand where the delightful parchment-thin smoked meat she’d eaten on the picnic had been cured. Meats hung from the ceiling and Cook pushed one aside to grab a little shovel and stir some hot coals in a grate.

“I keep this room at seventy degrees. Allows perfect smoking while keeping the meats moist.” She bustled from the room and Tabbart followed.

Still no sign of Stowe.

“How many do you have working beneath you?” Tabbart glanced at the open room where a dozen people could work easily. Just then the door opened and Stowe came inside. His hat was lower than he usually wore it, totally hiding his face. He leaned against the doorframe like a guard, not looking at her, his hand clenched at his side.

Cook continued, “Three, but don’t worry. They’re in town on errands. Your secret is safe.” She leaned close to Tabbart, eyes dancing, and then whirled away to reveal her ingredients for tonight’s pastry.

Tabbart trailed her fingers over the gleaming surface where flour was already sprinkled to accept the delicate dough.

Cook eyed her. “Would you like to do the honors?”

With a grin, Tabbart went to the sink and scrubbed her hands. Then she returned to the big mixing bowl filled with pastry. “What will you fill it with?”

“The men like a variety. Cherry and blueberry mostly. They remember Momma’s pies, you know. But I like to surprise them sometimes. I add apple-mango chutney.”

“Oh yes. I’d love to sample that.”

“Of course you will!”

“I’ve enjoyed your food very much.”

Cook’s face lit more at the compliment. “Today’s lunch is lobster rolls.”

Tabbart groaned at the mention and her stomach cramped. “One of my favorites. Do you use grapefruit in the lobster salad?”

Cook’s eyes widened. “Grapefruit? Why…I’ve never thought of it, but it’s genius. Ohhh, I must add some now.” She spun away and disappeared into another cooler. She emerged with a container of the lobster salad, then walked to the produce cooler to retrieve grapefruits.

While Cook sliced them into wedges, Tabbart rolled out the dough. They talked about her show, and for the first time ever, Tabbart felt relaxed about the subject. Talking to Cook was like discussing food with a family member.

When strong arms encircled Tabbart from behind, she leaned into the man who smelled of musk and leather. She glanced down at his hands crisscrossed on her middle and saw four crescent moon cuts on his knuckles. Oozing blood.

“What happened to you?” she whispered, alarms blaring in her head.

Ignoring her question, Stowe nuzzled her throat. Cook came at them, flapping a towel like a flag.

“Out of my kitchen with that! No cowboys sneaking in for fun.”

He chuckled, sending vibrations through Tabbart. “I’ll let you finish.”

“No, no. Take her along. And this too.” Cook held out a picnic basket. “My helpers will be back shortly, and we don’t want them to find a top-notch chef taking their places.”

Stowe took the basket and Tabbart washed and dried her hands. Then she gave Cook a big hug. “I’ll come back before I leave.”

“Do that. Now run along and please send word about this lobster salad. I hope it’s up to your standards.”

“I’m sure it will be. And I must return because I haven’t learned the secret spice in your fruit compote.”

They exchanged a grin and Tabbart went out of the kitchen with Stowe. “What happened to your knuckles?” she demanded.

“I was helping Riggs with something and I busted them open.”

“On what?”

“You know, we left just in time. If you cross Cook, she’ll make your chooks turn into emus and kick your dunny door down,” Stowe drawled in his Aussie-Texan mix.

Momentarily diverted from his cut hand, she burst out laughing. “What?”

His lips quirked further up. “Oh, you don’t know that expression. If someone says ‘may your chooks turn into emus and kick your dunny door down’, it’s a way of wishing bad luck upon somebody.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “I can see her doing that.”

“Yes, she doesn’t like cowboys in her kitchen. When she first started working for us, she came into her kitchen one morning to find several cowboys had taken it upon themselves to have a midnight snack. Their ladies were still asleep on the work surfaces with food all over them.”

An invisible string attached to her pussy seemed to pull tight. The memory of the whipped cream and strawberries would be ingrained in her brain forever. Were there more in the picnic basket slung over Stowe’s forearm?

“What did she do?” she asked.

“Oh, Cook went mad as a meat-axe.”

Tabbart doubled over with laughter and had to stop walking. She giggled for long minutes. Between gasps she said, “Tell me more.”

“More Australian expressions?” He exaggerated every syllable with the accent of his homeland. “For a while, those cowboys were as popular as a rattlesnake in a lucky dip.”

Tears of mirth streamed down Tabbart’s cheeks. For some reason every word was making her laugh harder. Of course he knew that and kept going. Half the things he said she didn’t understand the meanings of, but by the time she was choking back her last laugh, she saw how her amusement had eased some of the strain on his features too.

“Are you quite finished?” His low voice sent a different kind of spasm through her.

“Yes.” She hiccupped and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Are you sure you and Cook weren’t sampling wine?”

“No, but I’d love to. Does she make it here?”

“No, and you can’t have any. It’s too strong.”

“I can handle strong wine.”

He sent her a look that worked like a gag around her mouth. “You’ll be totally lucid with me at all times.”

Sober now, she walked at his side. The land made a natural funnel by several outbuildings. As they passed one, an engine roar made her jump.

Stowe placed a hand on her spine. “Just an ATV.”

“ATV?”

“Yes, a four-wheeler.”

“I know what it is. I… Can we ride?”

“If you wish. We should wait a few minutes to make sure everyone’s away from the shed and you’re not seen.”

“Who were you really fighting with?” she pressed.

The muscle in the crease of his jaw fluttered. “Tabbart, love, I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t ask again.”

She’d get it out of him sooner or later. For now, her caution had gone with the fresh air and her fit of giggles. “I won’t make eye contact. C’mon.” She gripped his hand and hauled him toward the opening of the shed.

“Wait, Tabbart.” Stowe caught her around the middle, tugging her behind the screen of shrubbery before they reached the hot tub. For the past couple days she’d been reckless—barging into the ATV shed despite several cowboys and their ladies being inside. Not to mention she’d made it halfway to the grub house unaccompanied before he’d found her.

Now she was determined to get into the hot tub even though the sounds of splashing were evident.

“Are you trying to get caught? Do you have a wish to plaster your face on more tabloids?” he said near her ear. It was bad enough he was fighting off the media at every turn. Besides fielding incessant phone calls, he’d found paparazzi sneaking onto the ranch. They had two ranch hands posted at the gates and several around the perimeters, but one reporter had still come in.

Riggs had alerted Stowe just in time, and he’d knocked the man out cold. Then he’d hogtied him and put him on a pig truck headed for a processing plant outside the city. When he woke up surrounded by pigs, maybe he’d think long and hard about his decision to come to the Boot Knockers Ranch.

Luckily Stowe had kept the man’s expensive camera equipment too. The film didn’t have any shots of Tabbart, but there were plenty of him and the other cowboys.

Damn it to hell, Stowe was doing a piss-poor job of keeping her hidden. Tying her up in the bungalow might be the only way to save her. “We can’t go in there,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I’m just having fun, Stowe.”

Yes, she was. He’d seen her happiness swell in the past forty-eight hours. Her joy had a direct line to his own system, and he’d become infected by her freedom and excitement. But he couldn’t let her be seen. He cared about her too much. Whatever reason she was racing headlong into these dangerous situations, he would put a stop to it. Keeping her safe was his number one priority, even if it meant keeping her safe from herself.

Actually he cared about her a hell of a lot more than he should. Since he’d crossed the line with her in bed, he’d been inexplicably drawn closer to the celebrity vixen.

“Just hold on a few minutes. They’re almost done.” He peeked through the greenery at the bubbling tub of water. Two men were entertaining a lady. Typically by the end of a week at the ranch, the women lost all inhibitions and participated in as much debauchery as possible. Some of the Boot Knockers called it “going slut”, but the term was meant with the utmost respect. In fact, several of them lived for the end of the week.

“Let me see.” Tabbart shimmied in front of him so she could peek through the bushes too. When she saw what he had, she issued a husky sigh.

Fuck. There goes my control.
Stowe’s cock hardened in seconds. He drew her round ass against him. With his length settled high on her ass, he breathed in her light scents. God, she was driving him crazy. This morning she’d taken the whip with such poise and beauty…

He bit off a groan to keep from being discovered. In a week she’d come so far so fast. And in return he’d gained more than he’d ever thought possible.

The two cowboys positioned the tall brunette between them in the hot tub. One kissed her neck and the other her lips while hands moved under the water. When the man facing her drew her long legs over his shoulders and began to feast on her pussy, Tabbart quivered.

Stowe found himself licking his own lips, but not for the brunette. At least not that brunette. The one in his arms was enough to keep him going for a long, long time.

For weeks—no, months—he’d been drifting along in his work. Then he’d met Tabbart and she’d blown his mind by asking for him here. And she was by far the best sub he’d worked with. Her trust in him stunned him on an hourly basis. She just kept giving and giving.

He nuzzled her ear and cupped one breast. She gasped softly.

The trio in the hot tub were moving positions again. They climbed to the side, dripping wet. Condoms were produced and Stowe whispered to Tabbart, “Do you want to go?”

“It’s wrong to watch them, isn’t it?” she murmured back.

“They’re in the open. They know the risk.”

“So we can watch them?”

His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Hell, she was going to kill him. His little celebrity chef wanted to practice voyeurism? He bit into her earlobe, and she wriggled back against his shaft.

“Let’s stay,” she urged.

Who was he to deny her? As they looked at the threesome, Stowe caressed Tabbart’s breasts. The woman sank onto a cowboy’s cock and the other speared her ass from behind. With two cocks in her, she issued a cry of bliss.