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“That’s Major.” He was a retired cow dog, a mix of border collie and Catahoula. At nine years old, he didn’t get out of the way of a cow’s flying hooves fast enough for me to be comfortable with him working with the cowboys anymore. He spent his days following me around the ranch and chasingsquirrels. And at night he had a cushy bed in my house to sleep on. Not a bad retirement for a working dog.
She spoke puppy gibberish to Major, who ate up the attention like the ladies’ man he was. Soon he lay belly up on his back, reveling in her caress. I didn’t blame him; given the opportunity, I’d do the same.
I tried not to look down the front of her blouse, but the way she crouched afforded me the most tantalizing view of her cleavage. The vivid memory of holding those soft swells in my hands swamped me. It was only a little over a week ago I touched them, and ten years from now I’d still remember every detail of that night.
“We need to get to work on the dancehall.” She stood and tried to brush the dust and dog hair off her pant legs. “There is so much to do. I have notes, but I really need another look and then we need a plan.”
“I have a full day today, but I can take you over about six.”
“Six.” She nodded.
“But you’ve seen the space. It’s not anywhere near ready for an event.” Seeing it again wouldn’t change the monumental effort needed to get The Stomp to happen.
“It will get there with your help. It could be incredible.” She stepped closer to me and grabbed my arm to emphasize her point. I didn’t dare speak or move; her hands on my arm were like an anchor pulling me under.
The excitement rolled off her in waves and made her eyes sparkle. She looked gorgeous, lit by the inner fire. An urge to make everything perfect for her grew in my chest despite my misgivings. It was her damn pheromones, had to be. My jeans felt too tight, and the plan to keep my hard-on under control was fraying fast.
I shook my head. No, I wanted to see her succeed so she’d leave, not because her smile was fucking glorious.
“We have Wilson’s blessing and his bank account. It can be done.” She looked at me through her lashes, almost flirting. I stifled a moan.
“It can be done because we throw money at it. But should it?” My passion for her and my anger at the situation blended into a volatile mix. One spark and it would go up in flames.
She jerked her hands away from my arm and planted them on her hips. “It’s not throwing. It’s investing.”
We circled each other like sharks before a feeding frenzy.
“Why? If you build it, they will come, like that movie?” I was being stubborn, feeding off her energy. I’d already called a few local contractors to set things in motion. Spending Wilson’s money was part of my job.
“I’ll make them come. I’ll entice them, seduce them. It will be the hottest ticket in the Hill Country.” She was pissed. So that made two of us.
I didn’t think. Pretty sure neither of us did. But the next thing I knew, we were kissing. It wasn’t soft or delicate. It was hot, dangerous kissing. I shoved her back, caging her against a stall’s metal bars. My dick was so hard the button on my fly threatened to pop. I hitched her leg up and around my hip. Her nails scraped my scalp, shoving my hat off.
I thrust my hips; she was so damn short. I growled into her mouth as my tongue swept inside, taking everything I wanted. I grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. Fuck, that was what I needed; I settled my throbbing cock at her center. She whimpered into my mouth and dug her nails into the nape of my neck, urging me on.
I worked my lips down her throat while I ground my erection into her. If our clothes disintegrated, like I hoped they would, my cock would be buried inside her.
She panted in my ear and gasped my name. I knew these sounds from our night together and all the dreams I had about her since.
“Fuck, I want you.” I licked the spot on her neck where my hickey had been.
“Atley,” she gasped.
I about came in my jeans. I never thought I’d hear my name like that again.
Every time I had to watch her touch Gabriel, or the other night when she danced with Leroy, all I wanted to do was ravage her full pouty lips, and thrust between her silken thighs. Make her scream my name again.
“Right here in the barn. Push our clothes off and slide inside you.” I lowered her feet to the floor and reached for my fly.
The sound of the horse in the next stall kicking the wall was like a gunshot. He struck with both hind feet, double barrel and hard enough to knock something loose in my fevered brain.
I grabbed the bars of the stall on either side of her and tipped my head up to look at the ceiling. My breath rushed in and out like I was a bull about to charge. Or a man pushed to his breaking point.
In the rafters, there were cobwebs that needed cleaning, and down here, a stupid man who needed his ass kicked. I summoned the tattered threads of my control and stepped back from Rae. Balanced on the knife’s edge between lust and real life.
“Rae. I’m sorr—”
“Don’t apologize. Please. Anything but that.” She was fixing her hair, and I couldn’t see her eyes. I reached for her wrists but paused. If I touched her, it would take more than a horse kicking a stall to stop the inevitable.
