UNTAMED

17. Rosie

Awarm, heavy arm is wrapped around me. I stir from a deep sleep, not wanting to open my eyes.

I’m so cozy.

Where am I?

I try to recall what happened the night before, drawing the conclusion that there’s no way the arm belongs to Dolly. She’s way too small.

It could be Duke’s … but it feels bigger.

I sigh, hoping that my ex-boyfriend and I didn’t make a stupid decision last night when I finished off the last of the merlot.

My eyes flutter open, bringing into focus the ceiling of the room. The slowly spinning fan is unfamiliar. I tilt my head to the side, sucking in a sharp breath when I see the man sleeping next to me.

He’s holding me so tightly, and I’m afraid I’ll wake him up if I move at all. I hold my breath, taking a moment to study him. I’ve never been this close to Holden. I’ve never been touched like this by him.

His expression is uncharacteristically relaxed. Since he’s been out of prison, I have yet to see him without a scowl; even before then, it was rare. I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen him smile, none of which were directed at me.

His black eyelashes are thick and fanned out over his sharp cheekbones. The naturally tanned skin tone all the Redfords got from their mother is something my pale, freckled self will always be envious of.

I finally release the breath I was holding gradually so that I don’t wake him. His bare chest and shoulders aren’t quite touching me, but if he pulled me even three inches closer, we’d be in a full-on cuddle position.

I really shouldn’t drink so much if I’m going to end up in the den of the fucking viper.

I’ve seen Holden shirtless before, but being so close now, I’m able to make out the notched brand on his shoulder clearly. The two-inch double R depicts one letter mirroring the other. They use it to brand their cattle, but all the brothers bear the brand on their chest or shoulder. Duke got his at age sixteen, so I’m assuming that’s when they all did. I remember it well because he told me it was a rite of passage as a Redford to permanently mark the brand into their flesh, forever swearing family loyalty. They’ve all always been slightly unhinged.

The deep yearning inside my lower belly is growing stronger with each minute I stay locked in his hold. Holden will never feel the attraction toward me that I’ve had for him since I was a teenager, and I’m beginning to loathe myself for it.

You need to get out before he wakes up and sees you here. Maybe you can replace yourself with a pillow.

I slowly start to inch down. It seems like the best route for escape. I hold my breath again as I go. He’s still in a deep sleep, so maybe I’ll be able to sneak out without him ever knowing I was here.

One minute, I think I’m going to make it. The next, his eyes slice open, their black depths freezing me in place. He moves so quickly, I don’t even have time to react.

A cold blade of metal is pressed to my throat as he straddles me, pressing his lower body over my hips and pinning one of my arms back. His muscles are taut, the veins in his hands and neck popping out.

I gasp at the abrupt change in position, his weight on me, the thick bulge between his legs pressing right against my sensitive groin, and the effortless way he pins me down without me having even a moment to react or escape him.

He blinks at me, almost like he’s registering my face after he decided that I was an imminent threat. He slowly releases the pressure of the knife he’s holding against my throat. I drag in a sharp inhale, fear still gripping me tightly.

The terror of what he was about to do is replaced by something entirely different in the next moment when I feel his length harden. My lips part, our unexpected proximity drawing all attention to the nerves between my thighs.

Holy shit, he’s big.

Not that I’m quite sure what big or small would be, considering I’ve never actually felt a dick before. His feels … too big to fit up there.

He flexes his jaw, but doesn’t move off of me. His eyes are pinning me down just as much as his hands, studying me intensely. His chest rises and falls steadily as he glares at me.

I’m afraid, so afraid of him … but also so fucking turned on right now.

“What are you doing in my bed, Dixon?” he finally spits out.

I rush to explain. “I, uh … I think I ended up here by mistake. I thought this was?—”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say Dolly’s room, but he fills in the blank for me.

“Duke’s bed?” he says through gritted teeth.

I nod.

I’m having trouble holding in the moan that’s threatening to spill over my lips with every tiny burst of friction between my thighs. He’s so … overwhelming. I’m completely helpless right now, at his mercy to do whatever he wants with me.

Shit, I am the most pathetic twenty-one-year-old virgin who ever lived …

After another few intense moments of staring, I wiggle my bottom half against him. He immediately shifts, moving back to give me room to escape.

I scramble up, pulling my legs out from underneath him. He sits back on his haunches, palming the small knife. My eyes are drawn down to see the tip of his dick, sticking straight up inside his boxers and creating a tent effect. My mouth drops open. The image draws me back to the night I walked in on him getting blown in the barn. He didn’t have any shame then either.

My cheeks flush deeply.

“Get out,” he bites.

“What can I get for you?”I approach the table with a fake smile, trying my best to make it seem genuine.

It’s been six grueling hours on my feet of taking orders, running trays, and fake laughing at the jokes of flirty old men.

Waitressing might not be for me. After working at the ranch all week long, I’m not sure how many nights per week I’ll be able to do this with a smile on my face.

You don’t have much of a choice if you want to get into nursing school and pay for it without your father’s help.

My goal is to save up enough so that I only have to work minimal hours while in school. I make good money at the ranch, but it’s taking too long while having to pay all my own bills.

The customers are looking me up and down, approving smirks and head tilts being thrown back at each other. It’s two men in their mid-forties, dirty from a long day of working outside in the Texas heat. They’re both eyeing me like I’m the first woman they’ve seen in days.

“Well, hello there, princess. Didn’t know we were getting the special tonight. How long you been working here?”

I blink up at the redheaded man with the bushy beard. “It’s my first day.” My smile probably looks more like a grimace, but I try to keep it on my face.

“Well, hot dog, it’s your lucky one then, sweetheart. Me and Chaz come in here most every night when we get done working on them power lines. You serve us just right, and you’ll get a damn good tip, maybe more.” He winks at me, leaning forward to rest against his elbows and pop his knuckles. The ring on his left ring finger winks in the overhead light.

My lips peel back with another forced smile. “You should know what you want then, in that case.”

The men chuckle. It’s almost ten o’clock, which is when the kitchen shuts down and I can’t put in any more orders.

They order two porterhouse steaks, rare, with double sides of mashed potatoes. I walk over to the bar after entering their food to grab the pints of draft beer they asked for.

I shift on my feet, the ache in my arches growing worse with each step. I thought I was used to standing for most of the day at my other job, but it turns out, I get more time off my feet than I realized.

This is good for you. This is for your future. You’re doing this so that you can break out on your own, be your own woman, and stop depending on unreliable people.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket, checking to see if my mom texted me back. The screen is blank. I push it back in with a sigh.

The bartender finally shoves the beer toward me, clearly annoyed at the customers for coming in five minutes before closing time. I thank her, reaching for the mugs and grabbing them. I trudge back over to the table where the men are chuckling among themselves. My skin crawls at the way their eyes travel over me, taking in every inch from head to toe. The uniforms here aren’t especially skimpy, but the manager seemed to intentionally give me an extra-small T-shirt that’s definitely too tight on my boobs. All the girls wear denim cutoff shorts and aprons with the company logo on them.

“Anything else while you wait?” I ask.

The married man with the red beard licks his lips, leaning toward me. “What’s your name, honey?”

It’s clearly printed on the name tag that’s pinned to my shirt, but I answer him anyway.

“It’s Rosie.”

He reaches forward, fingers moving toward my hands that are clasped in front of me. I’m frozen in place, debating if I should move back from him or let him touch me.

Well, that’s an easy choice.

I start to move back, but the decision is made for me by a third party who intervenes. A callous hand grips my elbow, pulling me back a step from the table.

I glance up, shock crossing my features as I see Holden Redford’s clenched jawline.

“I was told you’re my server, and we haven’t ordered yet,” he says, his demanding voice and overall menacing presence enough to shut up the other men.

I gape at him, trying to resist the urge to lean closer in desperate gratitude for the rescue from the creeps to my left.

“Of course. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

Holden half tugs, half drags me along with him toward the table in the corner, where Cash is already seated. They must’ve come in when I was at the bar, getting the beer. They’re both wearing their typical jeans, boots, and cowboy hats, looking intimidating and scary as hell with their moody glares and muscular shoulders. I’m somehow still not immune to it, and my lower belly tightens as I look them over.

“You’ll have to put your order in now before the kitchen closes,” I warn them.

Cash scoots out of the booth, ignoring me as he heads for the bar. I open my mouth to tell him that I can get a beer for him, but I shut it before speaking. More power to the man if it saves me a trip.

“What can I get you?” I ask Holden.

I look down at my notepad, thankful for the opportunity to break the ice of speaking to him in such a neutral environment after his dick was between my thighs and his knife was at my throat.

You’re still serving him, still at his beck and call.

Serving him as a waitress at a steak house is ten times less demeaning than being his maid. At least he can’t fire me here.

After a few beats of silence, I look up. His jaw tics as he studies me with dark, calculating eyes. My lips part as I inhale a few slow, steady breaths.

“They’ll close the bar too if you don’t hurry.”

“How much have you made in tips tonight?” he asks.

I stare at him, my brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

He nods his head toward my apron. “How much in tips?”

I sigh, too tired to try and work out in my head why he would bother asking or to be stubborn and refuse to answer. “Around two ten, not including those guys.” I nod toward my other table.

The girl who trained me said Saturdays are the busiest, so I shouldn’t expect to break the two-hundred mark on any other night.

Holden’s eyes don’t leave mine. His tan face is raw and perfect, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s been thinking about what happened this morning as obsessively as I have.

I’m incapable of stopping myself from replaying the scene in my head over and over again. I didn’t expect to have to see him again until Monday morning. I thought I would have time to work on my indifferent, bored expression.

“What if I doubled it? Five hundred dollars a night.”

My mouth drops open, forming an O. Holden’s eyes flicker down to take it in before returning to lock on to my gaze.

“You … you want to pay me five hundred dollars a night to … what?”

My fingers tighten around the pen in my hand. If he’s saying what I think he’s saying, I might actually stab him in the eye with this pen.

Surely not.

He leans forward, biceps bulging out of his T-shirt. “I want to pay you to sleep with me.”

I react without thinking, shoving my hand toward his face with a swift, jerky motion. He dodges the blow effortlessly. I barely miss his right eye, my pen flinging toward the ground behind him.

A barely perceptible smirk touches his lips. “Did you just try to stab me in the eye with that pen?”

I inhale, gritting my teeth and spinning around to stomp away from him. His hand grips my wrist tightly, jerking me back and pinning me in place.

His mouth is right next to my ear as he speaks softly but firmly. “Now, you wouldn’t want me going off and asking your new manager what that was, would you?”

I gasp, trying to jerk my arm away from him. He holds it firmly, not hurting me, but not giving me any room to wiggle free.

“I’m not saying you have to sleep with me. I’m saying I will pay you to sleep next to me four nights out of the week. Five hundred dollars a night, two thousand dollars a week. Just to sleep in my room, like you did last night.”

My thundering heart rate begins to slow down. His warm breath on my cheek moves away as he releases my arm. I step back, rubbing the spot on my wrist where he held me—the same one he had this morning while his other hand pressed the knife to my throat.

He’s not safe. He spent years in prison with criminals and murderers after killing someone himself.

Cain deserved it, but what does killing do to a person?

“Hey, miss! Can we get a refill over here?” the red-bearded man yells at me from across the restaurant.

Holden’s offer is bizarre. Still … I think about the back exit that I’ll have to walk through every night on the way to my car. I think about my car, only starting when it feels like it. I think about my apartment and how I woke up to shouting and sirens blaring a few nights ago due to some kind of dispute, a drug deal gone wrong or who knows what?

I think about how I haven’t felt safe in a very, very long time.

Am I safer there?

I crave the stability of feeling like someone has my back. I know Dolly does, but she’s not physically capable of protecting me. She doesn’t have much decision-making power at the ranch—at least not yet. She lets the guys handle things, and she trusts them to take care of her.

He had a literal knife at your throat this morning. It doesn’t get much more dangerous than that.

“What about the other three nights?” I ask.

Holden tips his cowboy hat back, tilting his head to the side. “You’ll do as you please. You can sleep in Duke’s bed, your shitty apartment, your daddy’s BMW. I don’t care.”

And what will you do? Pick up more bartenders?

I fold my arms across my chest, sticking out my chin. “Why? If it’s not about sex, then why do you want me to?”

He stands, his height shrinking me instantly. “Do we have a deal or not, Dixon?”

“What about the knife under your pillow?” I pop my hip out. “Am I going to wake up to it pressed against my throat again?”

“Only if you’re a good girl.”

My core clenches at his words, but I force out a huff. “I’m not sure I’ll feel safe sleeping with you.”

“I’ll let you sleep with a pen under yours—how ’bout that?” He tilts his head, the muscles ticcing underneath the fresh scar on his jaw. “Deal?”

I stare up at him, internally calculating how much money I could make doing this for three months. I only work part-time as their housekeeper and cook. The hours have never been full-time, so this will be more money.

That’s twenty-four thousand dollars, just for sleeping. It would take you a year to earn that here.

I feel myself nodding, my aching feet being the main motivation at the current moment. Also, I could never make two thousand dollars a week at a part-time job anywhere, not in a million years. I don’t know why he wants this from me, but I’m in no position to deny him.

Once again, he has all the power.

“On one condition,” I say.

Cash rejoins us then, spinning the truck keys around on his fingers.

Holden doesn’t ask; he just waits, not looking at me.

“You can’t touch me,” I state, turning around to walk toward the manager’s office to quit.