21. Graham
GRAHAM
I wasn’t used to being pissed. Especially over a woman.
But walking away from Ridge’s workshop, the doctor a few steps behind me, I was definitely pissed.
It didn’t make sense.
We’d brought her here to fuck. Sometimes she’d fuck all of us at once. Other times it might be one of us.
That was how it worked.
So why did the sight of Audrey Sterling with her hands in Ridge’s hair, his mouth locked onto her perfect tit, make me want to punch something, most notably Ridge’s face?
“Where are we going?” she asked when I passed the house and started across the east field.
I slowed down when I realized she was struggling to keep up. She wasn’t a little taller than average, but I was over six feet tall and it wasn’t polite to make her trot behind me like a newborn filly.
“I told you, the foreman’s cottage.”
“How far is it?”
I looked down at her, hair like spun gold in the spring sunlight, eyes as rich as the soil on the ranch. Her neck was long and slender, and I suddenly wanted to wrap my hand around it, feel her pulse under my thumb, hold her still so I could kiss her long and hard.
“Just over this hill,” I said, indicating the wildflower-covered knoll at the back of the house. “You’ll see.”
We kept walking, and this time I matched her pace.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?”
“I.. I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t really know the rules.”
“No rules,” I said. “And nothing to be sorry for. If Ridge wants you and you want Ridge, that’s fair play. Doesn’t mean I won’t expect you in my bed too.”
I didn’t trust myself to look at her. Didn’t trust that I could hide the desire burning in my gut.
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
She knew why she was here.
We crested the hill and the foreman’s cottage came into view in the little valley created by the knoll and the woods in the distance.
“That’s the foreman’s cottage?” She sounded surprised.
“That’s it.” I started down the hill. “What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something more… primitive, I guess.”
“It was primitive once,” I said. “It’s been here almost since my great-great grandparents bought the land. They lived in it first while they built the big house. After that, it was used by the foremen so they didn’t have to sleep in the bunkhouse with the rest of the men.”
“Where’s the bunkhouse?” she asked.
I liked the way she ran her palms over the wildflowers swaying in the breeze.
“You were just in it,” I said.
“Ridge’s workshop?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
We reached the bottom of the hill and continued through the wild grass to the cottage. I tried to see it like she might see it: a one-story house with pale yellow siding, a wide porch, and windows that looked out over the fields.
The wild grass had gotten long over the years, and we had to wade through it to get to the stairs leading to the front door.
“Hasn’t been mowed for a while,” I said, stepping onto the porch.
I took a key out of my pocket and unlocked the door, then handed it to her.
She looked up at me and I had to resist the urge to kiss her.
To show her that Ridge wasn’t the only one who wanted her.
Who could take her.
She looked at the key in her palm. “I assume you have a copy?”
“I have a copy of every key on the ranch.”
“How do I know you won’t bust in on us?”
There was nothing I wanted more than to bust in on the good doctor.
In the shower. In her bed.
But she had a daughter, and motherhood was sacred.
I’d be careful. Bide my time.
“You have my word I won’t surprise you when Ella is here.”
It was strange saying the daughter’s name. Foreign and familiar at the same time, like I was remembering.
It threw me, all these feelings.
I opened the door and stepped back, waiting for her to step through first, then followed her into the cottage’s small living room.
I watched her look around, take it in: the floral sofa that had once been in the main house, the end tables made by Ridge, the TV I’d rustled up from a guest room.
“Stove and fridge are old, but they still work,” I said, when she crossed to investigate the kitchen, open to the living room.
The cabinets were older but painted a cheerful yellow to match the house’s exterior, and an old wood table sat under a window that looked out over the meadow leading to the woods.
“Can I see the bedrooms?” she asked.
“Down the hall.”
I followed her down the hall to the two bedrooms, each with a bed, a nightstand, and a writing desk.
“There’s only one bathroom,” I said. “No such thing as a primary suite back when this was built.”
She looked up at me. “It’s really cute.”
“It’s small, but I washed the dishes in the cabinets and put fresh linens on the beds. I’ll have some groceries delivered later, but you can feel free to bring in anything you need.”
“You did all that yourself?”
I bristled under the surprise in her voice. “I’ve been keeping the ranch my whole life. I know how to wash dishes, how to make beds. Believe it or not, I even know how to cook a meal.”
She nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry. I just… it’s really nice that you did all of that for us. Thank you.”
I walked myself back. “You’re welcome.”
It had been too long since I'd had a compliment from a woman, and this one had me off-kilter, questioning things I didn’t usually question, thinking about things I didn’t usually think about.
“I’ll need to go to my place later, when I pick up Ella, to get some of our things.”
“I can send— ”
She held up a hand. “I’ve got it.”
I bit my tongue on the protest roiling in my gut. This wasn’t a woman you bossed around. She’d made that clear.
But instead of annoying the hell out of me, it was turning me the fuck on.
I’d have to find other ways to bend her.