CHAPTER TWO
Rhett
I was up before dawn, same as every day for the last forty years.
Coffee, quick breakfast, make sure the hands knew the tasks for the day.
All before the sun cleared the mountains.
But this morning, instead of heading out with the men, I found myself saddling up my horse and riding in the opposite direction. Toward her property.
Toward her.
I told myself I was just being a good neighbor. And protecting my future investment. Making sure the new owner didn’t burn the place down or get herself killed in the first forty-eight hours.
But that was bullshit, and I knew it.
I was riding over there because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
About the way she’d looked at me yesterday, all fire and defiance wrapped up in curves that made my mouth water.
About the way she’d tried to stand her ground even when I could see her pulse fluttering her throat.
About how much I wanted to find out if that smart mouth tasted as good as it looked.
Maggie Garrison. I’d spent half the night rock-hard and aching, imagining what she’d look like spread out on my bed. How she’d taste. How many times I could make her say my name.
Hell, scream it.
That body of hers was all soft curves and generous flesh, the kind of woman a man could hold onto and not worry about breaking. Fuck her raw and go back for more. Mark her creamy flesh so she’d know who she’d been with.
I shifted in the saddle, my body hardening painfully. I was annoyed at how easily she’d gotten under my skin. I was in control of every aspect of my life. The women I took to my bed knew the score.
She was too young. Too innocent for my appetites.
But hell, I wanted her.
Wanted to find out if she was as innocent as I suspected. If I’d be the first man to touch her, taste her, make her come. That thought made something dark and possessive coil tight in my chest.
The sun was just starting to come up when I reached the property line, painting everything gold and orange.
From here, I could see her barn, the older farmhouse, the fences that needed work.
Could see her, too, already outside and struggling with a bucket, heading toward the barn in jeans that should be illegal and a t-shirt that clung to every soft curve.
She hadn’t noticed me yet, too focused on whatever disaster she was about to walk into.
I’d bet solid money that at least one of those horses would give her trouble.
Claire’s horses weren’t exactly beginner-friendly, especially that black bastard Diablo.
The horse was a mean son of a bitch with an attitude problem and zero patience for people who didn’t know what they were doing.
And Maggie clearly did not know what she was doing. I felt a small measure of guilt at not offering to send a ranch hand over to help, but I pushed it down. I hadn’t made my family’s ranch what it was by feeling guilt.
No, this morning was the perfect opportunity to step in and show her exactly how out of her depth she really was.
I was almost there when I heard it—a high yelp from inside the barn, followed by the sharp crack of hooves against wood. “Damn it,” I muttered urging my horse forward.
Surely, she had enough sense not to go into a stall with an unknown horse?
That didn’t prevent the pulse of fear that ran through me at the thought of her being hurt.
When I reached the barn, I dismounted quickly and tied my horse to the post outside.
The door was open, and I could hear her inside, talking to herself in a voice that was trying hard to sound confident and failing miserably.
“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Just a horse. Just a big, scary horse who wants to kill you, but it’s fine.”
I stepped inside, letting my boots make enough noise that she’d hear me coming this time.
She was pressed against the far wall, holding that bucket in front of her like a shield.
Diablo was in his stall, ears pinned back, stamping and snorting like the temperamental asshole he was.
The other two horses were watching with what I swear looked like amusement.
“He can smell you fear,” I said.
She spun around, dropping the bucket to the floor. “Oh my God! Do you have to keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Showing up unannounced! Normal people call ahead, or—”
“This is a ranch, not an office building. And you left your barn door wide open. That’s an invitation.” I walked past her, slow and easy, and Diablo’s ears flicked forward. He knew me. Knew I didn’t take his shit. “Step back. You’re making him nervous.”
“I’m making him nervous? He tried to bite me.”
“Because you came in here acting scared.” I opened the stall door and stepped inside without hesitation.
Diablo shifted his weight but didn’t protest when I ran my hand down his neck, firm and steady.
Years of handling horses, of being around animals bigger and meaner than me, had taught me confidence was everything.
“Easy, boy. She’s not going to hurt you. She doesn’t know how.”
“I can hear you,” Maggie said from behind me, voice sharp with indignation.
“Good. Pay attention, and you might learn something.” I grabbed some grain from barrel just outside the stall and let Diablo eat from my palm.
His lips were soft, careful, nothing like the snapping teeth he’d shown her.
“Horses pick up on everything. The way you move, the way you breathe. You came in nervous, and he felt it.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised. She was still pressed against that wall, breathing too fast. “You’re terrified right now. I can see it from here.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and damn if that wasn’t a sight. She straightened her shoulders, trying to pull herself together, but I could see her nipples had gone hard beneath that thin shirt. Fear or arousal or both—didn’t matter. Either way, I liked it.
“Fine,” she said, lifting that stubborn chin. “Maybe I’m a little nervous around the giant animal that tried to eat me. Is that a crime?”
Was she nervous around me? Because right now I wanted nothing more than to taste her. Everywhere. Her lips, her breasts, that sweet pussy.
“His name’s Diablo. Claire bought him at auction about five years back. He’s got a bad attitude and worse manners, but he’s solid once he respects you.” I gave the horse one last pat and stepped out of the stall, closing it behind me. “You won’t earn his respect by hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding. I was being cautious.”
“You were cowering.” I walked toward her, watched her eyes go wide as I closed the distance between us.
Just like yesterday, she didn’t back up.
Just stood there, hands fisted at her sides, looking up at me like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hit me or something else entirely. “There’s a difference.”
“Well, excuse me for not being some kind of horse whisperer.” Her voice had an edge, but underneath it I could hear the shakiness. The uncertainty. “I’ve been here one day. One. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Your best isn’t good enough.” I stopped right in front of her, so close I could smell the citrus scented soap she’d used this morning. “You’re going to get hurt, Maggie. Or worse. And all because you’re too damn stubborn to admit you need help.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Make me.” The words slipped out like a dare I already knew she’d answer. She was glaring, sure, but there was curiosity under it too. The kind that made me want to lean in and find out how far she’d let me take it.
Her tongue darted out, wet her bottom lip. God, help me, I wanted to do it for her. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m honest. There’s a difference.” I reached up, slow enough that she could stop me if she wanted, and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Her skin was soft, warm, and I let my fingers linger longer than necessary.
Watched her breath catch. “I know what I’m doing, and you don’t. Let me help you.”
“Why?” She was breathing harder now, and I could see the war happening behind those eyes. Pride versus need. Independence versus common sense. And something else. Something that had nothing to do with the ranch. “Why do you care if I fail?”
“I don’t.” That was a half-truth. I didn’t want her to hurt herself, but I knew she couldn’t, okay, shouldn’t be trying to run this one on her own. Her aunt had hired help when she needed it. “I don’t like good land going to waste.”
“And you know exactly what to do with it.”
“Yes, I do.” I let me gaze run over her body again, let those feelings from yesterday wash over me. I wanted this woman. And I was not the type of man to deny myself something I wanted.
Which was the land. And now, her.
“Wow. You really know how to charm a woman.” Beneath her sass was the undeniable awareness that she knew what I wanted. That she was indeed the prey.
I smiled, slow and deliberate. I let my gaze drop to her mouth, then back up. “Sweetheart, if I was trying to charm you, you’d know it. This is me being practical.”
“Then what would charming me look like?”
The question hung between us, dangerous as hell. She’d meant it as a challenge, trying to put me on the spot. She had no idea what she was asking for.
Just like yesterday when I’d pinned her against the porch, I moved closer, forcing her against the wall, caging her in.
I leaned in close. Close enough that my mouth was right by her ear, close enough that I knew she could feel my breath on her skin.
“It would sound like me telling you how good you look in those jeans. How I’ve been thinking about you since yesterday.
About what all those curves would feel like under my hands.
How I want to know if you’re as innocent as you look, or if there’s a wild side hiding under all that sass. ”
A small sound escaped her throat—not quite a gasp, not quite a moan, but something that went straight to my cock.