CHAPTER FIVE
Jamie
“Absolutely not. No. Never. Not even if the library got a million-dollar endowment.”
I stood at the edge of the dusty corral, staring at the horse. Lucinda had said her name was Buttercup. She looked adorable and let me pet her, but that wasn’t enough for me to actually climb on her back. I was too acutely aware of how much ground there was between that saddle and the dirt.
“Oh, come now, Jamie.” Lucinda adjusted her hat. She was a sturdy woman, built with the kind of solid, dependable curves that came from a lifetime of ranch work. She wasn’t a small woman, but she moved with a grace I lacked entirely. “Buttercup is a sweetheart. She’s sturdier than she looks.”
“Lucinda, let’s be real. I’m not just sturdy. I’m pretty sure the animal rights people have laws against putting someone with my... baggage... on top of a living creature. I’ll break her, and then I’ll be the villain of Wild Vista Ranch.”
“Honey, that horse carries bags of feed heavier than you. And look at me—I’ve been riding every day since I was five and I’ve never been a size two. You aren’t going to break her.”
“Maybe not her back, but definitely my pride when I flip over the other side and land in a heap of shame.”
“You won’t flip, darlin’. Not if you’ve got the right teacher.” That voice. It was like a physical touch against my skin.
I closed my eyes. Of course, he would be her to witness my disgrace.
Slade was walking our way, thumbs hooked around the silver belt buckle of his jeans.
His jeans were dusty now, streaked with the honest sweat of a day’s work.
But he still had on that t-shirt that fit him like a second skin.
The fabric strained against his biceps. Was he even bigger than he had been this morning?
“Nice try, both of you, but I’m not riding.”
Lucinda laughed and headed to the main ranch house. “She’s all yours, Slade.”
All Slade’s.
I knew the other woman’s words were innocent, but they sent a shimmer of heat through me that had nothing to do with the Texas sun.
I knew he probably had more women falling all over him than you could shake a stick at.
He was infuriatingly charming and Lucinda had told me he was a bull rider.
That meant buckle bunnies. Thin, big boobed, and ready for any adventure in bed.
That was not me.
Slade leaned against the post beside me. “The problem is your confidence, not your size.”
His eyes did that once over thing again. It was the same look he’d given me in the cabin and then again last night in the dining hall. Lazy, but thorough. It made me want to suck in my stomach and pop out my boobs. Just like a buckle bunny, damn the man.
“I’m just being practical. I’m a curvy girl. Horses are for people who weigh as much as a wet noodle and don’t mind the smell of manure as a personal cologne.”
Slade chuckled, a low, wicked sound that sent a spike of heat straight to my core. He leaned forward, blocking out the sun and filling my lungs with a scent that was definitely not manure related.
“Is that what you think? You think you’re too much for a horse to handle? Because from where I’m standing, you look exactly like the kind of woman a stallion would fight to keep on his back.”
“Well, you’re not a stallion, Rodeo Romeo, so back off.”
“Too scared? There’s more to life than what’s inside your books, Jamie.” He looked at me with a sudden piercing seriousness. “What are you actually doing here, City Girl?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
He shook his head. “No. Not until you get on that horse.”
“My best friend Paige decided what I needed for my birthday was a week at a dude ranch instead of what I actually asked for.” Technically, she’d said I needed a cowboy rubbing my clit. I bit my lip, wondering what he’d do if I shared that tidbit of information.
“What’d you ask for?”
“What?” I had to drag myself away from those types of thoughts. They did nothing but make my panties grow damp. Correction, damper.
Another slow grin stretched across his mouth as if he’d actually read my thoughts.
“What did you ask for?”
“Oh. A spa day. Cucumber mask. Maybe a stolen robe.”
“So, something I could use. But you got Texas instead.”
An image of him in nothing but that towel flashed through my mind. And then one of him out of the towel. I put a hand to my forehead. Was I suffering from heat stroke?
“I got Texas.” And a devastatingly handsome cowboy with enough charm to hypnotize a dozen cobras.
“What else did Paige say when she sold you on this?”
Suddenly, I felt as vulnerable as if I were sitting on the horse. “She said I needed to stop wasting my heart on men who didn’t know what to do with a real woman.”
His face turned serious. “She’s right. You should never waste your time on a man who doesn’t know exactly what is in front of him.”
That made my heart flutter a little. “She’s right about most things, but I love her anyway.”
“How old?” he asked.
“Thirty. Last week.”
“Want to know how old I am?” he asked with a grin.
“Not really. You’re probably much older than you look.”
“Backhanded compliments. I like that.” He stepped a little closer. “So, let’s not disappoint your friend and make the most of your birthday gift.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Call it whatever you want. But you aren’t leaving this corral until you ride Buttercup.”
I didn’t actually give in, but somehow, I found myself following him inside the corral.
I was wearing the brand new jeans Paige had insisted on—dark denim that hugged my thighs and butt but thankfully allowed me to move.
That would have been just my luck—my jeans ripping as I tried to mount a horse.
He led the horse to a mounting block. I’d watched enough western themed movies to know the physics behind getting on a horse.
“Left foot in the stirrup,” Slade commanded, holding the horse steady.
I did as I was told, my leg shaking.
“Now, grab the horn. Stand up and swing that right leg over. Don’t think, just move.”
I hauled myself up. For a second, I was airborne, my heart in my throat, and then—thud—I was in the saddle. I felt incredibly high up.
“See? Still in one piece.” He moved to my side, his hand coming up to rest firmly on my thigh. He didn’t just touch me. He gripped me, his thumb grazing the sensitive inner part of my leg.
“I feel like I’m going to fall off,” I gasped, clutching the horn.
“You’re fine. I’ve got you.” He stepped closer, his body pressed against the horse, putting him almost at eye level.
One large, calloused hand gripped my waist, while the other slid up my inner thigh to adjust my position.
His fingers dug into the soft meat of my thigh, his thumb grazing perilously close to the apex of my thighs.
He didn’t move his hand. He let it linger on my thigh, the heat of his palm burning through the denim.
He was looking up at me, his eyes filled with a desire that was impossible to miss.
“Slade,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “The horse...”
“The horse is fine. It’s the rider I’m worried about. You’re wound so damn tight, darlin’. I think you need someone to show you how to let go of the reins.”
“I’m a librarian,” I managed to choke out, trying to find my wit in the fog of lust. “I like things in order. Alphabetical. Controlled.”
“Well, out here, the only thing you need to control is your grip.” He gave my thigh a final, possessive squeeze before stepping back, though his eyes never left mine. “And I think you’re going to find you like the feeling of losing control.”
He led Buttercup in a slow circle around the corral.
I should have been concentrating on staying on the horse.
Instead, all I could do was watch him. The way his muscles moved under his shirt, the way he commanded the space, and the way he looked at me like he wanted to be teaching me a whole different style of riding.
Yes, please, my mind whispered.
By the time the ride was over, my thighs felt like jelly, partly from the ride and partly from the way Slade’s hand had gripped my leg for the last hour. Apparently, he took being my anchor literally.
When he caught me by the waist to swing me off the horse, he held me in the air for a second too long, my breasts pressed against his chest, our faces so close I could feel the heat of his breath.
“Nice ride, City Girl,” he murmured.
“Thank you. I’m glad you talked me into it.”
“How about I talk you into something else?”
“Like what?” I tried to find my snark, but it was buried under a landslide of pure, unadulterated want.
“Like letting me see what that sassy mouth tastes like.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping the nape of my neck. I didn’t even have time to breathe before he pulled me against him. I was off the horse, but my body still felt like it was in freefall.
The kiss wasn’t a getting-to-know-you polite peck. He kissed me like he’d been doing it for a hundred years, his tongue sweeping past my lips to claim me with a raw, demanding intensity.
I intended to push him away. I really did.
My hands went to his chest to shove him back, but the second I felt the hard, solid muscle beneath his shirt, my hands slid up his shoulders, pulling him closer.
His tongue thrust in and out of my mouth, tasting me and making me come undone.
His other hand found my waist, crushing me against his granite-hard frame.
And I did mean granite-hard. Everywhere.
He finally broke the kiss but only, I thought, because we both needed to breathe. He did not act like he wanted to stop kissing me. “You’re a whole lot of trouble, City Girl,” he growled, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip.
I couldn’t even find the words to argue. I was a concrete-and-coffee girl, but in that moment, tangled up with a man who smelled like the wild Texas evening, I couldn’t remember why I’d ever liked the city. All I wanted was more of him.