Chapter 3
CASSIDY
I lay on the mat laughing. That had been so much fun! While I knew all about horses, I’d never really considered myself much of a cowgirl. They didn’t really have any in Vermont. Maybe I could be a bull rider. I fanned my face, feeling sweaty. I was so thirsty!
I rolled onto my stomach, then pushed up, swung my leg over the edge of the thick padding and stood, pushed my hair back. I opened the little safety gate and stepped out and–
“Oof.”
I ran right into a wall. Of man. A hard chest, soft cotton. He smelled of fresh laundry.
“Careful,” he said, setting his hands on my bare forearms. His skin was warm. His hold gentle, but they somehow felt like handcuffs, like he wasn’t going to let me go.
I tipped my head back and–
“It’s you.”
Hayes Wilder. His blond brow winged up.
“It’s me.” His voice was deep and made me shiver, and I was far from cold.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What are you doing here?” he asked right back.
“Happy hour with guys from the ranch.”
“Happy hour ended three hours ago.”
I shrugged, then did it again because it felt funny.
“Time to go, princess,” he said, turning, but keeping one hand on me and steering me through the crowd.
“Go? Go where? I came with–”
“The guys from the ranch. You don’t belong here.”
He pushed open the front door and I had no choice but to run to keep up.
His legs were that much longer than mine.
I called his name, but he ignored me. He skirted the building, then went around the side and to a really nice pickup truck.
He gripped the handle and the truck beeped.
Pulling the passenger door open, he stepped back.
Finally, he let me go and I tipped sideways. My arm went out to stop my fall, landing right in the center of his chest.
“Jesus, you can barely stand up,” he muttered, taking my arm again.
“I can stand.”
“You’re drunk. You’re eighteen and drunk.”
I looked up at him. Was he even more attractive in dark parking lots?
“Like you’ve never been eighteen and drunk.”
“I’m not a girl out with a bunch of guys who aren’t watching out for her,” he snapped.
“They’re watching out for me!”
His voice, instead of rising to a shout, got quieter. “Oh yeah? Then where the hell are they? They shouldn’t have let any guy take you out of the bar.”
I shrugged, feeling all loose and sloppy. “You’re a Wilder. Pretty much their boss.”
“So? They should have stopped me. Checked that you’re okay. That I have good intentions. We’re gonna have a little talk tomorrow.”
“I’ll go back in and stay with them,” I replied.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Why are you so cranky?”
“Because you have no sense. You’ve had too much to drink to be aware of your surroundings. A man could–”
“A man did! You!” I said, poking him in the chest.
“Exactly my point. You need to be taught a lesson about safety.”
“From a guy who dragged me out of a bar?” I yelled.
“From a guy who knows what’s best for you.”
With a little tug, he had me spun around inside the open truck door and facing the seat.
“Hayes!” I cried when he grabbed the bottom of my jean skirt and tugged it up.
I tried to reach back and push it down, but he nudged my hand away. “What are you doing?” I squeaked.
He grunted and I could feel his stare on my bare butt. “You’ve been walking around in that short little skirt with your pussy barely covered in a g-string?”
His hand came down on my butt. I heard the crack of it before I felt it. It wasn’t all that hard, but it surprised me because no one… no one had ever done this to me before.
“You want to drink that much, you have someone with you who’s watching you and only you, not on the prowl for a one night stand.”
Smack!
“You were reckless.”
Smack!
I wasn’t sure if I should be turned on, appalled, or embarrassed.
Maybe all three. He tugged at the elastic of my panties and ripped them off me, then flipped my skirt down, spun me around and tipped my chin up.
I met his eyes, which I knew were blue but it was too dark to tell in the back corner of the parking lot. “What do you say?”
I blinked. “Um… sorry?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Sorry… Daddy?” I asked, full of sass.
His eyes widened, then narrowed. Oh my God, what did I just say? This couldn’t get any more embarrassing. He was going to–
“Fuck. You need a Daddy, that’s for sure,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But no, when my handprint’s on your ass and your panties are in my pocket, you call me Mr. Wilder.”