7. Carl
Carl
Ikept my hands planted firmly on Sierra, keeping her hips right where I wanted them.
The thin strip of morning light bleeding through the motel curtains fell directly across her, spotlighting every gorgeous curve.
I dragged my tongue right over her slit, applying steady, deliberate pressure as I reached the top.
Sierra arched off the bed, her fingers tangling hard in my hair, and let out a breathless, broken cry as she came apart against my mouth.
Damn, that was satisfying.
I took my time finishing her off, making sure she was completely done before I shifted my weight and rolled back onto the mattress beside her. Her taste was on my tongue and my heart was beating a happy, satisfied rhythm in my chest.
Sierra slumped against my side, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts as she let out a loud sigh of pleasure. “You’ve had practice.”
Maybe. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.
So instead I said, “I’d like to keep practicing on you.”
She giggled a little hysterically at that and hugged me even tighter.
We’d barely slept. Last night had been a wild, tangled mess of skin and heat, and my muscles ached in the best possible way. Being with her had been a real workout. Sierra was a wild rodeo woman, and I’d never experienced a ride like her before.
I held her close in my arms while I noticed the motel room for the first time.
It was small. And it had outdated floral curtains, a mini-fridge that kept making gurgling sounds, and a half-packed duffel bag sitting open on the luggage rack.
My chest tightened as I took it in. This was her life. It made the logging camp look like a five-star resort.
I’d enjoyed the hell out of having her naked and warm in my arms, but I knew better than to think this was a permanent setup. My gorgeous gal was just traveling through.
“What are you looking at?” Sierra asked, her wild curls spread out over the flat motel pillow.
“Just looking at the scenery,” I rumbled, turning my head to catch her tired smile.
I kissed her on the forehead, then reluctantly got out of bed.
I pulled my jeans on while she rummaged through her bag for a fresh shirt.
“That was a wild ride, Sierra. I’m inclined to stay here all day, but my stomach is yelling at me that I missed dinner and breakfast both.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed to lace my boots.
Sierra walked out of the bathroom, dragging a brush through her curls.
“You got to be at the arena soon?” I asked, grabbing the paper coffee cups I’d fetched from the lobby earlier and handing her one.
She took a sip, checking the battery level on her camera. “Not for a few hours. The rough stock doesn’t stage until one.”
“Good,” I said, grabbing my flannel and buttoning it back up. “Let me buy you breakfast at the Hungry Rooster. Then I want to show you something. If you’re up for it.”
“Lead the way, lumberjack.”
She had a satisfied glow on her face that told me I’d rocked her world. The only question now was, did she want me to keep rocking it?
I put my truck in park and killed the engine.
Sierra unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’m going to dream about those blackberry pancakes for the rest of my life, Carl. I’m serious.”
“They use local berries,” I said as we stepped out of the truck. “We’re known for them. The town’s throwing the annual Blackberry Festival in a couple of weeks. If you’re still around, I’d love to take you.”
Her pretty eyes softened. “I think I’d like that.”
I kept my expression steady, but a solid hit of satisfaction settled deep inside me.
“So, this is it,” I rumbled as I placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the large red barn.
“It’s beautiful. How many acres?”
“Close to a hundred.”
Her eyes went wide, taking it in. “It’s like a dream come true.”
I laughed. When I’d been a kid all I’d wanted was to get off this farm. Now, as a grown-ass man with some years under my belt, I could see it for the paradise it was.
“Yeah, he’s built something nice out here. Hasn’t he?”
“Carl!” My uncle Dalton stepped out of the milk house, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag.
He was a sturdy, weathered man who had run this dairy farm since I was a teenager.
He’d traded the cattle ranch for it, and I’d been so pissed at the time.
I’d gone from rounding up bulls and steers to milking the cows.
What a drop in status for a sixteen-year-old boy.
I clapped him on the back hard. He clapped me back harder.
“Hey, unc. This is Sierra.”
Dalton tipped his battered cap in her direction. “Pleasure to meet you, Sierra. You keeping my nephew out of trouble?”
“Trying to,” she said, smiling as she stepped up to the wooden fence line where a few Holsteins were chewing cud.
“I love cows. They’re actually the reason I got into rodeo photography.
Though I have to say, I prefer seeing them somewhere like this.
It’s nice that they have a real home, instead of being loaded into trailers and traveling from town to town every weekend. ”
Dalton grinned, clearly won over. “Well, they’re good girls. You can pet that one right there if you want. She’s friendly. Her name is Polly.”
I leaned against the old fence rails, watching Sierra reach a hand out. The cow huffed a warm breath, pushing its heavy black-and-white head against her palm.
Sierra’s whole body relaxed as she started baby-talking Polly.
My uncle and I stood there and watched the two bond.
After a few minutes, she pulled her camera out.
Sierra was taking shots of the cows at the fence, a barn cat stretching on a hay bale, and the morning light hitting the green pasture.
While she lifted her camera, the shutter clicking rapidly, we fell into our usual comfortable banter.
“Lumberjacking hasn’t killed you yet?”
“Not yet. But it’s trying.”
“Your gal looks too sweet for you. What are you doing with her?”
A grin popped onto my face, and he let out a low laugh. “You look like you’re about to get married.”
“Well, it’s still early days, but after the time I’ve had with her, I’m ready to prance my ass right down the aisle.”
“Good for you.” He lifted his cap and wiped the sweat off his brow before lowering it again.
“What’s been up in your world?” I usually came to visit once or twice a month, but I’d been too busy to come by recently.
“Just the typical. The big storm a month ago caused some fence damage. Oh, and I’m looking for a new farmhand, Carl. Will you help me spread the word?”
“I’ll come fix your fence. But what happened to Sam? I thought he liked it here.”
My uncle snorted. “That kid? He was three farmhands ago. The last one was great, but they got poached by the sawmill. The lure of big money always drives them away.”
I nodded. “I’ll spread the word. We’ll get someone for you.”
“You found yourself a winner, boy,” Dalton grunted as his eyes landed on Sierra again.
Sierra was bending over to meet-and-greet the chickens now. The sight of her ass fit perfectly on this country farm. I was a serious fan of her jeans.
“She’s just passing through,” I told him, setting him straight before he thought there was anything serious happening here.
Dalton snorted, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Well, you better lasso her before she gets away. Or maybe I’ll do it myself.”
I barked a dry laugh, clapping Dalton hard on the shoulder. “Keep your hands to yourself, old man. If anyone gets Sierra, it’s me.”
“Maybe if you stop playing lumberjack and come focus on your legacy, you’d be able to attract a woman like that.”
“I managed to attract her just fine,” I shot back playfully.
But he jabbed back, the way he always did, “You may have attracted her, but that’s only half the equation. Now you’ve got to keep her. Trust me when I say that’s a lot harder.”
My uncle was right about that.
He and his wife had been one of those typical country love affairs. They met in high school and stayed married their whole lives until she got taken away from us. Cancer was a bitch.
But they’d loved every minute together. Uncle Dalton had stepped in and turned into my daddy figure after my dad landed in rehab for the third time. And in a lot of ways, Aunt Dahlia had been more of a mother to me than my own mom.
This farm really was my legacy.
I glanced over at Sierra. Would she want a life like this? Or was it just fun and games to come by for a visit?
“You got that look on your face I haven’t seen since you saw your first Corvette.”
I chuckled at that. Sierra was a hell of a Corvette.
I reached over and scratched Polly between the ears, and Sierra turned the lens on me.
Click.
My uncle took that as his cue to depart. He called out, “Sierra, you enjoy your visit here today. Carl, I’m going to get to milking now.”
After he headed for the barn, Sierra was quiet for a long time, just watching me with Polly.
Then she took a few more shots.
After a few minutes, I saw Uncle Dalton leaned against the doorframe of the old red barn, watching Sierra frame up a shot of his vintage John Deere tractor. I could tell he was half-enamored with her too. She had a vitality around her that made the day feel more alive.
She lowered the camera. “This place is gorgeous.”
“I thought you’d be a fan.”
She laughed softly, and I stepped closer.
I wanted to tell her to cancel the next leg of her rodeo circuit and pack her bags right into my truck. But I knew better than to crowd a woman whose whole life was built on the road. Asking for too much right now would only scare her off.
“I like having you here, Sierra,” I told her, my voice dropping, getting serious. “I’m glad I met you.”
She swallowed hard, lifting the camera again to snap one more photo of my face. “Red Oak Mountain looks a lot better through this lens than I expected it to.”
“If you like this,” I offered casually, testing the waters, “my buddy Elliot runs a farm down the road. I could take you over there to see it someday soon. If you want.”
“Absolutely, handsome. Take me on all the farm tours you want,” she replied, without a second of hesitation.
I smiled as our eyes caught, saying things that our hearts weren’t ready to admit yet.
“Carl and Sierra, come here a second,” Dalton called from the milk house door. “I want to teach your lady how to milk a cow.”
“Oh, lord. You’re in for it now.”
But Sierra laughed, a giddy expression in her eyes. “I can milk a cow?”
I gave Sierra a nod. “Yes, ma’am. And if you don’t watch it, he’ll try to hire you on as his next farmhand, so don’t say you haven’t been warned.”
She kissed me quickly, then ran gleefully to the barn. I watched her run, half my attention on the jiggle of her ass in those sexy jeans of hers, and half on the clock.
Today was great, but my time with her might run out faster than I wanted. And I wasn’t sure how to handle that yet.
Was two weeks really all I’d ever get of her? That seemed like a cruel joke. Drop the perfect woman into my lap, then rip her away again before I could get used to having her around.
But life had a funny way of being a dick. And for once, I didn’t know how to laugh that off.