Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Griffin
I believe in all the romantic trappings of love, with one exception.
I never believed in love at first sight.
Not until Reese stepped out of her car at the ranch.
The moment she turned in my direction, I saw my future unfold. Decades of memories, long before we’d had the time to make them, hit me in a rush.
Out of nowhere stood this breathtaking woman—tiny frame, huge brown eyes, dark hair curling at her jaw, and the most beautiful mouth I’d ever seen.
She carried an almost otherworldly appeal. Innocence tempered by disappointment. Like a vintage Hollywood heroine caught in the wrong century.
I didn’t know who she was or why she was here. There are only so many reasons to show up at the ranch, and she didn’t fit any of them. Not a client. Not a resident. Someone else.
And I was determined to find out.
Even though she was a stranger, I felt like I already knew her. Intimately.
Then she went flying.
One rogue suitcase launched her backward, sent her sprawling on her ass in a cloud of dust. Any other woman would’ve shrieked or played it off with embarrassment, but Reese laughed. A throaty, self-deprecating laugh that hit me harder than it should have.
That was the moment I knew I was done for.
Because who falls on their ass, covered in dirt, and still manages to steal the breath right out of a man’s chest?
The rush of feelings blindsided me—captivation, hesitation, boyish embarrassment I hadn’t felt since my teenage years. And I was positive she saw every one of them race across my face.
But the flood of emotions receded just as fast when I learned who she was.
Not because of anything Reese did.
But because there’s no chance.
Not with a woman like her.
Not being a man like me.
I may be good-looking, personable, and charming, but I sell my body to the highest bidder. What should be sacred between lovers is, for me, a transaction.
A perfunctory act.
Stripped of all meaning.
But despite all these misgivings, I was more than fine with passing off my regular client to Tim. She desired something, or rather, someone, different, and I was free to visit with our new arrival. Sure, it meant forfeiting my cut, but Capri would still get hers, and I was fine with that.
Capri saw it on my face, that knowing smirk dancing across her lips as she casually suggested I take Reese on the grand tour. It would have made sense for her sister to handle her orientation, but our boss knew I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
In my year here, I’ve never asked a favor of Capri, nor have I shown a speck of real interest in any of the women—client or resident.
Until now.
I want to spend as much time as possible around Reese, even if I know nothing more than her name and that she stirs emotions I thought had died long ago.
And now, I get to spend the evening with her.
The first of many, I hope.
Taking a deep breath to center myself, I lead Reese from Capri’s office to the foyer, praying she doesn’t feel my hand trembling against hers. Hell, my hand never shakes, not even before my first client a year ago. “Are you okay riding a four-wheeler?”
Her eyes widen as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “Is the house that big?”
God, she’s adorable. She’s more than a foot shorter than me, so tiny I want to pick her up and carry her in my arms, all while kissing any arguments from her beautiful mouth. “I meant the grounds, although the house is over six thousand square feet.”
“Makes sense, having space for your… clients.” I hear the trepidation in her voice. She’s out of her element, but she isn’t judgmental. Piper told me Reese did not know what type of establishment Rockin’ Rodeo Ranch was until she arrived.
For someone who was thrown a major curveball, she’s certainly handling it well. She also doesn’t seem disdainful of what we do here, although I sense the woman doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.
“As for the four-wheeler, I’ve never driven one, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”
She bends to grab her bag, the hem of her sweatshirt riding up just enough for me to catch a glimpse of them—two tiny dimples carved above the curve of her ass. God have mercy. I’ve seen every kind of body there is—sculpted, soft, enhanced, natural—but none of them stir me anymore.
But Reese? She’s making my pulse kick hard.
I clear my throat, drag my gaze away, only to have it slide right back, helpless. Judging from the way she gives her sweatshirt a nervous tug, she knows I’m staring.
I’m tempted to warn her never to cover that ass, but I need to remain a gentleman.
“I know I look a mess, but at least I’m clean. That’s a vast improvement over our first meeting,” she offers, motioning to herself. “Even Chowder was complaining about my lack of fashion sense.”
“That’s not what I was looking at.”
Crap. Did I say that out loud?
I feel the flush crawl up my cheeks as I focus my gaze on the garden. “I planned on driving the four-wheeler, with you riding on the back, but I can charge up another one if you’d prefer riding solo.”
Reese captures her lower lip in her teeth, and even though it may be against my better judgment to do so, I reach over and gently coax it free. “Deep breath. I promise I don’t bite.”
“Unless specifically requested?”
Fuck, I hate my life right now.
She winces at her joke. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of my comfort zone. When that happens, I cover it up with terrible attempts at humor.”
Funny how similar we are. “I’ve been known to do the same thing. Come on, let me show you the ranch. There’s a lot of beauty around here.”
After showing her the main house, I duck into the kitchen and grab a picnic basket from Geraldine, ensuring I steal a few extra pieces of her cornbread and a bottle of wine.
Hey, it’s damn fine cooking, and I want Reese to feel welcome here.
I desperately want her to stay.
I hold open the side door, leading her down the dirt path toward the garage. “Ready for the best part of the tour? The house is nice, but the grounds are what make it special.”
“You seem like the outdoor type.”
“Absolutely. I grew up outside. Horses, baseball, hiking. That sort of thing. You enjoy the outdoors?”
Reese wobbles her head. “Sure, although I’m more accustomed to the concrete jungle. Opera, ballet, the theatre.”
“Those are good too.” I’m not lying. I have high-dollar clients, and they love to show up on opening night with me on their arm. I simply trade in my jeans for a tux and play the part.
That’s what I do.
Except for now, in this moment, where I’m being totally myself—and terrified that won’t be nearly enough.
We continue down the path, winding toward the clapboard barn that houses the ATVs.
I walk behind Reese, offering a reassuring smile whenever she glances over her shoulder.
“Down here?”
“Yep, just be careful. It can be a bit slick after the rain?—”
Too late.
Reese’s foot slips on the rock, but this time I’m close enough to catch her before she hits the ground.
My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against me as I steady her. “Easy, belleza.”
She reaches back, fingers brushing my thigh before sliding up to clutch my forearm, holding tight like she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.
I should let her go. I don’t. My hand stays splayed against her stomach, fingers brushing the curve of her ribs.
She feels so damn good.
I duck my head, my lips grazing her ear. “Are you okay?”
“I swear, I don’t make it a habit of falling on my ass. Seems you bring it out in me.”
“You falling at my feet?” My voice drops, huskier than intended. “While I appreciate the gesture, I’d rather keep you safe. Upright.”
We realize at the same time how it sounds.
She wriggles free, tucking her hair behind her ears in a nervous move that damn near kills me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Neither did I.” Heat creeps up my neck. “I just meant I want you safe and…”
Reese laughs, burying her face in her hands. “I’m exhausted, so that’s my excuse for behaving like a high schooler. What’s yours?”
“You.”
Her head jerks up. “Me?”
I nod, kicking a stone with the toe of my boot. “Seems you make this cowboy nervous.”
I don’t stumble, don’t sweat, don’t lose control. But with her, I’m a mess—and part of me craves it.
“I doubt any woman makes you nervous.”
“Most women don’t make me feel anything at all.”
Her expression softens, recognition flickering in her eyes. “I’ve been on a bit of a man-hating spree lately. But the truth is, most men don’t make me feel anything, either.”
I steal a glance at her. “What about your ex?”
“The only thing he ever made me feel was aggravated.” Bitterness sharpens her tone. “I wasted so much time convincing myself those crumbs he tossed me counted as love.”
“You’ll know love when it comes.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be impossible to ignore, and even more impossible to forget.”
She gives me a strange look, suspicion tangled in her gaze. “You’re good with the romantic lines.”
“No, I’m not.”
Her brow lifts. “You must admit. That was pretty romantic.”
“That’s because I said it to you.”
And there I go again, saying something I shouldn’t.
Something that could change everything.
But Reese softens a fraction, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Romance. I don’t know what that feels like.”
She trails her fingers over a leafy branch as we pass, her gaze flicking my way before darting forward again. “I’ll bet it’s nice.”
Nice? Romance with her would be ruin. I’d burn my whole life down just to give her what her bastard ex never did.
Plenty of women have told me something similar, swearing they don’t know romance. Most mean it as foreplay, a way to make me feel like some hero sweeping them off their feet. But Reese? She isn’t pretending. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice—she really doesn’t know.
And that guts me.
Whatever her ex did, or didn’t do, it left scars. I want to erase every single one. Protect her. Undo the damage. Give her the kind of love she should’ve always had.
Reese straightens her spine and wags a playful finger at me as her emotional shield snaps back into place. “You’re good, cowboy. Line or not, thanks for making me feel special. Now, how about the rest of that tour? Because I could use a glass of wine.”
I smile, but inside I know the truth. That wasn’t sass; that was armor. A mask she wears the second she thinks she’s let too much slip. One I plan on pulling off, piece by piece, until she never feels like she has to hide again.
I sweep aside a branch blocking the path, gesturing her forward. “Your wish is my command.”
She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she’s fighting another smile. She thinks I’m giving her routine charm. Truth is, I don’t have a routine. Not with her.
With clients, I keep a wall up—playful, polished, but never real. With Reese, every word slips out before I can stop it.
Her eyes widen as we approach the four-wheeler. “You promise that thing is safe?”
“You drive in New York. Trust me, this is safer.”
“Fair point.”
“Take your glasses off.”
“How come?”
“Safety first.” As soon as she slides off her glasses, I grab a helmet and settle it onto her head, chuckling when she groans in protest. “It’s not that bad. You look cute.”
She narrows her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar? Where is your helmet?”
“I don’t need one.” I hop onto the four-wheeler and glance back at her with a grin. “Come on, little one.”
Reese slides onto the seat behind me, hesitating as she searches for a handhold. “Where do I?—?”
“You’re going to have to hold on to me.”
“I have to hold on to a hot guy, too? You really are a torture taskmaster.”
Her arms slip around my waist and the warmth of her touch sinks straight through my shirt, my whole body going tight.
I’ve been touched a thousand different ways in this line of work, and none of it ever got under my skin. But one cautious grip from Reese and I’m fighting to breathe.
“Is this okay?” Reese asks, her grip loosening like she’s terrified she crossed a line.
“Perfect.” And it is. Every damn thing about her.