Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Griffin
I can’t do this anymore.
I stand in front of my closet, staring at the designer clothes purchased by well-intentioned clients. Thousand-dollar cowboy boots sit beneath Armani suits, their gleaming leather and crisp fabrics a costume for a role I never wanted to play.
My clients call them perks of the job, but bondage is a more appropriate term.
I loathe everything about them now, which is secondary only to the disgust I feel for myself.
The worst part is my clients are not bad people, not most of them anyway, and the majority have no real need to hire a man to perform for them.
I suppose I’m lucky in that I’m handsome enough to have my pick of clients. Clients who pay a pretty penny to buy my time and my body.
It’s a job. That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s a way to ensure my sister Pearl has the best of everything—treatment, comfort, a life she deserves. No matter the cost. No matter what it costs me.
But the ranch’s newest arrival has thrown a monkey wrench into my life, albeit in the best possible way. Reese lives in my head now, her petite form and crooked smile haunting my dreams.
In those few precious hours, where my time is entirely my own, I imagine stripping Reese down, peeling away every article of clothing as I glide my tongue along her curves.
She’s always sweet, her skin tasting of cinnamon and honey, her body welcoming me home as I bury myself inside her and swear she’s the only woman I’ll ever touch.
But the dream inevitably ends, my reality a mocking reminder of what I’ll never have.
Unless I find a way.
The gears in my head have been spinning wildly over the last few days, desperate for a way out.
I haven’t touched a woman since Reese came to the ranch. Oh, I’ve had clients, but I begged off each one, claiming a well-timed stomach flu, followed by a miserable migraine.
Capri didn’t call me out, but I saw the look on her face when I feigned yet another illness. She doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because I was all too willing to work my ass off around the ranch this last week, completing Capri’s honey-do list.
If only that paid as well as fucking.
But tonight, I have a date with Delilah.
She’s one of my regulars, a divorcee who scored big in the courts and now has made it her personal mission to screw away her husband’s money.
I think the entire situation is petty, but she pays me twenty-five hundred to do the deed, with an extra five hundred if we have dinner together. Her treat, of course.
I’m a piece of meat to these women, a pretty plaything for when they’re bored or lonely or looking for meaning in their lives.
I hate every second of it.
Especially because Delilah has been hounding me to kiss her, even throwing in an offer of more money for the treat.
Not going to happen.
Every sex worker has rules, certain deeds they won’t do, no matter how good the money is for that particular trick. Mine are simple: no anal, no oral without protection. And no kissing. Not even a peck.
It might seem odd to some that I’ll let a stranger claw at me, leave scratches down my back, beg for words I don’t mean—yet the one thing I won’t give them is a kiss. Kissing is intimate. It’s not just skin meeting skin, it’s breath and need and truth shared in the smallest space.
It’s so personal, and it’s the only thing I have left in reserve for the woman I love.
Delilah wants to be worshipped, called goddess, praised like every curve is divine.
Before Reese, I could play the role. Now the words tastes like ash, because there’s only one woman I want to worship.
I used to give Delilah everything she asked for.
Now? I can’t. What she wants isn’t mine to give anymore.
And in every dream I have of Reese, it doesn’t start with sex. It starts with her lips against mine, soft and sweet, and me finally letting myself believe I could belong to someone.
Believe I was enough.
Not that there’s a chance in hell Reese will ever want me back.
Something shifted after that night at my cabin—when she’d been softer, almost shy, like maybe she felt it too.
But the next day? She barely looked at me.
I’d just come in from repairing a fence, sweat and dirt clinging to me, after walking a mile round trip to cut those flowers for her.
A bouquet bigger than my pride, because I wanted her to smile the way she had when we found that valley.
And what was the first thing out of her mouth? Sabine. My ex. Her saying I was part of the welcome wagon, like the flowers were nothing more than a trick I pulled for every new resident.
Who knows what all Sabine said to her. Maybe that’s why Reese put the armor back on, why she looked at me like I was just the job again. Like I’d never be more than the man who gets paid to make women feel special.
But the truth?
Reese is the most intimate I’ve gotten with a woman in years, and all I’ve done is kissed her cheek. Even that felt like an erotic act—something equal parts sensual and innocent. Why? Because we exchanged no money. Reese isn’t buying my affection, though I give it freely.
Never in my life have I felt this way. I’ve had plenty of crushes and lustful urges, but my experience with Reese is next level.
And I can’t let her go.
Not yet.
I shut my closet door and release a long sigh. “I can’t do this. Not anymore.”
“Let me guess? Another stomach bug?” Capri regards me with a cool stare from the other side of her mahogany desk.
I swipe my hat off my head and settle into a chair opposite her, turning it absently in my hands. “Shit, Capri, I don’t know.”
She leans back in her chair and nods. “Look, I know this has never been your thing, but you’re damn good at it, and you have a damn good reason to continue.”
“What if I have a better reason to stop? You mentioned needing a new maintenance guy here.”
Capri arches one brow, flicking her pen against a ledger before setting it down. “That doesn’t pay nearly what an escort does, particularly not with your caliber of clients. You’d have to work eighty hours a week to come close.”
“I can do that, but I can’t do this anymore.”
She exhales, a sharp sound through her nose, then swivels her chair just enough to look out the window toward the barns. “Oh, Griffin, you are making your life very difficult.”
“Are you going to fire me?”
She snorts out a laugh and sips her tea. “Sounds like you beat me to it. Tell me honestly—what brought on this change?”
I meet her gaze. She already knows the reason. Hell, she knew that first day when she volunteered me to take Reese on the tour. But she needs to hear me say it aloud. Maybe she knows I need to admit it to myself as much as to her. “Everything is different with her.”
“Does Reese know this? I’d hate to see you throw away your paycheck for a possibility.”
My boots scuff against the hardwood as I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, hands clasped tight like I’m holding the words in place. “She doesn’t know. Not yet. I wasn’t planning on pursuing her until I was sure it could be real. But she will know—because I can’t keep this to myself forever.”
Capri sets her cup down and folds her arms across her chest. “So, you’re out?”
“Well, I’ll take that maintenance job, if it’s still open, and I’m fine with the escorting part of the gig, just nothing physical. Like Dorian.”
Dorian is still a fan favorite, but he doesn’t sleep with clients. He’s strictly a handsome man on their arm, attending functions, doting on them, ensuring the world sees them as beautiful vibrant women.
Guess it’s cheaper than therapy.
Probably more effective, too, if one-upping your friends is the goal.
Capri lets out a low chuckle as she taps a nail against the edge of her desk. “Figures the two hottest guys here don’t want to turn tricks. I thought men were supposed to love sex more than life.”
What Capri won’t admit is that Dorian loves one thing more than sex— her . Hell, he won’t admit it either, but everyone knows it’s true, and he’s ensuring that should Capri ever open that door to her heart, he’s the first man waiting in line.
Now I understand his mentality.
Capri pushes back from her chair, smoothing her skirt as she stands and pulls a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the cabinet. She pours a shot into each and hands one to me. “You’re about to make your life really fucking complicated, Griffin.”
I shrug. “It already was.”
“I can’t guarantee the maintenance job will be enough to cover your bills, but I’ll see what I can do to make it work.”
Capri doesn’t press, doesn’t bring up Pearl. She doesn’t have to. She knows damn well I’d set myself on fire before I let my sister go without. Hell, she knows that’s the only reason I ever came to the ranch—or why I’ve stayed this long.
“Thank you, Capri.”
“On one condition.”
“Don’t tell me to stay away from Reese. I can’t. If that’s your request, then fire me.”
Her gaze lingers on me, unreadable. She swirls the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Be careful with her. I don’t know Reese’s full story, but there is pain behind her eyes. She’s fresh out of one nightmare. You don’t want to be another one.”
Her words land like a sucker punch, because she’s right.
“I’ll take it slow.”
She smirks. “Somehow, I doubt that. Guess I’ll send Tim over to Delilah, with your regrets.”
“If Delilah still wants a date, I’m willing to play the part. Just no more than that.”
“You and I both know she wants way more than that. Better to cut it off clean. Tim has been begging for more clients, and I think Delilah will enjoy him.”
“No doubt. Do you want me to speak to her?”
“And tell her what? You’ve developed a mad crush and can’t stand the idea of another woman touching you? Let me handle it.”
My shoulders dip, the air leaving me in a slow exhale. I don’t have room for pride here, only gratitude. “Thank you for understanding.”