CHAPTER TWO
Dalton
Four-thirty the next morning came like it always did, but for the first time in years, I wasn’t thinking about fence lines and feed schedules.
I was thinking about her.
Riley fucking Jenson, with her smart mouth and those curves that had been testing my self-control since the moment I’d seen her in my kitchen, covered in flour with tears glistening in her eyes.
Soft in all the right places, with full breasts that would overflow my hands, and an ass so perfectly round and thick I wanted to bite it.
Those curves haunted me—I’d spent half the night imagining stripping her bare, mapping every inch with my hands and mouth.
Wanted to suck those nipples until she begged, wanted to grip that ass while I pounded into her from behind, wanted to bury my face between those thick thighs and make her scream my name.
Wanted to watch those tits bounce while she rode my cock.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, the stubble rasping against my palm.
This was insane. I didn’t do this—didn’t get twisted up over a woman, especially not one who was leaving after Christmas. I’d learned that lesson the hard way when my ex-fiancée had left me for a Wall Street banker because ranch life wasn’t exciting enough. And I wasn’t rich enough.
But then I’d replay the moment when Riley had leaned back into me, that little surrendering motion like her body knew exactly what was happening between us.
The way her breath had hitched when I’d gotten close.
How she’d looked at me like she wanted to either kiss me or throw one of her burnt biscuits at my head.
Knowing sleep wasn’t coming back, I got up and headed down to the kitchen.
There was a light on when I arrived, and something in my chest loosened.
She was still here. She hadn’t snuck away in the dead of night like part of me had worried she might.
I pushed through the door and found her scowling at the coffee pot with an intensity that made me want to smile despite myself.
She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin I wanted to put my mouth on.
The sweatshirt was thin enough that I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra—her nipples were visible, pressing against the soft fabric, and my mouth went dry.
I wanted to suck on them through the shirt, then strip it off and do it properly.
I wanted to find out if they were as sensitive as I imagined, if she’d arch into my mouth when I bit down gently.
This could be my future, whispered that dangerous voice in the back of my head. Every morning. Her in my kitchen.
Our kitchen.
“Need help, Disaster?”
She jumped, spinning around with wide eyes. “Do you ever make noise when you move, or are you part ghost?”
“Coffee giving you trouble?”
Her scowl deepened, which somehow made her prettier. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Like you had the biscuits under control yesterday?”
She blushed, and I’d never seen anything so adorable.
She gave a loud huff and reached for two coffee mugs. The movement made her breasts push forward, and my body harden instantly. I shook my head to try and clear it. When was the last time I’d wanted a woman so fast and so badly?
She thrust a cup at me, and I barely managed to grab it. “If that’s going to be your attitude, you can take your smug cowboy face and—”
“My what?”
“Your face. It’s smug. And very...” She waved her hand vaguely. “Cowboy.”
I leaned against the counter, letting myself enjoy this. Enjoy her. “Are you always this articulate before your coffee?”
“Are you always this annoying before sunrise?”
“Sweetheart, I’m annoying at all hours.” The words were out before I could stop them, implying a future, time, something more than four weeks.
She noticed. I saw it in the way her eyes widened slightly and the way her lips parted. Just like they had yesterday before the men had come in like a wild herd of wild mustangs.
She took a drink of her coffee, wincing slightly.
“That bad, huh?”
“No,” she bit her lip. “It’s just a little stronger than I usually make it.”
I took a cautious sip and winced as well. “Sweetheart, this is strong enough to strip paint off the wall.” I reached out and took her cup from her, then poured both out in the sink.
She didn’t protest. “I thought cowboys liked it strong.”
“We do, but we like to keep all our internal organs too.” I put on a fresh pot and turned back to her. She backed up a little, which I didn’t know how to read. Did I intimidate her? Or was she pulling away for an entirely different reason?
“Why Montana?” she asked suddenly. “Aunt Mae said you’re from back East originally.”
“New York, but I grew up in Texas. I needed a change.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”
She studied me with those beautiful eyes, seeing too much. “Fair enough. We all have our secrets.”
“What are yours?”
“We just met yesterday. You don’t get my secrets yet.”
Yet. That single word sent satisfaction rolling through me. Yet implied a future, time, eventual trust.
Once this pot of coffee was done, I poured two more mugs and handed one to her. Our fingers brushed again—I was definitely doing it on purpose now.
“So what’s the plan for today?” she asked. “More culinary boot camp?”
“Depends. You planning on burning anything else?”
“The day is young. Anything’s possible.”
Damn, I liked her. I liked her sass and her humor and the way she didn’t back down. I liked the little crease between her eyebrows when she was concentrating, and how she bit her bottom lip when she was thinking.
But I especially liked the curves of her body.
There was too much attraction for someone who was supposed to be temporary.
“I was thinking we could run through breakfast basics today,” I said. “Eggs, bacon, home fries. Then maybe move on to lunch prep.” Yesterday, there’d been biscuits and scrambled eggs for breakfast and beef stew I’d made in the slow cooker before leaving, with an order not to touch it.
The boys had decided to eat cold cuts in the bunkhouse for dinner.
“You’re really going to spend your whole day teaching me to cook?”
“Not the whole day. Just a few hours. You got a better way to feed five grown men three meals a day?”
“I could watch cooking shows.” Her smile was shy but beautiful.
It made me want to stay there with her all day long.
“I’m not sure my insurance would cover that.”
She sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim. “Why are you being so nice about this? You could’ve just fired me yesterday.”
There were a lot of answers I wanted to give her.
Because the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to change everything.
Because I’m already planning how to convince you to stay past Christmas. Past New Year’s. Past forever.
“Seemed like a waste to fire you on day one,” I said instead.
That earned me a smile—a real one this time—and the sight of it hit me like a punch to the gut.
The kitchen felt too small suddenly. Too intimate. Just the two of us in the pre-dawn quiet, drinking coffee while snow fell outside and Christmas lights twinkled, and something building between us that felt inevitable.
I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve put distance between us.
Instead, I moved closer.