Chapter 12
Nash
I’ve missed the stink of a day’s worth of work on the ranch. There’s a different sort of ache that lives in your muscles, as your shirt clings to sweat-drenched skin, smeared with dirt.
Originally, I’d planned to be in Montana for another week before returning to Cole County. A week away from knowing Betty was right there, believing I didn’t want her. I do; I just can’t. I shouldn’t.
Pop is the reason I’m out here in the field, with my t-shirt hanging out of my back pocket, and sweat droplets burning my eyes.
Apparently, the promotion hosting this junior barrel race competition was requesting a few pickup and patrol horses.
Per usual, Pop volunteered. It made no sense to me.
We’ve never supplied horses for that sort of thing, but my father is the type to solve a problem if he has the resources.
Gray mentioned they were short a few guys this week and needed an extra hand. It wasn’t a question of whether I would help or not. It’s always a yes if I’m available. We all grew up here at Boulder Ranch, in a way, so it’s only natural to want to keep it alive. So here I am, throwing hay bales.
Too bad Gray bailed the moment he saw River. I can’t blame him. The guy is fucking glowing being married to that gorgeous woman. He and Tate have been through a lot of shit over the years. They both deserve the happiness they’ve found.
The timing worked out well since I’d just closed another deal, and Hunt could handle the others that were pending.
Choosing to count this as a blessing instead of a curse, I’ve worked at Boulder and our home ranch during the day and spent the evenings with my parents the past few nights.
They’re getting older, and time waits for no one.
A thought that seems to hit at the worst time, as Betty’s laugh punches me in the gut.
Every breath comes in a heaving pant as I drag myself back up to the Miller house. I should have stayed at my own, but why not torture myself knowing I’m feet away from the one woman I refuse to have.
My head snaps up, and there she is. Her laughter rings out through the humid spring air as her head falls back, my cock twitching at the sight. I’m so exhausted there’s no way my old ass should be able to get hard right now.
The man she’s with grips her waist, helping her keep her balance as her feet cross one in front of the other, fighting to control her cackle.
Whatever he said can’t be that damn funny.
The guy stops at the door, his hand finding that same hip I’d held a week ago. Then his lips touch the same mouth I’d devoured. Betty leans into him, giggling before they pull apart and she slips inside.
What the fuck? A week ago, she was all over me. She was mine. Who the hell is this asshole moving in on my…
Stop that, Nash. She’s not yours. You made that clear.
A million emotions course through me as he stands at the door as if waiting for her to open it again, only to knock. I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t. Please don’t open it, baby. Fuck!
My breath lodges in my lungs as I hold it in, hoping she leaves him out here when we might only be minutes from a storm. Yet, the door creaks open, her face appearing around the edge as she smiles brightly at him. Will she ever smile at me like that again?
Inching closer, it’s a strain to hear the words exchanged, but I don’t miss the glow of happiness that never leaves her face. Or his deep laughter as she takes his hand and pulls him inside.
I’m barely thinking as I storm toward the house, my shirt balled in my fist. Punching in the code, the door clicks open, and Betty’s laughter drifts from the kitchen.
There’s no stamping down my emotions as I march in that direction. My head is screaming that some other man has his hands on my woman. My woman? Betty isn’t mine. Yet I can’t stop what’s about to happen.
Clearing my throat, Betty jumps away from the man who just had his arms around her waist and his tongue down her throat.
“Nash. I… What are you doing here?” Her eyes are wide as they rake over my naked torso, the dirt and sweat still clinging to my skin.
I’m not a territorial man. Jealousy isn’t part of my makeup, and I don’t flex like I’m hot shit to impress a woman.
I never have, yet here I am in the kitchen of the Miller house, making sure every muscle pops with my molars painfully grinding, witnessing another man’s hands on that woman.
“I’m helping out for the weekend. Tate said I could stay here at the house,” I explain calmly.
“Oh, well. Tate’s wrong. The rooms are all full. We’re down one after the pipe break earlier this week.” She takes a step closer to the guy whose face I am just starting to place. Some nobody calf roper that’s new to the Boulder circuit.
Taking a step closer, my palms rest on the island. The surface is spotless except for the two tumblers sitting in front of them. “Tate offered the couch; I already know about the room. And who are you?” I cock my chin toward the man who still dares to touch what’s mine.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Betty apologizes, stepping out of his hold, but guiding him around the island. “I assumed y’all would have met. Nash, this is Ward Ferrell.”
He sticks out his hand to shake mine, my grip tighter than necessary as I keep my eyes focused on his face. “And you are?” I ask again.
His smile is warm and inviting as he releases my hand. “I, well. I competed here opening weekend. That’s how I met Betty here.” His arm drapes around her shoulder, his fingers rubbing idly.
When he’d touched her before, she’d leaned into him.
She welcomed his hands on her skin, but now she’s stiff as if she can’t decide if she should or not.
It reminds me of when my sisters started dating and bringing boys home.
Magnolia was always unsure if it was okay to share a kiss or hold hands, while Savannah didn’t give a shit.
She’d sit on the guy’s lap while my dad stared daggers at them, and the guy sweated so much he left a spot on the couch.
Before I can respond, the guy continues.
“A good friend of mine’s daughter is competing this weekend, so I booked one of the cabins.
It was the perfect opportunity to take Betty on our first date, too.
” There’s not an ounce of smugness in the guy.
He’s genuinely excited that he got to spend time with her.
And by the glint in his eyes, he’s hoping there will be a second.
“Hope you two had fun, but I need a shower and some sleep,” I all but growl.
“You can have my room again,” Betty chirps. The high-pitched tone of her voice is fabricated. Forced happiness so she can pretend she’s fine. This guy wouldn’t notice it, but I’ve known her for most of her life.
“Are you two leaving?” I hate that I’m fucking standing here giving them the third degree, like I’m not a grown man with some fucking self-control.
My molars grind, and the muscles in my jaw flex so hard I want to cry out.
I have no right to stand here and make them feel uncomfortable or act as if I have any claim to Betty when I don’t.
They’re both silent before Ward finally takes the hint. “I promised my buddy I’d meet him early for breakfast. I should go.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Betty volunteers, slipping her arm around his and leading him the opposite direction from me around the island.
I watch them move the short distance to the door, where I have to listen to the sound of him kissing the mouth that should be on mine.
The sound of the door closing lifts my spirits. It’s just her and me, and now we can have a chat. A conversation I have no business starting if I’m not going to follow through. I don’t understand why I am so upset at seeing her with someone else.
Betty. Is. Not. Mine.
The word “yet” floats through my mind, and I have to swat it away. Fuck, what is happening to me?
The clap of her bare feet on the hardwood almost makes me turn around, until she grabs my wrist, leading me down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door behind us. “What the hell was that, Nash?”
I’ve never seen Betty angry. I’ve never seen her as anything but fun-loving, smiling Betty. She’s the woman everyone wants to be friends with. The woman who never says no if someone needs help. She’s the life of the party and everyone’s best friend after a single interaction.
That’s not the Betty standing in front of me. Her nostrils flare with her barely contained frustration as her face turns a shade of red that wouldn’t even be healthy for a tomato.
“I just wanted to get some sleep, and you were seconds from fucking that guy in the kitchen.” It’s the wrong thing to say.
I know that the moment the words pass my lips.
I’m not an asshole, especially not to her or any other woman.
Yet the words spewed free as the green monster of jealousy took over.
She rears back as if slapped, before a glassy sheen settles over her eyes. Fuck, no. If she cries, I will lose it. “Is that what you think of me?” Her words are watery as she holds back tears. Her voice is so broken that I immediately hate myself.
“No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Betty.” Reaching for her, she quickly steps back, sorrow tugging at her gorgeous features. Please don’t cry, baby. “I’m just tired, but that’s not an excuse for speaking to you that way.”
“What did I ever see in you?” she whimpers.
“All these years, I thought you were nothing but a kind man. I thought you cared about the people in your life, but you don’t.
Not after… not after last week and the way you just spoke to me.
I’m not a kid anymore, so you can’t charge in here and tell me what to do.
You made it clear you could never want me.
” Her hands run down her body as if reminding me she’s standing right there.
“I’ve wasted years pining over you, and for what? ”
The first tear finally breaks free, and I can’t help myself. Cupping the side of her face, I wipe it away with my thumb. “Andromeda, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes flare at the nickname. I used to call her that as a kid. It was her favorite galaxy. She said she was just like the Andromeda constellation. I never considered what she meant by that back then, but now I do.
“You remembered?” she breathes, finally melting into my touch.
“I’m going to level with you, and I need you not to hate me for it.
” Her breath quickens as she tries to pull away from me, but I grab hold of her hip, pulling her body flush against mine.
My cock swells in my jeans, but I don’t hide it.
Instead, I hold her tight to me so she can feel me when I say this.
“Nash, if you’re…”
“I’m talking. You’re going to listen.” She nods.
“I think it’s pretty clear I am attracted to you.
My cock is so hard right now, the fucker hurts enough to bring me to my knees.
I think we both know that what happened a week ago would have been a mistake if I’d taken it further.
” Once again, she tries to pull away. “Stop trying to run from me.” Her glassy eyes meet mine as her mouth presses into a straight line.
Lowering my face to hers, I’m so close that a flick of my tongue would allow me a taste of her.
“I am a man with particular needs. Needs that don’t align with what you need. ”
“And tell me, how do you know what I need?” Those soft lips brush over mine as she speaks.
And, fuck, I once again can’t control myself, dipping my head to capture her mouth with mine.
It doesn’t matter that she had another man’s mouth on hers ten minutes ago.
I needed to taste her. Betty is what I imagine sunshine would taste like, or an explosion of twinkling stars in the sky. It’s consuming and addictive.
Her short nails scrape over my scalp as she deepens the kiss, her moan vibrating down my throat.
I’m a crazed man when her skin is on mine.
There’s no control or telling myself to stop.
Gripping her under her ass, her legs immediately wrap around my waist before my free arm clears everything on the six-drawer dresser, and I drop her there.
Her grin stretches across my mouth, but she doesn’t break contact as her hands dig into my hair and her pussy grinds against my throbbing dick.
“Are you wet for me again?”
“If you want to know, you should check for yourself,” she breathes, tugging at the back of my head. But I resist, dipping down in front of her, while pushing her dress up her toned thighs.
“You’re beautiful,” I mumble, placing wet kisses up the inside of her thigh, before my nose drags along the crotch of her panties.
“Nash, you can’t.”
“I can, and I am. Hush.” Every neuron in my brain tells me to stop. Not to do this because once I cross this line, I won’t be able to stop. But I don’t want to be logical. I want to feel.
She obeys, her fingers playing in my hair as I nip at her tender flesh through her panties. I’m too eager not to taste her soaked pussy. Too amped up not to go through with the exact thing I know I shouldn’t. “Betty, do you understand what it means if I don’t stop?”
Glancing up at her, she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, her hips rotating as my finger lazily runs over her panties.
“Nothing changes,” she breathes. “You still don’t want me.”