6. Birdie
Birdie
Chapter 6
It was torture to break away from Grady and get back to running the Harvest Festival. The taste of him lingered on my tongue long after we weren’t making out anymore—bitter black coffee, with a hint of sharp, smoky whiskey.
Seeing my big, strong rancher wearing those petite little forget-me-nots so proudly on his broad chest for the world to see was proof of his commitment. After countless bland, boring dates, I’d stumbled across a man who was willing to hold nothing back.
For the remainder of the festival, Grady remained close at hand. While he begrudgingly greeted guests and suffered small talk even though it clearly pained him, he kept his palm resting on my lower back and worked a gracious compliment about my floral arrangements into every conversation.
“You’re better at this than I thought,” I said, passing a cup of spiced cider to him.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple.
“Trying my best to impress the beautiful florist.”
I ducked my head to hide a smile, suddenly feeling shy and giddy all at once. I slipped my hand into Grady’s jacket, smoothing my palm up the warm, solid planes of his chest. He’d made an effort to dress up with a crisp white button-down shirt, and a suit jacket, but he still wore jeans like a true cowboy.
“Well, if that beautiful florist isn’t interested, you have my number.”
His gaze swept over me from head to toe with blatant greed. Heat prickled my cheeks and I turned away, flustered.
“I can’t think straight when you look at me like that.”
Grady rumbled a laugh and crowded closer, dipping his head toward my ear. His breath fanned over the curve of my neck, sending a shudder of need down my spine.
“You don’t have to think when I have you bare beneath me.”
I choked on my cider with a whine and jabbed my elbow into his ribs. I didn’t want to miss the Harvest Festival, but at this rate, the foreplay was getting unbearable.
“You don’t play fair.”
A faint smile touched Grady’s lips. Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes.
My heart twisted with a familiar ache. I was falling deeply in love with this man.
I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek, tracing my thumb along those laugh lines as if I could memorize them by touch.
A balled-up napkin sailed through the air and bounced against Grady’s back. It tumbled into the dirt. Avery stood a few feet away and gave a little wave. She held up a plate of food—fried chicken, apple fritters, and popovers.
“When you two are done being disgustingly indecent, come get something to eat.”
Grady offered his arm to me.
“Hungry?”
I hooked my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Starving.”
While Grady and I browsed the selection of cakes, pastries, and muffins at the Bread & Butter Bakery booth, my ears perked up when I overheard part of a conversation at a nearby vendor.
“Never thought McCall would go for a woman like her.”
“He’s probably just having a bit of fun. After twenty years being single, it’s about time he sowed some wild oats.”
I froze and swallowed hard but I didn’t show any indication that what was being said had any effect on me. It was talk, that’s all. Empty, shallow talk that meant nothing.
The first speaker grunted.
“He’s too damn old to be playing games like that. Rolling around in the hay is a young man’s game.”
“Hell, with McCall’s well-fed bank account, all he’d have to do is crook his finger and he could have any woman half of Birdie’s age. He might not be a young man, but the sweet little thing warming his bed could be.”
Suddenly, my appetite vanished. I couldn’t hear anything else over the roaring in my ears. It took me a few seconds to recognize the heat emanating from a warm, solid body next to me. Feeling like I was moving through molasses, I lifted my head and looked up to see Grady standing over me.
Before I could process what was happening, he took my hand and led me over to the next vendor. Two white-haired men with pints of beer in hand stared at him in surprise with a wide-eyed look of guilt. They were definitely the ones who’d been gossiping.
“Duvall, Cyrus,” Grady said with a nod of greeting. “I’ve known you two since I was a boy. So, I’d like to introduce you to my lady, Birdie.”
Duvall and Cyrus sputtered for a split second.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, clutching Grady’s forearm for dear life.
“Clearing up a misunderstanding.”
Duvall had the decency to look chastised and shook my hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Birdie,” he said.
Cyrus followed suit.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen McCall fancy a woman around here.”
Grady wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me tight into his side in a startlingly protective gesture.
“She’s a special lady to tolerate a hardass like me.”
Duvall shook his head and clucked his tongue.
“She certainly has her work cut out for her, doesn’t she?”
“If you’re not careful, she might make a run for it. Lock her down with a rock on that finger, McCall.”
Grady bared his teeth in a smile that held no warmth and his eyes were cold.
“Oh, don’t worry. I intend to get the fattest diamond on the planet for my lady. She deserves it.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The conversation continued for a few more minutes but I barely registered any of it until Grady made his excuses and pulled me away. He didn’t stop until we were in the privacy of the barn. Since it had been blocked off for the party to give the horses a safe place to rest, we were alone in here.
“Bastards,” Grady grumbled under his breath. He turned to face me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. Angling his body between me and the festival, it seemed like Grady was shielding me, using his broad shoulders to block everyone else out and hem me in against the barn wall. “Don’t listen to a damn word they said, Birdie.”
“This is what I meant, Grady.”
His hands stopped their soothing rhythm.
“I said people would talk,” I added.
He shrugged.
“I don’t care.”
“What they said—it changed you. It made you angry.”
“Of course it did.”
I raised my eyebrows as if to say, you’re proving my point. He did care what people said about us.
“They can say what they like about me,” Grady countered. “I don’t give a shit. But they won’t drag you through the mud. I won’t allow that.”
The echo of his words still replayed in my head.
Oh, don’t worry. I intend to get the fattest diamond on the planet for my lady. She deserves it.
He could have been bluffing. He could have said it simply to get Duvall and Cyrus to shut up.
Although Grady McCall had always been a man of his word. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t intend to follow through. That meant he’d thought about it—proposing to me, getting married. I’d barely known him for a few days and he was already dreaming about becoming my husband.
Fireworks began to pop in the twilight sky, followed by a burst of light and an appreciative noise from the festival guests.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off Grady. It should have scared me that he was talking like this when we barely defined this attraction between us as a relationship. Now that he’d confronted the town gossip and spread the word that I was his lady, it wouldn’t take long before everyone knew that Grady McCall, wealthiest bachelor in Ash Ridge, Colorado, would tie the knot one day. With me.
I curled my fingers around the back of Grady’s neck and pulled him down to me in a searing kiss. He groaned against my mouth, deep, rough, and delicious. When he shifted his weight forward, he pinned me against the wall of the barn. Electricity sparked hot and fast through every nerve in my body.
Grady hitched my leg around his hip, with his hand up my skirt. His rough knuckles grazed along my inner thigh and my core clenched in anticipation of his touch.
“I’ve wanted to have you like this since that first day you showed up,” he murmured, scraping his teeth over my neck.
I arched against him, desperate. Grady dragged one fingertip along my panties, tracing my slick clit. A whine caught in the back of my throat.
“I wake up thinking about you,” he continued, kissing the curve of my jawline.
My eyes fluttered shut. I clutched a fistful of his shirt to steady myself.
“Good thoughts, I hope.”
When he hummed in response, it went straight between my thighs. He cupped my breast in his big hand, stroking his thumb over the nipple.
“You make me so fucking hard that I can’t focus on a goddamn thing until I do something about it. That’s what you do to me, every morning.”
Dear God in heaven, this man was going to be the death of me.
Somehow, a glimmer of rationality broke through the haze of lust that clouded my brain.
“Grady,” I rasped. “Anyone…could see us…like this.”
He applied a little more pressure to my clit in a steady circle—just enough to have me squirming, but not enough to come.
“Let them see,” he said. “They can watch while you soak my fingers and scream my name.”
My knees threatened to give out. Grady shifted even closer, rolling his hips against my thigh. He really wasn’t kidding when he said I made him hard. I could feel the bulge in his jeans throbbing.
Another hiss—pop from the fireworks. Another cheer from the guests. Grady and I were too lost in each other to pay attention to the rest of the world.
“Turn around,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.
I obeyed, pressing my ass back into his groin. He growled and grabbed a fistful of my skirt, shoving it up around my hips. When he hooked two fingers in my panties and yanked them down, cool air kissed my overheated, exposed skin.
“Jesus, Birdie,” Grady muttered, curving his hand over my ass with an appreciative squeeze.
I could have easily felt self-conscious about my body in Grady’s presence. He was toned with muscle, lean and trim despite reaching middle-age. My metabolism had slowed down in my late 30s, until I’d developed soft rolls in my stomach. It seemed every time I looked in the mirror, my thighs grew thicker with each passing day.
Any shyness I might have felt about the way I looked disappeared when I heard the gritty rasp of Grady’s zipper. A moment later, the thick, hot weight of his cock settled between my ass cheeks. He grabbed my hips with a bruising grip, rutting against me.
Pop—sizzle. Another firework. A flare of light.
The crackle of a condom wrapper echoed in the pause between one firework and the next.
“Please tell me you haven’t been carrying that condom in your pocket for years,” I said.
Grady grunted.
“No. With you waltzing around the ranch looking so fucking tempting over the past few days, I knew I needed to be prepared. I forgot how troublesome these damn things are.”
I reached back over my shoulder and pushed Grady’s hat off his head. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled him closer until his body snugly fit against mine, with his chin hooked over my shoulder.
The sharp snap of the condom signaled it was in place.
Then I felt the blunt heaviness of his cock pressing in, deeper and deeper. My mouth dropped open at how good that stretch felt, and the hot glide that came with it.
“Fuck,” Grady rumbled, his voice strained and gravelly. He buried his face in my neck, tightening his grip on me. “You’re even better than I dreamed you would be.”
The deafening explosion of fireworks drowned out the noises we made as we grasped at each other, grinding, chasing our pleasure. I was overwhelmed with sensation as Grady’s big hands roamed my body, tugging my bra down under my sweater to toy with my nipples. That drag of his length against my walls rendered me a babbling, incoherent mess.
With the ground-shaking finale of the fireworks, Grady’s rhythm faltered. I flung an arm back and grabbed his hip, pulling him against me hard. He buried his cock deep, pulsing and twitching. He pressed a hot kiss to the hollow beneath my ear, breathing hard.
And I could have sworn I felt his lips move against my skin with one word.
Mine.