CHAPTER 33
Special K
I wake up in heaven.
I’ve never found myself in a morning-after situation quite like this one. It’s daybreak, and I’m lying on my back on the memory foam mattress (the best idea I’ve ever had, by the way), staring at the ceiling of the old shack on Washoe Ridge.
Tucked into my left arm is Pussy, the cat.
Cradled in my right arm is Boots, the most spectacular pussy I’ve ever had.
And I can’t stop smiling. That alone is weird as fuck.
It’s also weird as fuck how happy I feel. Settled. At peace, even. I haven’t felt this way in years. Not since my life exploded and all my plans burned to ash.
Holy shit, what’s happening to me?
The wild sexual release I experienced with Frankie was eye-opening—not gonna lie. But that’s not what’s got me in this trance. I’m familiar with sex for sex’s sake, and I know it always leaves me feeling lighter, unburdened.
And ready to bolt.
I don’t feel that way this morning. It’s strange, but I swear I feel connected instead of antsy. Like something inside me just clicked and slipped into place. Something unexpected, and unexpectedly wonderful.
I glance down at the source of all this —the woman in the crook of my arm. Under the flannel sheets and down blanket, one of Boots’ long, long legs is flung over the tops of my thighs. The front of her body is pressed to my side, her flesh silky and hot against my muscles.
Strands of her thick blond hair tickle my chest.
The mink-brown fringe of Frankie’s eyelashes rests on the rise of her rosy cheeks. Her pillowy lips are slightly parted in sleep. I find I’m truly grateful for this moment, the opportunity just to look at her beautiful face, relaxed in sleep, in the morning light.
She’s so still. Deeply at rest. I think I tuckered her out. Good. She did the same to me, and nobody tuckers me out.
Ever.
I’m smiling again. Or still smiling. I hope I don’t pull a muscle in my face.
I take a slow, deep breath, careful not to wake the naked woman in my arms. I know I’m clueless about who she is and why she’s here, but the last few hours definitely revealed a lot about her.
The things that matter, anyway.
She’s a free spirit. She’s uninhibited and funny and quick. Boots can give as well as she can take when it comes to sex, moving her body in ways I’ve never experienced before. Like a dancer. A gymnast.
Not that it matters to me one way or another, but my money’s on pole dancer.
Also, I know that she loves her cat. A lot.
Bottom line: Frankie No-Name is the most seductive mystery woman I’ve ever had the privilege to encounter. The hottest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The most incredibly generous and energetic lover I’ve ever had.
It’s true that I met Boots on the ranch, but no matter where it was that I met her, she would’ve knocked me flat.
Along a city street. At the grocery checkout line.
In an airport lounge. This girl would’ve kicked the wind out of me anywhere we happened to be.
She would have caused my brain to glitch as it tried to decide if my eyes deceived me.
But I met her right here. On my family’s land. Claiming she had every right to be here.
And now, after only a few days, I’m beginning to think she’s right. That she does belong here.
That she belongs with me.
I turn my head and lower my lips to her hair, breathing her in. Her scent is complex and magical, just like the woman herself. She smells like sex and flowers. The forest and the ocean. I leave my lips where they are and close my eyes.
The only sounds I hear are the hissing of the dying fire, the day’s first round of birdsong, and Pussy’s purring. I had no idea that cats purr like this. This much. This loud.
With my eyes still closed, I ask myself a question. What am I feeling?
I think it may be hope.
I think I just got a look into Frankie’s heart and soul and it’s bringing me back into the land of the living. She’s making me feel like I’ve got a shot at more than surviving.
It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt anything like it.
I pull her tighter against me. I swear I’ll keep this tough-talking woman safe. Sure, I heard her when she told me that she can take care of herself, that she’s been doing it a long time.
I can see that’s the case.
But I also see how much she enjoys being taken care of. The little things surprise her. Delight her. Which is perfect, since I plan to send her a steady stream of little and big things to surprise and delight her. On the regular.
If she’ll let me.
She has no way of knowing this, not yet anyway, but it’s who I am. How I was raised.
I was raised to take care of those who’re important to me.
And I already know that the beautiful, mysterious Frankie is important to me.
I want to be there for her, protect her, and lighten her load. And she’s definitely struggling under the heavy weight of her terrible secret. Whatever it is, I’m ready to tackle it head-on. I’ll do anything to make her happy.
My SEAL training comes in handy as I slowly and carefully untangle myself from Frankie without waking her. I cover her shoulders with the flannel sheets and down blanket and get the fire going again so that I can start breakfast. The whole time I’m focused on not making a sound.
As I’m collecting everything I need from the cooler and storage bins, Pussy’s head pops out of the blanket. She blinks at me.
“Mrrp?”
It’s all I can do not to laugh. I had no idea that cats are so chatty. I swear I’m starting to understand her. I guess now I’ll be finding out what the barn cats have been saying about me behind my back all these years.
Probably the same thing everyone else has been saying.
That’s just Special K MacLaine. Don’t take it personally. He’s an oddball outlier. Can’t string two words together to save his soul. Give him his space and leave him be.
I start the coffee and get dressed. Once the skillet is sizzling hot, I cover the cast iron surface with thick slices of Yosemite Ranch bacon.
I break six eggs into a bowl. I’ve never made eggs for Boots, of course, so I’m only guessing how many she’ll eat.
One or two, probably. The rest are for me.
Eventually, I take the coffee pot off the fire and flip the bacon. That’s when I hear the rustle of the bed covers. I prepare myself for what I’m about to see. This is it—I’m about to get my first peek at Boots waking up in my bed after a long night of expert fucking.
“What smells so damn great?” Her voice is soft and husky. She sounds like a well-fucked woman, which is exactly what she is. I should know.
I’m already grinning when I peer over my shoulder.
Yep.
I was right.
I swallow hard as Boots sits up, stretches her arms overhead, and allows the blanket to slip down her torso to puddle in her lap.
She’s got rosy cheeks and tousled hair, and her striking blue eyes are heavy-lidded.
Her lips are swollen from hours of kissing and sucking.
And those luscious, rounded breasts of hers—with their bubblegum pink nipples—jut from her slender frame.
Her ribs are visible as she reaches toward the ceiling. I see the muscles of her flat abdomen ripple. And the swell of her hip peeks out from the comforter.
And it’s all I can do not to toss the pan aside and fuck her again.
She turns her head to look my way, eyes narrowed. Then her lips curl in a seductive smile. “What’s for breakfast, cowboy?”
“Coffee. Egg and bacon sandwiches. And my big dick.”
“Sounds delish,” she breathes.