Chapter 13 Dolly #2
“I told your brother I wouldn’t let you leave this ranch without me. If you do, you’re gonna get my ass kicked.”
I sigh dramatically. “Now there’s an idea.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up marginally. The conversation I had with Ropes about kicking Sam’s ass has me picturing it. Unfortunately, based on the size of Sam and the biceps bulging out of his shirt, Ropes had better be a big guy with experience fighting.
One can only hope.
“I have to work the cows in the far back pasture today, so you’ll need to come with us.”
“Sorry, I’m busy.” I look back down at my phone and start furiously texting Rosie about how unjust and unfair my captivity at Moonlight Ranch has become.
“Listen.”
I jolt when I hear his voice directly in my ear and feel his warm breath on my cheek.
“I know you’re mad at me, but there’s no reason to throw a temper tantrum.” His body heat is so near that I shiver. “If you keep acting up, I’ll have to bend you over my knee and fix your attitude the old-fashioned way, John Wayne–style.”
Goose bumps pepper my skin as he stands up straighter and walks out the back door. My jaw gapes at his retreating ass, highlighted by his worn-out Wrangler jeans.
“I know you’re mad at me,” he said.
Oh, it’s on. Sam doesn’t know it yet, but he just started a war. I am mad at him, but I’m mostly embarrassed that I want him and he knows it. He struts around his ranch, looking all moody and sexy in his jeans and boots with sweat dripping all over, playing with his stupid rope all damn day.
He needs to feel the heat I’m feeling. He needs to feel the rejection I’m feeling.
I march up the stairs and throw open the closet door. I have just the thing to wear to watch them work cows, and when he sees me in it, Sam Seymour will know exactly how it feels to be me.
It’s a warm day, and I’m getting a tan in all kinds of fun places as I strut out toward the arena where the guys are gathering. Sam’s warning for me not to dress like that around his ranch hands brings a sadistic smile to my lips.
The top I changed into has a corset bodice that emphasizes my breasts. It’s a pale pink cotton fabric, dipping down into a V and giving me cleavage that nothing besides padding and contoured boning can give.
It stops just above my navel, leaving my stomach exposed.
It has loose, off-the-shoulder sleeves with cute little pink bows on each side.
I paired it with the shortest denim miniskirt I own that leaves very little to the imagination.
My best features are my small waist and round ass, and they’re both looking fantastic.
To complete the look, I put on my pink cowboy hat with a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses.
My hair is in big waves around my shoulders, and the muted peachy lipstick I dabbed on makes my plump lips stand out.
My white cowgirl boots kick up dust as I near the arena. A few of the ranch hands have already started to turn and gawk at me. I brought my big tumbler with cherry decals on it, filled with Diet Cherry Coke, and tucked my e-reader under my arm.
I sip on the straw as I walk right up to Sam’s back. He’s busy instructing the guys on what the plan is. I try to ignore how hot his authoritative voice is.
“We’re headed out to the northeast pasture, where the old windmill is.
I noticed several big steers back there that missed getting branded.
I want to round them all up and take them to the middle arena since it’s not as far.
Joe and Tim will go with Duke to heat up the branding irons.
The cooler has all the vaccines labeled, so any calf with a notch in his left ear and no tags has to get a shot.
I need—” His voice cuts short when he notices the guys aren’t paying attention to his little speech.
He slowly turns around, his eyes shifting down since I’m over a foot shorter than him. I take another slow sip of my Diet Coke. I wish I’d worn my contacts so I could make out the full details of his expression.
“Reporting for duty, boss.”
His blue eyes dip over me slowly, taking in every inch of my frame at a leisurely rate. He licks his lips before his gaze reaches mine again. His jaw ticks.
“Go change,” he commands through gritted teeth.
I push up onto my tiptoes and attempt to ignore the way he smells so damn good, like sweat and pine needles. I drop my voice to a whisper. “Make. Me.”
The vein in his neck is bulging, like he’s about to explode. Sam has always been very in control of his emotions. I’ve never once seen him lose his temper. He glances down over me again, his eyes narrowing to slits. His expression goes frantic as he looks behind him and back at me.
“The guys aren’t gonna be able to focus out there. Someone could get hurt.”
I roll my eyes and shift my weight to the other foot. “That would be devastating, to be sure. However, it’s not my problem. I was told to show up, and here I am. Take it or leave it. I’d be happy to go back to the house, where there’s AC.”
He shuts his eyes, dipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose. The effectiveness of my plan is bringing out a sick sense of satisfaction in me.
So quickly too.
He looks behind me angrily. “Thank God you’re here. Can you deal with this?” He throws a hand up, gesturing up and down my frame.
I turn around, seeing the blurry forms of my brothers Duke and Sterling walking up. Sterling is an active duty Marine, and I haven’t seen him in months. I squeal with excitement and run up to him. I trip on a rock, but manage to right myself before falling on my face.
“I missed you!” I jump up into his arms with a bear hug.
He grins, wrapping his arms around me. “Hey, missed you too, pip-squeak. Love the sunglasses.”
He smells familiar, like coffee and the musky cologne he always wears.
“What’s the matter?” Duke asks.
I turn around, a smirk ghosting across my lips. My brothers have never policed my attire. My mom always taught us that even though we live in the rural Southern state of Texas, modesty is a social construct and more internal than external.
Sam gestures to me, clearly agitated. “She can’t wear that out to the fields,” he grumbles under his breath.
Duke looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. “Well, shit, it’s not like she’s gonna tackle the calves, is she? Who cares? Let’s go.”
I spin around, pulling my glasses down my nose just far enough so he can see the triumph in my gaze.
Your move, Seymour.
His face darkens with fury, but he doesn’t respond before turning on his heel and marching toward his beat-up white ranch truck.
Sterling chuckles. “You have a lot to learn about women if you think you’re going to tell Dolly what she can and can’t wear.”