Page 137 of Bucked Hard
Buckshot
Dani Wyatt
Chapter1
Buck
Ishouldn't be here. Shouldn't be watching her. But promises are chains, and I'm bound by the one I made to her father.
"Keep an eye on her,"he'd said before heading out of state for the annual sharpshooters challenge he’s won nine of ten years in a row.“She’s eighteen, but she’s still my baby. Our girl, right, Buck?”
Like I needed the excuse to keep an eye on her. Like I haven't been tracking Callie's movements since she blossomed into a woman right under my goddamn nose.
Fuck. Yeah. Right.
I nearly puked on my best friend’s boots when he said that feeling so fucking guilty about how I’d been jerking my dick raw thinking about his daughter since she turned eighteen.
The girl I helped raise, in my own way.
My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as I watch her slip out of the ’65 convertible Mustang her father and I fixed up for her sixteenth birthday. She sashays across the parking lot and into the Rusty Spur, her little cotton dress riding high on the most tempting thighs this side of the Rocky Mountains.
Thighs I've imagined wrapped around my waist for longer than any decent man would admit.
But I've never claimed to be decent. Although, I’ve put on a good front for the last few decades. Cleaned up my act, all that cowboy rodeo wildness of my youth settled into the dusty cracks of my life.
Dust she’s kickin’ up inside me like an Oklahoma tornado.
I’m just a rancher now.
And a man obsessed with his best friend’s daughter.
“Fuck, Buck. What are you gonna do?” I grunt to myself, adjusting my hat before looking back in her direction.
The neon beer sign flashes, painting her golden hair red for a split second before the bouncer at the door let’s her inside without checking her ID. Fucker.
She’s eighteen, but you gotta be twenty-one for the Rusty Spur. She’s a fucking temptation I can't afford.
Why is she even here?
Alone to boot. I’ll bet horses to hogs she’s meeting that friend of hers I’d like to make disappear. The one that’s been around every time Callie’s gotten into trouble since they met in the fourth grade.
Missy Meyers. I bet she’s in there in shorts that make Daisy Dukes look like overalls shootin’ shots of Jack with a bunch of waggin’ dicks thinkin’ it’s their lucky night.
I remind myself it’s time for the talk I’ve been meaning to have with good old Missy once and for all. With shotgun in hand, I’ll show up in a dark alley where she’s slithering. Letting her know in no soft sided terms it’s time for her to find a new filly to befriend, because my Callie is about fifty pay grades above her troublesome ass.
My blood pressure spikes at the thought of Callie inside that dive bar, with its sticky floors and barely legal body surrounded by men who see her as easy prey. Wide eyes and a smile that would melt the blackest soul and raise a dick from the dead. I can see it now, their lust filled eyes lapping at her soft flesh. Thinking they have a shot at what’s mine.
My shotgun wouldn’t be used just for intimidation if anyone put their hands on her. Men who don't know she belongs to me, even if I've been too much of a coward to claim her.
I told myself I could ignore her. Let her be. But I'm not a strong man. Not when it comes to her. Never have been. Something primal roars inside me whenever she's within fifty feet—this need to shelter, to possess, to make damn sure nothing and no one ever hurts my girl.
The protective instinct has been there since day one—since Jim found her on his doorstep at eleven years old, a kid he never knew he had. Her mother dropping her like unwanted baggage before disappearing forever. He was drowning, clueless about raising a girl, and I stepped in--not that I knew a damn thing either, except I’ve raised a lot of feisty filles into damn good horses.
I watched her transform from that angry, distrustful brat into the beautiful woman who now has me wrapped around her finger.
Twenty years separate us. Two decades of life that should mean something. Her father's friendship that should mean everything. But when she sways those hips or flashes that smile meant just for me, those years evaporate like morning dew. All that's left is this driving need to protect what's mine. To keep her safe. To punish anyone who'd dare lay a finger on what belongs to me.
But that’s not all. I want to fuck herrotten. Bending her over every surface in my house until having me dripping from her is her new normal. Filling her up morning, noon and night until that cute belly of hers pops out with my spawn rooted inside her. I want her to make fucking babies for me. A bushel full.
