“Don’t fall for a city woman, son - never mind a woman who belongs halfway across the globe.” He stuffs a few nails in his pocket. “Did you see her flawless nails and soft skin? That girl has never done a day's hard work in her life. And her clothes, Hayden. She arrived at a ranch wearing bright white tennis shoes that look like they’ve never been worn before, let alone walked in dirt. Come on, son, find yourself a home girl. So Kelsey wasn’t the one, but you’ll find a woman who’ll look after you. Someone who’ll have dinner on the table after a long day ranching.” I hear each nail splice through the old posts, hammering in his point, one by one. I’m not convinced I want a woman just for cooking and cleaning. There has to be a connection - there has to be passion, love and attraction. Killer attraction like a bull on breeding day. The kind of buzz that Summer ignites.
“You can’t deny how stunning she is. If you were twenty years younger, Summer would rattle your cage,” I joke.
“She’s that all right. And she’s also on the payroll, the relative of old man Sawyer and, in fact, leaving. Get the girl out of your head.”
I kneel down to collect one end of the wood. “On three. I’ll hold the plank in place, and you nail it.” We work in tandem. “Sawyer has already warned me off her. Don’t worry, there’s enough work around the ranch to keep me occupied. I’ll never bump into our Irish cleaner.”
“It’s for your own good. I see heartbreak painted all over that sweet smile of hers.”
We finish up the fencing job in silence. Hank planted the seeds of reality with fatherly kindness, and now he was giving them time to grow. I know he’s right.
“See you back at the ranch.” The fence is sturdy and holds my weight when I test it. “Don’t forget I’ll be at Jackson’s later tonight.”
Hank tightens the cinch holding Flash’s saddle in place. “Verlyne is doing a reading at the bookstore, so I’ll be here.”
I jump off the fence. “You're not going to support her?”
He mounts Flash and chuckles while he settles in the worn leather. “I ain’t sitting in a crowded store with a bunch of women all gooey eyed over some fake hot shot from a novel. Those darn romance books fill them to the brim with high expectations of how a man should act. If she wants me, she can come and get me afterwards.”
With a few stray nails in hand, I look out over the pasture, watching Flash carry my father back home at a leisurely pace. My belly rumbles, and I realize I haven’t eaten yet. With all the entertainment earlier, I forgot to grab lunch. I know there are sandwich meats in the fridge and maybe a loaf of bread in the cabinet. All being well, Summer will still be sleeping, so I can make a quick snack and get the hell out of there without catching a glimpse of temptation - until it's time to take her home.
For a change, the ranch is peaceful when I park near the round pen. The ranch hands are ear tagging three-month-old calves in the old barn, before they’re turned out to the pasture. I’m supposed to help with the head count, but I need to eat first.
The floor creaks when I walk in through the porch door, my soles brush over the doormat. I inhale, holding my breath only to hear my blood rushing around my skull. The house is quiet, like it always is. I’ve never really noticed the silence before. I’m used to a house with no noise, to a home without a woman’s touch. This time I’m almost willing there to be an unfamiliar sound - from her.
My dirty boots clatter when I toss them in the corner. I hang up my hat and wipe my brow. Fencing in the heat is thirsty work, and I’d happily drain an ice-cold beer in three seconds flat. Guess I’ll have to wait until this evening, when I’m with the guys.
I saunter inside, ears pricked for the slightest sound and halt in the kitchen while I wonder if I should check on her. Is she’s still alive, or still sleeping, or in need of water, or a bite to eat — or a quick one-off, singular, isolated fuck? My rampant thoughts make my jaw clench, and I reluctantly opt to stay out of trouble.
A plate of refrigerated sliced beef looks good, so I set it out on the counter. An echoed click draws my gaze up. Summer must be awake, or we’ve got vermin. A little twinge of sadness flits in my chest when I think about my old darlin’ dog. She’d sniff out a rat quicker than a prize bronc would toss a rider.
Then I hear a sweet girly voice curling around words to a tune I can’t hear. Raspiness strains with exhaustion, trying to keep up with a quick tempo. It’s sexy and hot, even more so with that Irish cadence of hers. “Summer,” I mutter her name with a sigh, because I know she’s awake and walking around in my tee.
The image sets off a chain reaction of tingles across every inch of skin, reaching my ass with a seductive chill. Even though I swore I’d stay away from her, I can’t help debating my next move. Go see her, or stay put? How unchivalrous would I be if I didn't check on my guest because today, she’s not the cleaner - today, I invited her to take refuge in my home?
I justify my curiosity as mannerful and leave the beef untouched. The second I reach my bedroom, the singing gets louder, and the door swings open with a gust of mint and soap.
Summer stops dead in the doorway. Her sparkling blue eyes pop open in shock. Long loose hair darkened by water to the color of midnight hangs over bare shoulders. Droplets roll from the tips, landing on the fluffy white towel swaddling her breasts. My gaze immediately trails to the seam, all the way to where it ends, just reaching her pale thighs.
I’m speechless and staring. Shamelessly ogling is more like it.
The smooth kissable curve of her throat bobs, and I suddenly snap out of the lust trance, aware of my intrusion, and the fact she knows I’m clearly checking her out. I quickly avert my gaze, coughing into my fist. “Summer.”
Her dazzling baby blues are all over me, wide and startled, thick lashes blink quickly. “I woke up. I needed a shower. Your towels looked so fluffy...” she splutters out.
The sexy pronunciation of the word ‘shower’ makes my dick hit my zipper, but it’s her pearly glistening skin that plays havoc with my wild heartbeat.Do not stare. I chant inwardly.Do not stare.
“Put some clothes on.” My tone is sharp and not how I meant it to sound, but my restraint is hanging on a thin rope, already fraying.
Her rosy lips round to an o shape, and she backs into the room slowly. “Fine.” Delicate girly fingers clutch her towel with colorful nails, and the other hand yanks out each earbud in turn. “Wind your neck in,” she grumbles out a string of words; her gaze lowered.
“Do what?” I cock my head to the side, unsure what the heck she’s saying.
Summer glares at me, but her fingertips weave damp strands like she’s nervous. “I said, wind your neck in.”
My brow scrunches. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, calm yourself, big guy. I’ll get dressed now, and then I should leave.”
