Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
She smooths her hair back, giving me a look that promises I’ll pay for this later. I can’t wait. Reine spins on her heel, cheeks blazing and hair wild, as the barn door creaks wide and old Louise stomps in. My cock is still hard enough to dent steel, but I grit my teeth and grab the pitchfork like I’m just Mr. Responsible, shoveling straw and totally not thinking about bending her granddaughter over a hay bale.
Louise gives us a sharp look, but if she notices my shirt is half untucked and Reine’s breathing like she just ran a marathon, she doesn’t say a damn word. Instead, she stalks over to the stall, eyes narrowed, and gives Thunderbolt a quick once-over.
“Looks good,” she grumbles, but I catch the tiniest hint of a smirk when her eyes flick from me to Reine. If this is a warning, I don’t give a shit. Nothing will come between Reine and me.
“We’re just finishing up chores,” I tell Louise, my voice a little rough. If she notices how wrecked Reine looks, she doesn’t let on. She just nods, gives Thunderbolt’s stall a once-over, and heads back toward the office, boots thudding on the wood.
I wait until the sound of Louise’s footsteps fades, then spin Reine around and pin her to the wall, my lips brushing her ear. “You’re killing me, Montana. One more minute in here and I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
She laughs, breathless, but shoves at my chest like she’s not seconds from melting all over again. “You’re the one who started this, Texas.”
“And I plan on finishing it, too.” I run my tongue along her jaw, loving the way she shudders.
CHAPTER NINE
REINE
I don’t even make it three steps down the aisle before Cole’s arms snake around my waist and pull me flush against his chest. He kisses me like he owns the air in my lungs, tongue sliding in, hungry and slow, and I melt all over again. It’s only the threat of Louise’s boots echoing from the office that keeps me from climbing him like a tree and dry-humping his thigh until one or both of us combusts.
He must sense it, because he eases up, laughing against my mouth, his hands trailing heat along my ribcage. “You keep looking at me like that, Montana, and we’re going to have to find an empty stall and finish this.”
“Don’t tempt me, Texas,” I fire back, but my voice comes out as more of a whimper than a threat.
The next two hours are pure torture. Cole works through chores like a pro. He out-hauls, out-sweats, and out-jokes every guy on the crew, which is really saying something because I have a barn full of world-class shit-talkers. He’s got this laid-back alpha energy that makes the hands work harder while somehow feeling like they’re getting away with murder. By noon, even my most ancient ranch hand is shooting him sly grins and calling him “boss.”
I try to hide in the office and work on bills, but the paperwork blurs in front of me. Every time I look up, I see Cole hauling feed or charming Grams or doing some other back-breaking job. He tosses his head back when he laughs, exposing that perfect line of stubble down his throat, and I get these hot flashes that are annoying as hell. I want to drag him into the tack room and lick the sweat off his collarbone. The mental image is so sharp I nearly moan out loud.
By three, the chores are winding down, and so is my willpower. I keep catching myself in the office window, staring at Cole like a stalker, then yanking my eyes away before anyone can call me on it.
He finds me in the barn kitchen, reheating a cup of coffee for the third time. He grins when he sees me, big and loose and cocky. “It wouldn’t get cold if you drank it,” he teases, nodding at the steaming cup in my hand.
“I get busy and forget about it.” I’ve been too busy staring at him to drink the coffee. I pretend to concentrate on stirring the hot liquid, but I’m really just catching peeks at the rough cut of his jaw and the way his jeans cling to every inch of his muscular body.
The urge to close the gap and taste him is so strong, I barely resist it. But before I can move, the back door slams open and Louise barrels in, boots stomping, arms full of paperwork.
I leap back like I’ve been electrocuted. “We were just—”
“Messing around?” Louise’s eyes twinkle as she dumps the paperwork on the table. “Spare me the details. I was your age once.”
Cole just winks and pulls her chair out for her to sit down.
Louise gives me a look that says, “You better not screw this up,” and starts shuffling through the mail. She acts like she doesn’t notice the nuclear tension in the room, but I’m not fooled. That woman sees everything.