Boots and Twisters (11 page)

It jerked and his belly tightened, the muscles standing out in that fabulously rigid six-pack.

“Is that right?”

“You have no idea how right it is.” He twisted his hand in her hair and urged her back over him.

Wrapping her lips around the end, she sucked him into her mouth, reveling in the spring-water freshness with a hint of musky male. Damn, he tasted so good and the hard girth of his cock in her mouth only made her even hotter, sparking the same surge of desire in her core as his tongue had.

Lucky gripped his hips and urged him deeper into her mouth, dragging her teeth across his thickness.

When he bumped against the back of her throat, he pulled back.

Again, she put pressure on his hips, curving her hands around to the swells of his tight, beautiful ass. She started by setting the pace and soon he took over, pumping in and out of her mouth, his hands buried in her hair, twisting it tight.

The slight pain only increased her desire. He thrust faster and faster, until she forgot to breathe and thought she might pass out.

Then he yanked free, come squirting out over her breasts, warm and thick.

She gripped his member in her hand as he throbbed his release.

“Wow,” he said, when he could speak again.

Now that their passions were spent, Lucky smiled shyly. Not knowing what else to do, how to bridge the awkward gap, she dove into the water and swam several feet away before surfacing.

He was beside her, reaching for her, pulling her into his arms. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

“I thought we were done,” she said, her body still tingling where he held her against his.

“Far from it.” He traced a finger from her cheek downward over her collarbone to where her breasts bobbed in the clear water.

“Nobody’s ever done that to me in the open,” she admitted.

He yanked his hand away and looked up at her. “You’ve never done it in a creek?”

“No.” She chuckled. “I’ve just never…experimented…outside a bedroom.”

“So you’ve been with a man?” he asked, his thumb circling her nipple.

She hesitated, then answered, “Mostly my fiancé.”

“You mean your ex-fiancé, right?” Trent laughed. “Was he a prude?”

Like a cold slap, reality flung itself at her and all the bad memories rushed in. “No.” She pushed against him and swam several steps away, covering her breasts. “I’d better get dressed. I shouldn’t have done this.” Her heart hammering in her chest, guilt rushed in to replace the desire of a moment before. “I can’t do this. It’s not right.” Her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes, she left the water, grabbed her clothes and ran up the bank.

Trent followed, completely uninhibited by his nakedness. He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Holy hell, Lucky, are you still engaged? Should I expect a fiancé to appear out of the blue?”

She stared up into his eyes, her bottom lip trembling. “No. He won’t appear. He’s dead.”

Chapter Six

Trent drove back to the ranch house at a sedate pace so that Lucky wouldn’t fall off the back. She’d insisted on walking back, but he wouldn’t let her. The compromise was to go slowly enough she wouldn’t have to hold on to him.

He still didn’t understand why she was so upset. They’d almost had sex. She was single, free to make her own choices and no one held her back.

Then why was she so upset by what they’d done?

It had all changed at the mention of her fiancé. Her
dead
fiancé.

As soon as they pulled up in the barnyard, Isaac emerged from the barn. “There you two are. I was about to ride out and check on you. Was the fence that bad?”

“No.” Lucky leaped off the back, grabbed tools, the roll of barbed wire and hurriedly entered the barn without another word.

Isaac’s gaze followed her. “Was it something I said?”

“No.” Trent didn’t feel like talking, nor did he feel like owning up to his little tryst with Lucky in the pool. It just wasn’t any of Isaac’s business.

Isaac wasn’t letting him off that easily, following him to the shed at the back of the barn where they stored the ATVs. “What did you two do?” He dropped down beside the tires and whistled. “You took her to the creek?”

Trent fought a groan. “Yeah. So?”

Isaac straightened and crossed his arms. “Did you make a pass at her?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I hired her. That makes it my business.” His eyes widened. “Fuck, Trent. You did her, didn’t you?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“The hell I will. I want this ranch hand to stick around. And didn’t I tell you earlier that
I
liked her?”

“And I’ve want to sell this hell hole from the beginning. It’s nothing but work, and my
paying
work is falling behind.”

“Then sell me your half. You needn’t have anything to do with the ranch or anything else, including me, ever again.”

“You know I can’t do that. Terms of the will specifically say we both have to sell or neither can sell. If you agree to sell, I’m on it. I’ve even had an offer.”

“Fuck you, Trent. This is my home. I’m staying. If you don’t like it, get the hell out.”

“You can’t handle the upkeep on your own and you need my help. This place doesn’t make enough money to support paying more than the two ranch hands and one is out until his knee gets better. You
need
my help.”

“
You
don’t want the ranch.”

“I guess that leaves us at stalemate.” Trent dug the remaining tools out of the ATV’s toolbox and stomped away.

“Damn right it does.” Isaac called out after Trent, “And don’t think I’ll ever sell. You might hate this place, but I don’t.”

Trent stopped, turned around and glared at his brother. “You said you’d give it a year and if I still wanted to sell, you’d consider it.”

“I’ve considered it.” Isaac crossed his arms. “I don’t want to sell.”

Trent spun away, trudged to the house, kicked off his boots and stripped as he walked down the hall. A shower ought to clear his brain sufficiently to let him get to work on the project he’d been commissioned for.

Another oilrig to be placed in the Gulf. As if they didn’t already have enough. This would be his tenth rig and, frankly, he was tired of it. He hadn’t gone to school to be an architect to spend his life as an oilrig specialist. Back in college, he’d had dreams of building beautiful museums, something that combined his love of history, art and mathematics. Not something that destroyed the environment and littered the floor of the gulf.

He’d gone into the field straight out of Texas A&M, working with some of the best architects in the industry. He’d worked his way up the ladder until he was designing rigs on his own. Why? To prove to his father that he didn’t need him. That he could make it on his own, without the ranch, without him, without putting up with his negativity.

As he stepped into the shower, he realized his fists were knotted.

His father was dead. He’d died almost a year ago, without ever telling Trent he was proud of him and all he’d accomplished.

Then why the hell was he still pushing himself?

He turned on the water, leaving it on cold, the drops pelting his body and all the tiny puncture wounds he’d accumulated when he’d been wrapped in barbed wire.

An image of Lucky’s shocked face came to mind and he laughed, forcing his anger out. Yeah, he’d been mad about being wrapped in barbed wire. But when she’d stood beside the pool, staring around in wonder, he’d gotten a glimpse of a new perspective.

I can’t see how anyone could not love this place
, she’d said.

But he didn’t love it. He despised it and every moment he’d had to work on it with his father telling him all the things he did wrong, never giving him a lick of encouragement.

If he hated it so much, why was he there? He had an apartment and office in Houston.

He’d told himself he was there because of Isaac.

One full-time foreman and Isaac only part time could not run a ranch this size. The ranch wasn’t making enough money to hire more help, thus the reason he’d moved home when his father had died. Isaac needed his free labor to help out, especially when he had to be away for his regular job as a geologist for oil speculators. Trent figured that even having the competent help of another experienced rancher wouldn’t be enough. Especially one with a long, leggy body that wrapped around a man’s like it was his second skin.

His cock twitched, rising at the thought of plunging deep into Lucky’s body. What would she feel like sheathing him? Warm, wet and wonderful, no doubt.

After the abrupt end to their lovemaking, Trent wondered if he’d have a chance to find out. The water wasn’t cold enough to chill his desire. He had to have her, the blowjob not nearly satisfying enough to shake her from his thoughts. Once with her ought to be enough to get her out of his system. Once usually did it for him with most women he had sex with.

When he stepped out of the shower, he dried off and dressed in clean jeans and a soft chambray shirt. He padded barefoot into his father’s office, sat at the desk and powered up the computer.

He spent the rest of the afternoon working on the
Limitless 11
, the latest in his patented designs. With his computer screens set on the intricate details of the structure, he worked without stopping, his mind going back and forth from girders to girl thighs until the smell of smoke drifted in through an open window.

“What the hell?” He leaped from his desk and ran out the French doors onto the deck. Smoke was coming from the other side of the house, the breeze wrapping it around the porch. He raced to see where it was coming from.

As soon as he rounded the corner, a wall of smoke billowing from the kitchen window hit him. Shouts and curses accompanied the clatter of pans from within.

Trent burst through the door. Smoke engulfed him, blinding him, making his eyes sting and clogging his lungs. He ducked low and spied jean-clad legs too slender to be his brother’s. “Lucky?”

“I tried to tell you I was…” cough, “…hopeless…” more coughing, “…in the kitchen. I can’t…see to turn off the…damned burner.”

Crouching below the heaviest smoke, Trent raced across the floor and groped for the knobs on the stove, shutting off the burner.

Red-hot flames rose from a skillet, the smoke puffing out from there.

Trent grabbed a pan lid from the drawer in the bottom of the stove and threw it over the flames. Within seconds, the fire was out and the smoke began to recede.

“What the hell happened?”

Lucky staggered out the door onto the deck, doubled over and coughed like she was expelling a lung.

Trent pulled a glass from the smoked cabinet, rinsed it, filled it with water and joined Lucky on the deck, handing her the glass. “Drink.”

Isaac came running from the barn. “What happened?”

“Good question.” Trent’s gaze turned to Lucky whose coughing had slowed, though her face was smudged with soot. “Mind cluing us in?”

Her brows pulled together and she brushed a lank strand of hair behind her ear. “I told you I was hopeless in the kitchen.”

Before Trent or Isaac could say anything, she turned and ran for the barn.

Isaac glared at Trent. “What did you do to her?”

Trent raised his hands. “I was working in my office. Hell, I didn’t know she was in the house until I smelled smoke. I thought she was in the barn with you.”

“She was, at least until I rode out to bring that sick heifer in.”

“Did you get her in?”

“Lucky?”

Trent’s jaw tightened. “No, the heifer.”

“Got her in the last stall in the barn. Got a call out to the vet. He said he might not make it until morning.”

“How’s she look?”

“Lucky? Hotter than hell.” Isaac grinned at his brother, then his grin faded. “The heifer, not so good. Not sure she’ll make it until the vet gets here.”

“Damn.” Trent hated losing even one of the animals. His father would have kept better track of the cattle. He’d have checked every other day on the herd, if not every day.

Another reason they should sell the ranch. They weren’t cut out to be ranchers. They had other work demanding their attention, Trent’s work as an architect and Isaac’s work as a geologist.

“When are you due to head back out in the field?” he asked.

“Not for another week. Then I’m off to Montana.” Isaac glanced at the house. “I hired her. I’ll take care of the mess in the kitchen. You check on the cow and see if there’s anything you can think of.”

“Dad always took care of the sick animals. Anytime I tried to help, he refused. Said I’d do more good by getting Dusty out there to help him. He was too stubborn for his own good.”

“Yeah.” Isaac shoved a hand through his hair. “And Dusty’s not here to help.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to call him.” Trent scratched his five-o’clock shadow. “The man’s probably pumped up on morphine or some other painkillers.”

“Wouldn’t be right to bother him.” Isaac glanced at his brother hopefully. “Would it?”