Rocky Mountain Desire: Six Pack Ranch, Book 3 (2 page)

“Oh, darling, shake them hips over this way.”

“Strip, baby.”

The suggestions got raunchier, and the pulse in her veins increased in tempo. When she let the robe slip to her waist, revealing the tiny fabric seashells barely covering her breasts, the roof shook with their shouts.

The heavy weight of the silvery wig’s long strands caressed her as she twirled and allowed the silk to puddle to the floor.

“Sweet Jesus.”

Matt’s voice. Even in the crowd she recognized it. Hope lowered her eyelids to nearly closed, forcing the room to fade until individual faces blurred into nondescript, unidentifiable ovals.

If she didn’t know where he was, she wasn’t dancing her heart out for him, right?

Daniel passed him another beer, but Matt didn’t think he could swallow.
Holy shit
was the only thing currently filling his brain. The mug bumped his fingers, and he curled his fingers around the glass to stop it from tipping.

“You never seen a woman before, Matt? Because I think you’re drooling.”

“For a minute I thought…” He was seeing things. It had been six months since Helen had hightailed it out of Rocky Mountain House, swearing she never wanted to see a country road or smell a hay bale again for the rest of her life. But for a moment, just a moment, when the dancer had turned on the stage? He’d seen his ex-lover, her familiar body displayed to the noisy crowd of his kin.

Daniel leaned in front of him, forehead furrowed. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Tell me I’m imaging things—that’s not Helen up there, is it?”

Daniel snorted in disbelief before he turned to examine the dancer. He shook his head. “It’s not Helen. Trust me, the woman said she wasn’t going to set foot in Rocky ever again. Why the hell would she turn up now on the stage shaking her tits for us?”

Matt chugged half the mug of beer to resist responding. Daniel didn’t need to know that last part wouldn’t surprise him. Helen had no issues putting her wares on display for more than one guy at a time. Even if her lover wasn’t around, which had made their breakup easier in a way.

Instead, Matt ignored everything but the woman on the stage. The teeny bits of fabric clinging to her were as close to being naked as a person could get. Plump, round breasts—heavier than his ex’s. In fact, the overall curves on the woman on the stage were more pronounced. Matt didn’t mind, not one bit.

Long hair pooled around the dancer’s shoulders, the strands covering her breasts for a moment, then flowing out of the way like a peek-a-boo screen. He wanted to run a hand over the swell of her hip to see if the glow was from the heat of her skin or if it was a trick of the light.

He rocked in his chair, willing his dick to settle down. There was still a lot left to the evening, and hell if he’d sit there with aching balls the entire time.

He dragged his gaze back up to the dancer’s face, confusion dogging him. She wore a small half mask over her eyes. Part of her costume, he guessed, but the silver material hid enough it was impossible to get a clear focus on her features. He swore there was something familiar about her, but just couldn’t nail down what.

Then she made eye contact. Even through the mask he could tell—she was staring directly at him. His breath caught, his cock jerked. Anticipation rose. She shimmied in his direction. Daniel nudged his arm, and when one of the cousins stepped between them, blocking his view, Matt rose to his feet without thinking.

She was still looking his way—as if seeking him out. The slow curl of her lips turned them to a sinful smile that made his body ache.

“I think someone likes you,” Blake teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Think you’re the one who needs a fucking. You’ve been a bloody asshole lately. Why don’t you go say hi? Get her name and you can call her later and ask her out.”

“She’s a dancer at your party—”

“Who is staring at you as she’s leaving the stage.” Daniel pushed Matt. “I’m not telling you to jump her or anything, but dancers are allowed to have a private life. You saying you wouldn’t date a dancer?”

“Hell, that’s not it at all.” Matt didn’t give a damn as long as she was doing it of her own free will, and the group he’d contracted had a sterling reputation. “Forget it, okay? We’re here for you. All discussion of my sex life is over.”

Daniel waved a hand. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just pointing out you’re a gloomy ass and we know how to drink without supervision.”

Blake nodded toward the far door. “And there will be some serious drinking and cards happening now, since I see Jon and Leo have finally arrived. Bastards cheated the last we got together, I swear they did.”

Blake rearranged the chairs at their table, totally ignoring the noise that rose as the last dancer hit the stage. All the earlier girls strutted onto the bar room floor to mingle, but Blake and Daniel seemed oblivious to the revealing costumes and flirty glances, instead breaking out a deck of cards and greeting their friends.

Matt wished he were so happily content with a steady female that he’d be blissfully unaware of the half-naked women, especially the one in the silvery wig. He glanced around the room, pulling on his party-organizer hat, but all the cousins were suitably distracted.

The pile of gifts on the table caught his eye. Most of it was strictly for fun, but there were a few things he figured Beth would want to see. Matt grabbed the bags he’d brought with him and stuffed the gifts away for safekeeping.

It only took a moment before he stood beside the card table, staring down at his brothers and their friends. “I need your keys. I’ll stick these in your truck.”

Daniel winked as he tossed them over then turned his attention back to the game.

Matt swung across the room as quickly as he could with full hands, dodging the chaos. The party seemed to be a success, although there’d been no fistfights yet and no one was out cold on the floor.

Of course, it was still early.

He wasn’t about to haul ass all the way to the front doors and back around to the parking lot—not when he knew the short cut. Matt ducked through the side door and waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust—the long back-hall lighting just bright enough to reveal the flash of a leg disappearing into a side room.

Oh hell, this route took him past the stage backroom. An instant shot of lust smacked him upside the head as he pictured in far-too-intimate detail the dancer in the silver wig. Imagined her hair swaying as she rode him like some wild bandito, her eyes staring through that mask—he could totally go for a few games in the bedroom if he got to play them with her.

He fumbled with the bags for a moment, hesitant to go forward. Feeling stupid, he was even considering going back and all the way around, like a child scared to brave the unknown ahead of him.

Being attracted to the woman wasn’t wrong. It
wasn’t
. If he happened to meet her, like Blake had said, he could at least talk to her politely.

Or was he so backward around women he’d forgotten how to do that?

The energy in his limbs from the internal pep talk lasted all of ten seconds. Long enough for him to square his shoulders and stride firmly down the hall. Long enough for him to step in line with the open door of a room where a quick, almost involuntary glance revealed a mess of makeup on the counter, clothing tossed over chairs.

And the flash of nearly naked skin as the woman he’d been salivating over earlier peeled the robe off her shoulders to be his own personal temptation. He couldn’t stand there and ogle her, but he couldn’t seem to walk away either.

Matt gritted his teeth, bracing himself to take the final steps to the exit door. A feminine gasp dragged his gaze off where he’d gotten trapped—her nearly naked breasts,
dammit
. He retreated in a hurry, smashing into the wall behind him as he forced himself to look at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m going.”

He rushed away, slammed a shoulder against the door and escaped through the exit into the warmth of the July evening air. His heart was still pounding like a freight train after he’d put his load away.

Shit. He was beyond pathetic. Now he was freaking out innocent women. He leaned on the door to Daniel’s truck, closed his eyes and took a long slow breath through his nose, attempting to calm his body and his mind.

All he could see was the dancer’s body, and his dick got hard.

This was bullshit. So he was attracted to her. Fine. He was an adult, she was an adult. He’d probably never see her again. High on the agenda was to find some way to burn off this fever she’d begun, but it was hardly her fault and not his either. He just had to move on.

Which meant for now, making his feet take him back into the pub and the party, which was so much not what he wanted to be doing. Frustrated, he yanked the exit door open far harder than he had to and someone fell toward him. The woman’s long red hair swung in a circle as she poured out the door—she must have been about to lean on the surface to open it when he’d pulled, and now she tumbled into his arms.

He caught her before she could be hurt. The light curses rising from her lips made him smile even as the warm skin under his fingers caused other reactions. Silky heat pressed against his body. She clung to his shoulders, fingers pressed into his muscles.

“Hang on, I’ve got you.” He placed her on her feet and she shuffled away, head down as she muttered
thanks
in a low tone.

God, it was her. His dancer, who he was already guilty of obsessing over. She was walking away and he couldn’t stand it. “Wait.”

She stopped, face still in the shadows, almost as if she were hiding. Fuck, he was doing it again. As good as stalking a stranger.

“I’m sorry—I keep apologizing to you, but it’s just…I wanted to say…” The range of suitable words in his vocabulary seemed sorely lacking so he just went for it. “I know it’s wildly inappropriate, but I have to tell you. You’re a very beautiful woman. That’s all. I wanted you to know that.”

It was cathartic to let the words escape. He had no idea what would happen next, but at least he’d been honest.

She swayed on her feet, then her head lifted, light shining off her cheek as she twisted toward him. “Thank you, Matt.”

He froze, every muscle gone taut.

That voice—familiar. Too familiar. He’d heard it a hundred times over the years at family dinners with his high school sweetheart. Listened to it on the phone when he’d called to speak to Helen. Oh shit. Oh shit,
no
.

Her name jolted out. “Hope?”

She finished turning and the beam of light from the overhead bulbs hit her face full on. No wonder he’d thought he’d recognized her. Her eyes were lighter than her sister’s, a pale blue like a summer’s morning sky. Right now they were open so wide he could have driven his truck through them.

“Of course. You mean…? But…” Her smile faded, her hands rising up to cross in front of her body as if she still wore that revealing costume. “I thought you recognized me. Isn’t that why you were staring, why you came to the change room? And now, you said that I’m attractive, and I thought maybe you weren’t coming to give me hell, but…”

She had thought he was hot for her because it was true, and didn’t that make him an asshole, lusting after his ex’s little sister.

All of a sudden he felt every inch the bastard he was. “I didn’t know.”

There was nothing he could say to make this better, but he had to try.

Confess you were a jerk.

“I’m sorry, Hope. I didn’t know it was you. I…” She shifted her feet uneasily, focusing on something to the side of him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Say it, fuckhead
.
Admit you’re a shit
. “…I thought you were a stranger who liked me. I don’t usually go around pestering dancers, honest.”

Her chin rose and she looked him in the eye. “Please don’t tell anyone I was here.”

Then she spun and raced away into the parking lot before he could apologize anymore. Equal parts relief and guilt poured over him, and he really didn’t know what the hell to do.

Chapter One

Five months later

The giggles emitting from the living room were far too mature and feminine to belong to his nephews. Matt paused on his way up the stairs to figure out if he was about to walk into something he’d rather avoid.

“You going to have that done in time for Christmas?”

“I have to have it ready. The only way Gramma is allowed to give a homemade Christmas present to one child is to have something for all of them.”

Matt leaned on the railing and grinned. His ma and her brood of friends doing the doting thing again. He’d forgotten about the monthly hen party. Guess he could put in an appearance before disappearing to safer and more masculine pastures.

If his trailer weren’t so damn cold, he’d still be out there. But with the temperature dipping toward minus forty, sheet metal and forced air heaters simply didn’t cut it.

“Evening ladies.”

He rounded the corner, spotting, as he expected, piles of…stuff…everywhere. This time it looked as if a fabric shop had exploded in the living room, and not only his mother, but a half-dozen older women from the community beamed at him.

“Matt. Come and see what I’ve made.” His ma held up a small quilt with a horse print on it, waving it madly for his approval.

“Very nice. Who’s that for?”

“Robbie. And this one—” another quilt was raised for inspection, “…is for Nathan, and this one is Lance’s.”

He could be there for hours if he didn’t manage to excuse himself after the first couple minutes.

“Love them all. You’ve done a fine job, Ma. Hey, I just wanted to say hello.” Matt glanced around the room. “It’s bitter cold outside—you ladies all have rides home tonight?”

“You want to escort me, you can, young man.” Mrs. Katen winked and the room resounded again with laughter. The woman was one of his ma’s best friends, and she and her husband had been married close to forty years.

Matt tipped his head. “Your husband might not ride rodeo anymore, ma’am, but I’m still plenty scared of him. I think I’ll let him be your backup, if you don’t mind.”