Cowboy Rough_A Steamy, Contemporary Romance Novella Read online

  Two, she’s my foreman’s niece.

  Three, she’s leaving soon.

  Four, she has a stuck-up, know-it-all attitude. She’s probably classist beyond help. Probably wore leggings every day back at Bexley and counted down the days every year till pumpkin spice lattes returned. She probably posts comments like “Can’t we all just get along?” whenever someone shares a politically charged post on social media. She probably . . .

  Has a pussy that tastes like candy.

  I groan, my palm pumping around my shaft. That firm ass. Those fierce eyes. They’re all I see. Hot pleasure builds, each stroke of my hand doubling the heat.

  Without warning, I explode with a thick gasp. Cum flies from me faster than the shower’s spray and hits the tiles.

  “Shit,” I hiss, dropping my chin to my chest. Here’s hoping I never finish that fast in front of any girl.

  After washing myself off, I step out of the shower and hustle to get up to the main house. Breakfast is already ending by the time I enter, half the hands out in the fields and barns.

  Daniel is just leaving, dropping his napkin on his plate as I enter.

  “I was thinking about the north field,” I begin. “That irrigation trench needs to be deeper. It’s gonna—”

  “I have it,” he interrupts. “You go on and teach Sloane to ride. She’s waiting in the stable for you.”

  I stare at him. “I thought you were joking about me teaching her.”

  “Why would I joke about that?”

  He’s out the door and gone, not waiting for an answer. I take in a long breath, working on quelling my anger. It’s typical Daniel, making plans and assumptions without checking with me first. He might be the best foreman in the world, but he can be real hardheaded sometimes.

  With real work to be done, I don’t have time to teach a spoiled Hollywood brat how not to fall out of a saddle.

  Snatching up a biscuit, I wolf it down as I make my way to the stable. I’ll just tell Sloane the riding lesson is off. She can go and pick wildflowers all day or something—whatever it is she thought she’d be spending her summer doing.

  At the stable, though, I stop. The words won’t come. She’s at Sweetpea’s stall, cooing gently as she pets the horse. The shorts she sports are so tiny the pockets hang out the bottom of them. And though her shirt is oversized and tied into a knot, it still rides up just enough to expose an inch of midriff.

  Lord, help me.

  “That’s not the horse we’re using.”

  She frowns at me. “Good morning to you, too.”

  I don’t respond. Opening Crumpet’s stall, I lead the thoroughbred out and start saddling him up. “You’ll ride Crumpet today.”

  “Crumpet, huh?”

  She’s talking to the horse, not to me, coming up to reach out and pet him. I hold back the smirk, waiting for Crumpet to snort and stomp a hoof.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Can I take him out?” Sloane takes the reins from me and starts slowly walking for the yard. I stare after the two of them.

  “No,” I whisper.

  What just happened doesn’t make sense. Crumpet has a reputation around the farm—and not a good one. He’s the orneriest horse we’ve ever had. He was supposed to teach Sloane a lesson about the dangers of touching animals you don’t know. I didn’t want him to hurt her, of course, just spook her a little.

  But he didn’t even do that.

  If Sloane Gentry ends up being a damn horse whisperer I’m going to lose my shit.

  In the yard, she’s finally uncertain, twisting her lips as she studies the saddle. I keep at a distance, watching and waiting for her to ask for my help.

  “Okay.” She blows out a quick breath. “So I just put my foot there and pull myself up?”

  “Kind of.”

  I can’t stop myself. I’m moving to help her, placing my hands on her waist and helping her lift herself into the saddle. Electricity ripples through me, shock after shock making the hair on my arms stand on end.

  Seated in the saddle, Sloane smiles like a little kid. “This is awesome.”

  “Take hold of the reins.”

  “Okay.”

  She does as I tell her to, and for a few minutes all of the animosity between us seems to disappear. Something out of my control is happening—and damn it if I don’t like it.

  5

  Sloane

  “Damn,” Cord whispers as Crumpet and I saunter in yet another easy circle. I pretend I don’t hear it, though I can’t help the satisfied curl of my lips.

  I know I’m doing pretty well for myself. I don’t even need to hear Cord’s deep, silky voice say it out loud.

  Though I was afraid before getting on the horse, something happened once I settled into the saddle. The strong animal beneath me feels like just another part of my body, like we’re connected at the soul.

  My control of Crumpet’s gait is still a bit clumsy, but he responds easily to the slightest flick of the reins against his deep russet neck and the faint dig of my heels into his massive haunches. I want to make him go fast, so fast that the wind blows his mane back over my hands, but I already know Cord wouldn’t allow it.

  He hasn’t even let me take the horse’s speed over a medium trot. The urge to run full gallop is still so tantalizing, though. I pull Crumpet to a halt, just as Cord showed me how to. If I don’t watch myself, I’ll try and get the horse to jump the fence. I can feel his own body buzzing under mine, taut muscles begging to be let loose into the wide outdoors.

  “Tired already, city girl?” Cord smirks, crossing his arms over his muscled chest and leaning back against the fence post.

  His handsome grin is so wide and perfect that I almost forgive him for his tone.

  Here I was thinking that we were actually getting along.

  “Yesterday you said you were busy.” I shrug, patting the back of Crumpet’s neck. “I don’t want to take all your time.”

  In truth, I could ride for hours more, but Cord’s emerald eyes keep flicking down to the old, weathered watch on his wrist.

  Hopefully soon Uncle Daniel will let me ride by myself instead of under the gaze of someone else—namely, Cord. It was hard to focus when I could feel the lingering burn of his eyes on my body.

  One of Cord’s eyebrows flicks slightly upward, mouth twisting in the corner as though he’s startled that I actually remembered he had things to do today other than entertain me.

  I resist rolling my eyes, ignoring him as he approaches to help me off the horse. Instead, I fling my own leg over the saddle. When I land, a little cloud of dust rises around my feet.

  “Crumpet likes you,” he offers offhandedly, surprise marking his hard voice.

  “Most people do,” I retort, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I give Crumpet’s side a gentle rub.

  He snorts, nuzzling his snout into my cheek before digging his lips into my palm in search of a tasty treat.

  “I’ll take him,” Cord murmurs, snatching the reins from me.

  With the movement comes the slight brush of his hand against mine, making both of us take a startled step away. Even the simple, quick touch is like lightning, a bolt of electricity sparking all the way up my arm and jump-starting my heart into a frenzied rhythm.

  My body suddenly feels hot and clammy, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been out in the sun for too long.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, trailing after Cord as he leads Crumpet back to the barn.

  “You go to the house,” Cord mutters, glancing at me irritably as I trail him. “Miranda might need help. Someone else can babysit you now.”

  My fingers curl into fists. Why does he have to be so damn handsome yet so damn irritating?

  An argument rises up the back of my throat, but I push it down, scuffing my shoe against the soft grass instead.

  “Go on, then,” Cord commands, jerking his chin toward the house.

  Wow. He’s not even giving me an option.

  I shake my head a
nd finally turn to walk toward the main house.

  “My, my!” Miranda squeals from the open kitchen window as I approach. “I saw you on that horse, Sloane! You’re a real natural, aren’t you?”

  She slides a heavenly smelling pie onto the window ledge and drops her round cheek on her flour-dusted palm.

  I laugh, feeling a slight blush rising on my cheeks. “I think Crumpet was going easy on me.”

  At the door, I hesitate and lean against the scratchy wood of the frame, glancing over my shoulder toward the barn. The house smells alluringly delicious, but my heart wants to stay with the green grass and the warm sun and the fresh mountain air.

  I watch Cord stalk out from the stable, take off his hat, and run a hand through his dirty-blond hair. My stomach twists up into a sudden knot.

  I’ve never seen a man who looks so damn hot in simple denim jeans. It’s not fair. A guy who’s sex-on-a-stick yet has one of the worst attitudes I’ve ever come across. It’s practically a crime.

  “He’s a looker, isn’t he?” Miranda sighs, joining me on the front porch. “Got the same eyes as his mama.”

  She tosses a dishtowel over her shoulder, head tilting to the side.

  “Does he?” I ask curiously, watching Cord turn and walk around the side of the stable.

  “Mm-hmm.” She nods. “She was a real beauty. Won a few pageants when she was a teenager.”

  Where is she now?

  My lips part to ask the burning question, but I purse them closed. There’s no reason to press such a tender topic.

  Miranda eyes me, head tilting to the other side as she perkily shifts her feet beneath her. “Why don’t you come on in now. Help me with this blackberry pie. It’s Cord’s favorite.”

  I turn toward her with interest, only to see her eyes light up mischievously. The faint grin on her face makes me nervous. Is she up to something?

  “You know, he’d probably make some beautiful babies,” she casually remarks, pushing a mixing bowl my way as we enter the kitchen.

  I eye the filling inside, sticky and sweet with crushed berries.

  “Mix in half a cup of butter and some sugar, won’t you?” she murmurs before sidling up to me with a rolling pin and some made-from-scratch pie dough. She dusts it with flour, giving me another sidelong glance.

  “I don’t think that man will ever have babies, though,” she adds.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, finally taking the bait. Not that I’m not ashamed to. Gritting my teeth, I dump the butter and sugar into the bowl.

  “Oh, sweetheart, no!” Miranda gasps, momentarily forgetting my question. “You can’t just throw it all together! Be gentle! Like you were treating that horse out there. Can’t be too rough, or it’ll turn on you.”

  “Sorry. I’ve never really baked before.”

  She takes the bowl and hands me the rolling pin instead, gesturing at the crust.

  “Poor Cord hasn’t had much luck with the lady folk as of late . . . or ever, I suppose.” Miranda keeps a diligent eye on my crust as she tries to fix the gummy pie filling. “He’s a serious man, always has been. Serious about the ranch, about his duties here, about relationships. He wants to settle down, you know. He’s not interested in that hookin’ up and gettin’ down type of thing that so many young people are doing now.”

  I stare at Miranda, the news taking me by surprise.

  “So he’s not dating anyone, then?” I ask slowly, giving the pie dough another heavy roll before Miranda grimaces and reaches over to take the rolling pin back.

  “On second thought, dear, why don’t you just go stir the water boiling on the stove?”

  Obediently, I retreat to the stove, giving the water a healthy stir with a slotted wooden spoon. The sun spills through the window, shimmering on the glossy granite counters of the kitchen. I try not to gaze outside for too long, though I’m wishing I could be back with the horses.

  “He’s taking a break from dating. It’s had to have been . . . oh, two years now?” Miranda sighs and clicks her tongue sadly.

  I turn my thoughtful gaze back to the water and watch it boil away. The bubbles roll and pop as I think about Cord. Everything Miranda is telling me is the opposite of what I’d expect.

  I’ve never met a guy with such a mature approach to relationships. It always seems like they want nothing more than a one-night stand. That’s partly why I’ve never been too interested in dating or why I’ve never pursued anything beyond that incredibly brief moment in high school.

  Funny. This news almost makes me like the crotchety cowboy. We have something in common.

  Miranda gives a light groan as she looks at the now near-empty pot of water, much of which has boiled away.

  “Okay, Sloane, why don’t we find something else for you to do?” She tightly grins, grabbing my arm and sticking a duster in my hand as she drags me away from her kitchen.

  By the time the heat of afternoon finally fades, Miranda settles at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on another chair and a big piece of fresh pie set on a plate before her. No doubt she’s tired from chasing me around all day and trying to find a housekeeping task that I could actually do well, other than sweeping and dishes—and those tasks only took up twenty minutes of the day.

  Tying my hair up into a ponytail on the top of my head, I take a seat on the worn couch in the corner, where my book waits for me. Hours have passed without me seeing any of the men on this ranch, and I can’t stop wondering what tasks they fill their days with.

  “Something smells amazing.” A familiar voice breaks the silence of the house as Cord steps in through the kitchen’s doorway. “Is that blackberry pie?”

  Miranda shoots an excited look in my direction and pushes the pie slice toward Cord. “Have a taste, won’t you?”

  Cord walks over, careful not to meet my gaze. He’s back to pretending I don’t exist, apparently.

  He bends down, taking a mouthful of the pie before giving a soft moan that makes a warm shiver roll through me.

  “This is the best pie you’ve ever made, Aunt Miranda. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “It’s because I had a bit of help,” she responds lightly, pointing over toward where I sit with the unopened book in my lap. “That girl was so much help today.”

  She’s lying, but I appreciate the sentiment.

  His green eyes shift toward me, that same faintly startled look on his face. That expression is definitely getting old.

  “You make a nice pie,” he says, setting the fork back on the plate as though he regrets picking it up in the first place.

  I roll my eyes, pushing off my couch cushion as he walks for the door. “Are you going back to the horses?” I ask quietly. “I want to see them one more time before bed.”

  He pauses, stuffing his hands in his pockets, then nods. Without a word, he continues out the door while I scamper after him like a child.

  Outside, the setting sun bathes the ranch in an orange glow, silhouetting the cattle grazing nearby. It’s so gorgeous it almost hurts to breathe. It’s moments like this that make me believe I’m truly where I’m supposed to be.

  “Did you really help make that pie?” Cord asks idly, glancing at me sideways. “I saw your face when Miranda said that.”

  “I helped almost destroy it.” I laugh, shaking my head. “She was lucky I didn’t set the kitchen on fire.”

  His strong gait falls to a stop as we approach the stable, his own gaze on the mountain bluffs in the distance. The peaks rise up so high it seems they have to be piercing the heavens.

  “It’s lovely,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself.

  Though it was flaming hot this afternoon, with the falling sun comes falling temperatures.

  “To the Vedic people, the moon symbolized rebirth and the world of the ancestors,” Cord murmurs thoughtfully, hands still deep in his pockets, “since it waxed and waned, and the sun, the source of life, was the opposite . . . always staying the same.”

  It’s my tur
n to wear a shocked stare. “What?” I gape. “The Vedic people?”

  “To Buddhists, the phases of the moon also symbolize the phases of death and birth. Makes sense, huh?”

  “I’m sorry, Cord,” I say with a shake of my head, still trying to pick my jaw up from the ground. “What are you saying now?”

  It’s like every time he opens his mouth, something shocking comes out of it. Every time I think I’ve figured him out just a little, he shows another side of himself. One I never saw coming.

  He chuckles, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him really, truly laugh. It makes my heart warm, my skin tingle.

  “I like to read.” He shrugs. “Especially about Eastern philosophies. It’s fascinating. It gives me some peace of mind.”

  I wonder, briefly, what the catalyst for his interest was, but I make what’s perhaps my best choice all day and keep my thoughts on the matter checked.

  “What’s fascinating about it?” I ask instead.

  When his brow folds as though he’s concerned I’m judging him or trying to poke fun, I give a quick shake of my head. “I don’t really know anything about it. I’m genuinely curious.”

  “It boils down to being good. Good to others, good to yourself. If you’re good, then you’ll see everyone you ever loved again one day. It makes the world seem simpler. Everything that’s meant to be will be.”

  “Makes sense,” I offer, hoping my tone is as sincere as the sentiment. “I hope it’s true.”

  He turns those beautiful, quizzical eyes to me, and I can feel that same blush entering my cheeks. My heart pounds faster, and a strange excitement runs through my veins.

  “I had this feeling.” I lick my lips, nervous, but wanting to go on. “Before I came here . . . It just felt like it was meant to be. Like I had to get here as quick as I could. Like I was supposed to drop everything and just be here. I can’t explain it.”

  He falls quiet.

  A chilly breeze blows, bringing with it the muted shuffling of horses within the barn. Wherever the other men are, they must not be close to the yard, because I still haven’t heard a peep from them.

  The sun is setting faster, but I can still make out the dancing light in Cord’s eyes. I swallow the thick lump in my throat, getting that I should look away but not knowing how to.