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“Fuck the leather, fuck the lace. Cheers to the ones who sit on our face!” I
I grew up around too many foul-mouthed cowboys who had no business speaking the way they did with me present. I had to do something with all the dirty anecdotes I’d picked up along the way. Plus, trying to top whatever I said last time was always fun. Like a little competition with myself, which I always enjoyed.
Bishop was the epitome of a grump. He was kind of like a mean ole bear that’d just come out of hibernation, that I just couldn’t help but poke. I’d known him almost my whole life. He’d come to work on our ranch before graduating high school and spent the past twenty-three years praying at the altar of Black Springs Ranch and Douglas Hayes.
“You know, if you really want to keep me quiet, you could give me something to fill my mouth with and shut me up. It’s worked for others in the past.”
His overall disdain was fine when we were younger. I was a chicken-legged brat running around the barn and asking a million questions, but not anymore. Now I was a twenty-seven-year-old championship barrel racer who didn’t feel like taking shit from an old cowboy with a stick up his ass.
His attention was hard to get, but even harder to ignore.
There was a time when I would’ve given anything for Bishop Bryant to take my hand and hold me close on the dance floor, but that crush had been killed long ago. I wasn’t the same naive little girl I was back then. Besides, I didn’t even want a relationship right now. I’d taken a year off the rodeo circuit after Dad had gotten sick so that I could help around the ranch. Next year, I was hitting the ground running and wasn’t planning on looking back.
down. Like suddenly, it was unbecoming. I was never going to be the type to be barefoot and pregnant, turning in my reins for apron strings while my partner was out tending to the things that needed to be done. I wanted to be beside them, fixing fences and rounding up cattle. I wanted to be seen and treated as an equal, sharing the load of life’s hardships instead of becoming an accessory on their arm.
Laying a hand on any woman was a mistake, but laying a hand on Josie? Huge. Fucking monumental.
The twenty-seven-year-old who was trouble wrapped in a pretty fucking bow? Yeah, this was par for the course with her.
Lennox Hayes and I were like fire and ice. She burned hotter than a thousand fucking suns and had the temper to boot. I was the dick who acted unaffected but was anything but. That woman had a way of getting under my skin like no one else had. She drove me crazy, slipping further into madness with each moment we spent together—which was way more than I liked.
My words stopped as she reached forward with her other hand. She grabbed my hat and placed it on her head with smug satisfaction. “If you want me to get down, Bishop,” she said, running a finger along the gold chain around my neck, “then you better make me.” I barely heard the grumble of disappointed men behind me, too aware that Lennox Hayes was wearing my hat. My. Fucking. Hat.
“Fuck this,” I said, surging toward Lennox. She was sorely mistaken if she thought her bratty attitude would keep me from going toe-to-toe with her. If anything, the way she acted only made me want to pursue that more—to punish her for the way she was acting and openly defying me.
“You just gonna stare at my tits, cowboy?” Lennox asked. It wasn’t her usual bravado. Her voice wavered as if she was trying to gain control of the situation, but she knew it was out of her hands. “Or are you gonna do something about it?” I met her gaze. “The things I wanna do can’t be done in public, killer.” She licked her lips. “Tell me anyway.”
She wasn’t the type to be tied down, and I hoped she never was. Lennox deserved to run as free as the Mustangs in Montana.
“It’s taking everything in me not to throw you over my shoulder again and haul your bratty ass to the bathroom. I wanna lock the door, force you to your knees, and stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock until your make-up is ruined. And then I’d fuck you bare against the wall, hard and fast, letting you scream for more. I bet you’d beg me to come inside your hot little cunt, wouldn’t you?”
I wanted to fuck Bishop Bryant. And not just in a casual, one-night random rendezvous. I wanted everything he’d whispered in my ear and more. I wanted to be wrecked so thoroughly that I didn’t know my name when he was done.
“Yeah, you’d thank me for filling you up, killer. It’d turn you on to know I’m leaking out of you whenever some other mother fucker tried talking to you.”
That was the type of talk you read about in books, not from the foreman on your parent’s ranch. I didn’t even know Bishop could string that many words together. He usually kept his conversations as straight to the point as possible—more of a one-word kinda guy.
He didn’t even know that he’d perfectly summed up every filthy fantasy I’d ever had. I loved rough sex, craved it even, but most of the men I’d be...
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Somehow, though, I knew Bishop was different than the rest. I knew he would be the best sex of my life, which meant it was ridiculously unfair that he was who he was. I mean, there was no way we could sleep together. That would just be stupid. Reckless, even. Exactly why I wanted to do it.
“You need to live a little, Bish. Life on the sidelines is dull. You’re gonna be too busy watching it pass you by.”
Lennox stepped forward, plucking the hat from my head and setting it on her own. “Isn't there a rule about this?" "You know there is," I said through gritted teeth. I struggled just I had at the bar when she'd done the same damn thing, wanting to pull her into the shadows and have my way with her. She smiled. "What would you say about being a little reckless, huh? How does that sound?” “What’d you have in mind?” Her smile was infectious, and I knew I was fucking done for. “Were you all talk earlier?” “Fuck no,” I growled. One of my hands landed on her hip as the other wound in her hair,
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The night might not have ended as expected, but I was okay with that. Seeing her here, in my bed, was somehow gratifying enough. Come tomorrow, I knew she’d wake up hating me.
Usually, I was attuned to his presence. My internal warning bells began ringing whenever we were within ten feet of one another. It had come in handy over the past few months since I’d vowed to ignore Bishop Bryant until the day I fucking died.
The closest thing I’d found was the ranch. I was married to my work and dedicated to it like most people would be to another. My job would always come first, and a lot of women didn’t understand that. Not that I blamed them by any means. They deserved more than coming in second, but I’d never found anyone worth putting first.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I was going to kill him. Memories from four months ago came flooding back, and I remembered the heat in his gaze as he watched me dance on my stool to this very song. How he’d whispered the filthiest things in my ear and got me to drop my guard for what was supposed to be one night of the most mind-blowing sex either of us had had. And then I remembered the pain and embarrassment of waking up the following day to find him sitting in a chair in the corner of his room, watching me sleep like he was afraid he’d committed a crime. Well, fuck that.
And then there was that slutty fucking gold chain around his neck. Who knew it would be so hot?
I could literally throw a stone in any direction and hit a good-looking man in tight jeans and a pair of boots. But therein lay my problem. I didn’t want just any cowboy. I wanted one specific pair of boots kicked off by the foot of my bed. I wanted the one next to me, as stupid as it might be. Just for one night. Just to get it out of my system, so we could squash whatever the fuck this was between us once and for all. He could preach to me all day about how we shouldn’t for any number of reasons, but it didn’t eliminate that stupid, reckless feeling.
None of it mattered. Honestly? It only made things worse. It felt forbidden, and I wanted him even more because of it.
“Sometimes it is,” he admitted. “Maybe you should try it sometime.” “Telling jokes?” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Being vulnerable.” Bishop ran his tongue along his teeth, looking down at the hand wrapped around his cup. “I thought we already talked about that. I have rules I don’t break,” he said, lowering his voice. “Not even for a pretty little cocktease like yourself.”
And yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Even in the months since our fight, even when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I knew he was looking my way. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t blind.
“And you think this is gonna work? That you’re gonna get me to give in and break all the rules for you? You must not know me well enough. My control is unwavering.”
“You think I’m not in control?” he asked, smirking when I nodded. “That’s cute. Killer, I could have you bent over this table, begging to be fucked if I wanted to. And before you try to tell me no, tell me this instead… If I reached between those sweet thighs, would I find your panties soaked? Your cunt aching to be touched? Would you give me those desperate little whimpers you gave me the first time I touched you?”
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Bishop ordered, sitting back in his chair. He looked cool, calm, and collected—like we were discussing the weather or something incredibly mundane.
“That I’ll beg if you ask me to,” I said without hesitation, keeping my voice low. “That I’ll get on my knees right here and now—”
Nice Bishop freaked me out and made me feel weird things I couldn’t explain. Judging by his pinched expression, he thought the same.
“Why do you hate him?” “Because it’s Bishop,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve always hated him.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “No, you haven’t,” she said, turning to grab her travel cup from the cupboard. “Y’all have always fought like cats and dogs, sure, but I’ve never seen real hate between y’all until a few months ago.” “We don’t need her.”
Lennox’s disappointment was heavy. It weighed on my shoulders and twisted my stomach into knots. I didn’t realize how much her anger would eat me up. This was different than the other times we’d bickered because there was true hurt behind both of our words. We both ached for something we couldn’t have, but I was terrified to risk what I already had. This job was a sure thing, and before I complicated things with Lennox, I hadn’t ever had to worry about it before. She didn’t understand that, and I didn’t hold it against her. I was grateful she’d never had to make the choice.
Lennox Hayes was a goddamn lightning strike to my heart. She’d cracked the wall I’d carefully erected, letting in dangerous ideations that threatened to send me to my knees. I didn’t know what she saw in me. A woman like her may have thought she wanted a grumpy old man to show her a good time, but that was all it’d ever be. A good time.
But for me, it was sickeningly different. It’d become obvious after our first kiss that she would turn my world upside down. That was why I needed to keep my distance. If I had to act like an outright dickhead to do it, to protect myself from her unintentional destruction, then I was willing to do that. It’d killed me to ignore her, but she deserved more than an emotionally stunted forty-year-old man who’d never been in a relationship.
That’s what I desperately wanted Lennox to understand. If something went tits up with us, I was the one who would lose absolutely everything. I had nothing and no one outside of this ranch, while she would still have the full support of every single person in this house. Doug would fire me, kicking me out of the only home I’d ever known. And maybe worst of all? I would lose her.
I wanted to throw our dinner on the floor, grab her waist, and drown in the taste of her. I wanted to make up for the last four months, to punish her and punish myself, and most importantly… I wanted to give in. Is this what it felt like to go insane? Hell, maybe I was already there—so far gone I didn’t know which way was up. Maybe Lennox Hayes had well and truly fucking destroyed me.
That’s one of the things I admired the most about him, one of the things I’d always been inspired to become. And it had always been the thought of his possible disappointment that kept me from going after what I wanted. I wanted this, and I hated having to choose between the possibility of whatever this was with Lennox and the life I’d worked so hard to build. Something had shifted this afternoon when Lennox had tracked me down. I’d felt it the moment she’d ridden away, and left me standing there with nothing but her haunting words to keep me company. While I was still concerned with Doug’s
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“We’re all scared, bug, but just because we’re scared doesn’t mean we should stop living. We shouldn’t let that fear consume us. Shouldn’t stop laughing over stupid shit, or going after what you want, or dancing in the kitchen at”—he looked toward the clock—“5:57 in the morning with your dear old dad.”
Bishop, on the other hand, was lethal. He could be a killer on his own, except it wasn’t my life he was taking, but something far more dangerous. He could obliterate me and walk away unscathed while I lay with the scattered pieces of a broken heart. Which was stupid because for Bishop to break it, I would have to give him the power to do it.
“I’ll tell you anything you wanna know,” I answered honestly. “As long as you ask. I’m just not that good at talking about myself. Not much interesting there.”
didn’t have it in me anymore. It was a horrible idea—truly terrible—but I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t care about all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ tonight. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be selfish.
“But you scare me more than anything. I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s—I don’t know—it’s fucking me up. If I’m not thinking about how infuriating your snarky little comments are or trying to convince myself that giving in would be a cataclysmic mistake, I’m thinking about what it would be like to kiss you and—”
“You’re a fucking brat.” “Tell me something I don’t know, Bish.” “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night in the bar,” I said, leaning in to kiss her. “Haven’t been able to stop wondering if you only came home with me because you were drunk or if you really wanted to. Haven’t—”
