“I’m certain we can accommodate your ranching needs.” She sat back in her chair and smiled coolly. “Tara can set up an account for you whenever you like.”
He tapped his fingers against his knee, a movement Sallie knew couldn’t mean anything good.
“Ours would be a large account,” he stated, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “I’d of course expect a discount.”
There was the arrogance, and he wasn’t even bothering to hide it.
“A discount?” she mused thoughtfully. “I’d say Dillerman’s prices, compared to Prader’s, could be considered a discount. There’s also no delivery fee on larger orders. I know that isn’t their policy.”
He simply stared at her.
She was certain that stare ensured he rarely heard the word no; unfortunately for him, she loved saying no.
Silence stretched between them for long seconds, and this wasn’t a game she enjoyed playing.
“As I said, Tara can help you set up the account if you like,” she reminded him, injecting enough disinterest in her voice that he should get the hint. “Dillerman’s welcomes the business.”
His brow arched. “I’ll let you know.” He rose to his feet and turned to leave.
Oh, she just bet he’d let her know.
“I’m certain if you call Prader’s and inform them you’re considering moving your accounts, then they may give you quite a discount.” She smiled when he turned back. “If you’re lucky, it won’t be much higher than what you’d pay here.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Jacob broke his number one rule for you. I’d have broken it too if I were him.”
He obviously expected her to say something. She simply stared back at him.
He stepped closer to the desk, glanced at her neck, then met her gaze once again. “You don’t have to say anything. I saw his neck. And I can guess what that scarf is hiding on yours. When he’s finished with you, give me a call.”
Heat seared her face.
She came to her feet, anger boiling inside her.
“Keep your account, Culpepper,” she told him with icy disdain. “Dillerman’s doesn’t need it.”
Surprise showed on his face. “Does Dillerman know that?” He all but laughed at her.
“Inform him,” she suggested as she moved from behind the desk and stalked to the door, opening it with a quick jerk. “And he’ll tell you the same thing I am. I make the rules here, and I decide who to accept accounts from. Keep your money. I don’t want it. Good day.”
He nodded slowly and left the office. “Damn, tough little thing.” He chuckled again. “I’ll be seeing you around, Miss Hamblen.”
He nodded to Tara as he passed her desk, and Sallie caught the grin on his lips.
The bastard. He’d never meant to give her that account to begin with. He was just there to rub her nose in the fact that he knew Jacob had spent at least some time in her bed. He’d seen the marks on Jacob’s neck, had he?
And what the hell had Jacob said about them?
Striding back to her desk, Sallie pulled her purse from beneath it, found her car keys, and left the office.
“Close up,” she told Tara, barely holding back her anger. “I’m going home.”
She had a bottle of wine in the fridge and she was sure she could find a movie to watch. She wasn’t answering the phones and she damned sure wasn’t going to answer the door if anyone came knocking.
She hated cowboys.
Cowboys, Culpeppers, and arrogant, sexy-as-hell Jacob Donovan.
This was all their fault.
* * *
Sleep wasn’t happening, Jacob finally admitted hours after he’d returned to the ranch. Sleep, clear thinking, rationality. It had all gone out the fucking window from the minute he’d decided he was going to have Sallie for the night.
He’d only thought in terms of one night. He didn’t do relationships, especially not with a woman from Deer Haven. God knew he was probably related to more than half of them.
Forcing himself from the bed and into the shower, he felt as petulant as a two-year-old. He should have stayed with her, he told himself, not for the first time. But fuck. He’d been so damned close to coming inside that tight little pussy and to hell with the consequences, that it had shocked the crap out of him. And if that hadn’t been enough, for a moment, just a moment, the misty image of a dream lover and Sallie Hamblen had suddenly merged into one in way that threw him completely off-balance.
The laughter, soft, whispering over his senses, feminine moans, shocked pleasure in her voice as she cried his name. He woke often to a vision, a fantasy that had him spilling his come to his fingers as the features of her face eluded him. But last night, that fantasy image had been Sallie; the moans, Sallie’s moans. And the sweet taste of her hunger all too familiar.
Where the hell had that vision come from and why was she tormenting the hell out of him? It had been five years since she’d first appeared, at a time when he’d been engaged to another woman, certain he knew what he wanted in his life. She’d begun showing up in his dreams, whispering his name, her pleasure tightening his body, hardening his cock in ways his fiancée never had.
And now, for the first time in all the years he’d been haunted by the image, for one brief moment, her features had been those of Sallie’s. And that sure as hell didn’t make sense.
“Good morning, Jacob.” Amusement and curiosity filled the older feminine voice as Jacob stepped into the main part of his house.
He paused at the kitchen entrance to see his grandmother at her usual place at the kitchen table, coffee by her side, her attention lifting from the smartphone she held in one hand.
Social media and his grandmother were like long-standing, intimate friends. And her smartphone was her lifeline.
Goddammit, he didn’t need this.
“Gram.” He greeted her warily as he made his way to the coffee pot.
Hell, how had he managed to forget about Gram, her infernal social media addiction, and friends lists? This wasn’t going to be comfortable in the least.
He was aware of her gaze following him, her bright blue eyes twinkling, her expression telling him that he was about to be on the receiving end of one of her little inquisitions.
Hell, he should have never conceded and let her move in with him. He was a bachelor, set in his ways. He valued his privacy and this tiny, older version of the mother he’d lost so many years ago found far too much amusement in certain areas of his life.
Sipping at the fresh coffee in his cup, Jacob took a chair across from her and steeled himself for the coming inquisition. A plate of cinnamon rolls sat in the center of the table. A bribe no doubt, he thought glumly, reaching for one.
He’d just swallowed the first bite when she struck.
“It would appear Miss Hamblen snacked a bit on your neck, dear. Aren’t you a little old for hickeys?” She was on the verge of openly laughing at him now.
Jacob resisted reaching up to cover the side of his neck with one hand, mostly because he was damned if he would act ashamed of them. And he knew the marks Sallie carried on her neck …
“Of course, I understand the scarf she’s wearing covers quite a few hickeys on her own neck. Perhaps you should have taken her to dinner before taking her home,” Gram remarked before turning back to her phone and using her thumbs to type quickly on the screen.