Chapter Ten
Scott
The drive back to the ranch was torture in more ways than one. First and foremost, my jeans were feeling more than a little snug. Second, I was shook. The further we drove the more I thought about her late-night excursion and the million terrible things that could’ve happened to her while I was busy congratulating myself. And the more I thought about it the worse my mood got.
“What you did was dangerous and stupid.” I didn’t have it in me to finesse it. And yeah, when the hell did I start sounding like my mother? “I have another pickup you can drive. I don’t want you walking, running, or riding anything off this property.” Her eyes were closed, a soft smile shaped her lips. “Syd? You hear me?”
“You didn’t seem to be worried the last few weeks.” She lowered the window and tipped her head back, the cold December air whipping her hair in every direction.
Where was the woman who had arrived in Jackson Hole without a hair out of place? Where had the ice princess gone? She looked laid-back and carefree. She looked like she belonged here. I’d done everything to make her miserable enough to beg for an annulment and she hadn’t. Every attempt I’d made to make her as uncomfortable as possible had blown up in my face. Trying to convince her to call it off sure as shit hadn’t worked. All I’d accomplished was to put her life in danger. Shame washed over me and held my head under until I was choking on it.
“Have you been out in that ATV before tonight?”
“No…tonight was a first. I finally hit my quota of boredom. But rest easy, I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m off your hands for a couple of weeks.”
I hadn’t realized it was time for her to headed back to New York. Probably a good thing. We needed to cool it, stick all the hot feelings growing between us in a freezer. At least I did. Maybe when she returned, we could work out a compromise. It wasn’t her fault I was attracted to her.
“Look––”
“It’s okay, Scott,” she was quick to interrupt. “I told you I wouldn’t interfere with your social life and I meant it.” She started humming a vaguely familiar song. It took me a while, but when the chorus hit, I recognized it was Tears of a Clown.
“You’re humming again.”
“Am I?”
The woman had a weird obsession with clowns.
I stole another glance at her. Slouched on the Ford’s bench seat, long legs parted with her face tipped back, her fingers tapped on the door handle. She wasn’t classically beautiful and that made her all the more compelling. Her lips weren’t full, the bridge of her nose was a little bit wide, and she had a soft cleft in her chin. Still, it all came together to make her more than beautiful. She was so damn attractive she made me want to stop and stare, to discover what else I’d missed.
She turned to face me, and a lazy content smile spread across her face.
I wanted to kiss her. I’d never wanted to kiss a woman more and that said a lot since I’d been kissing women since the tender age of thirteen. And yet I couldn’t because I was married to her. Because it would complicate things. That piece of illogical bullshit annoyed me to no end but there it was, reminding me that I was an adult now and no longer making decisions based on the wants and needs of my dick. All this I told myself while the jeans I wore strangled a fast-growing hard-on.
“Home sweet home,” she murmured, her raspy voice laced with humor.
The cabin was suddenly before us. I parked and turned the engine off. In the dead of night, out in the middle of nowhere, every sound in the cab seemed amplified by ten. The mingled sound of our breathing, the soft hum of Maren Morris’s voice drifting from the radio. The tension was back and escalating quickly, so were the longing-packed looks. Something had to give.
“Forget it. We’re not having sex. It’s a bad idea.” My lips formed the words before I could think twice.
She sat up straight, stiffly. “Who said anything about sex?”
“Your eyes, Sunshine. You keep looking at me like you want me to slowly peel away every piece of clothing on your body, kiss a path from your ankles to your sweet pussy, and worship your perfect breasts.” She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling. “Then, if you asked nicely and only if you asked nicely…I’d fuck you.”
The pale skin of her throat caught a ray of moonlight, the tendons moving as she swallowed. She wasn’t as immune to me as I’d first thought. Good. Why should I be the only one to suffer from unrequited lust. God knows, I was suffering. I watched her fight to get herself under control, to tamp down her reaction to me.
“I don’t recall you ever playing hard to get. Quite the opposite actually.”
A slow smile grew on my face. “Is that an invitation?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my type.”
“What’s that? Barely legal?” The chance that Sydney might like men as young as Drake made me want to snap a two-by-four in half.
Her lips turned up in an insolent curl. “Deeper than a spray-on suntan.”
I hadn’t been this turned-on in ages, or had more fun arguing, and I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to crawl into bed alone. I didn’t want to listen to her talk to the dogs on the other side of the wall. I didn’t want to imagine her naked. I wanted to feel her naked. Under me. Over me. Any way I could get her––I’d take it as long as I got to touch her.
“The second time I’d take you rough…” My mouth started running on its own again. “From behind. I’d sink into you hard and deep and leave bite marks on the curve of your shoulder. Slap your ass a couple of times just in case you forgot who you married and started entertaining thoughts about a ranch hand who’s too young to know that you don’t shit where you eat.”
Her nostrils flared and her lips parted, the lower one glossy from where her tongue had darted out. A primal thrill shot through me. This was going to happen and maybe, just maybe, I’d get this dangerous urge out of my system. Then we could put this inconvenience behind us and go on as business partners.
“Am I the only one that recalls what happened last time your ego got ahead of your common sense?” was her reply, voice low, the rasp so pronounced I felt it in my balls. It made me wonder if she was doing it on purpose to drive me crazy.
“I think we both know what happened that night. Stop kidding yourself.”
The image of how she’d looked up at me all those years ago, all soft and willing when I’d pinned her against the wall of the coat room with my hips, came rushing in. Whether she was too embarrassed to admit it or not, she’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted her that night. I’d been watching her, biding my time, and when she excused herself from the dance floor and headed for the restroom, I made my move.
She hadn’t pushed me away then, hadn’t said no or made any gesture of refusal because she’d been watching me all night too. I kissed her gently and she kissed me back. Then I called her Shelley and her knee came up, barely missing my future kids. It had been a simple case of wounded pride. That’s what she wouldn’t admit.
“This may come as a surprise, Scott––I’m well aware of how distorted your opinion of yourself is––but I’m not interested in sex with any man who’s given more rides than Disneyland.”