Hold Me Close (Bridgewater County Book 4) Read online

  His hand on my waist silenced me instantly. The words I’m your new office manager remained unspoken as I froze at the unexpected contact. He was being really forward and huh, it felt good.

  “What did you want to tell me?” he asked. He was a good foot taller than me but he leaned in so close we were practically eye level. His eyes were so gray, but I figured they’d probably change color depending on what he wore. “More importantly, what do you like to watch?”

  Watch? I just wanted to introduce myself. My mouth was open because I’d never had a guy talk to me so blatantly before, every word coated with innuendo. My brain had stopped working. His stormy eyes held me transfixed.

  “Did you like watching me ride?” His fingers squeezed gently, just enough that I could feel them through the thin cotton of my top.

  “Um…” Yes! Holy hell, the answer was yes. I’d loved watching him ride. But his gruff, suggestive tone made it clear we were talking about more than just the rodeo. As if to make that point clear, he continued on. “Did you like watching me control that bull?” His hand moved up. “Is that what you want? To be tamed?”

  What? No. But even as I thought it, my brain went somewhere dirty and dark. A vivid image filled my brain. This cowboy naked over me, gripping my waist and riding me hard. Taming me.

  He leaned in close, whispered in my ear. I felt his breath fan the nape of my neck. “I bet that’s what you like in bed, am I right?” His free hand grasped my wrist lightly, his calloused fingers softly stroking the sensitive skin there.

  I gave a sharp inhale and my eyes widened to the point that they hurt. Partly at the crudeness of his words, but partially because I suspected he knew exactly where my mind had gone and I was horrified. I was getting turned on by the dirty talk of a stranger. He was gorgeous, but he was a stranger. No, he wasn’t a stranger. He was my soon-to-be boss.

  “Do you like to be tied up, darlin’?” He gave me a small smile that was filled with promise. “I bet you’re a sweet submissive.” He leaned in even closer so no one could hear us, creating the illusion that we were alone together even though there were people milling about. A voice over the loud speaker announced another rider. A muffled cheer went up. “What do you say, sweetheart? Do you want me to take you over my lap for a spanking?”

  My brain conjured that image so clearly I let out a little squeak of alarm. But then alarm was followed by a rush of lust that had me wobbly on my feet. He was watching me, waiting for an answer. “No, I don’t—” I stopped myself that time. Bit my lip. What was I going to say? I don’t even like to be touched. I’m a frigid virgin, but thanks for asking.

  He smirked at my silence. “Want to know what I’d do with a buckle bunny like you?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t a damn buckle bunny. I was a frigid virgin. Yet I wanted to hear his answer even though I knew by the way his eyes darkened and his voice lowered to an intimate whisper that what he’d say would be crass and dirty. But I wanted to know what he’d do to one of the willing women just waiting to pounce. What he’d do with one of them, but not me.

  His gaze dropped to my breasts, which were well-concealed beneath the modest top. Could he see my nipples were hard? “First thing I’d do is unbutton that damn shirt so I could see those pretty tits of yours. Then I’d take a nipple in my mouth and suck on it until you begged me for more. I bet they’re a pretty pink.”

  My gasp was soundless but his grin grew at my shocked reaction. I should have told him to stop talking. I should have walked away. I should have done anything but continue to stand there and stare at him, encouraging him with my passive silence.

  But I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. My legs had frozen in place as hot desire coursed through me at his dirty words. I could see it clearly. Him shoving my bra aside and those firm lips of his moving over my breasts. Working one nipple, then the other, leaving a hint of whisker burn behind.

  He was watching me closely, his gaze filled with a knowing condescension that I hated, even though it turned me on. He leaned in again and I found myself holding my breath, waiting to hear what he’d say next.

  “You’re wet for me, aren’t you, darlin’?” His voice was a low drawl and it made me shiver. “Do you want to know what I’d do next?”

  No. Yes. Oh my god, I wanted his hand to move from my waist. I wanted him to tug me into him so my breasts pressed against his chest. Maybe then it would ease the ache. I wanted him to touch me. I needed to be touched or I’d go crazy.

  “Once you were so turned on you were begging me for it, I’d take you back there behind that last stall.” He angled his head down the long center aisle. His hand tightened on my waist again and I bit my lip to hold back a moan. “I’d press you up against the wall, pull down those jeans of yours and prove I was right, that you’re dripping for me. Ready to go for a wild ride of your own on my hard cock. I promise I’ll last more than eight seconds.”

  I let out a little sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a cry. Oh hell, my panties were wet. The image made me ache so badly I had to squeeze my thighs together, but that only made it worse.

  “Is that what you want?” He backed away a bit and dropped his hand. The loss of that touch made me want to reach out to him but I held myself in check. The cozy, dangerous, naughty atmosphere between us had shifted into something else. There was more mockery than passion in his tone. His knowing smile held more amusement than smoldering desire. “Do you really want to be fucked against a horse stall when a bunch of dirty cowboys and their ladies could walk by?”

  The sudden coldness in his voice was like a bucket of ice water in my face. I blinked furiously as my body came back from the brink and my mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. What he’d said. I took a wobbly step back, crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He shook his head, looking down at me like I was a disobedient child. “Let that be a lesson to you, darlin’.” He gestured around at the cowboys and buckle bunnies. “This isn’t your scene.”

  I knew exactly what he meant by that and he was right. This wasn’t my scene and he didn’t want me. Hadn’t I been thinking the same thing when I walked in? Hadn’t I been trying to tell Emmy that? But that didn’t stop my chest from aching like he’d just reached out and struck me.

  “You’re out of your league,” he continued, not unkindly but his words stung.

  Of course. Humiliation had me feeling like he’d just jerked the carpet out from under my feet. I should have known. He wasn’t really hitting on me. He was mocking me. Making a statement. As if I needed him to point out that I wasn’t the type of woman men like him went for. I wasn’t sexy. I didn’t flaunt my assets—not that I really had any. I had decent curves. Emmy had always been envious of my C-cups. But nothing like these women who should be on the cover of Playboy. I had no delusions that I was a sexy bombshell. I never had been and I never would be.

  I was out of my league. Even if I could manage to get this man to desire me, one kiss and he’d realize that I wasn’t for him. I could never satisfy him, not the way a woman should. He was out of my league.

  I refused to acknowledge my disappointment. It was ridiculous to be upset. I didn’t want the kind of dirty, emotionless sex he’d described. I wanted a relationship. Sure, I wanted sex, but sex that meant more than a quick fuck without exchanging names. My wet panties begged to differ, but I shoved that thought to the side.

  His gaze softened a bit. Reaching out, he gently chucked the underside of my chin like I truly was a child. “You’re clearly too good for this place, darlin’. I hope you see that now.”

  His condescending compassion was somehow worse than his mockery. Anger swept through me, temporarily knocking aside the humiliation and disappointment. I was an adult, dammit. A grown woman who could go wherever she pleased without being taught a lesson.

  No matter what he thought, I hadn’t been coming on to him. I wasn’t going to throw myself at my new boss. I wasn’t an id
iot, but it seemed he thought me one. And, I didn’t need some cocky, arrogant stranger to tell me that I wasn’t sexy enough for him and his friends. Furious indignation had me standing taller and forced me to meet his gaze.

  His brows shot up, no doubt shocked to see that this supposed-wannabe buckle bunny had a backbone.

  “Yes, I see that now,” I said slowly, clearly, talking to him like he was the child and not me. “But I approached you because I wanted to introduce myself, not throw myself at you. It probably wouldn’t be the best first impression of your new employee, now would it?”

  His forehead furrowed in a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  I sniffed haughtily as I tilted my chin up to face him. “I don’t like watching people fuck. I’m not interested in seeing if you can go longer than eight seconds outside of the ring. I liked watching you in the rodeo, you jerk. I’m Rachel Andrews, Emmy’s older sister and your new office manager.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. It was only a matter of time before my anger faded and I couldn’t bear for him to see me cry when the full weight of it all hit me. The fact that I’d been solidly rejected. Worse, that I’d have to face this man who’d humiliated me every day for the foreseeable future.

  If he tried to call out, I didn’t hear him. I was already outside the stable, back in reality.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MATT

  The Barking Dog was packed, just like the it was every Friday night. It was the best bar in Bridgewater and locals crowded around the booths in the back and the pool tables behind me in the bar area. Country music pumped from an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. But despite the crowd, there was only one person who caught my interest.

  Ethan fucking called me on it. “Man, you’ve got to stop staring. If she catches you, we’ll be worse off than we already are.”

  I turned to glare at him. Yeah, he was my friend and business partner, but that didn’t prevent me from giving him the finger. I took a swig of my beer.

  The “she” in question had been a sensitive topic ever since that rodeo. That goddamn disaster of a rodeo a month ago. Yeah, I’d won the event, but I’d ruined every chance we had with The One. How the hell was I supposed to have known the hottest thing on the planet was our new office manager? And that the woman I’d tried to scare away from fucking an asshole on the rodeo circuit was Rachel Andrews.

  That logic hadn’t worked on Ethan. Seconds after she’d turned away from me that day in a huff, her words having cut me to shreds, Ethan had come up to congratulate me on my ride. I’d pointed to her retreating form, her luscious ass wiggling in her jeans as she raced out of the stable and far, far away from me.

  “Do you know who that is?” I’d asked, still dumbfounded by her revelation.

  “Sure,” Ethan had said, his confusion obvious as was the obvious admiration in his tone. “She’s our new office manager. Emmy pointed her out to me earlier when I was in line at the concession stand. She’s something else, isn’t she?” After a long silence during which I’d stared after her even well after she disappeared, Ethan had finally asked why I was so curious.

  Oh no reason. I might have just ruined our chances with the woman we’d been waiting for. The woman of our dreams.

  Because by then, I’d seen the truth of it and it slapped me across the face. No, her words had done it for her. The adrenaline rush that had made me act so reckless had drained away and been replaced by the stark truth. Rachel Andrews was ours. Not just our new office manager, but she was our woman. The one Ethan and I’d been waiting for. The one we’d share and claim. Marry.

  Even if I had been born elsewhere, I was a Bridgewater man through and through and that had been the reason I’d gotten so crazy protective, the reason I’d stupidly tried to scare her off. The moment I’d seen her I’d had the urge to bundle her up and whisk her away, far from the jaded rodeo world of users and takers. Sure, there were family men in the bunch. Gentlemen. But there were also young guys willing to fuck anything that had tits and a willing pussy and I’d wanted her nowhere near them.

  But I’d been so amped up, I’d gone about it all wrong with her. I hadn’t taken a second to wonder why I’d been so protective. Why my heart said mine at the mere sight of her. But she wasn’t just mine, she was ours. Mine and Ethan’s. And so I’d had to tell him just how badly I’d screwed up.

  I hadn’t been able to keep the truth from him. He was my best friend before anything else. We’d created Hawk’s Landing together, from scratch. It may have been my property, but it was his business skills that made it what it was today.

  I was just a dumb baseball player with parents who’d had a large piece of Montana real estate. With my pro-ball earnings, I’d bought them out and Ethan and I had built up the place to have cabins for over fifty guests along the river.

  He was the one who made the place run so well. Well, and Emmy, but she’d had her baby and found her perfect replacement. Her sister. Yeah, I’d blown it.

  If I was going to get slapped in the face by our new office manager, he had to know why. Hell, if I was going to get slapped with a damn sexual harassment suit, he deserved to know about that, too. He’d been pissed, and rightfully so. But no one had been angrier than me. Why had I tried to drive her away with sexual innuendo? Stupid. If I could go back to that day and do it all over, I would.

  But I couldn’t. Instead, I was forced to apologize—so she didn’t quit before she even began—and behave like the perfect gentleman at work so that maybe, just maybe, I could earn her trust again. To prove to her I really wasn’t an asshole. And not just for my sake, although I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything, but for Ethan’s as well.

  He’d finally met her face-to-face on her first day in the office and he’d felt it just like I had. The connection was there and it was real. She was the one we’d been waiting for all these years.

  I’d known she was special at the rodeo, but I’d been such an idiot. I’d stupidly thought she was there to hit on the cowboys and I’d known without a doubt that I’d had to keep her from making a mistake.

  Of course, I hadn’t known she was Rachel Andrews then. Still, she wasn’t buckle bunny material. She was too good for that. There was an innocence and purity about her that had made me want to toss her over my shoulder and haul her out of there. Keep her safe, keep her all to myself. And Ethan. Since I hadn’t been able to do that, I’d done the next best thing. I’d been a fucking idiot and tried to scare her away.

  And I’d succeeded. Not only from the damn rodeo assholes, but from me. The only asshole she’d encountered that night.

  Fuck. Some days I wanted to punch myself in the face for those things I’d said. In one moment of testosterone fueled idiocy, I’d gone and screwed everything up. Which meant that now Ethan and I were forced to sit and watch as she ate dinner across from Bob, the biggest douche canoe of them all.

  Bridgewater was a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and while Hawk’s Landing was ten miles out, I’d heard all the gossip about this Bob guy. Despite Ethan’s warning about staring, I found myself glaring at the booth where Rachel sat smiling at the asshat.

  God, she looked good. Better than at the office. While we weren’t fancy at the guest ranch, her outfits were always conservative. Professional. I knew she hid a gorgeous body beneath her modest tops and trim pants. I never missed the full curves of her breasts, the roundness of her hips. They’d be a perfect handful. At least. And those hips? I’d be able to get a good hold of them as I fucked her from behind, move her as I wanted as she rode me. I’d be able to see her face, to watch her as she came all over my cock. To see her green eyes flare with heat.

  I wanted to muss her up, to have her chestnut hair wild over my pillow, to tangle my fingers in it.

  I might have dirty thoughts where our office manager was concerned, but I was putting a ring on it. When I finally got my lips on hers, it would be my last first kiss.

  But Bob? She’d be the first…of the week. Ma
ybe. If he hadn’t dipped his dick already. He was a player. He fucked and fled. He was nowhere near good enough for our Rachel.

  Ethan seemed to know what I was thinking, took a swig of his beer. His voice sounded weary. “She’s off the clock. She can hang out with whomever she wants.”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Well, ‘whomever she wants’ is Bob Stevens from the hardware store.”

  Ethan’s head snapped up at that and now he was the one craning his neck for a better view of Rachel. He was taller than me and leaner, but the guy could hold his own in a fight. Shit, I was already fantasizing about how we could take Bob out back and beat the crap out of him for having the nerve to ask out our woman. To even think about her, and I was sure he was. He wouldn’t have taken her to dinner if he didn’t expect to get her in bed after.

  But Rachel wasn’t our woman. Not yet, at least. And all thanks to me and my big, stupid mouth.

  She’d been working with us for a month now and each day had been a special kind of hell. We’d decided on day one we wanted her.

  I’d known since the rodeo, but Ethan agreed after shaking her hand and seeing her soft smile. Watching her competently pick up where Emmy left off before she went to have her baby. Rachel wasn’t just beautiful, she was smart, too. Funny. Kind.

  So we were stuck in a dilemma. We knew we wanted her, but she clearly wanted nothing to do with us beyond office hours.

  Correction. Nothing to do with me.

  She was polite and civil to me at the office but there was no misinterpreting her cold distance. I’d crossed so many boundaries at the rodeo when trying to keep her from the horny cowboys.

  She wasn’t a buckle bunny. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. I’d met my share on the rodeo circuit, and before that when I was in major league baseball. No, she had “relationship” written all over her and we wanted to give it to her. Both of us, together. And that was why I’d all but shoved her away in the stable that night. To keep her from making a big mistake. But the one who’d made the mistake had been me. She hadn’t been throwing herself at me. She’d been introducing herself. As Emmy’s fucking sister.