скачать книгу бесплатно
“She’s got grandkids and it gets awful hot here in the high heat of summer.” For emphasis, he pulled off his hat and wiped a hand over his brow. “It’s only May right now and we’re already up into the nineties. And this is nothing compared to how hot it’s going to get in the next few months.”
“I’ve lived in Houston for five years. I know how hot it gets in Texas. That’s why I’ve ordered two extra window units for the downstairs alone. As for a big screen, I don’t have time to watch TV.” She had not only her business to keep her busy, but her new life, as well. She needed to really settle in and turn the Farraday Inn into a real home. “I’ve got curtains to buy and a garden to plant.”
“You garden?”
“Not yet, actually, but I’m going to start.”
“There are a lot of nice places closer to town.”
“I’m sure there are, but I’m not interested.”
“Because I haven’t hit on the right price. Just tell me what it would take.”
She thought for a moment and a smile tugged at her lips. “If you’ve got one hundred pounds of flour on you, I might be willing to make a deal.”
“A hundred pounds?”
“I’ve got orders to fill and I’m crunched for time.” She glanced at her watch. “I really have to go. So unless you’re packing several bags of the white stuff, this conversation is over.”
She could tell that he wanted to smile. But something held him back. “That’s your final answer?”
“Yes.” She watched him shrug as if giving in. Yeah, right. If she’d learned anything over the past two days, it was that Josh McGraw was a man who went after what he wanted. She’d heard almost as many rumors about him as she had her grandmother. About how he and his two brothers—he was the oldest of triplets—had practically ruled the town back in the day before they’d all gone off their separate ways. She’d heard about his parents’ untimely deaths within twenty-four hours of each other and his grandfather’s diagnosis with prostate cancer five years ago and the old man’s death just six months ago. All three boys had come back for their grandfather’s funeral, but Josh had been the only one to come sooner. He’d spent time with his grandfather during his last days, and he’d stayed on to run the ranch and buy back the fragmented pieces.
Yes, she’d heard about him, all right.
After she’d asked.
“I realize you’re set on living here, but it’s not going to be the same as the city,” he went on. His gaze fell to the pink strappy sandals she’d pulled on that morning, along with a pink miniskirt and a white T-shirt that read Princess in pink glitter. A perfect ensemble for the mall. Not so perfect for a house out in the middle of nowhere. “You might not like it.”
“If you’re trying to discourage me, it won’t work.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve already given myself the same speech. I know why I shouldn’t be here. The thing is, I want to be here.” Which was why she’d bought herself a pair of cowboy boots with a tastefully low heel and several pairs of jeans. She just hadn’t been able to find them amid all of the other boxes cluttering up the house.
He stared her up and down, a sweeping gaze that seemed to pause at all of her hot spots, before he finally shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Why do I have a feeling this isn’t your final offer?” she asked him.
He smiled and tipped his hat. “Because it’s not, cupcake. I’ll definitely be seeing you around.”
“Not if I see you first,” she breathed as she closed the door behind her and leaned back for a long, heart-pounding moment.
Josh McGraw was not conducive to her peace of mind. He distracted her. Worse, he attracted her. Enough to make her think twice about what he’d said.
You might not like it.
Ridiculous. She would like it. She would love it because this was her dream—a real home where she could plant a garden and make friends and finally fit in for the first time in her life. It was the lust that made her blow out a deep breath and notice the dampness of her T-shirt and the sweat that trickled down her temple.
She’d lived in Texas for several years. She was used to the heat. Of course, it was quite a bit hotter here than it had been in Houston. And her apartment building had been fairly new, with central-air units in each apartment. Unlike the old farmhouse and its one ancient window unit.
That’s just temporary. Like Josh.
Holly was through with fast and furious when it came to relationships. She wanted lasting relationships from here on out. From friendships to that special someone.
For the first time in her life, she wanted a special someone. A man to laugh with, grow old with, love.
She licked her lips and tried to ignore the tingling of her own bottom lip as she headed back to her kitchen.
JOSH CLIMBED into his truck and headed down the long stretch of driveway toward the small farm road that connected the Farraday Inn with the Iron Horse Ranch, and tried to catch his breath.
She’d turned him down. At the same time, just seeing her had turned him on. And hearing her say the word orgasm… That hadn’t helped the situation even if she had been talking about a dessert.
When he pictured a woman who baked for a living, the first image that came to mind was his great-aunt Lurline. She’d made the best peanut butter cookies this side of the Rio Grande. She was also eighty-two with a soft, plump body and a steel-gray perm.
Holly Farraday, on the other hand, had a body made for hot, sweaty bumping and grinding. Long legs that wrapped around his waist and refused to let go. A soft, round ass that fit his hands just perfect. A smooth belly that felt whisper soft against his lips. Perky breasts that plumped in his hands and red nipples that ripened at the flick of his tongue.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Restlessness clawed at his insides as he turned the truck onto the main road and pressed down on the accelerator. The engine roared to life, eating up gravel and dust at a frantic pace that matched his heartbeat.
He’d had a hunch she wouldn’t sell the moment she’d suggested dinner on Friday night after they’d had sex. Dinner meant tomorrow and tomorrow meant next week, and next week meant that he was shit out of luck. But he’d promised his grandfather, and himself, and so he’d swallowed his skepticism and driven out to the Farraday Inn today and made his offer.
And then another. And another.
And the whole friggin’ time, the only thing he’d been thinking of was, not how much he wanted the land, but how much he wanted her.
Under him, surrounding him, squeezing his cock with her sweet heat until he couldn’t think anymore.
Not about the past and his own mistake that still ate away inside of him. Not about the present and fixing his grandfather’s mistake. And not about the future and the guilt that would stay with him for the rest of his life if he didn’t make amends right now and put the Iron Horse back together.
He might not be able to do it.
Before he had a chance to dwell on the realization, his cell phone rang.
Josh checked the caller ID and pressed the talk button.
“How’s it hangin’, bro?”
“It isn’t.” Mason McGraw’s voice floated over the line. “It’s gone into permanent hiding.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a pissed-off father on your tail.”
“Worse.”
Josh started to ask about a pissed-off husband, but he knew better. While he and his brothers had varied tastes when it came to women—Josh went for the temporary beauties who steered free of commitment, Mason had a thing for party-hearty, blue-eyed blondes with big breasts, while Rance liked them tall and classy—they all lived by one rule. No married women. “Two pissed-off fathers?” he asked instead.
“I wish. Try a kindergarten teacher with a really loud biological clock.”
“Since when do you do schoolteachers?”
“I didn’t do her. We’re just friends. At least, I thought we were up until last night when she asked me if I liked the name Jason. I said yes and she said good because it’s the name she’s picked out for baby number one. I haven’t even kissed her and she’s talking babies, for chrissake. I can’t have a kid right now. I mean, someday, sure. But now? And when I do, I’m sure as hell not going to name him Jason. It’s an all right name, but my boy is going to be a junior—”
“Whoa, back up a second. You and this teacher are just friends? As in order a pizza, watch the game and share a few beers?”
“This is the Black Hills, bro. I’m smack-dab in the middle of a five-thousand-acre ranch centered around a small town, population eight hundred. The closest pizza place is a good three hours away. She offered to cook.” When Josh let loose a loud whistle, Mason added, “Look, it’s not like that. At least I didn’t think it was like that. I see her every now and then when I go into town. She knows I’m from Texas and she likes the Houston Texans. We talk football. At least we did talk football until last night.”
“What did she cook?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Well, if she served you a Hungry Man, I’d say you’re probably overreacting. TV dinners don’t require the same commitment as real food.”
“She made stew.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And home-baked rolls.”
“You’re totally screwed,” Josh told him. “Unless you clean the slate right now. Turn down the next dinner date.”
“That’s not an option.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already said yes. I started to say no, but then she looked like she was going to cry and I buckled. Christ, I need to hurry the hell up and get out of here.”
“How much longer?”
“We’re inseminating the last batch of cattle next week. After that, it’s just paperwork and planning. I should wrap everything up in about three to four weeks. Five at the most. What am I going to do?”
“Get used to the name Jason.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Josh laughed. “It’s good to see the stress hasn’t affected your charm.” An idea struck just as he said the words. “That’s it, bro.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re stuck in this situation because you’re not looking at this woman as a woman. I’m assuming she’s nowhere near Triple B status.”
“She’s a brunette. Brown eyes. Good sense of humor. Smart. I’m not sure about her figure because she wears these loose, overall type dresses like Ms. Crenshaw.” Ms. Crenshaw had been their third-grade teacher. She’d worn thick, chunky black shoes and said, “Sit up straight!” in a voice that had made even the McGraw brothers snap to attention. “She might have a decent chest. I don’t know. I don’t think of her like that.”
“So start. She obviously thinks you’re this nice, professional, mild-mannered sort of guy who likes animals. While you do like animals, you’re also capable of acting like one.”
“I never really thought about it like that. It’ll take some effort—she actually told me to sit up straight at dinner last night—but I can do it.”
“And do it fast.”
“You anxious to leave already?”
“I’m anxious for a good night’s sleep. I’ve got Uncle Eustace and Aunt Lurline arguing down the hall every night.” And one sweet, sexy-as-hell woman now haunting his thoughts.
“Just keep your pants on and I’ll be there soon.”
Too late, Josh thought as he punched the end button and slid the phone onto the dashboard. Too friggin’ late.
A HALF HOUR after closing the door on Josh, Holly eyed the rich fudge dessert she’d just removed from the oven. She’d run out of flour halfway through the recipe and so the cake had turned out more ho-hum than extreme. The edges sagged and the middle had caved in enough to give it a lopsided look. She pinched the edge and popped it into her mouth.
Rich chocolate exploded on her tongue and tantalized her taste buds for a long, heart-pounding moment. Not bad for ho-hum. Then again, she wasn’t an adequate judge at the moment, not with her senses still buzzing from a certain tall, dark and delicious cowboy.
His image pushed into her mind and heat swept through her body. Her hands trembled and her insides went all tight and itchy.
She turned toward the mixing bowl where she’d whipped up the concoction a half hour ago. Rich batter still coated the sides and her stomach growled. She grabbed a spoon and scraped one side before taking a bite. Where one was usually enough to kill any frustration eating away inside her, she had to scrape the entire bowl and lick both beaters before she felt even marginally satisfied.
She ate another spoonful for good measure before setting the empty bowl and beaters in the sink. The doorbell rang just as she turned to her computer to track her supply order.
“Finally,” she breathed as she hauled open the door to find a handful of women standing on her front porch.
“Welcome to Romeo,” they announced in unison.
“I’m Lolly Mae Langtree,” said the thirtysomething blonde standing in the middle. “President of the Juliets. We’re the organization for the single women in town. We coordinate with the Elks and the other men’s groups to plan mixers and give our members a chance to get out and meet Mr. Right.” She handed Holly a large, white, wrapped box decorated with a big, pink bow. “On behalf of everyone, I’d like to welcome you to Romeo.” She gave Holly a fierce hug. “We are so excited to have Rose’s very own granddaughter with us. It’s such a shame how the townsfolk used to treat her—the women, I mean—but you don’t have to worry a thing about that. This isn’t the Dark Ages anymore and we don’t sit around doing needlepoint and blaming Rose for the lack of commitment-minded men in town like the Juliets before us.”
“That’s right. We’re really into quilting now, and we aren’t the least bit threatened by your know-how.”
“What Marcia Renee is trying to say,” Lolly offered, “is that we respect you on a professional level.”
“That’s right,” one of the other women chimed in. “We know you’re not here to drain the pool of available men.”
“What Cookie Michelle is trying to say,” Lolly added, “is that we know you’re here in a purely professional capacity.”
“I make aphrodisiac desserts,” Holly said. “That’s my profession.”
“Of course, it is,” Lolly told her as she moved past her into the living room, a look of awe on her face. “So this is it.” She turned. “It doesn’t look a thing like I expected.”
“There isn’t an ounce of crushed red velvet anywhere,” another of the women said, her gaze open and excited. “Jennifer Susan Fitch,” she told Holly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her attention traveled the room. “I always thought there’d be crushed velvet. There’s always crushed velvet in all of the old Mae West movies.”
“True, but how can you tell it’s red crushed velvet?” another woman asked. “It could be orange or purple or even blue. The films are all in black and white, so there’s no way to really know.” She perched on the edge of the plastic-wrapped sofa just delivered yesterday.
“Red is risqué,” Jennifer said as she followed the woman’s lead and seated herself. “It has to be red.”
“You only say that because you just redecorated your bedroom in red and you’re hoping it’ll work on Charlie.”
“I am not. First off, Charlie and I have only had two dates. He certainly hasn’t seen my bedroom at this point. But when he does, he’ll be swept away with passion because red is a sensual color. Red says sex. Hot, vibrant, exciting sex. The apple in the garden of Eden was red.” Her look said so there.
“How do you know it was red? Maybe it was a Granny Smith?”
“What woman would forfeit eternity for a Granny Smith?”
“Maybe it was a Gala,” another woman offered.
