Cowboy Not Included: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 6 (3 page)

“Let me go.”

He realized he was still holding her. Awareness shot through him. Soft, warm female with rich, flawless skin and eyes that made him want to protect her with his life. They always had.

He released her and she rocked.

“What do you think you’re doing, hauling me offstage that way?” She stomped a boot into the turf.

He gawked at her. Seeing her silhouetted by the familiar ranch buildings screwed with his mind. Was he dreaming?

“How did you find me?”

A strange look passed over her beautiful features but was gone before he could analyze it. “It wasn’t difficult. No wonder you were hiding, though.”

“I’m not hiding.” Some of his anger left him and he just wanted to take her in his arms and ask how she’d been. To ask about Findlee.

Then he’d lock her inside a bungalow and keep her screaming his name for seven solid days. He’d use up the life of every battery in his cupboard by the time he was done.

No, that couldn’t happen. He wasn’t laying a hand on her, but she sure as hell wasn’t getting another cowboy. She was the mother of his child, for fuck’s sake.

“It doesn’t surprise me you chose this profession.” Her eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know a thing about it.”

“I did enough research to get a week with Finn. Or maybe Elliot.”

“Oh hell no. That ain’t happenin’.” He hooked an arm around her middle, crushed her to his side and forced her to walk.

She dug in her heels. “Where are we going? You high-handed asshole. Let me go! I paid good money.”

“Consider it a bad investment. You’ve just bought yourself a week with your angry ex-husband.”

For a few steps she seemed stunned speechless then ripped out of his hold and tried to bolt back to the auditorium. “They won’t let you get away with this! I paid good money.”

“They’ll hear you screaming my name, baby, and think I’m doing my job. I do it very well.” He dipped his gaze over her and she balled a fist. Her knuckles glanced off his abs.

“Ow!”

He chuckled. “Serves you right.”

“What did you do to get all this muscle? Fuck yourself into shape?”

He towed her up the short sidewalk to the small porch of Bungalow 2. With one arm pinning her to him, he pushed open the door. Unceremoniously, he shoved her inside and locked the door behind them.

She stiffened, eyes shooting bullets with more intent to kill than a gunslinger in the Old West. “You have no right, Booker.”

“I have every right.” He pitched his voice low. “You’re the mother of my daughter.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and then she glared harder. She wore her hair the same except for a small braid beginning at her temple and trapped behind one delectable ear. He ran his tongue over his lips.

Before she could sharpen her tongue further on his hide, he pointed to a sofa. “Sit.”

“No way. I’m not staying.”

“Yes, you are. You showed up on my stomping ground. I don’t know if you wanted to get a rise outta me—”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“No?” He arched a brow and she quivered. The sweet line of her cleavage begged for his tongue. Her nipples poked through her top.

“It looks like a great place to let my hair down.”

“It is. But not with Finn or Elliot or any other Boot Knocker.”

“You can’t hold me prisoner here.”

He took a step toward her, slow with intent. She tucked her lower lip under her teeth and his cock throbbed to life. God, she was everything he admired in a woman. Just the right measures of spunk and smartass, beauty and quirk. His chest burned.

When he came within a foot of her, she tried to back up. Her knees hit the sofa and she bounced onto her behind. She tried to pop up again, but he pressed her down with a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re going to talk to me, Skye. Finally. I deserve as much.” He still wanted to wring her neck for not letting him explain—for needing an explanation in the first place. She should have trusted him.

She knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Start with Findlee. Where is our daughter while you’re off trying to crawl into a cowboy’s bed?”

Her face mottled red. “How dare you insinuate I’m a bad mother!”

“I’m doing no such thing. Where is she?” He swallowed hard and sat opposite her. “How is she?”

Whatever she heard in his voice made her calm a degree. Releasing a slow sigh, she stared at her knotted fingers. “She’s well, Booker.”

Their gazes met and for a heart-throbbing moment he forgot they weren’t still a whole family.

Skye could scarcely breathe around the pain inside her. Seeing Booker this way…well, it wasn’t the way she’d planned it. She’d been silly enough to believe he wouldn’t care if she was here and she could calmly pull him aside for a talk later in the week. After she’d…experienced some fun.

It seemed her fantasies were on hold. At least until she convinced her ex to let her go.

“You look well too, Skye.”

Why did his voice, so low and filled with emotion, send her body into overdrive?

Because we never had trouble in that department.
Their sex life had always been extraordinary and so many times she’d told him goodnight in a voice raspy from screaming in ecstasy.

“You look good too,” she said. Better than good. Up close, he was a lot more built than she’d imagined from his photo. His shoulders invited her hands. And he wore a full, trim beard. The reddish blond color always startled her. Once upon a time she’d wondered if they might have a child with that same color of hair.

She gulped and tried to conjure the strength of the woman who’d booked a trip to a sex ranch. “Look, I did come here hoping to talk to you. But I came for myself foremost.”

He eyed her. What was he seeing? Did he see a woman who’d experienced too many sleepless nights and who’d stopped caring about whether or not she had ketchup smeared on her top?

His gaze traveled over her, heating her blood in ways that were all too familiar. Though unwelcome, it made her feel like a woman. Booker always did that to her.

“You have the same boots,” he said.

She looked down at his feet. “So do you.” Too many things had been left unsaid but she wasn’t in the mood for a deep talk just now. They had time enough after he let her have some excitement.

“Tell me about Findlee. Does she…ever say my name?” Booker’s tanned throat worked. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes were green fire.

“Um…” How to tell him no, that a toddler quickly forgot those who weren’t around them all the time? She couldn’t hurt him that way, no matter what he’d done. “She’s got quite a vocabulary.”

“I wish I’d heard her say Dada for the first time.” The corner of his mouth tipped up, shooting new desire through her. How she’d missed that smile. Too bad he’d given it out to every female he came across. He was definitely in the right profession.

She was long done with Booker. She didn’t care who he fucked—as long as it wasn’t her. “I came here to get away, Booker. I’m damn well going to have what I paid for.”

“You mean a cowboy? Hmm.” He glanced at his watch, and she followed his gaze. Blond hairs sprouted around the leather band. “Looks as if the cowboys all have their ladies chosen.”

She jumped up. “What?”

He gave her a full grin—white and as devastating as a heart attack. He hooked a boot over his knee. “Looks like we’re a couple, Skye.”

“No. Hell no.” She pivoted to escape but he caught her when she reached the door. His big body crowded her until her spine struck wood. She gasped and filled her nose with his scent.

The one she’d been hungering for. Leather and man with an underlying note of shaving cream.

“Why do you smell like shaving cream if you haven’t shaved?” she blurted.

He leaned in, hat bumping her head. Too late she realized she was staring at his hard lips, remembering how they’d felt all over her body. Her pussy spasmed and her panties became a soggy scrap.

Damn—she’d just purchased them too. A Boot Knocker wouldn’t even get a chance to appreciate them.

“I shaved,” he drawled. Lifting her hand, he pressed it to the underside of his jaw. Her fingers met warm, smooth skin. She yanked away and balled her hands to keep from touching him. She wanted to feel every new contour of his body.

No, any cowboy’s body would do. She was nearing desperate.

“You…look different.” She had no words really. In their time apart, he’d filled out and grown into the hottest man.

“I am different, baby. So are you.”

She jerked her gaze to his. “How?”

“This is new.” He touched her nostril where a tiny diamond stud pierced her skin. After her divorce had been finalized, she and Suzanne had gone to the piercing shop. While her friend had opted for a clitoral hood piercing, Skye had kept with something more traditional.

She quivered. What if she’d gotten the clit piercing after all? What would Booker say?

What am I thinking?
She shook herself and tried to duck from under his arm, but he pressed her tighter between his body and the door.

“I want to leave,” she said.

“Leave the ranch? I’ll take you back to the airport. We can talk on the way.” His hot breath brushed her cheekbone. Then it fanned over her lips. She ran her tongue over them and thought she felt his chest vibrate.

“I’m not…leaving the ranch. I deserve a cowboy.”

“You got one right here. One who knows how you like it.”

“It?” She knew damn well what he was talking about and so did her traitorous body. She had to get a grip before she succumbed to the scalding need between her thighs. She had to escape him before she gave in to the strong undercurrent that was Booker. “All I know is how you gave us up.”

He shoved his hands into the door and pushed away, leaving her feeling shaken and more alone than she’d ever felt. He paced. He always had when angry. Then he ripped off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, sending it into spikes. The sidelong look he sent her pierced deep.

“Are you here to give me more scars, Skye?” His ragged tone sliced her.

“Give you scars? What about me? You—”

He waved a hand, stopping her. “Don’t. Just don’t. You’re not here to dredge up the past, are you?”

“No.” Tears were too damn close and she needed to maintain control.

“You want sex.”

Did he have to put it that way? She sounded like a slut. “Not only that.”

“Then what? What do you want, Skye?”

“I want to experience everything on this ranch. Swimming pools, hot tubs, pond. I want to try the naked mudding event and the cornhole tournament where you strip off a piece of clothing every time you miss.”

He closed his eyes and slowly reopened them. “I can’t let you do those things.”

“The hell you can’t. I paid—”

“You didn’t let me finish. You never let me finish, Skye.”

She melted against the door and whispered, “Finish.”

“I can’t let you go off with another cowboy. I won’t be able to do my job, knowing someone else is with you.”

They stared at each other.

“I was serious when I said the other Boot Knockers have picked their ladies. Right now they’re getting to know each other. That leaves you and me.”

Her heart did an odd stutter. She drank in his appearance—plaid shirt straining over broad chest, low-slung jeans and those damn boots she’d helped him choose. Why hadn’t he gotten another pair to go with his new look?

“Booker…I can’t be with you that way.”

He sighed. “Fine. Then don’t. If you want, I’ll find someone to satisfy you. But I say who and when. Finn if you want him. He’s a great lay.” Before she could ask how he knew, he went on, “We can just talk. I miss talking to you.”

Tears prickled her eyelids and she tipped her face up to the ceiling so he couldn’t see. But damn it, he knew she always did that when she was upset. He’d called her on it several times during their married life. What he proposed would be impossible and painful—not at all as exciting as the week she’d had in mind.

“I’ll take you riding. I know you always loved it, and you probably don’t get to your uncle’s ranch too much these days. Am I right?”

The cajoling tone in his voice made her look at him. “No. Findlee would love to see the horses, though.”

“You should take her then. And we’ll talk about that too. But you’re here and I’m going to show you a week of relaxation. I guess you don’t get much time to pamper yourself with a toddler.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head.

Seconds ticked by while they looked at each other. Would she be able to keep her cool while spending time with him again? If she were honest, she’d been unable to choose a third cowboy for her application because she kept returning to Booker’s profile.

Her body hummed with the memories of pleasure he’d given her. Slow kisses as the sun sank behind the hills and rough hands on her aching body.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Skye.”

“I’m thinking I should have gone to Bora Bora.”

Chapter Three

Booker followed Skye into the bedroom. She stopped dead and gazed at the serene room. Sky blue had always been her favorite color because it had been her father’s nickname for her.

She ran a hand over the downy bedding, and Booker’s balls clenched.
This is gonna be one hell of a week.
He was already nursing a huge case of horny and having Skye around would only make it extreme.

“What are you doing in here? This is my room.” Her tone made him want to shake her until her teeth rattled.

“Fine.”

“I’m going to speak with the office right after I splash water on my face.”

“You do that.” Fat lot of good it would do her—especially since he was going to the office first.

The minute she closed the bathroom door he sped from the bungalow. He jumped the steps and jogged to the office, passing the new couples on their way.

“Hey, Booker. Great steal,” someone called.

He lifted a hand in acknowledgement and rushed into the office. Several females who worked and lived on the ranch looked up at him.

“Booker…” Holly started.

He adjusted his hat lower. “No matter what my woman says, she isn’t getting a new cowboy. Understand?”

“What’s going on?” Hugh emerged from his office, his shirt undone all the way. When Riggs appeared behind him, Booker guessed they’d been having a little fun of their own.

“My client this week is Skye Blackwood.”

“Blackwood? Her application says Reed,” the office girl said.

He gave a hard shake of his head. “My ex-wife.”

“Your—”

“Shit, this can’t end well,” Hugh muttered.

Booker held up his hands. “It will end fine. I’ll keep her happy.”

Hugh eyed him. “I won’t allow it. Who can we switch him with?”

Files were shifted and panic rose in Booker. That couldn’t happen. She wasn’t getting fucked by a Boot Knocker unless he said so.

Smacking a palm over the files, he stared from face to face. These people were his team—his support system. They were supposed to know what was best for him as well as the ladies who came to the ranch. But not in this case.

“I. Have. Skye. Understood?” he asked in a low voice.

Hugh made a sharp movement and Riggs placed a hand on his arm. Silence descended.

“I can make her as happy as any other client. But no matter what she comes in here and demands…she stays with me. Now where’s her luggage?”

“Umm…” the office girl shifted papers, “…in Bungalow nine.”

“We’re in two now. Make the switch.” With that Booker spun from the desk and burst through the door into the scorching day. His jaw ached from clenching it and he tried to gain a measure of calm before facing Skye again.

What had really been her intention in coming to the ranch? Was she here to inflict more pain? To tease him with what he couldn’t have?

And damn her for being so delicious. That short skirt with the frayed hem and the way her tits looked in that tank top… He shuddered. It was going to be hella-difficult to keep from throwing her on the plush bed and pounding into her.

His cock swelled and his jeans grew too tight. As he strode back to Bungalow 2, he tried to think of a way to mend bridges. He’d always hated the way they’d left things. Now she’d admitted she’d come here in part to speak with him.

The hope in his chest did him little good. He’d require a cool head to get through this week. Finding a balance between heavy relationship stuff, the daughter they shared and Skye having a fulfilling vacation would be damn hard.

Yet if anyone was going to handle her welfare, it was him.

He walked into the bungalow to find Skye sitting on the bed just staring into space. His heart did a slow roll and everything in him screamed for him to go to her, get on his knees and comfort her.

She looked so confused and alone.

He hated that he’d caused that in the first place. He should have stayed around and insisted she let him back in. Trust him that he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Embarrassed, his brother had begged Booker to keep the secret of that night. Booker had kept his word, in spite of what it cost him. But that wasn’t really right. His true offense had been allowing Skye’s silent treatment to drive him away. If he’d stuck it out, they’d be making baby number two right now.

“Skye.”

She jolted at his voice and got to her feet. Her eyes were glassy. Had she been crying? “Where’s the…the you know?”

He closed the distance between them and sagged at the knees to look into her eyes. “Skye, are you still having trouble with low blood sugar?”

“Umm. I guess sometimes.”

“You have that glassy-eyed look and you’re having trouble focusing, aren’t you?” During her pregnancy he’d call her from work and remind her to snack often.

“Booker.” She stared at him for a long heartbeat.

He gripped her upper arm. “We’ve got to get some food into you. Do you still carry that candy in your purse?” Damn—little good it would do if she did because her belongings were in the wrong bungalow.

He led her outside and propelled her to the grub house. Some cowboys already had their ladies there and were laughing and talking. Booker pressed Skye onto a bench and strode to the buffet. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice and a bunch of grapes.

When he returned to her, she was just sitting there, staring at her hands. Panic filled him. She probably hadn’t eaten in ages. Between the flight and the arrival on the ranch, her sugar had to be quite low.

“Drink this.” He twisted off the cap and put the bottle to her lips. She sipped. “More.”

Blood sugar problems ran in her family. Usually low blood sugar levels morphed into diabetes later. Was she taking care of herself? Monitoring it?

“Skye, you need to drink this and eat some fruit. Just a little at a time, okay?” What happened if she was alone with Findlee and this happened? One of the first signs was confusion and mood swings. Worst scenario, she’d pass out.

He shook himself.

Five minutes later she raised her gaze to his. The chocolaty depths of her eyes were clearer, more lucid.

He pushed out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” Pink tinged her cheeks, making her skin even more beautiful. It also reminded him of how she looked when she pulsed around his cock. Need coiled low in his groin.

He placed a bunch of grapes into her hand. “Eat.”

“My sugar hasn’t been so wonky for ages. Maybe it has to do with being around you.” She popped a red grape into her mouth and chewed.

“It’s never happened with Findlee?”

She shook her head. “I try to eat regularly and have snacks like you used to remind me to.” Her flush deepened, and his cock lengthened to impossible hardness. He shifted on the bench and watched her chew.

Fuck, that was worse. Seeing her little teeth digging into the fruity flesh—

She looked around. To him, the grub house was a part of daily life. But what must she be seeing?

Tall windows along one side of the expansive room overlooking rolling Texas fields. Cattle grazed beyond. Small intimate seating groups flanked the windows and long tables with benches filled the rest of the space.

Cowboys talked and joked. One Boot Knocker stood, boot hitched on the bench and his elbow resting on his knee as he spoke with his lady. The young woman was smiling and looking at him as if he hung the moon at night.

Hell, so was Skye.

Booker growled and her attention snapped to him. She stuffed a few more grapes in her mouth.

Soon her gaze strayed again.

“Do you need something more substantial to eat? Let’s get some lunch.”

“Okay.” She stood and followed him to the buffet. It was a normal lunch buffet for the ranch with sandwiches, soups and salads. As Skye made her selections, he watched her every move.

“Here, you’ll want to try these.” He used a tiny pair of tongs to collect a couple of Cook’s homemade pickles and dropped them on Skye’s plate.

She looked up at him. “Findlee loves pickles, you know.”

His heart juddered. “Just like her momma.” Skye had eaten them by the jar during her pregnancy. He’d thought it insane that the old wives’ tale was true, but he’d accommodated her every craving.

By the time they sat across from each other again, his heart had resumed a normal rhythm. He bit into a chicken wrap. When he felt her gaze traveling over his face, he looked at her. “What?” he asked around the bite.

“I’ve never seen you eat a chicken wrap.”

“Gotta keep in shape. The wrap is low-carb. Lots of protein and veggies.”

Her lips tightened but she didn’t reply.

“I never thought I’d be sitting across from you sharing a meal again,” he said.

She raised a pickle to her lips but didn’t bite it. “Me either.”

“Hey, Booker, getting those engines revving yet?” someone called.

He looked up with a smile and waved his friend away. As he swung his attention back to Skye, he realized her eyebrows were drawn, her expression pinched.

“He isn’t talking about your engine. He means my…collection.”

“Your toys?” she asked in such a casual way he nearly fell off the bench. She bit the pickle and chewed.

“How do you know about them?”

“It’s on the website. Didn’t you ever read your bio?”

“Hell no. I don’t have time to look at websites, and I don’t really care to learn about myself.” He polished off his wrap, aware of the thunderous look in her eyes. Whoooeee, he had a tough week ahead. Taming her moods while making her happy and creating new bridges to get him into Findlee’s life? Might be impossible.

Under the table he pressed his foot over her toes. She squeaked and kicked him with her free foot.

“Talk to me, Skye. Tell me what you’ve been doing. Tell me about our daughter.”

That soft look in her eyes returned. “Well, she’d love these pickles.”

“Do you want more?” He could barely speak. His chest was so tight seeing the rays of sun shine through the clouds of her expression. Findlee was neutral ground. When things got awkward between them, he could ask about her. He wanted to know everything anyhow.

“No thank you.”

“Who’s watching her?”

“My mother. She’s been dying to get Findlee in her clutches for months. Every time I say I’m stressed, she offers to take her for a weekend. Or a week.”

He drew his lips tight to his teeth. “Are you stressed, Skye?”

“What? No. Only sometimes. Everyone gets stressed. Overall, we’re okay, though.”

He nodded but he felt like a grade-A jackass. He’d left his ex to care for their daughter on her own. Of course, she’d told him to hit the road, but he should have fought harder. And he had no excuse for staying away from Findlee.

She was silent.

“What is it?”

“Those ladies are staring at you.” She sounded huffy, like the old Skye. When they’d go out together, she always claimed women gawked at him and he flirted. Hell, he might have. But in the end, she’d been at his side, right?

Keeping his gaze on her delicate features, he said, “What ladies?”

Her blush was back in full force. Damn. His jeans had just been starting to loosen.

She finished her meal.

“Do you want a tour of the ranch?” he asked.

“I guess so. I need to visit the office anyway.” She was back to being cool with him. No matter. He knew how to break through her icy exterior and tap into the warm, sweet Skye.

Quite a few Boot Knockers were giving her the lustful eye, and Booker placed a proprietorial hand on her lower back to lead her from the grub house. Outside, she stopped and he realized she was drawing deep lungfuls of air.

“It smells so good here.”

He smiled, too aware of how close she was and how kissable her lips were. The things she could do with those plump lips…

“C’mon. I’ll show you around.”

After taking her on the tour of the auditorium, bungalows, pools and hot tubs, he stopped at the office. “Go on and do your asking, Skye.”

She faced him, uncertainty in her eyes. Then with a defiant lift to her chin, she disappeared into the office.

He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. Damn, she was still feisty and his body still reacted to it. How many times had their fights turned into wild sex?

If he was going to survive this week, he’d need to hook up. Sometimes he was invited to join a threesome, but he wouldn’t feel right about that. No, he needed a quick, hard fuck.

Several of them, actually. He’d find one of the other Boot Knockers.

“You in trouble?”

He looked around and grinned at Teller. The cowboy was one of the newest on the ranch. He’d been mighty interested in Booker’s sex toy collection and Booker thought he might be trying to find his place among the Boot Knockers. They each had a kink or specialty they were known for. Teller was still trying to find his footing, but the ladies—and men—liked him well enough.

“I’m not waiting for Hugh, if that’s what you mean. But I am in trouble.”

Teller stared at him. A tattoo of a wild stallion on his throat moved as he swallowed. “I’ll help out.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Booker pushed away from the wall. “I need a little side fun.”

“With your lady? I’m in. She’s gorgeous.”

Booker muted the urge to smash out Teller’s teeth. “No, solo. Is this your week off?”

“Yeah.” He gave a crooked grin. “How about after sunset?”

“Yep. Meet you at the bunkhouse.”

Teller moved off with a knowing smile just as the door opened behind Booker. Skye stomped out, anger burning off her like ripples of heat.

Booker swallowed a laugh and hurried to her side. “Should we return to the bungalow?”

“No,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Well I’d like to.”

“I’m not sleeping with you, Booker. What did you tell them to make them refuse my request for another cowboy?”

He gave her a look of innocence she’d see right through. She swatted him. He caught her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips.

When Booker brushed his mouth over her flesh, Skye’s pussy squeezed. An invisible string attached to her nipples pulled tight. She fought for air.

His mustache was softer than she’d remembered. Maybe because he’d let it grow out instead of the five o’clock shadow he’d worn in the past. Unable to think or move, she stared at him kissing her hand.