She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy

She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy

A Tease Publishing Book/E book

Copyright© 2007 Cara North

ISBN: 978-1-934678-09-1

Cover Artist: Stella Price

Interior text design: Stacee Sierra

Editor: Heather Spence

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Tease Publishing LLC

www.teasepublishingllc.com

PO BOX 234

Swansboro, North Carolina 28584-0234

Tease Publishing LLC. All rights reserved.

To my husband Chris and his Marines—I bet once you are in the dessert a little while you will all appreciate the qualities of a romance novel a little more.

I love you Bear!

Kilo 3/2 Betio Bastards—Ooh Rah!

I would like to thank the following people for reading the first draft of this book; Diane Osepchook and John Blackmore. Thank you for your comments and efforts.

I would also like to thank my Aunt Debbie for her tireless support of my books. She is a driving force to get them into print as I think she may come after me if they do not go print! LOL!

My partners in publishing Tabbitha and Stacee—I love you both, thank you for all you do.

To the readers and reviewers—Thank you, you have made my dreams come true just buy reading my work!

To the authors at Tease Publishing LLC—I feel I am in great company with a special group of people who are as determined as I am in making a name for ourselves in this wild business.

Heather Spence—You rock!

"So, which one is it? Let me guess, Jack, right?” Heath Johnson leaned on the desk and stared at his young brother-in-law, Buck. It took a while for Jan, his baby sister and Buck's wife, to track him down. He was at the lake contemplating the state of things, as he knew them; not realizing he inadvertently left his cell phone in the truck.

The phone rang again. Buck held up a finger and answered the call. Heath knew nothing in this world made Buck happier than irritating him. Making him wait was probably a joy in itself. However, on this particular night, Heath wasn't feeling up to the aggravation.

Today was his anniversary, and he had not seen his wife since this day last year. When he stopped over to invite himself to his youngest brother Jack's for dinner, he ran into all sorts of trouble with Jack's new bride, Bethany. Her ex-fiancé had shown up trying to take her back. He should have known Jack would end up in jail tonight after everything he went through this afternoon.

Heath looked at his watch, three in the morning. He was tired, cranky, and not in the mood to play games. Buck hung up the phone then stared at him as if he just arrived. “Buck, dammit, what did you call me down here for? Is it Jack or not?"

"Bethany already picked Jack up.” Buck stretched and yawned, smug little bastard. Heath hated to admit it, but he liked the kid a lot.

"Rafe?” Now, that would be a surprise. His brother Rafe was like a living saint most days, helping women and children, or at least one woman and her kids in particular. Buck shook his head, a wry smile slipped over his lips. “I know for damn sure you ain't got my little sister, your wife, back there. She's the one who called me!"

"Got that right,
my wife
isn't back there. Your wife
is.
” Buck full out smiled at him; his cheeks lifted, and every big white tooth showed.

"Funny.” He laughed at the thought. “I thought you said
my wife
was back there."

Buck nodded.

Heath propped his hands on his hips and wondered how he ended up with so many crazy people around him. No wonder his daddy spent most of his time on cattle drives. It beat the hell out of this shit any day. “If you've got me down here in the middle of the night just to yank my chain, I am going to kick your ass from here to Texas and back when you get off duty, Buck!"

"I'll be right back, sir. Sign here please.” After setting the clipboard with papers attached on the counter, Buck headed to the back.

For a moment, his gut twitched. He was afraid Buck may really bring her through the door.
It's Jack; it has to be Jack. Bethany doesn't have the truck to come get him. He's messing with me. That's all.

"Son of a
bitch
!” Chance's voice hit him like a brick in the head. It wasn't Jack at all. He looked up. Her head dropped; his stomach went with it.

"Happy Anniversary to you, too, Honey.” He could feel his head shaking back and forth;
unbelievable
. Here she was, after all this time, wearing his favorite jacket.
I knew she took it!

"Call Star, she'll pick me up.” Chance wouldn't even look at him, and that pissed him off more than anything else. After a whole fucking year, she owed him an explanation, and she wasn't leaving his sight until he got it.

"Oh no, Darlin,’ you're coming home with me.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Thanks, Buck."

"No problem. You want her bike, too?” Heath stopped dead in his tracks. Chance bumped into him.

"Bike?” Heath looked down at her, but she still looked at the ground, her fire red hair hiding her face.

"The Harley. She doesn't have a license to drive a motorcycle,” Buck said.

"Can you keep it a bit?” He didn't want to take her transportation with them. No doubt, she would run the first chance she got. Nevertheless, he would not let her leave until divorce papers were drawn up and signed. He decided less than four hours ago that she was out of his life for good. Now, here she was, in his custody. Damn how life loved yanking his chain.

"Absolutely, big brother.” Heath didn't hear one ounce of malice or mockery in Buck's tone.

"Thank you.” He nodded and then ushered his wife out to his truck.

"You letting me drive?” she asked as he opened the driver's side door.

"Hell no! I'm not letting you out of my reach until we hash some things out.” He hated that the feel of her arm in his hand stirred him. He didn't want to look at her, and he tried not to think about how much she hurt him. But it was like an open wound all over again, seeing her just rubbed salt in it. “Slide over."

She did but not a lot. He shut the truck door and started it up. They drove in pure silence, not even the radio to listen to. The night air was crisp. A full moon hung low in the sky. If he were superstitious, he may have believed it was an omen or something. He glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She still held her head down. Maybe she was tired. Not that he cared. He shifted around a bit, trying to ease the sudden constriction in his chest.

As he turned to take the long road up his drive, just like the ones leading to the other houses on the ranch, she spoke. “I thought you lived with Jack these days."

"Guess you were misinformed,” he replied coolly, but the air around them was charged with heat. Anger, hurt, and he hated to admit it, but desire also loomed there between them. An old burning flame he thought was snuffed out flickered.

He parked in the garage.

Once he turned off the ignition, they sat there a moment. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Heath collected his thoughts, his control. After getting his emotions back in check, he got out of the truck.

She slid across the seat toward the door. She faced him, with her legs hanging over the edge of the seat; she lifted her head and looked at him for the first time. His body caged her in the truck, and though he thought he was in control, the urge to pull her against him still loomed.

Shiny brown eyes pleaded with him. He needed to ignore how easy it could be to fall into those innocent eyes and be trapped. He offered his hand to help her out of the truck. Her fingers slid skin to skin along his, the softness contrasting against his rough calluses.
Why do you always notice shit like that with her?

She didn't let go, and neither did he. He told himself it was because he didn't want her to run, but there was nowhere for her to go out here without transportation. He knew from experience he couldn't give her the chance to get near a horse, a car, anything remotely mobile.

As they entered the kitchen, he flipped on the light. He focused in on the hurt making it easier to speak. “I see you stole my favorite jacket."

"I didn't steal it.” She let go of his hand and clutched at it like a lifeline. Her big brown eyes looked sad, but he would not let her affect him.

"The hell you didn't!” he shouted and slammed his hand on the center island in the kitchen. She jumped then tightened her grip on the jacket. Her sad eyes grew darker, more familiar, and then her brows tilted toward her nose.

"You want it, Heath? Huh, is that it? You want this damn jacket?” She zipped it up to her neck in defiance.
Yep, there she is.
Like a moth to the flame he always got burned by her bipolar rollercoaster. “Come and get it, big boy. I dare you!"

"How many men have you dared to take it off before now, Chance?” He stalked toward her. Something stirred between the two of them, something borderline dangerous. He didn't like his own actions, but he wasn't able to stop either. “Huh? In the last year, how many men has my wife fucked?"

Her stubborn chin lifted, and she met him stare for stare. “I guess I could ask the same of you. Exactly how many women have been here in the last year?"

"None of your business.” He grabbed the jacket and lifted, pulling her up on her toes. He hated her. Hated her with every fiber of his being for what she had done to him. Broke his heart, humiliated him, and didn't have the common decency to return the heirloom wedding rings he didn't see on her finger now.

"No?” She licked her lips and grabbed his wrists. The touch of her hands on his skin was like a surge of fire to his veins. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Hell, he wasn't sure if he ever felt like this. “I think it
is
my business. If what I've done is yours, then what you've done is sure as hell mine."

"So, what have you done, Chance?” His heart thundered. He did not want to hear it. He didn't want to hear that another man had touched her at all. The thought made his vision blur.

"You won't believe me anyways,” she said, and she was right. At this moment in time, he couldn't believe himself much less her.
Damn she smells good.

"I hate you,” he ground out through his teeth before he lost complete control.