Wrangler (6 page)

The hand is firm, not forceful, but I mean, just use your voice.  I’m already shaking with embarrassment, thinking of all the ways I can just go crawl into a hole.

“What?”  I snap, my lips quivering. I’m ready to unleash on someone but the smell hits me.

The aroma of roses and the quintessential scent of a real man engulf me and I lift my eyes to see him standing there.

The mountain.

And he’s holding the entire basket of flowers looking at me with something in his eyes that makes a kaleidoscope of butterflies start flapping in my belly.

“These belong to you.”

CHAD

I
’ve never bought flowers for a woman before.  Now I want to buy every flower I can find and give them to her.  It wasn’t enough to buy her a rose; I bought them all, and the basket too. 

And the best part is when I hand them her way.

There it is again.

That dimple.

That smile.

And it’s not just on her lips.  It’s in her eyes and I’m imagining all the ways I want to take that sweet mouth and fill it with dirty things.  She’s one part hometown, one part angel and all mine.

My cock is lighting up inside my jeans and making it damn uncomfortable as I try to keep from stealing her away and discovering just how sweet this homegrown honey is.  She can’t hide the way her nipples pebble against the thin fabric of the tank she’s wearing either.  That’s a fucking mating call to me, and I can’t ignore it.

Fuck, how many years has it been since a woman gave me solid wood from just a look? I have no clue. And now I’m hard as a country oak tree, and ready to convince this beauty it’s time to make babies.

“Thank you.”  Her two syrupy sweet words shake the ground under my boots. 

Not only because I think anything she says to me is magic, but because I hear how much she means it. It’s not just polite, it’s more than that. She’s grateful that someone is showing her this kindness, this attention, and it makes me want to gut punch someone for how they must have treated her in the past.

And at the same time it makes me the happiest guy in this fucking bar.

Bar.
  I never in my life thought I’d meet someone like her in a bar.  Hell, I never thought I’d meet someone like her anywhere.

She shakes her head, the smile gone. “But, I can’t accept them.”

Like fuck you can’t.

So, you would think a dude standing with a full basket of roses and a girl telling him she’s not taking them might throw some shade on what he thought had to be some cosmic connection.

Nope.

“You don’t need to accept something that’s already yours.”  I see she’s getting uncomfortable, so I rein it in, settle for the twinkle in her eye. The last thing in the world I want is for her to feel anything but happiness.  “Tell you what.”  My mouth is beginning to water. Being this close to her... I lick my lips.  “I’m going to go over where you were sitting there.  That’s a friend of yours?”  I snap my head around and light my eyes on the red head I saw her chatting and sharing some fries with a while ago.

She turns around and looks where I’m looking. “Tabitha.” Her eyes dart back to mine. “I mean, yes, she’s my friend.”

“Then I’m going to go make sure she watches these for you while you work.  I’m also going to make sure she knows they are yours and they need to go home with you.”

I take her silence to be acceptance and instead of blocking her path, I decide to give her some space.  I’ve never come on this strong with anyone before and it’s even scaring me a bit.  But I can’t leave it at that, so before I turn to walk away, I slip one rose out of the basket, snap the stem off at six inches with my teeth, reach over and tuck it behind her ear.

“Keep that one for now.  The rest will be waiting.”

Her eyes light up something inside of me that must have been dormant until now.  My gut is spinning, my chest is like a furnace, and my balls are sending a message that they’re ready and able to serve. Inside my brain, a tribal drum beats out a single word over and over.

Mine.  Mine.  Mine.

I don’t mind so much that my boner is visible to anyone that gives it a hard stare in the dim light of the bar, but hell if I’m going to cream my jeans.  For the first time in my life, I realize there is only one place I ever want to cum again and that’s inside her pussy.

Or any place on her or in her as far as that goes. She’s going to be wearing me inside and out if I have my way.

Her name tag catches my eye again, and the name Lori still doesn’t fit for me, so I come up with my own name for her. One that’s more fitting.

She backs away, turns, and I let her go even though it hurts. 

Roger’s giving me some shit about standing there with a basket of flowers but I don’t care. I watch her for a few minutes, then wander off around the back wall of the bar, making my way to the table where her redheaded friend is sitting.

“These belong to her.”  I tip my head to where my dove is taking a customer’s order.  “Make sure she takes them home, okay?”  I don’t want to discuss it, so I turn and leave her sitting there with her mouth open.

The next couple hours are torture.  I have to watch guys looking at her, breathing next to her.  I don’t even want them sharing the same fucking oxygen.  If one dude touches her or disrespects her, I’m not going to be able to restrain myself. That was a one-time deal. Next time it won’t end with a few threats and a juicy apology tip from the offending asshole. 

As the night wears on, I settle into my chair at the table. Roger switches his drink of choice to ice water for the rest of the evening, because despite doing a very good asshole act he’s actually an upstanding guy. He’s just easily distracted by available pussy.

She waits on us a few more times, but I make due with just looking for now.

This bar is wearing on me.  Sally and the brunette, who I now know is Loretta, are sloppy drunk and spending most of their time falling all over themselves on the dance floor.

Roger and I fall into our comfortable groove.  Joking and talking old times.  His ranch is doing well, and he offered to let me move in there until I find my own place, but I’m not sure that feels right.

This draw to come back home has been strong for a couple years.  Then, when the training facility I was running in Oklahoma sold out the business to a new owner, I figured it was time to make a few changes in my own life.  I’ve been training and rehabbing horses of all kinds. 

I take on pro bono situations more often than I should and I’m a sucker for a hard case.  A sad story. But for the most part, my magic is for sale. 

I’m not bragging when I say magic, it’s just a knack I have.  I once saw this documentary about an artist and he said that he could already see the painting on the blank canvas, even when it’s nothing but white fabric. Then thousands of brush strokes later and his vision comes to life. To me that’s fascinating; you ask me to draw a stick figure and I’m lucky if I get the head mounted on the right end. But I understood what he was saying, because for me it’s horses. That’s where I see the masterpiece inside.

Humans fuck them up.  Hurt them and break their spirit.  But I see through all that. I see the beauty, the majesty, the creature who longs for peace and connection.  Just like humans, they long to connect.  To feel safe and be part of something special. They just need to be brought out on the canvas.

Over the years, I’ve garnered clients from all over the world.  I may look like a mountain man cowboy, but I’ve worked with royalty.  Horses worth millions have come under my care.  But to me it’s not how many kings you sit with, it’s how you comfort the fallen.  The forgotten.

Money gives me freedom and security, but I don’t worship at the altar of the golden calf.  I have no interest in wearing it or using it to impress anyone. 

My success is quiet, I let my work speak for itself.  So now, I'm back home and starting from scratch, but I already have a client list. So once I find the right facility, get it up and running, a few phone calls and the cash will start to flow.  But, something inside me feels like I need to get back to my roots.  Breathe for a while.  Put in some hard hours under the sun.  Go to bed with aching muscles and a full belly.

I’ve got some baggage to deal with coming back too, but right now, I’m looking to the future. And I’m damn sure that future includes her.

I know nothing about her.  My gut is tight even thinking she might have a guy somewhere.  A fucking husband even.  I checked her finger, no ring, but that’s no guarantee she’s not hitched.

Fuck.

I shake my head tossing that thought away. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her movement, and I look over even while Roger’s still talking. She’s waiting on a table full of leather-vested bikers, and they treat her with the respect she deserves. 

They look rough, but they understand respect. She looks comfortable with them, and that makes me settle down just a notch, realizing they must be regulars.  She even smiles. And when I see that dimple again, my dick twitches and I ache with need.  I laugh to myself at the thought that her dimple seems to have me by the balls.

Coming in here tonight and seeing the angel with spun silken hair and chocolate eyes I know I’m right where I belong.  It’s beyond ridiculous.  This obsession that hit me when I looked at her. I don’t need a woman in my life right now.  I’ve kept my head straight and stayed away from that drama and it’s served me well.  I’m at the top of my game in my industry, and I’ve got enough financial scratch to keep me floating along until I’m set up. Everything is just right, squared away. And now this little curvy wonder is fucking with my itinerary. 

For the first time since I got off the airplane, I’m happy as hell I’m back.

RACHEL

T
abitha leans over to stuff her face as close as she can get into the basket of roses sitting between us on the bench seat in my pickup.  I’m driving her back to her apartment in town. I couldn’t let her drive herself, not after she’d slurped down two more seven-and-sevens. She can collect her car tomorrow or I’ll drop her back there to get it.

“Is this guy for real?”  She laughs and sniffs.

Crutch let me go early and it was a relief.  Tabitha and I hung out in his office for a good hour shooting the breeze with him before we headed out. 

I was just glad to be off the floor.  I don’t know what Mr. Mountain was doing, but I can only imagine he was playing with me.  He was probably drunk, even though I’d never served him any alcohol all night.  Maybe Lacy slithered over there and gave him some free Jell-O shots out of her cleavage.

“Beats the hell out of me.  And they were there with two girls. When I left, the blond one had her eye on him hard.  Two guys, two girls. Tabitha, they were on a date.  It’s weird and it just reminds me of high school.  You remember when Marcus Hanover asked me to homecoming, freshman year?”  I nod and shoot Tabitha a glance while trying to keep my eyes on the road. 

She drops the few roses she’d picked up back into the basket and gives me a sympathetic half grin.

“Yeah.”  She sneers and pushes her hair off her forehead.  “Fucker.  That guy was an entitled asshole.  He still
is
an entitled asshole.  Have you seen him lately?” She clicks her tongue. “That whole family thinks they’re better than everyone else.”

“I don’t know why I was the one that whole crowd picked on. They started on me in
first grade
.  Not just him, but he was the worst.” Even the memory makes me shiver. He asked me out, then left me sitting there waiting, all dressed up. Never showed.  “You know, I used all the money I’d saved for my whole life to buy that stupid dress. And for what?” I shake my head. “That was a shitty year.”

“He’s a shitty human.  I see him now and then in the bank.  He walks through, doesn’t ever talk to anyone.  I mean, he needs a few lessons on leadership.  I know I’m no one special, but my little business is taking off and someday I’m going to have heaps of cash in that bank. Then we’ll see who’s who.”

I chuckle. Tabitha has been an entrepreneur since as far back as I can remember.  She started out selling sock puppets to our fourth grade class.  They were cute too; she embroidered eyes and noses on each one, they all had a name and a little story about where they came from.  She’s good at marketing and selling.  People are drawn to her.  She makes friends like showers make you wet.  It’s effortless for her.