Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I wrenched the steering wheel to pull the truck off the side of the road onto a dirt lane. As soon as we were safely parked, I hopped out of the truck and slammed the driver door, yanking my hat off and running my fingers through my hair.
Had I stayed in that truck one more minute with the spoiled jackass, I would have most likely said something I would have regretted.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I asked myself as I paced in the dirt. “You need a working body, he has a working body. That’s the long and short of it.”
The wind whipped up behind me, which helped cool my temper a little. I felt the thin cotton of my shirt flap around my sides, and the overgrown edges of my hair blew into my face before I set my hat back on my head. “Hells bells. What is wrong with me today?”
“Sir? Mister Employer, sir?”
I turned to see the wise-ass standing on the running board, resting his arms on the roof of the truck as he peered over at me. The position caused his shirt to ruck up far enough that I could just catch a glimpse of tantalizing skin peeking out above his low-slung jeans. The first thing I noticed was the absence of a happy trail, and I wondered just how far his grooming went.
Just how smooth and bare he might be. And how soft.
I cursed and kicked at the dirt road. That was the real reason this kid was getting under my skin. Because I wanted him.
I just didn’t want to want him. I had no use for a spoiled little rich kid in my life, or even in my bed, no matter how tantalizingly sexy he was.
I took a deep breath, forcing the tension from my shoulders. Normally, I was known for keeping my cool. It was something I prided myself on after my daddy had run roughshod over everyone his whole damn life. Family, foreman, ranch hands, friends. You name it, he lost his temper at it.
“What?” I bit out carefully.
“If you want to learn more about bull semen, I’ll be happy to sit quietly and listen. Heck, maybe I could learn something that would be interesting to me on a personal level.”
The glitter in his eyes teased me from across the truck’s wide roof. That little fucker.
Well, two could play at the annoying tease game. I schooled my face to show no sign of a smile. “Yeah, well, I expect you should go ahead and learn since you’ll be doing the collecting of it yourself here pretty soon. Insemination season is right around the corner, and you got here at just the right time to help.”
I purposefully eyed his hands resting on the truck’s roof. “Man like you with long, slender fingers… bet those things work a treat on a bull cock.”
Truth was, that wasn’t exactly how we did it, and there was no way in hell I’d let this man near my best bulls in any case, but for the look on Richard’s face when I said it? Worth every bit of the lie.
After the shock began to wear off, Richard looked pensive. “Huh. Maybe Dad was right after all. Seems I did learn some shit in college that would come in handy for my job one day.”
I bit my tongue to keep from barking out a laugh. The man was entertaining, I’d give him that.
“Get in the damned truck,” I muttered, opening my own door and hopping back in.
When we pulled into town, our first stop was the tack store. “You need new boots,” I informed him, climbing out of the truck and starting toward the store.
He clutched at his chest as though I’d shot him. “Sacrilege! These boots are Alexander McQueen!”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re a liability.”
“They’re made in Italy.” As if that meant anything in my world.
“Don’t care,” I said, holding the door open and nudging him inside the store.
“I’ll have you know, these are…” The rest of his description sounded like the Charlie Brown teacher. I thought I heard something about a queen, but I didn’t much care to pay attention to whatever he was yammering on about.
“Boone Hammond,” Shirley said from behind the checkout counter. “Good to see you, sir. How’s things out at the Silver Fork? What can I help you with today?”
I tipped my hat to her before taking it off and tapping it against my leg. “Things’re fine. I need to get some steel-toe boots for one of my new hands and maybe some of those peppermint horse treats if you’ve got ’em in stock.”
She nodded and smiled. “Head on back to the boots, and I’ll check. Carson should be working back there if you need sizes that aren’t out.”
We made our way back to the area with the footwear, where the shop assistant was killing time arranging boxes that didn’t need arranging. I recognized Carson Randall from having seen him at the gay bar in Casper, and I steeled myself against his flirtation game. Ever since he’d spotted me there once, he’d been all over me to strike up a “friends with benefits” scenario in which we could take advantage of the slim pickings around here.