Bourbon & Backroads (Lucky Spurs Ranch Book 1), page 9
She has barbells pierced through her nipples.
I stifle a moan. I can practically feel the cool metal clicking against my teeth, pulling her nipples into my mouth, one by one.
Glass clanks against stone and I whip around in my seat praying she didn’t catch me looking at her tits.
Soft footsteps shuffle across hard wood. Yep, she's coming over to sit by me.
Awesome. Goddamn middle school surprise boner.
I adjust my hard dick in my shorts, tucking the head up under the band of my boxer briefs. The fucker better not betray me and make a surprise appearance tonight. Fucking gym shorts do nothing to hide my problem.
We’ve been sitting by the fire in the living room for not even two minutes when the silence becomes unbearable for Isabelle. The quiet’s a blessing for me because if I opened my mouth to talk, all that would come out is “boobs.”
She huffs out a breath, shifts in her seat, lifts her left leg onto the seat and tucks her foot under her right leg, bringing her to face me. I wait.
“Spit it out.” She startles, not expecting my command, but doesn’t speak.
“I can read it all over your body language. You have somethin’ to say, so spit it out.”
“Fine,” she replies. “But it’s not something I want to say, more like something I want to ask.”
Panic floods my body, and tension crawls up my back and worms around my neck. I crack my head side to side to relieve the sensation. God knows where this is going but I already don’t like it. I tighten my grip on my beer bottle. Not diverting my focus on the crackling fire, I mutter, “Alright.”
She tilts her head to the side examining me, and after a long pause, speaks in a soft, curious voice. “Will you tell me about your ranch?”
“What?” That isn't what I was expecting in the least. I 100 percent thought she was going to ask what’s wrong with my face.
“I mean, I know your family has been a cornerstone of the town for generations. But it’s not like your family crossed paths with the likes of mine. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve only spent blips of time on any open land. We live in such an idyllic place, but I might as well be looking at it on a postcard because I’ve never had the chance to explore.” She looks away, chewing on the side of her bottom lip.
“Lilah and I were so focused on getting by unnoticed, or at least unbothered, that we didn’t go to parties or anything. The only people who invited us anywhere were Connor and Olivia. Well, Connor mainly invited Delilah. Liv grew up on Granger Hill and we spent as much time there as possible.
“She only started boarding Maisey when she left for college because her parents couldn’t care for her anymore. Delilah and I have spent a lot of time around Maisey, watching Olivia love on her and groom her, but we never rode her. Lilah was terrified of falling off, and I was too embarrassed to ask her dad to teach me how.” She shrugs, that enchanting blush highlighting her cheekbones.
“The idea that you grew up on a real-life cattle ranch is baffling to me. I can’t even picture it. It’s like we came from two different planets. That’s still where you live now, right?”
I give her a curt nod. She's asking about my home, my childhood, my life, my family history. I can’t remember the last time a woman bothered to ask anything about me aside from “where do you want to do this?” or “what happened to your face?”.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure a woman has ever asked to learn about this side of my life. In high school, the girls only cared that I played football. In what would’ve been my college years, they were looking for a no-strings attached fuck. Women in town knew enough about me and my family that they never dug any deeper than what's generally known about us.
My mind is whirling, completely caught off guard. She's patient and quiet while my brain glitches and asks again. “So…will you? Tell me about your ranch, I mean? You don’t have to. God you probably don’t even want to talk to me outside of work, let alone digging around in your personal life. You know what, forget it. Forget I asked. I’m sorry.”
She moves to rise from her seat, but I reach out and grip her thigh with my right hand. We both look down at my hand in surprise.
Well, that was involuntary.
“No.” It comes out harsher than I intend, and she tries pulling her leg away. I grip it tighter.
What the fuck am I doing?
I clear my throat. “I meant, no, don’t forget it. I don’t mind talking about the ranch.”
She looks both surprised and relieved and I feel her quad muscle relax beneath my palm. The ripple sends shivers up my arm, so I quickly remove my hand from her leg.
“What—uh—what do you want to know?”
“I guess I want to know everything. Anything. Whatever you want to tell me. I can’t fathom what it was like growing up in a wide-open space, or playing outside of my house, or seeing animals every day.”
That pisses me off. Did her parents treat her like she lived in a prison cell?
The ranch is my solace, my foundation.
I relax my body down into my seat and get comfortable. I fiddle with my empty beer bottle to give my hand something to do while I talk. I could talk about the ranch all day and never tire of it, which is saying a lot considering I do my best to say as few words as possible at any given time.
But I’ve never openly described my life on the ranch to anyone before. My friends experienced it firsthand, and it was the norm for my family. I try to mentally take a step back and look at it from the lens of a newcomer, to describe it to someone who knows nothing about ranch life.
I'm speaking before I give my mouth permission to open. “Uh, yea, I still live there. To answer your question. Lived there all my life, never considered living anywhere else.” She doesn’t focus on me—watching the fire, she gives me the space to talk without any pressure.
“The ranch is…it’s amazing. My favorite place on earth. I don’t even know where to start…”
15
“So then why does your family do property management? It seems like ranching would take up all your time.”
Her question is valid and I’m feeling uncharacteristically open to conversation, so I decide to tell her more. “Yea, ranching is an entire lifestyle. Ranchers eat, sleep, and breathe it. But we haven’t for a long time.”
The crease in her brow mirrors my own as I continue. “The ranch isn’t operational anymore. It’s hard, expensive work, and with the way the world’s changed, we couldn’t keep it afloat. Swiftwater’s changed, hell, the entire region has changed.” She watches me intently, not shying away in the slightest from my deformity. Her gaze soothes and unnerves me simultaneously.
“Commercial cattle operations have taken over like the plague, eating up ranch by ranch. My dad was an only child, unheard of in a ranch family. The next generation was counted on to maintain the legacy. But as much as they wanted more kids, it wasn't in the cards for my grandparents. With the economy and all that shit, caring for my aging grandparents on the shoulders of an only child…the ranch was doomed.”
The look on Isabelle’s face is so concerned and kind. I have the urge to comfort her, in my lament. “I had no idea, I’m so sorry. Are you okay with that?”
No one’s ever asked me that, not even my dad. I’m stunned stupid.
“No. I hate it.” A dry swallow does nothing to soothe the tightness gripping my throat. “The ranch was still operating when I was growing up, my dad was my fucking hero. All I ever wanted was to be a cowboy, out on my horse all day with the crew. There was no indication the ranch was in dire straits. My dad started the property management company as a last-ditch effort to bring in some cash flow…but it wasn’t enough.”
Traitorous tears burn the backs of my eyes. “By the time Sam left for college, my parents had sold off the last of the cattle, let go of the remaining employees, and the ranch became a giant backyard. My parents offered for each of us kids to build a house on the land so it will always be our home, but it’s not a ranch anymore. I don’t even know why we still call it that.”
I shake my head in disbelief that I’m sharing so much with her. I feel safe with her, I don’t know how else to describe the feeling. “The one thing I wouldn’t compromise on was the horses. I would've died on that hill, I swear. Those horses are my life. The deal with my dad is that I keep the horses and the stables in good condition, and it can’t cost him any time or money. So, I’m out there every morning before work, every evening after work, and every weekend doing my chores and maintenance.”
I huff a laugh. “Joke’s on him since he pays my salary at Swift, and I use my salary to maintain the stables.”
Isabelle blinks up at me. “Reid, I didn’t know. You’ve got to be dead tired all the time! Is that why you’re such a cranky asshole?” A smirk lifts her raspberry lips.
I bark out a laugh and cover it with a cough. I never expect the sass out of her hot little mouth. “No, I’m always a cranky asshole. But yea, it’s why I’m a tired cranky asshole.”
Her smirk grows. “Good to know, cowboy.”
Holy fuck. My dick jumps at the nickname. I like that. I like that too goddamn much.
“Your friend Olivia? I board her horse. She’s a damn fine mare. I board a few horses for folks in town for a bit of extra cash. Helps me maintain the ranch best I can.”
“How did I not know that you board Livy’s horse?” she mutters, confusion and offense lacing her tone.
She pulls out her phone and starts to rapid fire text, I assume to Olivia. While she texts, I hear her mock under her breath, “Giving me shit when she sees Reid all the fucking time. That little bitch.”
What the hell is going on? “What was that about? With your friend? Is me having the horse a problem?”
“No, no. Nothing like that!” she rushes out.
“Then what?” I respond, growing irritated.
A deep blush rapidly colors her cheeks. She won’t meet my eyes. What the fuck? She sits up straight, chin lifted like a princess, and snips, “I’d rather not say, to be honest.”
“Yea, that ain’t going to work, sugar. I just gave you my life story, you’re going to have to give me something.”
Her lips purse and I can see her tongue run along her top teeth inside her lips. She sucks her teeth in irritation. Or is it embarrassment? Her entire face and neck are red at this point.
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘P’.
“Ok. But can you please not look at me? This is mortifying enough without you looking at me,” she whines.
Where the fuck is this story going? I’m dying to know at this point, so I nod my head in agreement and make a show out of looking at the crackling fire.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her squirming in her seat and hear her cursing Olivia under her breath. She covers her face with her hands, and her voice is muffled when she groans, “This is so embarrassing.”
Pushing her won’t get her to spit it out any faster, so we sit in silence. I pretend my entire body is unaware of her proximity, that I don’t know about the jewelry adorning her tits or smell her intoxicating scent. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, making a raspberry noise with her lips.
Her hands drop from her face, and she wrings them tensely in her lap. She finally speaks—the words almost too fast for me to comprehend. “I may or may not have had a teeny tiny, momentary, completely forgettable crush on you when I was a teenager. And Olivia has been mercilessly giving me shit about being on this work assignment with you. I was surprised Maisey never came up when I talked to her about us working together.” She looks like she might vomit right here on the couch.
I can’t stop the glee bursting from me at this fascinating revelation. Faking shock and disbelief, I retort, “Is that so? A crush. On me? Please, enlighten me.” The smile stretching my face is nearly painful. I don’t exactly smile much anymore. It’s like the muscles have forgotten how.
Her deadpan expression leaves no room for interpretation—slow blinking at me like I'm the dumbest fucker she’s ever seen.
“Do. Not.” She says through clenched teeth.
“Oh no, no, no, Isabelle Marie Tate, you tell me right fucking now.”
She interrupts me mid-way, “That’s not my middle name.”
I immediately reply, “Don’t care. Now start talking or I’m going to assume you were madly in love with me and had a shrine of me in your bedroom and that you drew glittery hearts around Isabelle Andersen in all your notebooks.”
“Oh my god, will you stop?” she shrieks. “I didn't do anything like that!”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
I'm having way too much fun with this. I never would’ve guessed she’d had a crush on me. She’s way younger than me, we wouldn’t have ever crossed paths. She’s hot as hell, and I bet she was cute as a teenager. I have to admit that I’m flattered, even though she scares the shit out of me. I’m feeling lightheaded at the potential that I might actually have a shot with her.
“It's seriously nothing. It’s not a big deal.”
“Isabelle,” I urge her. She doesn’t speak, but I’ll wait her out. I can stay silent way longer than she can.
Heaving a huge sigh, she forfeits. “Fine. When I was in middle school, I saw you when you were helping to recruit for the high school football team. While I was looking at you, I ran into Olivia, who grabbed Delilah on her way down, and we all ended up in a heap on the floor,” she hedges.
I say nothing, wanting to hear more. “It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like I was obsessed with your or anything.” She's beet red.
I'm so fucking happy right now. Mainly because she's so embarrassed and it’s hilarious, but also because it feels good to be reminded of when girls still found me attractive. Blood is rushing in my ears that this succubus might still have a crush on me.
“Let me get this straight. Little Isabelle Tate saw a hot specimen of a man for the first time—a beacon among the scrawny middle school boys whose balls still hadn’t dropped—and you were so entranced that you collapsed to the ground. And your friends still talk about it to this day?”
She's fuming. Fury is etched like granite on her face. Her eyes are pure ice.
Fidgeting in her seat, refusing to look at me, she says, “That seems like a bit of an exaggeration, but whatever helps you sleep at night. Now can we please drop this? It was a million years ago, and clearly, I didn’t know back then what an insufferable asswipe you are.”
I bark a laugh. Asswipe? This girl.
“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. But this is the best thing I’ve heard in a while. Not forgetting this any time soon. You going to be okay working together? Seeing as you’re obsessed with me?”
She lurches towards me from her seat to smack me and I can’t contain my laughter. I block her flimsy attack with my forearm. “Hey now, no assaulting your coworker.”
She settles back down and slouches down in her seat, looking into the fire in silence.
“I’ll give you one more question. You ask and I’ll answer. Then we call this therapy session a wrap for the day.”
She looks over at me suspiciously, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. The studs in her nose glimmer from the motion.
Why are those so cute?
“Doesn’t seem fair but I do have a follow up question from before.”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever considered bringing the ranch back to its former glory? I mean, I can tell property maintenance isn’t exactly your passion. But I can feel how much you love the ranch and the horses.”
How does she see right through me? I’m continuously surprised by her.
Yes, I’ve considered it. Every fucking day of my life. On my drive to work, all day on the job, on my drive home, and all night, every night. I’ve never told anyone my dreams for the ranch, not even my dad, and he loved the ranch more than I do. I don’t know what it is about Isabelle that compels me to open up. But I want to tell someone. I want to tell her.
I clear my throat. “Yea, I’ve considered it.” She waits patiently, her head tilted adorably to the side with interest.
“I don’t have a desire to drive cattle. That’s hard fucking work and I’m closer to forty than I am to twenty. Too much work for too little return. But I wish other people could experience the property. See how beautiful it is. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt whole. At peace, you know? It’s where I feel Sam the strongest. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” My stomach turns at the thought of Sam. I miss him so fucking much, the pain still cripples me.
I can feel her kind heart absorbing everything I said. I thought I’d feel raw or uncomfortable after telling her, but I don’t.
Frowning, she says “It’s not stupid. Not at all. That’s like, my dream. I wish there was somewhere I could go and feel like I’m welcome. I mean, I just told you I’ve lived here my entire life and have never had the chance to experience the mountains the way I want to. I think you should do it.”
I can see the wheels in her head turning, she’s getting visibly more excited by the minute, firelight flickering in her eyes. I’ve seen her design ideas for the properties we’ve been to so far and they're incredible.
Not that I’ve told her that. Because I’m a fuckin’ coward.
She has what I don’t have, the creativity, the vision. I just have the drive, the land, and the dream.
Maybe I could do it.
And maybe, she’d be there to help me.
16
Reid never did find what was wrong with the electricity. It came back on sometime Sunday and stayed on.
This weekend was a turning point. It’s foolish to think Reid thought anything about my crush other than thinking it was a cute little story. But I’ve caught him looking at me this weekend, and the heat in his eyes doesn’t look like the irritation he normally projects.
I may have downplayed my crush on Reid when I confessed to him.
