Page 222 of Forbidden Heroes

After dropping off the boxes, I hit the road again and make a left down a long dirt road that will take me to the back portion of the land. It’s an hour's drive with potholes the size of the moon, but I have time. Boone can run, dammit. But it’s up to me if I want to let him believe he can get away.

I roll the windows down and let the cooling evening wind blow through my hair.

By the time I make it to the back two-hundred acres night has fully fallen. Multiple windows are darkened with only the porch light as a guide up the gravel road. The first of seven stables is set back about two hundred yards and I point the truck in that direction.

I glide the truck to a stop behind the single-story white building and quietly make my way to the cabin. It’s more like a downsized version of the Urban mansion on the front half of the four-hundred- and fifty-acre ranch and farmland with only six bedrooms and the same number of bathrooms. There’s even a bubbling pool I take advantage of each summer.

I slip the key into the lock and find the large kitchen and connected living room empty. The only sign of life so far is an apple pie on the stove. Tempting as it is, I do a little more scouting to find who might have baked that pie only to find no other soul. Usually this time of year every room is filled with all hands-on deck for foaling season which is about to start. But it’s just me, the darkness and a mess of crickets chirping away the summer night.

Well damn. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t come back here and where the hell is everybody else?

With the tip of my boot, I ease the door to his room open, the large oak slab cracking on the hinges. If he’s inside, no doubt he knows I’m here now. I step inside to find a small table lamp on in the corner, a large bed in the middle, last night’s shirt hanging on the back of a chair. No hat, no boots.

He might not be here now, but the scent of his cologne is recent. I slide the door closed until the latch touches the frame. Boots, shorts, tank top, panties, and bra—all hit the floor and in that order.

I know I’m playing a dangerous game. I know this could blow up in my face a million times over. But I know what I saw in his eyes last tonight. The way he held me out on that dance floor. And the way his cock hardened the longer he held me in the barn.

I lick my lips and spread my naked body over the fine clean smelling sheets. There’s a volcano inside Boone. Unpredictable and ready to erupt. When he does it can go one of two ways for me. Either he'll carry us both into ecstasy or burn us both alive.

Four

Boone

Something is off. I can feel it the second I walk into the house.

That scent. Feminine, light. Barely there. I turn my attention to the phone vibrating in my pocket. I just came from a nearby bar where most, if not all, the Urban ranch hands like to kick back after a long week. June graduations are right around the corner and most of the folks working for us have teens graduating or going off to college soon. They want to spend as much time with their family as possible and right now, with the mood I’m in, I don’t mind forking over extra pay to help make that happen.

Our foreman, Saul, and several work hands were happy to find they get a two-week paid vacation before we need to get back to work.

I pull out my phone to find a message from Saul. After a few beers, we got to talkin’ and the lack of a woman’s cooking came up, among other things.

By the way. left a little somethin’ sweet for you back at the house. You’ll love how sweet and juicy this one is.

Son of a bitch. Saul, aka the playboy of the town, liked to meddle but he wouldn’t go this far. I breathe in again and find that same scent filling my lungs. Damn, that man works fast. All I had said was I needed a cold shower and to get to work on rebuilding a section of the fence a flash flood took out a couple of weeks back.

I’m about to punch back and ask what he means by sweet and juicy, when a soft moan draws me near my room.

I jerk my head up, thumb frozen over the send button.

I ease open my bedroom door to find a delicate form waiting for me beneath the sheets.

Dammit, Saul. Always butting in where he’s not needed.

I lean against the door frame and consider my options. Kick out the chick and enjoy a nice cold shower to take the thought of Harper out of mind for at least a couple of hours so I can sleep or…

Or, dammit, enjoy the woman in my bed and maybe fuck her so hard I once and for all forget about Harper. Not like I can have her in this lifetime anyway. Who am I holding out for?

I don’t bother with the lights. I leave reality at the door. Enough moonlight pours through the window to keep me from stubbing a toe. Maybe this is what I need to get Harper out of my mind. Tonight, for one fucking night, I can pretend it’s Harper in my bed. No one will know and afterward, I’ll send this woman on her way with a kiss of gratitude and then spend the next several weeks fully purging my soul of Harper before I drive her off to college.

I strip in the darkness and pause right before climbing into my bed. This isn’t like me at all, but I can feel my sanity slipping. If I don’t get Harper out of mind, out of my senses, I won’t ever sleep again. Life will be tasteless, dull.

No need to say anything. No way the mystery woman Saul sent over didn’t hear me come in, and the woman in my bed already knows what she’s here for. Why else climb into the bed of a stranger well after midnight?

She shudders and gasps when I slide in under the covers, bringing with me a blast of cold, conditioned air.

Without speaking I anchor her close with an arm wrapped around her hips, drawing her into me until my cock sits firmly against her ass. She’s smooth and warm, and I’m already hard. The idea of playing out my Harper fantasy had me like a steel rod minutes ago, to be honest. That thought alone makes me feel like an asshole, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“Hey,” comes a rough, breathy whisper. A little groggy, like I’ve woken her from sleep.

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