Page 21 of Embracing Hope

“If you and your sisters are planning to take over the ranch in the future, how will this affect the merger?” he said to her.

“I’m not in the will as of right now.”

He wondered if he heard right. “Pardon me?”

Once they reached the truck with a magnetic sign on the side that read Sagebrush Rose Ranch, she flicked her gaze at him. “I said I’m no longer in the will.” Then she opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

He climbed into the passenger seat of the work truck and was glad he had plenty of leg space. The cab was made for a big cowboy. Across the expanse of the seat, he watched her start the engine, which came roaring alive with a low rumble, and his gaze caught on her long legs. An image of them laying over his shoulders and his dick deep inside her sent a trigger through his body. He wouldn’t mind one bit exploring her flexibility again…and again.

She must have read his expression because her eyes narrowed. “No.”

“No what?” He jerked his attention to her face, but it wasn’t much safer. Even the shadow of the ballcap replaced on her head didn’t dull the shine in her eyes. Each time he’d brought her to orgasm, she’d looked straight at him with that look, one that made a man get hooked right quick.

“Has anyone ever told you wear your emotions on your sleeve?” She backed the truck up, and instead of heading toward the gravel lane, she went the opposite direction into a worn path in the grass.

“I think you have an imagination.” The tired old truck bounced noisily over the ruts in the field, and his head dang near hit the roof.

“Oh? So I was way off the mark? You don’t want a repeat of what we shared at the hotel room?” Her words had a tang about them.

“You’re right. I want nothing more than to rip those jeans off your body and sink myself inside you, but you’ve imagined it, too.”

Was it his “imagination” that she pressed on the gas and intentionally hit another rut? He bounced around the seat.

“There’s that ego again. I knew it wasn’t too far gone.”

“Maybe you should try missing those ruts,” he said evenly.

“You don’t like my driving?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I hate it.” He smirked.

She turned the wheel to the right and drove past several barns and a pasture full of sheep. She swerved around a flock of chickens pecking at grass. “We don’t cage our chickens. Only pasture-raised will do.”

“So you’re a chicken enthusiast? Interesting.”

“Every living thing deserves humane treatment.” She braked in front of a building that needed some repairs.

“What’s this?” He took a long look at the structure.

“Home sweet home…for you,” she said without cracking a smile. “After our discussion last night about the hands running amuck and your desire to speak to them, I thought what better way for you to observe them than to stay here with them.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“You aren’t afraid of associating with the hands, are you? After all, you did say you wanted to see the ins and outs of the ranch. What better way is there to learn everything you need to know?” She might not have cracked a smile but her eyes dazzled in silent laughter. “Don’t worry. I had one of the hands grab your bags from the guest room.”

He finally understood her intentions. She was testing his limits, clearly not any more interested in the merger than he was. “How thoughtful of you,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. Despite his irritation, he showed no visible displeasure at the idea of staying in the bunkhouse, barely better than a barn. He would probably prefer the barn over sharing space with the hands. During his military career, he had spent time in terrible accommodations. So, he knew he could sleep anywhere.

“Get settled in and I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Peachy.”

She laughed. “Today is chili night for the hands. I hear that’s a very captivating night at the bunkhouse. That’s why we have the outhouse for extra in case it’s needed.” She pointed off into the distance at a port-a-potty.

He’d rather skip chili night. He knew precisely how a good pot of chili could make grown men act like children. “Fine.” He started to slam the door, but she caught him.

“Have fun.”

He slammed the door, and she drove away, kicking up dust in her wake.

---