Page 6 of The Cowboy's Close Quarters Claim

Apparently my dinner is enough to pull him out of whatever trance he got caught in there for a minute.

"Of course it's steak." I hold the foil pack toward him and give him an evil smile when I see the envy on his face.

"What was I supposed to bring for dinner? Canned beans?"

Gunner looks at the can of chili he's holding with a leather work glove used as a pot holder. Now his face is contorted in a look of regret as he eyes his dinner and then my own.

"Gimme a bite." He moves closer to me, reaching with his fork.

Laughing hysterically, I pull my dinner out of his reach, but I don't exactly move away from him.

"Should have planned better, old man. Not my fault you can't cook."

Gunner grunts as he stabs into his chili with a vendetta.

"Didn't know I was going to be faced with so much temptation," he grumbles under his breath.

I catch his gaze sliding in my direction as I settle in beside him, and for a second I think he's looking at more than just my steak.

After we finish our dinner, I stoke the campfire back up to ward off the chill that's crept into the evening air in the hills while Gunner adds another splash of his whiskey to our cups.

It's not enough to catch a buzz, just enough for a few slow sips while we while away another hour before heading to bed.

I might have taken pity on him and let him have a bite of the steak from my dinner. Maybe I wanted to show off that I know my way around a campfire meal. Maybe I wanted to show him what he was missing out on. Maybe I wanted him wanting more.

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't some sort of primal desire to prove I'd make a good wife.

That's what I tell myself while we fall into conversation, anyway. It's just an unfortunate attraction. Nothing about Gunner O'Leary has me thinking about putting down roots with a man and filling a house with his children.

"I'm going to bed."

My announcement takes Gunner of guard. It's a sudden interruption of our conversation, but dammit! I can't stay out here with him any longer.

Every time I move a little bit closer to him, he moves a little bit farther away. Making sure there's always just enough space between us to keep from touching me, even though I'm pretty damn sure I'm not the only one itching for contact.

Maybe he's better at remembering what a bad idea it is to cross the lines between boss and employee, or maybe he's too damn stupid to see what's right in front of him.

"I'll see you in the morning then," he says, that gruff edge back in his voice as I head to the solitude of my little shack for the night.

An hour later, I'm still awake. Thoughts of Gunner racing through my brain and through my nerve endings, long after he's doused the fire and gone silent outside.

Finally, I give in to the ache of my swollen clit, knowing there is no way I'm going to get to sleep without taking the edge off with a little self-care first.

Gunner

Damn woman hasme so wound up I can't think.

After she went in to bed, I sat staring into the last of the embers for longer than was good for me. Thinking about how close she'd been all night and how the herbal scent of her shampoo suited her when she pulled her hair free of the braid.

How bad I wanted to be the one combing my fingers through those honey gold locks and how good she'd look with her skin flushed and glistening with sweat while I took her beside the fire.

I'd be all over it in a heartbeat if I didn't think she'd kick my ass for trying.

We had a nice evening, but getting to know more about Clem has only managed to get the woman worked further under my skin.

She's got me feeling something more than just lust. All night, I've been listening to her laugh and thinking how bad I need to hear more of it.

Especially after hearing how she ended up on my ranch-- after her own family shafted her out of inheriting the land she'd grown up on.

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