Page 6 of Savage

“Oh my God!” I groan playfully and go back to stuffing my face. “You’re a mess. It’s all talk, anyway. I couldn’t really ask anyone to pretend to be my fiancé. Besides that, if I’m being real, my father would still choose money over anything I bringto the table. It’s what he does. Anyway… did you fill out that assessment I emailed you yet? I want to set you up on a date.”

Opal shakes her head. “No, we talked about this. I’m not doing it. Dating is the lowest form of entertainment. I’ve got like four blankets to knit, a barn to repaint, a few horses to tend to, and a squeaking gate to fix before I think about dating.”

“Really? So you’re not even kind of interested to see if you match with Buck Dalton? I mean, I think you two might hit it off.”

Her cheeks turn pink, and she steps out into the hallway. “See you in the morning.”

I doubt she’ll ever fill out the assessment, but I love playing matchmaker. It’s what gave me the idea for Mail Order Ranch. Technically, I don’t do as much as the therapist does, but I do get to see how everyone’s personalities click together, and it’s been really rewarding. So far, we’ve had two weddings and three relationships that’ve gone on past the cabin stage, which is a pretty great track record considering we’ve only been around for a short while.

I guess none of that matters to my father, though. Frustrated, I stand from the desk and make my way to the couch, stripping off the suit jacket I’ve been wearing all day before unbuttoning my skirt. I won’t be able to do this tomorrow when the cameras are installed. I hate that we need them, but I have to do something to protect everyone’s privacy, and people act right when they know they’re being watched.

Leaning my head back on the couch, I close my eyes and drag in a deep breath. Whenever I’m stressed, I relax by conjuring pictures of the forest. I imagine sitting on the edge of a rocky riverbank, soaking in the sun while cool mountain water trickles over my feet. It’s a visualization technique I learned on a trip to India my father took me on a few years ago. Usually, itdoes the trick right away. Today, though, I can’t get the image of Clyde and his tight jeans out of my head.

The way they cling to his ass. The way they cling… to everything. Not only that, but his wide shoulders, his strong arms, and the way he handled that gun.

What am I doing?

I open my eyes and shake my head. I really need to get a grip.

Chapter Four

Clyde

It’s at least nine o’clock, and my guys have just rolled out for the night. A lot got done today, but there’s more than enough left to keep us busy. The guys want the money, and I can’t blame them for it. That money is a huge bonus.

I pull open the lodge door and step inside, sheltering from the frigid cold of a Colorado night. It’s closing in on spring, but the temperatures will be near freezing at night until June. It’s what we get for living at this elevation. The bonus is definitely the views. Nothing beats the velvet canvas of twinkling stars up here, no matter the temperature.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you gave orders and went home early to your mega-mansion.” I’m half kidding because I know she’s renting a small cabin up on the hill, but half not because I really don’t know what she’s doing here this late. She doesn’t look as uptight as she usually does either. Her skirt is unbuttoned at the side, her blouse is hanging untucked, and her hair is loosely pulled back, with red strands framing her face.

She jumps when she hears my voice and turns back with a cup of coffee in her hand, her eyes rolling to the side. “Yeah, I’m a total slacker. You’re hilarious. You out lurking around, seeing what you can shoot with that gun, or are you coming to annoy me?”

I lean against the coffee station and watch her lower down onto the sofa opposite the grand fireplace. I remember building that thing. It took three weeks to source enough river rock to get it right. “I think I did my share of shootin’ today, but I’ve still got the drive home. Who knows what I’ll find?”

Her eyes roll and she sips her coffee. I’m not sure why this look has me so turned on. Maybe it’s because she finally looks relaxed. I can’t say I’ve ever seen her in that state before.

“So why you here then?”

She drags in a heavy breath and lets it out slowly, holding the mug close to her face as though she’s trying to absorb the heat. “I’m brainstorming.”

“About…” I pour my own cup of coffee and sit beside her. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in the lodge before. We built it and moved on to another project. It turned out pretty great if you ask me.

“About… none of your business,” she snarks.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Good.” She sits up straighter and stares at the fireplace as though the crackle is relaxing. Whatever happened today must be huge. “Is that one of your kills?” She nods toward the deer head mounted above the fireplace. It’s a fourteen-point and would’ve been an impressive shot. “No, a buddy of mine had him mounted and brought him up here for display. He shot the moose that hangs in the other room, too.”

She nods as though she’s less than interested. Maybe I missed the sarcasm in her question. “Why do you country folk feel the need to kill things and put their heads on the wall?”

“It’s the heritage of it all. Storytelling, pride, that sort of thing.”

She narrows her brows. “Couldn’t a picture do the same thing?”

“Sure, probably.” I take another sip of coffee and wonder why I’m still sitting here. We have nothing in common and this conversation is strained as hell, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her. She’s gorgeous and part of me is sort of enjoying the gentle ribbing.

I need help. Serious fucking help. I shouldn’t be staring at some twenty something’s ass. I shouldn’t be aroused every time she shifts on the couch. I shouldn’t be anxiously waiting for her to turn around so I can see how hard her nipples are again, half hoping the fire didn’t warm them.

“So, what’s your deal? Who are you outside all of this?”

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