Page 15 of Claiming Bennett
I dump the last bag of feed into the storage bins before crumpling the bag in my hands and stuffing it into the overfull trash can. It’ll make too much noise if I take it out to the dumpster now, but I’ll need to empty it in the morning.
The creak of the barn door snaps me out of my thoughts. It’s immediately followed by shuffling, hesitant footsteps, and my brow creases in curiosity.
It must be David, probably ready to ream my ass for working when I’m supposed to be resting. Confusion breaks that idea apart quickly—David walks confidently, and whoever’s coming definitely isn’t wearing boots. It sounds like they’re wearing something soft, not even sneakers, but maybe?—
I break that train of thought off before I can sink into memories of the cute little slippers Maggie was wearing the first time I saw her.
There’s no reason for her to be out here, especially at this time of night. The sun is firmly beneath the horizon, dusk settling into true evening. Bo mentioned earlier how much she hates getting dirty, that he and his older sister both help on the ranch when they’re home, but Maggie refuses to step foot out here. It’s much more likely that it’s Bo or David, probably wondering why there’s still a light on out here.
I lean out of the feed room with a sheepish grin on my face, prepared for a dressing down about resting when I’m told to, and freeze at what I see.
Sweet little Magnolia, all alone in the barn, glancing between stalls.
She’s in the same silky pajamas she wore when I first saw her. They bare so much skin that it makes my fingers itch with the need to touch, to leave bruises of my fingerprints all over those toned thighs.
And she’s wearing the slippers too.
Pristine white and fluffy, shaped like bunnies complete with little button noses and whiskers.
God, I’m so fucked.
“Magnolia?”
She jumps at the sound of my voice, her arms coming up to clutch at her own waist in surprise. The movement stretches the thin fabric of her tank top even tighter over her breasts, and I tear my gaze away before I start drooling. I didn’t get to see her before I left the doctor’s earlier, and the sight of her now hits me like a bullet.
“Bennett!” she squeaks. She laughs at her own surprise even as a flush builds on her cheeks, and I stomp down viciously on the part of my brain that thinks it’s cute. “Jesus, you scared me.”
She walks over to join me in the doorway to the feed room as I brush my hands off my jeans, the soft glow of the bare lightbulb making her blonde hair look like a halo of curls around her head. I arch a brow at her when she comes to a stop a hair too close to me to be casual, but I don’t step back. Stray bits of hay cling to the slippers, making her look even more out of place.
The barn is dark and quiet, just like the world outside, nothing but the chirp of crickets to break the silence. It almost feels like nothing is real right now. Like I could get away with anything.
That’s a dangerous line of thought.
“What are you doing out here so late, sweet Magnolia?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She scowls at the nickname, but doesn’t correct me this time, instead just huffing and rolling her eyes. “What areyoudoing out here so late? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
I grin at the obvious attempt to skirt my question, and the even more obvious antagonization. Ranch hands are notorious for being early to bed, early to rise, but I’ve never been the type to knock out as soon as the sun is down.
“I work here, in case you forgot,” I say blandly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I had some things to wrap up since I was at the doctor’s earlier.”
Her eyes tear away from the breadth of my chest and shoulders to find the bandages wrapped neatly around my forearm, and she takes another daring step closer. My breath catches in my lungs when she reaches out and pries my arm free. Her perfume invades my senses again, that same sweet floral scent that’s been haunting my thoughts.
Her fingertips are soft and careful as she traces around the edge of the bandage, honey-colored eyes wide and sweet enough to rot my teeth as she looks up at me.
“How’s it holding up?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
My hand clenches into a fist in a desperate bid for some sort of control, but she’s close enough for me to feel the heat of her skin. I’m playing a losing game, and I know it.
“Not too bad. Pain meds help. It wasn’t that bad in the first place.” My voice is rough with barely restrained desire, and she shivers at the sound of it. “Doc did a good job of stitching me up.”
She takes another half step toward me, her fingers slipping away from the bandage to crawl further up my arm. There’s no hesitation in her movements, bold and brash and demanding even though her eyes swim with nerves and excitement. What the hell does this brat think she’s doing? I’ve warned myself offof her too many times to count, but I never expected her to come onto me so strongly. This though… this is as good as a written invitation.
One more step forward, and her body presses up against mine, the space between us evaporating along with my patience.
I pivot and pin her against the worn wood of the barn wall in one smooth movement, slotting my knee between her thighs as she lets out a shocked little gasp.
Her nails dig into my arm, and her other hand clutches at the hem of my shirt. She’s so fuckingtiny, short enough that I have to stoop to meet her eyes, slim enough that I could probably wrap my hands around her waist and have my fingers overlap.Fuck. I groan just at the thought, leaning down far enough to rest my forehead on hers and stare into those tempting eyes.
