So Tough To Tame. Victoria Dahl

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СКАЧАТЬ I’ll admit to. Is Charlie all settled in? I haven’t seen her yet.”

      “Nate gave her the key a couple of hours ago, and she took the lease to read over. Which Rayleen also didn’t like. She likes you cowboys who just sign the thing without even glancing at it.”

      “We are adventurers at heart.”

      “Or romantic fools.”

      “That, too.”

      She winked. “Want a beer?”

      “No, I was just checking in on the new tenant. I heard about some winter work up near Yellowstone, so I’m gonna head up there and check it out. I’m fine through fall, but I’m hoping to find enough work to get me through to spring.”

      “You’ll find something, Walker. People like your face.”

      “Ha. That they do.” People did like his face, thank God. It was one of the few things he had going for him. Otherwise, he was just another cowboy among thousands. A good one, granted. Good with his hands. Good with horses. Willing to endure heat and cold and snow and rain, not to mention low pay and physically punishing work for fifty years, give or take a dozen.

      But people liked his face, so he’d been able to get jobs at dude ranches, which offered work that paid a little more and hurt a little less, as long as you didn’t mind working with tourists. He didn’t. But this damn sure wasn’t dude ranch season.

      He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you later, Jenny. Have a good day, Miss Rayleen.”

      Rayleen shooed him away without looking up.

      She’d get over it, and Charlie had a place to stay. His good deed was done, and he was wrapped up in his own troubles before he even stepped outside.

      Finding work wasn’t really a problem. He’d already gotten plenty of jobs at an old dude ranch he’d worked for years before, and they’d likely hire him on permanently in the spring. He had enough savings to get through winter. Things should be fine.

      But if stories were circulating about him and the boss’s wife... Shit. He’d really fucked up. Every boss had a wife. And none of them wanted their women sleeping with the hired hands.

      Still, something more than that was tugging at his brain. Maybe—

      His thoughts were sliced in two when he glanced up and saw a woman struggling to get a big round table up the front steps of the Stud Farm.

      “Charlie?” he called, rushing forward to take the table from her hands.

      She looked up, her brown hair sliding over her shoulders as she turned. Her light gray eyes went wide. “Oh, my God! Walker, is that you behind that beard?”

      “It’s me,” he said with a grin that widened the longer he looked down at her. She was still damn cute. Actually, she’d gone from cute to pretty at some point in the past ten years. “It’s good to see you, Charlie. Can I take this somewhere for you?” He lifted the table a few inches.

      She shot his hands a look of irritation. “I can’t believe you can just tote that thing around like it’s nothing. I had to roll it like a barrel just to get it across the lawn.”

      “I see that.” He plucked a few clumps of dirt and grass off the table and lifted it up to his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take it upstairs.”

      “Thanks.”

      “After you,” he insisted. She held the door open for him, then started up the stairs to the landing above.

      Walker followed right behind, noticing that she was obviously still an athlete. Still slim and tight and strong. But not quite as slim as she’d been in high school. No, now there were hips. And an ass. And black leather boots that hugged her calves. And most of all, there were those awesome skinny jeans showing off all the changes.

      Yeah, Charlie was obviously just as nice as she’d always been. But maybe sweeter than ever before.

      He glanced at his apartment door as he passed.

      She was certainly much closer.

      Shit. Maybe this good deed wouldn’t go unpunished, after all.

      * * *

      “SWEET MOTHER OF everything hot,” Charlie muttered under her breath as she watched Walker Pearce’s biceps flex and bunch as he maneuvered her pine table through the doorway of her apartment. He wore a beat-up gray T-shirt with a Stetson logo on it, tight jeans, ancient boots and a black cowboy hat that threw a shadow over his blue eyes. But that was fine. She didn’t need to see his smiling eyes right now. She was too busy taking in his body.

      His shoulders hadn’t been that wide in high school. His arms hadn’t been so thick. And he hadn’t been quite that tall. Jesus, he must be six-four now.

      All in all, he looked like a dangerous, forbidden, older-brother version of the Walker she’d once had a crush on. Every butterfly she’d ever felt for him swarmed back to life in an instant, only now their restless wings brushed more sensitive areas. There was no reason for her stomach to feel nervous. After all, that wasn’t the part of her body she wanted Walker to touch.

      He set the table down close to the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “Is this good?”

      “Oh, that’s definitely good.” She glanced at his left hand to be sure there was no ring. Not that she could imagine Walker married. He’d be a terrible husband. Carefree and aimless and throwing off pheromonal invitations to every ovary in town.

      She was still trying to take all of him in when his chest suddenly filled her vision and he swept her up into a hug. “How the hell are you, Charlie?”

      He squeezed her so tight the air rushed out of her lungs. When he set her back down, she inhaled nothing but the scent of him. Leather and hay and clean sky and something so deliciously spicy that her mouth watered.

      “You look good,” he said, holding her at arm’s length and giving her a once-over. “City life has been good to you.”

      She wanted to say something witty. Something sexy. But for the first time in a decade she was that high school girl again, too shy and uncertain to flirt with Walker Pearce. “Thanks.”

      “What else can I do for you, darlin’? You got a bed?”

      “What?” Her cheeks flamed as if her body didn’t want him to know what she’d been thinking. Stupid, brainless body. “A bed?” Yes, please, a bed!

      “Surely you didn’t haul a mattress up by yourself?”

      “Oh, a bed!” She laughed nervously while her brain screamed for this retro Charlie to get her shit together. You are not a sixteen-year-old virgin. You are an experienced woman who likes sex. Lots of sex.

      Retro Charlie won out with a tiny giggle. “Thanks, Walker. It’s down in the rental truck. I’ll help.”

      “Nah, you stay here and start unpacking those boxes. I’ll have your bed set up in no time.”

      This СКАЧАТЬ