“Sure,” I snarked, rolling my eyes. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
I returned to the conversation on my phone.
Me: I do like to leave men speechless.
Me: But please tell me you’ve been wearing your brace.
txrancher87: The brace slows me down too much.
txrancher87: I ice my knee every night though.
I held up my phone and let Rowdy read the screen. “Told ya.”
I put on a very stern expression and took a selfie, then sent it to him.
Me: This is my disappointed face.
txrancher87: Fine. I’ll dig it out.
I sighed and Rowdy hip-checked me. “Take it he’s being stubborn about the brace?”
“Said he’ddig it out.” I wrinkled my nose, annoyed my favorite rancher was in pain and too obstinate to get it fixed.
Rowdy chuckled. “Doesn’t Daddy Big Bucks get jealous when you visit Kit?”
I tossed imaginary hair over my shoulder. “What Rich doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
Rich was my current and favorite sugar daddy. I had a rule about not double-dipping my sugar daddies, mostly because the last time Rich was in town I’d been heartbroken when he had to go back home early.
When I started seeing someone new, however, he looked up my spicy account and started leaving all kinds of jealous comments.
Hey, sexy boy. What kind of sugar daddy doesn’t have a yacht?
Oof, this one looks old. You need someone younger and more vigorous.
A Mercedes? He might as well be driving you around in a Honda.
When Rich reached out to let me know he’d be coming to Austin for the next several months and asked me to join him, I caved. Hard.
Then dropped that other guy like a bad habit.
Rowdy and I laughed and hugged, and I climbed into my brand-new, fully loaded Porsche 911, a gift from Rich. He wasn’t much as a lover, but more than made up for it with all the shiny things, thus the Daddy Big Bucks nickname. Despite what I’d said to Rowdy—and the fact I thought Kit was hot as hell—I was a loyal whore.
One cock at a time, thank you very much.
I hit the curved highway the locals called Devil’s Backbone and started out toward Canyon Lake; glad I was heading out before it got too dark. The Baker Dude Ranch was off the main highway a few miles, and those back roads were hella twisty.
Before meeting Kit, the only other time I’d seen a dude ranch was when I watched City Slickers on VHS at my grandma’s house, and that ranch had nothing on this place. My favorite part of the drive was always the view as I rounded the last bend. It was the Texas version of that moment in Pride and Prejudice when Elizabeth first sees Darcy’s ancestral home.
The main building was a gorgeous piece of modern architecture, made of aged cedar and black steel and lit just right by uplights and the stars overhead. Set a little farther back weretwo equally sleek houses—one for Kit, one for his ex—looking like they belonged on the cover ofArchitectural Digest.
Beyond those, cabins circled a man-made lake and a patchwork of paddocks: horses, livestock, even a few exotics. Every inch of it had the same warm, modernist-meets-nature aesthetic.
Rowdy had mentioned Kit’s ex designed the whole thing, and honestly? Brava.
Word on the street was that he’d never gotten over her, and no wonder. It took a special kind of human to pull off a masterpiece on what had originally been, according to Rowdy, a scrubby plot of land with only a semi-decent view.
I turned onto Kit’s private drive and pulled up to his house, loving the way its careful design gave it an organic sense of home. I hopped out, carrying my medical bag and a plastic container with leftovers for Kit, who was waiting for me outside. From the pained look on his face, I could tell I had my work cut out for me.
