“The fuck? I told you guys I was…”
Shit.
“Excuse the hell outta me, boss!” She’s on her ass and pissed. “It’s not my fault you fuckin’ planted my stakes too damn close to yours! Now my hat’s in the dirt, and my hat never touches the dirt!”
What the hell did I just do?I fucking bulldozed her because I’m two hundred and fifteen pounds of six foot two muscle and testosterone, and she probably only weighs a buck thirty at most. I reach down and offer my hand. “I’m sorry, blondie, I should’ve looked up before I stepped out. Are you alright?”
“Stop calling me fuckin’ blondie. I have a name, use it.” She refuses my hand, picks up her hat and stands—her brows pinned and the rest of her face hard. “I’m not a princess, boss. I’m a cowboy just like the rest of you and I don’t need any of you treating me like I’m porcelain.” She dusts off her pants and places her hat back on her head. Her hair’s down—it’s always down. The morning sun reflects off the ribbons of brown, it looks like the most beautiful sunflower I’ve ever seen.
“I didn’t mean it that way, I was just…” She cuts me off and her jaw hardens when she steps closer, dropping her nose, looking up and down my naked torso. Throwing on a shirt was on my to-do list, after I did up my pants but—Oh shit!I never finished doing that.
“I’m gonna bite my tongue because I work for you… but your fly’s undone, and your belly button has some fluff in it.” A little dazed at what just happened, I watch her turn her back on me and march over to where the rest of the boys are having breakfast. I button and zip my pants, then take the shirt off my shoulder and pull it over my head. Before I tuck it in, I check my belly button.
Theres’s no fuckin’ fluff in there.
I get it, she’s mad. Itwasmy fault, and I feel bad about her hat, but damn it’s just a hat. They cost a mint, but she acts like it’s her most prized possession.I take down my tent and when I’m finished; I take hers down too. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Dixie Wilder is getting under my skin and there’s only been one other woman on planet earth who’s been able to do that.
Whatever this is, I’ve got to snap out of it. As I roll the tarp, I hear her spurs, she’s coming up on me—hard and annoyed. “What’re you doing? I canhandle my tent. There're no cougars this mornin’. If you wouldn’t do it for any of the others, don’t do it for me.”
“Listen, blondie…” I try not to let my temper get the best of me. The last few days have been long and I don’t care if she doesn’t like it—apparently I get off on teasing her, so I’ll call her blondie if I damn well please. “I wouldtake a tent down for any of my men, if the occasion called for it. It just so happens I knocked your hard-ass on the ground, and put your hat in the dirt. This is my way of apologizing.”
“I don’t need your apologies. No one’s ever apologized to me in my life, and frankly I don’t give a shit. This is my job and I plan on keepin’ it. I’m used to people calling me names and trying to hurt me.”
I drop the tarp I just rolled up onto the ground and she swoops down to pick it up. I watch as she hefts it over her shoulder, glares right through me, then spins around. My eyes are on her back as she makes her way to the supply truck. But without thinking, my gaze drops and I can’t help but notice the way her hips swing.
She needs a hard spank on that ass is what she needs…
Fuck me. I’m just a horny son of a bitch, who hasn’t been laid in over five years. Have mercy.
Chapter Nine
Throwing all my gear into the bed of the supply truck, I grunt. I’m toeing the line of disrespect, and I know it. Ending up like Grady doesn’t sound fun, but damnit, I’m me. I’ve always defended myself, taken care of myself. Me and I alone. I smack my hands on my chaps and head over to get Blaze. She’s done way better than I have at adjusting here. She seems happy. That’s a good thing. Can I get some of that calm, cool and collected to rub off on me for hell’s sake. I could put my defenses away. I know he didn’t mean to knock me over. But for the love of Pete—that fuckin’ hurt when I landed.
And I had to be a jerk about his belly button, because if I didn’t, I was gonna get caught. Shirtless cowboys? Usually just plain or too skinny. My boss? When I looked at him, I felt a burn between my thighs that I haven’t felt, ever. I could’ve eatenhimfor breakfast. He looked big with clothes on, sure—without? Shoulders, chest, arms, abs…I never thought I was so shallow. Not until that moment. If there was ever a perfect-looking man—I found him. My thoughts are racing through my head when I hear his deep timbre drawl, “Can I have a word?” I wait until he’s right up next to me before I shift to face him.
“Sure, boss. Spit it out so I can get my horse ready.”
“I want a truce. You forgive me for calling you a hardass and I’ll forgive you for being a smart-mouth. Then we can make it up this mountain by tomorrow without all the extra bullshit. How does that sound?”
“Fine.” I spit the one syllable out, my chin and nose tilting a little higher.
“Fine?”
“That’s what I said—fine.”
He takes my chin between his fingers, his jaw hard when he says, “Fine—sir, you mean. You can call me boss, Chris—whatever the hell you want. But if we’re going to be friends, you can’t treat me like a doormat.”
I watch as he drops his hand and turns his back. To hell with whatever else he said. Did I just hear his name for the first time? On the application there wasn’t a damn clue who the actual man running the outfit was. Just the man who was hiring me…Toby. When he called to give me the job, he never mentioned the boss’s name either.
Chris. I wonder if that’s short for Christopher? Christian? Or maybe his mama just gave it to him that way? Doesn’t matter though. I don’t know if I can call him by his government name. Feels weird, above my pay grade for sure. I’ve gotta start biting my damn tongue. I hurry and saddle Blaze. If I lose my temper and my job, at least I’ll still have her.
I brought up the rear today, so I’m riding alone–ish.Brian is close by and we communicate now and then while we push the herd. Brian remains my favorite cowboy here. Those kind eyes make me feel welcome and accepted.
Chris’s eyes make me feel wanted though.Wait, what?! Where the hell did that fuckin’ come from?!
Don’t flatter yourself, Dixie. His eyes don’t want you. There's frustration and annoyance burning there, not desire. Boss…we only call him boss.
I’m in the middle of clearing my thoughts and admiring the landscape on this mountain when I hear him call to us, “We’ve only got a few more miles to the camp, but we’re going to stop for the day, we need to eat and water the horses!” His voice echoes off whatever rocks and suddenly I hear some knocking each other as they fall.
