“Your place is—”
“Shitty?” Ryder pops a cracker slathered with blue cheese and honey into his mouth and grins. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. Exhibit A why being the ‘easy’ one sucks sometimes.” He chews thoughtfully for a moment. “A lot of the time.”
I reach for another cracker, but Ryder beats me to it. He smears it with a good bit of the decadently delicious cheese and a dollop of the local honey the hostess at the Homestead Hen insisted we needed.
Ryder told me I was coming home with him after the epic sex we had in the rain. He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. Just said, “I’m taking you home with me,” and that was that.
He rode my horse back to the barn while I drove his truck, the two of us exchanging sexually tinged obscenities through the truck’s open window as thunder rumbled in the distance.
Luckily the barn was deserted, so we were able to dry off somewhat and untack my horse without anyone being the wiser. Ryder called in a to-go order from the Homestead Hen, and I hid out in the truck while he ran inside to get the food. No one spotted us there either.
At least Ihopeno one spotted us. My phone’s been dead silent since we left a couple hours ago, which I take as a good sign.
Now we’re at his place, a rundown farmhouse—more of a shack, actually—on the far edge of Lucky River Ranch.
“Open your mouth,” Ryder says.
Now I’m the one grinning. “I thought we said dinner first,thenblow jobs.”
“Can you not provoke me for once?” His jaw tics. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here. You know, feed and water you and shitbeforeI defile you.”
I lick my lips, glancing at the tequila soda he made me. “I was hoping defilement would be on the menu tonight.”
“Always. Now open your goddamn mouth, Billie.”
I let him feed me the cracker. The combination of salty and sweet, the creaminess of the cheese and the crunch of the cracker, has me moaning.
Ryder’s eyes darken. “Exactly the sound you make when I’m the one in your mouth.”
“You’re delicious too. I told you that.” I swipe my thumb over the corner of my mouth. “Giving you head is a pleasure, truly.”
Ryder’s hand comes down on the table with athwack.“Billie.”
“Ryder.” I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
“You gotta give me a chance to catch my breath here, baby.”
“I like it when you call me baby.”
His expression softens. “I like calling you baby.” He picks up another cracker and begins to load it up with cheesy goodness. “I meant what I said earlier. That I don’t want you bein’ with anybody else.”
A ferocious roar of happiness rips through my middle. “Good thing I don’t wanna be with anybody else.”
“We’re doing this.”
“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Ryder Rivers?”
“Listen, Billie Wallace, I ain’t askin’. I’m telling you this is what we’re doing—yeah, you’re my girlfriend. Which means I’m your boyfriend.”
I bite my lip. “So bossy. My answer’s yes, by the way.”
Grinning, Ryder leans in and presses a scruffy kiss to my mouth. “Now that that’s settled, you ready for dinner?”
Thunder rumbles overhead, and I glance up at the ceiling. Like the rest of the farmhouse, it’s made of slotted wood, and it looks to be about a hundred years old.
I knew Ryder moved out of Lucky River Ranch’s bunkhouse after Garrett died. That’s when he and his brothers shuffled housing among the property’s various available structures in an attempt to start living less like heathens and more like adults. Ryder apparently drew the short straw, because this place is…rustic to say the least.
“Everyone else got a cushy renovated place.” Ryder reads my thoughts as he piles a pair of plates with filet mignon, roasted butternut squash, and truffled mac ’n’ cheese. “I took this spot because, well, no one else would touch it with a ten-foot pole. I didn’t want to cause a fight.”
