Grif turned his head and looked out the window. He could see the outline of the Bitterroot Mountains. He’d spent a lot of time over the years exploring those peaks—pretty much the only time he’d ever been happy in Sunshine. But he hadn’t meant to actually stay here. Had he? Getting away after the wedding would probably be for the best. Having a job would be even better. “I’m interested.”
“Good. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Grif disconnected and lay back, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, thinking it was sort of nice not to be worried about dying today. He could get used to that.
Then he heard a soft, musical laugh. He knew that laugh, and not just because the sound of it made him hard. It was Kate, and he supposed he knew why he thought he heard her now. After that kiss they’d shared last night, he’d dreamed about her, about being wrapped up in her soft curves, buried deep. And now he was imagining that she was here. Which probably made him crazy.
But then he heard it again. Rolling out of bed, he strode straight to the window.
Reid Ranching was more like an empire these days, but the biggest ranch in the corporation still remained this one. For as far as the eye could see was Reid land. Most of the rugged landscape was outlined by the jagged peaks of the Bitterroot Mountains, formed by glaciers during the Ice Age. At this time of year the huge snowpack was melting, producing a massive water runoff, filling a myriad of streams and rivers carving their way through the valley floor.
Kate stood in the yard surrounded by the majestic view. Next to her was his dad. They were both talking animatedly and laughing.
His dad was laughing.
It took Grif a moment to realize why he felt so shocked. It was because he couldn’t remember the last time he and his dad had laughed together.
Maybe because they’d never laughed together.
And yet Donald was out there playing the part of the charming rancher, laying it on thick, too, and Grif could only stare at the broad, genuine smile on his face. He’d never gotten any of that from the man, ever.
It was Kate’s doing. She had a way of bringing the best out of someone. Whatever she was saying had his dad practically bent over with amusement. Then the two of them shook hands, and Donald walked off toward one of the barns.
Kate leaned against the fencing and looked out at the land, hugging herself as if a little chilled. She wore a brightly colored skirt, navy blue tights tucked into boots, and another sweater, this one with a row of teeny-tiny buttons down the front. Her hair had been contained on top of her head, held there by a . . . pencil? Strands were trailing down the sides of her face and throat, all golden red silk against her skin.
She didn’t look like any teacher he’d ever had, except maybe in his fantasy life. She’d certainly been his favorite fantasy last night, and everything about her—each smile, each sexy step, hell her every breath—put him in overdrive.
Which meant they had a problem.
Or at least he did.
She turned her head and met Grif’s gaze through the window. Seeing him clearly surprised her—unpleasantly so, given the way her eyes widened slightly and then narrowed.
Maybe she was remembering last night, too. He’d honestly believed he could actually resist her—until she’d kissed him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but getting his mouth on hers had knocked his socks off. He’d never made a habit of turning women down, and turning this woman down had been far more difficult than he’d imagined, so he hoped like hell he got some sort of credit for acting like a gentleman.
He sure as hell hadn’t walked away in his dreams afterward. Nope, he’d taken her right there in the den against the wall, with her cute little skirt up around her ears and the heels of those sexy boots digging into his ass, and it had been extremely mutually satisfying.
He realized Kate’s gaze had fallen south. Grif looked down at himself and remembered—he’d slept in the buff and stood there in the window butt-ass na**d.
The sill hit right above his groin so she couldn’t see much, though her cheeks were flushed. Still, she didn’t play coy or shy and look away. Nope, it was him who moved, and he didn’t want to think about why as he yanked on clothes and headed outside.
Kate had moved to the horse pens and was stroking a huge quarter horse named Woodrow. Woodrow was old as dirt, but he still had a thing for the ladies and was leaning heavily on Kate, sniffing out her pockets. This was making her laugh again, that soft, musical laugh that did things to Grif’s gut. Stopping with a good ten feet between them, he watched her a minute. Woodrow snotted on her skirt, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Hey,” he finally said.
“Oh!” She jumped and then turned to face him. She still didn’t smile. Which of course was what happened when a beautiful, adorably sexy woman threw herself at you, and you somehow managed to resist her.
Yeah. He was probably going to hate himself for that for a good long time.
She put a hand to her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly like she’d just gone running. “You okay?” he asked.
“Did you know that your right lung takes in more air than your left one?”
“No, I didn’t.” He was making her nervous again. He searched for something to say to put her at ease, but putting pretty women at ease wasn’t exactly his forte. Unless he was trying to get them na**d. “Are you hungover?”
“No.” She paused. “However, I don’t remember anything I said or did last night in the den.”
He took in the slight hope in her expression and unbelievably found a laugh.
“It was worth a shot,” she said on a sigh. “I guess I hoped that if I pretended not to remember your rejection of my sloppy attempt at seduction then I could tell myself it never happened.”
She thought he’d rejected her. He started to tell her that her coming on to him had been the best—and most terrifying—thing that had happened to him in a damn long time. But since he didn’t know if he was strong enough to turn her down a second time, he kept his mouth shut.
Kate smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt and closely examined a speck of lint on her sleeve, and then it was his turn to sigh. Damn, being the good guy sucked. “You need to be more careful,” he said. “Just about any other guy there last night would’ve taken advantage of what you were offering.”
She lifted her head at that, staring at him with two high spots of color on her cheeks. “I wasn’t offering anything.”
They both knew that was a big, fat fib. “Listen,” he said. “Guys are dicks. Or at least they think with their dicks. You can’t trust them.”
“None of them?”
“Not a single one,” he said, and meant it.
“I kissed you,” she said, as if he needed reminding. “I threw myself at you. And yet you managed to control yourself.” She met his gaze evenly. “Either I was totally repugnant to you, or you were one hell of a gentleman.”
Shit, he didn’t have the brain capacity to spar with her this morning. She was sharp as hell and way too good for the likes of him.
She cocked her head, waiting on his answer, and if it had been any other situation, he might have laughed at her teacher-to-errant-student expression, which she had down. It should’ve turned him off, but instead he wanted to push her up against the fence railing and show her exactly how not “repugnant” she was.
Which would be an incredibly stupid thing to do. “What are you doing here?” he settled for instead.
“Dropping off some seedlings and then coming back with the kids in an hour.”
“Seedlings?”
“We’re going to plant them along the creek beds,” she said. “It’s a living science project that your dad so sweetly agreed to.”
Grif nearly laughed. He’d heard his father described in any number of ways, but sweet had never been one of them.
“We’ll come back weekly to check in on their progress and report on the growth,” Kate said. She stopped talking and frowned up at him.
And then, before he realized what she was up to, she closed the distance between them, went up on tiptoe, and pushed his hair back from his forehead and temple. “Oh, Grif,” she said softly, a world of emotion in her voice. “What happened?”
Shit. He’d forgotten to put on his baseball cap, leaving his four-inch scar in plain view. He started to back away from her, but she gripped his arms as she leaned in, pressing her mouth to the scar in a gentle kiss that made his throat feel uncomfortably tight. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Kissing it better.” She settled back down on the balls of her feet and gave him some desperately needed space. “Did it work?”
He had to clear his throat to speak, and he still sounded like he’d just swallowed glass. “You think a kiss can make something all better?”
She met his gaze, her own filled with plenty of emotions, but thankfully pity wasn’t one of them. “Yes.”
He let out a breath. She was right. A kiss from those lips would make just about anything feel better. He wanted her to do it again and then work her way south, to the other body parts that could use some kisses right about now. He saw the rise and fall of her br**sts with each breath she took, and it was f**king with his head more than a little. “So the left lung, huh?”
It took her a moment, and then she looked down at her breasts. Making a sound low in her throat, she crossed her arms over herself. “You turned these down,” she reminded him.
He loved that while she looked a little prim and repressed on the outside, on the inside she was anything but. She wasn’t shy, and she had no problem stating her mind.
It was sexy as hell.
It wasn’t often he allowed regrets, but he was starting to regret that last night hadn’t turned into something between them. And it was exactly that way of thinking that could get him into big trouble. You’re stronger than this, he told himself.
Not today you’re not . . .
Not when he was back on his dad’s turf, out of his element, and completely off balance. And much as he’d like to blame it all on Kate’s fathomless eyes and pinup girl mouth, he couldn’t.
“Will you tell me about it?” she asked softly, her gaze back on his scar.
“No.”
But because she reacted to that like he’d slapped her, he softened his voice. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
Her eyes never left his as she pulled a trick from her teacher handbook and said nothing. He was to fill the silence, he knew, and hell if it didn’t work. “It’s healing,” he said. “I’m fine.” Well, except for the migraines, sleepless nights, and ringing ears.
She nodded and remained silent, for which he was eternally grateful, though her eyes remained very serious and on his until her cell phone buzzed.
Saved by the bell.
She broke eye contact to look at her phone. “Oh, crap. I’m late. I’ve gotta go.”
He nodded. Going was the right step here. Absolutely the right step. He was going, too.
But then she whirled back around to say something and collided right into him. Her hands slid up his chest searching for purchase, gripping his shirt. He held her upright until she caught her balance, the whole spectacle taking less than two seconds. She let go almost as fast as she’d grabbed him, with a soft laugh and a murmured apology, but the feel of her warm, curvy body up against his imprinted on his brain.
“I . . .” She broke off with a low laugh. “I forgot what I was going to say.” She stared up at him.
Asking for trouble, a little voice said as he slowly stepped into her. Stop me, Kate.
She didn’t, and between one blink and the next she was in his arms. He lowered his mouth but didn’t have to go far because she went up on tiptoe, meeting him halfway. Before last night it had been a damn long time since he’d had human contact, since he’d experienced the scent of a woman engulfing him, the feel of her wrapped around him, the softness of her skin and heat of her soft body . . .
She seemed to need this every bit as much as he did. Hell, she practically crawled up his body, which crumbled his last wall of defense. Raise the white flag; he was going down. When his tongue stroked hers, she moaned, a sound of arousal from deep in her throat that revved his engine. Then she deepened the kiss with a soft sigh, like he was the best thing she’d ever tasted in her life.
And he knew she wasn’t going anywhere. In one move he had her backed up against the fence. His hand was heading toward her breast and her knee was sliding up the outside of his thigh when Woodrow stretched his long neck over the rail and pressed his wet nose in between them.
Kate jerked back, removing the hand she’d had on Grif’s ass. Fucking horse. He slid Woodrow a look that had glue factory all over it, but the old geezer just snorted and then frisked him.
With a sigh, Grif stroked the old guy’s velvety neck, which was all he really wanted, the ’ho, and then trotted off.
The moment broken, Kate backed up a few steps. “I remembered what I was going to say.”
“Yeah?”
“I was going to say that I don’t plan on accosting any unwilling groomsmen at tonight’s rehearsal dinner, so you should be safe.” She blushed. “But I can’t say that with a straight face now.”
“Kate—”
She shook her head. “I really gotta go.”
And then she was gone before he could tell her that he wouldn’t mind being accosted.
God, he was so screwed up.
Instead of heading straight back to the house, he entered the barn, lured by the long-forgotten scent of hay and horses and leather—distinctly Sunshine smells. They had the years melting away, taking him back to a time when everything he’d done had been trouble or driven by trouble or in the search of trouble, and he’d most definitely found it.