The Rancher's Untamed Heart, page 6
“Oh,” I said. I wanted to ask him more questions about Clint, but it would be rude. Decisions, decisions.
I was saved from having to work on conversing right away by our arrival at the hay barn. I began to do a more thorough inspection of the premises and the hay, taking samples of the hay itself and measurements of the facilities, becoming totally absorbed in this familiar part of my job.
Eventually, the only duty in this barn that was left to me was a simple visual inspection of the hay. Through all of my measuring and muttering, Brandon was extremely patient, not following me around, but remaining alert enough to promptly answer any question I happened to shout.
Finally, this, most tedious part of my job done, I jotted down a few more notes on my findings and retraced my steps through the long aisles of hay, trying to ignore how quiet and creepy it was to walk alone through these dark and dusty corridors.
When I got back to the entrance, I found Brandon straddling a haybale, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, slowly rolling his shoulders in strong circles. I’d spent enough time with farm workers to know that many relished the opportunity to stretch the muscles that, in some seasons, they used from sunup to sundown with very little break. He was a fine, strong figure of a man, and on any other day I might have been interested in the sight he presented.
Today, I just wanted him to be Clint.
Trying to move on from the disappointment I was feeling, now that I was out of my reverie of work, I smiled at Brandon.
“Could we take one more walk around the rest of the property?” I asked him.
“Sure, no problem,” he said.
As we walked along, I asked him where he was from, and told me a little bit about growing up nearby. Apparently, he’d been friends with Clint Cannon since the two of them were toddlers.
I took a risk.
“Does Clint get to town often?” I asked casually. “This place is a bit of a haul to get to.”
“He doesn’t think he can leave this place too much. He goes out to buy what he needs, sometimes he catches a movie or stops by the library. Generally, though, he gets a case of beer or a bottle of Jack, and he and I kill evenings together.”
Brandon pointed at a little cabin, just visible in front of a stand of trees a few rolling hills away from the house.
“That’s where I bunk.”
I was surprised, most hands these days stayed in town and made the long drive out morning and evening.
“So he doesn’t go out much? Not a lot of friends to visit, no girlfriend in town?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.”
“Clint? He hasn’t been with a girl since the last one broke his heart,” Brandon said absently. Then, he stopped walking and looked me up and down, a smile growing across his face until he had a wicked grin.
“You’re thinking of trying for him?” he asked, as though Clint were a trophy I could win.
I’m pretty sure I blushed. I hope I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure I blushed.
“Of course not!” I blustered. “It would be very unprofessional. Not that I’m interested, of course. You just don’t see too many setups like this any more and I got curious.”
“Yes, of course,” Brandon said, so seriously that I knew he had to be teasing me. “Well, just in case anyone in the nearby vicinity happened to set their cap for Clint Cannon, let me just go on record as saying that I approve, anything that would cheer that tightass up is fine by me.”
As my inspection of the farm finished, it was around five, and the sun was fading. Clint walked up to us.
“You done?” he asked, twisting his mouth.
“Yep, thank you. I am just about set. Unfortunately, I do need some signatures from you, and to go over the results of the inspection. It shouldn’t take long. Do you have an office where we can sit down for a few minutes?”
“We just got that shipment of new ropes in, they’re all over your office. No room for two people,” Brandon volunteered.
Clint tapped his foot angrily a few times.
“Brandon, can you take over for me here tonight? She and I can go up to the house and do the paperwork in the kitchen,” he said.
Brandon grinned.
“Sure, no problem.”
I couldn’t help myself, I tingled all over at the thought of being alone with Clint in his house. Was this a ploy to get me alone?
I could hardly wait.
Clint held the door open for me, letting me into the large, bright kitchen.
“This is beautiful,” I murmured, stepping aside to let him through, “I like the size.”
He looked around, a small smile twisting one side of his handsome face. I took him in with the surroundings, comparing his broad form with the clean, strong lines of the kitchen where we stood. The style, plain pine wood and dark countertops, was pretty typical of big houses on ranches in the area, but it was on a slightly smaller scale.
Of course, that wasn’t saying much. Instead of just the kitchen being the size of my entire apartment, the main living area was.
Clint apparently ignored my polite compliments of his home.
“Here will do,” he said, pulling out a chair for me at the end of a rectangular dining table that would seat. He took the chair next to it, at the head of the table. I sat down where he indicated, feeling the smooth pine under my fingers as I scooted my chair closer to the table.
The table was old, clearly used by many years of busy people, but the years had polished it to a smooth shine instead of destroying it. Furniture like that spoke quietly of money to me.
“So, are we ready to get this taken care of?” I asked.
“Suppose so,” Clint grunted, pulling the first sheet closer to him and peering at it.
“This one is saying that you gave me a tour and did not try and hide anything,” I began.
“No offense meant,” Clint said, “But you don’t need to tell me, I’ll read it anyways.”
Some of the people I dealt with would simply pull the stack of paperwork over to them and sign anywhere that looked like a line. Some of the people were methodical and untrusting, preferring to read every line for themselves and come to their own conclusions.
I didn’t really mind either way. My boss, Herman Banks, liked to joke about sticking bills of sale to their ranches in the piles, to teach the hasty signers a lesson.
“Suit yourself,” I said, and smiled at him.
He looked up briefly and nodded at me. I tried to tell myself that he was not being unfriendly, simply all business.
“Would you mind if I did some work on my phone while you go over that?” I asked.
He looked up again, meeting my eyes and smiling slightly.
“Suit yourself,” he said.
The smile reassured me, and I relaxed at the old table, tapping away at my phone, skimming through the e-mails I’d gotten while inspecting the ranch. Most of them I could read quickly and dismiss, but there were a few that needed quick replies, and two that needed in-depth responses that I’d send first thing Monday morning.
When I’d done that, Clint was still reading the small print on the back of one form.
Very methodical.
I shrugged to myself and looked back down at my phone. It was after six, I was definitely off the clock, and I’d taken care of everything I really needed to do today.
“Naomi,” I heard Clint said quietly.
I jumped and quickly put my phone down. Had he said my name a few times? He was definitely smirking at me.
“Yes!” I said, “Yes, sorry. That’s the worst game.”
“Catching up on work?” he asked, a half-smile on his face.
“I caught up, you were still reading,” I said at once.
“Well, nothing was too terrible, I did sign everything that you wanted,” he said.
“Thank you, I really appreciate your cooperation” I said.
I waited a long minute before I spoke again. It didn’t look like Clint would, he simply watched me, that small smile still on his handsome mouth.
“Okay, I don’t know what to do here,” I said. I picked up my phone and started turning it over again and again in my hands.
Clint raised his eyebrows, seeming totally at his ease. Ugh. How could he be that calm?
“Normally, I’d be standing up, shaking your hand, and heading off home, but normally, I’ve not kissed the ranch owner I’m dealing with,” I said, “So, what are we doing here?”
“You’re not a subtle one, are you?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said, firmly.
“There are no ropes in my office,” he said.
“Sorry? What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Brandon was trying to get us alone, and I could have told him where to shove it and taken you there, to work like professionals,” he said.
“Oh,” I murmured, hope rising in my chest.
“I’ve never brought an inspector, salesman, or lawyer into my kitchen,” he said, “Just to be clear. You’re the first.”
“I’ve never kissed a client in a barn,” I said.
“Outside a barn?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re the first,” I said.
“Glad to hear it,” he said, “I like you, Naomi.”
Wow. It had been a long time since any man had said something kind or flattering to me, and I found myself blushing at Clint’s matter-of-fact words.
“I like you,” I said.
He reached over and plucked the phone out of my hands.
“You’re going to shake that poor thing to death,” he said.
“It’s not alive,” I protested.
“Naomi,” he said, softly. He was staring at me intently now, and I squirmed at the heat in his gaze.
“Yes?” I asked.
He took my hand and pulled me closer to him, until our faces were a hand’s width apart.
“Do you still want me?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I began, but I was cut off by his mouth sealing itself to mine.
The kiss was long and tender. My eyelids fluttered shut and I leaned into his touch, melting at the sweetness.
The next kiss was deeper and more passionate, his tongue questing between my lips and plundering my mouth.
I lost track of the kisses after that, but finally, I couldn’t stand not touching him any more and I pulled back, breaking our embrace.
He looked at me as I stood up, and smiled as I closed the distance between us and straddled his lap, so that I could kiss him and feel his broad chest against me.
I don't know how long we spent pushing the limit of that kitchen chair.
His chest against mine felt as strong, hot, and firm as I'd remembered, and I tried to resist the urge to rub myself against him like a cat, just enjoying the feel of his body against mine.
Occasionally when I squirmed on his lap, he groaned into my mouth, and I'd grin and repeat the motion. After a few rounds of that, he grabbed my hips in his broad hands and pulled me close against him, holding me still.
It didn't stop me from rocking back and forth against his jeans, feeling his body respond to mine, both of us full of hot need.
I loved the feeling of his hands holding me in place. He was gentle with me, but he was clearly so much more powerful than me, and I liked that in a man. I wanted to feel small and delicate when I felt a man's broad hands against me, and Clint's ranch-weathered body was more than up to the task.
He pulled his mouth away from mine, and I whimpered at the loss, but groaned in approval as he kissed a desperate line down my jaw. Hot flicks of his tongue on my ear almost undid me, and that wasn't anything I'd ever known that I liked before him.
I groaned his name and ordered him not to stop, and he chuckled into my neck, kissing a slow line down to where my shirt started.
"May I touch you?" he asked, sliding his hands from my hips, over my shirt, to just underneath my breasts.
"You'd better," I grumbled.
He chuckled again and obediently cupped my chest in his large hands, gently stroking the tops with his thumbs.
"Oh, yes," I said, "Yes, just like that."
He captured my lips again, not moving his hands, continuing his slow teasing of my body.
When he released my lips, I groaned his name and he nodded against me.
"Yeah," he grunted, before kissing me again, "Yeah."
His clever fingers found my nipples and started gently tugging the hard nubs, not enough to hurt, just a gentle pressure against the aching flesh.
"More," I said, pulling my mouth away from his briefly, before claiming it again in a searing kiss of my own.
His hands skimmed down over my body again, finding the hem of my shirt and pulling at it.
"Off?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, leaning back and raising my arms so he could pull it over my head.
He grinned at the sight of my chest in the little bra, and reached around me to fiddle with the clasp.
"This too?" he asked.
I nodded and rocked back, panting and flushed, sitting on his strong thighs.
When my breasts were totally revealed to him, he groaned and pulled my chest to his mouth, finding one of my nipples and flicking his tongue against it, mimicking the motion with his fingers on my other hard nub.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, which he didn't object to, as he kept his mouth on me, tormenting me with the touch of his lips, his tongue, all over my chest.
He pulled away for a minute and straightened, looking down at me.
"I love it when you groan for me," he said, and I laughed. I hadn't even realized that I was making noise.
"I'm definitely enjoying myself," I said.
"I can tell," he said.
He took my nipple between his fingertips and rolled it, making me arch and gasp.
I reached out for the buttons of his work shirt and started to undo them, my fingers fumbling as he distracted me with his own.
"Just get it off," I finally said.
He pulled his hands away from my body reluctantly and started working on the buttons, faster than I was managing.
"I want to see you so badly," I said, staring as the tight white undershirt was revealed.
He smiled and leaned forward to kiss my neck as he continued to unbutton his shirt, his hands working quickly between our bodies.
"Couch?" he asked.
"What?" I asked.
He grinned, pulling the overshirt off over his head.
"Do you want to go to the couch? It's right over there and we'd be more comfortable," he said.
I hopped off his lap and turned to find a better surface for getting to know his body.
"Oh, yes," I heard him say, before I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me gently over his shoulder.
I hadn't been picked up like that by a lover before, and I laughed and squealed as I hung, eye-level with his ass.
He navigated the divider between the kitchen and living room and crossed to the couch in a few long strides, tossing me onto the soft sofa and immediately covering my body with his own, trapping me beneath him and leaning down to suck at my collarbone.
He pulled off for a moment and looked me in the eye.
"This okay?" he asked.
"God, yes," I said. I squirmed against him, my hands roaming over his body, which was almost firmer than I could have imagined. Every muscle was defined, and I traced them with little sweeps of my fingers. He wasn't just lean and strong, I discovered. He had to work half-naked most of the year, he didn't have the farmer's tan that I half-expected to find under his clothing.
I was so lucky. Clint was over six feet of bronzed perfection, and he was exploring my body with fascination and delight.
My need for him was reaching a fever pitch, and I reached down between our bodies to find his belt, and started working on the supple leather to get him naked.
He reacted as though I'd poured cold water over him, climbing off of me, breathing heavily, and shutting his eyes.
