Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 3) (3 page)

She wondered why she’d never watched Chase baling hay? He was as equally handsome. Maybe she didn’t have as many feelings for him as she first thought.

Jared stepped closer and she had to lean her head back. He was tall, over six foot and at least two hundred pounds of coiled muscles covered in tanned, smooth skin. His reputation as the bad boy fit him well, and he seemed to wear the invisible badge with pride. Just what the world needed…another man who couldn’t keep his zipper zipped.

“Your warning came a little too late.” She looked down at the broken glass, irritation spiraling down her spine. Why the hell were her panties moist?

“Don’t move. You’re going to cut your feet.”

“I’ll be—wait, what are you doing?” she sputtered as he stepped through the puddle of glass, shards crunching under his boots and a strong whiff of leather and spice tickling her nostrils. He not only looked this good, but he smelled heavenly to boot. So unfair…

Before she could peep any more resistance, Jared was lifting her off her feet. One flip-flop slipped off her foot and she flexed her toes. “This-this is unacceptable!” Pressing her hands against his broad chest, heat scorched her palms. She jerked back, caught off guard by the warmth spreading up her arms and easing into her shoulders like a massage. “Put me down. Now!” she demanded.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I plan to.” He retraced his steps across the broken glass and set her down on the clean floor, safely away from the glass. He retrieved her shoe and handed it over as she continued to stare. “Looks like you were cut.”

She worked slowly through the tremors flowing through her veins like honeyed milk, settling between her sensitive inner thighs. She finally registered what he’d said. A drop of blood had surfaced on her toe, but she couldn’t feel anything except the pain/pleasure in her core. “It’s nothing.” She wobbled to the paper towels and pulled off a strip. Propping her foot on the handle of a drawer, she gently dabbed the tiny cut.

“Can I get you the first aid kit?” he asked.

“No,” she answered a little too sharply.

He shrugged. “If you say so.” He grabbed the broom that was propped against the wall.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess.” She dropped her foot and reached for the broom handle, but he pulled it away. He had a much longer reach so she didn’t bother.

“It’s my night to clean the quarters anyway,” he stated, already sweeping away the glass.

Slipping on her flip-flop, she watched him work, wishing she didn’t notice how his muscles tightened in his thick arms and the way his wide, long fingers gripped the wood. Or how his hair swept across his neck, brushing the collar of his shirt. Desire rolled through, combating all logic. It was only human nature to find interest in the unknown. She knew very little about Jared and found him a mystery, but it was only curiosity. She’d have better luck walking barefoot through the broken glass and coming out unscathed.

He made it his top priority to flash his deep dimples at every female he met. He possessed a natural magnetism that made women swoon—except for her, of course.

Oh, she’d heard the gushing tales from female guests about how he would smile and they would weaken at the knees. How he would pass them on the trails and dip his hat in greeting. Jared’s body…Jared’s eyes…Jared’s breath—one woman had actually complimented his minty breath. How had she been close enough to know what his breath smelled like? Sofie rolled her eyes. If she had to listen to one more woman gibbering about his sex appeal, Sofie thought she might jump off a cliff.

Didn’t women realize Sofie wasn’t a matchmaker? 

When he was finished, he filled the dustpan and dumped the contents into the trashcan. She slipped her gaze downward to his tight Wrangler bottom. Did he own stock in the company because the fit was perfect for him? Feeling her cheeks warm, she turned and took down another glass. She needed a drink, fast.

“There. Glass is all gone and no chance of harming those pretty feet.”

“Don’t do that,” she muttered.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t flirt with me.” She completely hated the fact that her nipples throbbed. She was definitely horny, but not desperate.

“I mention your feet and you take that as flirting?” He chuckled. “You have been out here in the middle of nowhere for too long.”

Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him seduce you. Let him seduce you.

Really? First her libido was jacked up, now her mind.

He stood behind her. If she had overlooked the heat rolling off his body, or his gentle, even breaths, there was no possibility she could have missed his scent. He smelled like a tasty treat for her mouth. She was losing it quickly.

Drink. Now!

With trembling fingers, she opened the drawer and dug for the corkscrew. Something sharp pricked her finger. “Ouch!” She pulled back. A drop of blood appeared on the pad of her thumb. “This just isn’t my day,” she muttered.

He was beside her, gently taking her hand into his larger one and she simply stared. His hands were magical, warm and strong. Would he lead her somewhere? Anywhere? She’d go…

The thrill didn’t end there. He lifted her finger to his mouth and suckled the wounded tip. His tongue licked away any evidence of blood. For heaven’s sake! Her insides were in a battle…should she feel repulsed or completely seduced by him? No man had ever done something so…well…erotic.

Her chest filled with an unusual awareness that spread low into a part of her that hadn’t been this alive, and alert, in months. Sweat beaded between her breasts and a scorching sensation swept through her body. She started to lean in when he dropped her hand, searched the drawer, and found the corkscrew. Thankfully, he opened the bottle for her. She hadn’t started breathing normally yet, and doubtfully capable of moving. His large hands worked surprisingly smooth and effortlessly. He had long fingers and  square nails. Even the stains on his callused skin didn’t deter away from his nice hands.

“There you go, darlin’.” His silky husky voice made her heart thud against her ribs. “I’ll pour it too.”

She grabbed the glass she’d taken down. “I’m more than able—”

“Of breaking more glass.” He took the tumbler without any more argument from her, especially when their fingers brushed and another electrical current took her nerve endings hostage. She watched him pour the wine and seconds turned into decades. What had come over her? She didn’t like Jared. Didn’t even respect him.

“You know I’m not a guest, right?” She was grateful her voice didn’t come out as a squeak.

“I’m fully aware you’re not one of the guests.” He skimmed his gaze over her face so slowly, so pensively, that she forgot who they were and, definitely, where they were. 

  Her skin grew warmer by the second.
Say something!
“You can lose the charm. It doesn’t work on me.”
Liar!

Their gazes connected and her heart skipped a beat. “Is that a habit?” His deep voice vibrated her nerve endings.

“Is what a habit?”

“Nibbling your lower lip when you’re turned on.” She jerked back so fast that she knocked over the glass, spilling wine all over the counter. Damn nerves! She was acting as uncontrollable as a teenager. “I’m afraid I won’t lick up that boo-boo.”

He was making fun of her. Yes, that had to be what he was doing. Well she wouldn’t be toyed with. Grabbing a large amount of paper towels, she cleaned the spilled wine and dumped the evidence into the trashcan. She hoped that finally she had a rein on her silly emotions.

She poured another glass. “Would you like a glass too?”
Please say no. Please say no.
If he said yes, she would be obligated to have a conversation with him. What would a man like Jared find worthy of discussing anyway? She’d overheard some of the conversations he’d had with the other men and she had no desire to talk about big tits and shapely asses.

“Thanks, but I’ll have another beer.” He went to the refrigerator, took out a longneck and she absolutely checked him out again. Yup, nice pair of…jeans. By the time he closed the door, she was sipping her wine and doing a great job of hiding the fact that she’d stolen a glance at his
as
—jeans.

Instead of going back to sit at the table, he took a seat on the counter, popped open the beer and the cap went flying through the air, landing at her feet. Without missing a beat, she picked it up and tossed it into the trashcan on her way to sit in the chair he’d previously occupied. The seat was still warm and something about the idea made her heart pump faster. Gulping down half of her wine, it settled like a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

Awkward silence consumed them. Scanning the modest surroundings, she subtly moved her gaze on him. The bottle was at his lips so she had plenty of time to admire his profile—how perfectly his lips wrapped around the lid. He had a nice mouth. Why did that bother her so much? And why didn’t she remove her gaze before he caught her staring?

“Ready for the season to start?” he asked.

She rolled her finger around the rim of her glass. “Yes. You?”

“Anxious to see how the changes will work.” He leaned his back against the cabinet.

“So you didn’t want to go with the gang tonight?”

“Didn’t feel much up to hanging out with anyone this evening. I worked my ass off on the new fencing around the south side property and I thought relaxing with a few beers in the hot tub tonight sounded much more pleasing. Why didn’t you go? Oh wait, I already know the answer.” He guzzled his beer.

She blinked. “You do?”

He shrugged. “You don’t hang out with the staff.”

“I do too.”

“Or maybe it’s just me you ignore.”

Her heart kicked up in speed. “Is that a question?”

“Take it however you’d like, sweetheart.”

“We just don’t—”

“Click? Get along? Know each other?”

Why did she suddenly feel cornered? “See eye to eye. We have different personalities.” He chuckled. Her body shook and her breathing turned shallow.

“You mean you don’t like me much. Just say it how it is.”

She took a long sip of her wine. “Why would you think that I don’t like you?” The high pitch of her voice hurt her ears.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Every time you look at me you get an expression like you’re shoveling shit.”

“Do you own a filter?”

“Can you be honest?”

Sighing, she relaxed back into the chair. Thunder rolled in the distance. A storm was brewing. “Okay, you’re right. But you don’t like me much either.”

There he went, tugging his goatee. “Now how in the hell did you come up with that conclusion?”

The strap of her dress came down her shoulder and his eyes darted to that area of her body. Her stomach fluttered and she pulled the material back into place. “Let’s see, when I first started here at Nirvana, you told me I reminded you of a rich housewife from one of those reality shows.” She laughed because she could see that now, but at the time, she’d taken offense to his words.

With a grunt, he leaned forward, clutching one hand on the edge of the counter. “An inconsiderate comment, but not my intention. Fake nails and fancy heels don’t fit here in cowboy country, ma’am.” His gaze drifted to her hands. She’d gotten rid of the fake nails months ago and her dusty boots and worn denims sitting in her closet back in her cabin were proof she’d turned country girl. “People change…or adapt,” he said.

“That wasn’t all. You said I’d never find a husband out here in the middle of nowhere where only hard working men lived.” Now that still bothered her. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was another husband, especially one who had prettier hands than she did.

“I never said those words to you.”

“You’re right. I overheard you say them to Chase. My office is in the same building as his, remember?” She tapped her short fingernail against the glass.

His brows slid lower over his eyes. “Damn!” He slid off the counter and strolled to the table. Could the man move without stirring warmth in her body? He pulled out the closest chair, turned it around, and sat, leaning his arms on the high back. Her gaze automatically went passed the wooden slats to his belt and the wide V of his legs stretched across the seat. She tore her gaze back up and shifted uncomfortably. Inhaling sharply, she tried ignoring the quivering in her legs. “I don’t dislike you, Sofie,” he said with a sincere voice that drew her in. He extended one leg and his boot skimmed her foot. She jerked away and one corner of his mouth lifted in humor.

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter now.” She glared at him and tried not to notice how his bottom lip was fuller than his top—a perfect shape for kissing. She wondered what they would feel like against hers. Would he kiss her slow or in desperation? A man like Jared probably had never done anything in desperation.

No kissing tonight—or ever!

“Oh, I’d say it does matter. I can be brutally honest at times.” He winked.

She thought Luther was the only man who could touch her without laying a hand on her body. Yet the men were worlds apart. Physically, they were both virile, but in different ways. Her ex took great pride in his looks. Visiting the gym, tanning bed, and getting regular manicures. Jared didn’t seem to give a hoot about his appearance. The worn fabric and the rip at the neckline told her the T-shirt he wore was his favorite. His muscles didn’t come from lifting iron, but from working the land. She once saw him carry two bales of hay, one on each shoulder, and he didn’t even break a sweat. His tan came from the sun, a bronzing that one could never achieve in a tanning bed. She’d guess the closest Jared had ever gotten to a ‘manicure’ was using the word manure.