If only I could take hold of her, clasp her waist in my huge hands and hold her firm while I bite that dirty little smirk right off her mouth. I could pick a steak knife up off the table and slice the atmosphere clear through, the chemistry sits between us like a heavy centerpiece.
“I'll take you,” Rafe finally speaks up.
“No.” I grunt at him from the corner of my mouth.
“I don't mind,” he presses it. “I got nothing on board until old man, I mean Mr Foxworth gets backs from the city.”
“That would be so sweet of you,” Dallyce purrs, turning her gaze full onto Rafe. I get what she's up to and it won't work.
Except it will.
I can't fucking tolerate the idea that she'll be out there alone with Rafe. Love the bastard but he's got more game than a rattlesnake and just as much bite. Having the other girl along will hardly be sufficient chaperone. I've got a sudden case of possession when it comes to Dallyce. I won't allow anyone else to handle her.
“I'll take them. This rodeo is my responsibility.”
“But you can come along if you like,” Dallyce says in her throaty rasp. She gets up to pour herself coffee at the side table and the sight of her round ass in the tight jeans has my cock jerking around in mine.
“Modesty here was hoping to improve her experience while she's here. We've heard you guys are the best riders and the best teachers. The most experienced men.”
She turns right then and catches me checking her out good and hard.
“You got yourself a deal little lady,” Rafe burrs at the younger girl.
Dallyce's satisfied smile is directed smugly at me.
Is she for real? What's she up to with the 'teach us to ride' shit? These two are queens of the stampede with plenty of experience in the saddle. She's playing a dangerous game here and it's driving me fucking crazy, along with her incredible curves.
Thank the lord Rafe and his Modesty will be riding alongside because if I have to be out on the ranch alone with Dallyce there's no telling what might happen.
Chapter FOUR
Dallyce
I don't know what's come over me. Or rather I do and it's a tall, strapping older cowboy named Shea Butler that's making me act like an obsessed boy band fan. Yes, inside I am swooning and crying and screeching every time he's anywhere near me.
But no sooner have I maneuvered him into agreeing to take us out for a ride across the ranch than a whole bunch of other cowboys storm into the room. They raise their hats when they see Modesty and I sitting there trying not to gape, before jostling each other to get to the chow like they haven’t eaten in months.
The room swells with the succulent aroma of man flesh, a tiny tinge of barn that isn't at all unpleasant and only adds to the masculine rough vibe. They grab the food, steak and eggs with sides of beans and hash browns, plus giant mugs of coffee then seat themselves at the table. Modesty and I are surrounded by a posse of gorgeous ripped men in chaps and big buckles.
We're both used to hanging with cowboys now but these guys are like a line up from a ranch hand calendar. Everyone of them impossibly gorgeous in that rugged man working with his hands kind of way. None quite as stunning as Shea though. My eyes keep meandering back to him and every time, I unfailingly discover him looking at me from under the brim of his hat.
“You're up late this morning,” the one called Rafe says to the others, receiving a chorus of snorts in return. “Did McDools' ale do you in?”
“We got a pair of broken fences,” the handsome older guy tells him in an authoritative tone that indicates he's one of the head guys. “So if it's not too much trouble, when you two have finished dining with the ladies, you can get on out and rope the steers that escaped.”
“We'll get right on it,” Shea tells him, jumping out of his seat like he can't wait to get away.
Far away from me. It hurts a little that he doesn't want to be around me. Maybe he's not interested. Perhaps he thinks I'm too much of a little girl, like Modesty. If that's the case, he's going to be taught a lesson.
“I'm coming too,” I say, jumping up to follow him and Rafe out of the room.
“No,” he barks.
“Is that the only word you know?” I snap right back.
The cowboys seated around the table pause their chow for a moment and the big older guy raises an eyebrow then casts his glance over to Shea with a grin. Good, maybe the hunk also needs to learn that he can be in control of the wild animals all he wants but I happen to be a woman with a mind of my own.
“I want to witness some steer roping,” I insist.
“It's not a spectator sport,” Shea grits out.
“That's just it,” I say, no way I'm backing down on this. “We've been spending too much time in rodeos and exhibitions, isn't that right, Modesty?”