Hitching the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch 1)

“What the fuck you cheesin’ about?” he teases when I stuff my phone back in my pocket.

I waggle my eyebrows.

“You’re gross,” he says.

“You’re just pissed because your relationship status is basically nonexistent.” Sometimes it’s fun to poke the bear.

“Well, if your bitch ass cousin wouldn’t have stolen my girlfriend, and if you’d get the stick out of your ass about me fucking your sister, then it wouldn’t be so nonexistent now, would it?” he snaps as we continue adding cement.

I’m two seconds from throwing a shovel at his head, but all he does is laugh. “My sister wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth,” I say confidently, but I’m not so sure. Sometimes, I see Rowan staring at him, but then she turns her head and pretends she wasn’t.

“I bet she would. She’d love it. Probably beg for more.” He’s determined to agitate the piss outta me today.

“Fuck off!” I yell, splashing concrete on his boots. “I don’t want to think about Rowan being with any guy, especially you.”

“I knew that’d get you all worked up. It’s sexy,” he taunts just as my dad walks over and inspects what we’ve accomplished.

“Nice work. Lookin’ good so far. Mila’s gonna be real happy with this,” he says, glancing down at the concrete on Diesel’s boots. “Y’all try not to make a mess out here.”

“Yes, sir,” Diesel says, glaring at me, and I shoot him a smirk. Once we’re alone again, Diesel reminds me that we can’t start framing until the concrete has cured for at least twenty-four hours. Considering I forgot about that fact and so did Fisher, I text him and let him know we’re at a standstill until tomorrow. He reminds us to deliver more hay to the training barns, so we go pick up the lowboy.

“I know I’ve been giving you shit for the last month and a half, but I’m really happy for you,” Diesel admits as we enter the storage barn.

“Thanks, man. Really means a lot to me. I know it’s gonna be a big change and all, for you too, but for the first time in my life, I’m truly happy.”

He climbs up the ladder to the loft and starts throwing down bales as I load them onto the trailer. We discuss how he’ll need to move out once she’s back for good, and he surprisingly doesn’t give me shit for it. Once we’re full, we drive to the B&B to start unloading at the main horse barn. The dinner bell rings on the back porch, and I know it’s eleven. Diesel looks at me longingly like he hasn’t eaten in five years, and as soon as he sees Zoey walking toward us, he takes the opportunity to break for lunch.

“Hey, Arizona,” he tells her as they pass.

“Hey, Adam.”

He spins around on his heels and glares at her. She’s bent over gasping for air, laughing at his reaction. “Diesel. I mean Diesel,” she corrects.

“I’m gonna kill you, Bishop!” he shouts, flipping me off as he storms off to the B&B. He hates it when anyone uses his real name, but I find it hilarious. Grandma calls him Adam all the time, and he just grins and takes it like a champ.

Zoey closes the gap between us and nearly falls into my arms. Her hair is down, and she smells delicious as if she just got out of the shower. After I remove my gloves, I lead her into the barn where the hay is stacked. I want to devour her but manage to refrain because too many guests frequent the area. The last thing I need is for my grandma to find out I was fucking in the horse barn. That’s the type of embarrassment I can live without, though I’ve heard stories from my uncles who didn’t care as much about getting caught.

I grab her hand, and that’s when I notice Zoey’s wearing the cowboy boots I bought her when we went into town. “You look sexy as fuck in those,” I tell her.

“I was thinking the same thing about you, cowboy.” Her sultry voice has my dick springing to life, and I move forward, pushing her against one of the stall doors. In one swift movement, she wraps her legs around my waist, and I cup her ass, our tongues twisting together. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself this time because I need her like I need water on a hot summer day.

“Riley,” she whispers, panting. “Fuck me.”

And I’m two seconds away from doing that very thing when I hear an unfamiliar male voice behind me calling Zoey’s name. Immediately she stiffens, her eyes bolt open, and she pulls away. After I set her down, she looks at me with worry in her eyes.

“Zoey, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, and I turn around and catch a glimpse of an older man wearing a sport coat and slacks, looking out of place.