Ruthless (Wolf Ranch 6)

Was that some kind of line because while he was attractive, I had no interest in spreading my legs for him. “What kind of help?” I tucked the bottle back in the holder in front of me.

“You know, if you have any leaks that need fixing or whatever. I’m pretty handy with a wrench.”

“I’ll be taking care of her plumbing.” Rand’s deep voice rumbled across the bar. He loomed behind the tall cowboy, somehow making the man appear old and frail, which was ridiculous. Rand’s gaze bored into the back of the other guy’s head.

The man stood from his bar stool and pivoted but seemed to reconsider a fight when he came chest to chest to Rand.

“Oh. Well, I suppose you mean that literally, then,” the cowboy said, apparently recognizing Rand.

Rand gave him a serious nod. “I do. Back off, Robertson.”

“Or?”

Oh shit. Next they were going to pull their dicks out and measure them. Good thing I was on the other side of the bar, so they didn’t pee on me to stake their claim.

“She’s taken,” Rand practically snarled.

“Rand,” I said, but both guys ignored me.

“That so?”

“That’s so. Back off while you can still walk.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the words themselves, the look on Rand’s face or the tone that sounded more of a wolf growl than human voice that had the guy taking a step back.

The cowboy pulled a card out of his pocket and slid it across the bar toward me. “If you do need help with anything else. Don’t hesitate to call.”

I didn’t touch the card. Didn’t breathe.

I wasn’t sure if I should be turned on or angry by Rand’s behavior. He was acting over the top, as if he’d staked his claim.

We may have fooled around, but we weren’t a couple. I’d made it really clear what I wanted from him. Yes, I’d probably jump in the sack with him a few more times, but I wasn’t going to let him publicly stake his claim on me, and I definitely wasn’t going to lose my heart.

The guy walked off, and Rand moved to stand directly across from me. He snatched up the business card and tore it into little pieces. “Darlin’.”

“I’m taken?” I asked, setting my forearms on the bar. I had to look up at him, but our heads were closer. I didn’t need the entire bar to know my business although people nearby hadn’t missed the show.

“Yeah.”

Yeah? That was it? “You do not get to dictate who I talk to. I’m not sure what gave you that idea.”

Rand opened his mouth then shut it again, his gaze wide and alert. Almost alarmed.

I should’ve probably been satisfied to see how dismayed my words made him, but instead it knotted up my belly. Like I’d hurt his feelings and didn’t enjoy the guilt of it.

But that didn’t make sense. Cocky cowboy electricians didn’t get their feelings hurt when the woman they just screwed flicked them down the path to the next woman.

Did they? Er… did he? Had I hurt his feelings?

“Rand, I told you—”

It was Rand’s turn to lean forward. “Who licked your pussy, Red? Made you scream?”

I darted my gaze around. “I’m working!” I hissed.

“Yeah, me too. I’m doing my job to protect what’s mine.”

I melted inside but rolled my eyes. “I’m not yours.”

“Your ass still have my hand print on it?”

I flushed.

“That’s what I thought. Robertson’s not going to get a finger on you. Not any guy in this bar. Hell, in Montana.”

“Possessive much?”

Of course, at that moment, a large group of men bunched up at the bar, all giving me their orders, and I was busy for the next forty-five minutes straight. I managed to get Rand a soda, but we didn’t get a chance to talk further. His hand print wasn’t on my ass any longer, but I remembered how it had tingled.

Ugh, but did we even need a talk? Wasn’t the whole point of casual sex that you didn’t have to examine it or belly button gaze over it afterward?

The blonde cowgirl from early in my shift returned and pressed herself up against Rand. “Hey,” she purred. “I missed you Monday night.”

My gaze jerked to Rand’s face.

Just as I’d thought, they looked good together. Fuck, I was jealous. And that made me the possessive one. How could I blame Rand his actions with the cowboy when I felt the same way?

His gaze snapped to mine. Alarm rang on all his features again. “Karen,” he said as if the two syllables were distasteful to him. “Have you met Natalie Sheffield?”

I liked the way he said it. Like he was calling out that he was here with me. Which of course, he wasn’t, since I was working, and he was sitting across the bar from me, trying to snatch away the cards of men who tried to pick me up.