Savage (Wolf Ranch 4)

I had enough trouble trying to get through my divorce from Todd in one piece. We’d been legally separated for two years, but he wouldn’t sign the papers. Wouldn’t end it. Instead, he wanted to fuck with me. Draw it out. Push up my legal bills in the hopes I’d give up and go back to him.

Yeah, I’d go back to a guy being a dick just to get me back. Todd was dumber than I’d ever thought. I was stuck with him legally until he gave up and just signed.

A wild fuck at the back of Cody’s was one thing, but I didn’t need some other guy making demands of me. They were nothing but trouble.

That was the whole reason I hadn’t gone to Audrey to be my Ob/Gyn. Not only did I not want my BFF to see my vagina or a baby popping out of it—I did have some boundaries in friendships—I was afraid she’d put two and two together and realize who the father was.

Still, seeing Clint with Juice Girl jabbed me with a hot poker of jealousy. Clearly, he and his dick had moved on. I would never have a tight body or even tighter ass. My baby belly and my breasts popped over the last week.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can clean up,” Clint suggested, looking me over.

Thank God I had on a heavy coat and a bulky sweater beneath.

“I’ll just go home,” I mumbled, trying to lurch away. To forget this moment ever happened.

But Clint maintained contact with one of my elbows, following along beside me as if I required his strength to walk.

Which would’ve been nice if I had. Or if I hadn’t just barfed all over his feet.

Gah!

Juice Girl materialized out of nowhere. “Here you go—it’s already paid for.”

Clint snatched it from her hand with a murmured thanks, unscrewed the top and thrust it at me. “Take a sip.”

I grabbed it, desperate to escape. “Thanks so much, both of you. I gotta run before I hurl again.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Clint offered.

“No, no, no, no.” I couldn’t seem to stop my lips from saying the syllable over and over again. “I’m okay on my own.”

I was. Completely on my own.

“Probably,” he countered. “But I’m not letting you drive yourself home when you’re feeling this way. Give me your keys, sugar.”

Sugar. He’d called me that at the bar. It had sounded good then and now.

But I wasn’t his sugar. He was with Shelby, and I knew he wasn’t an asshole, so I had to assume he called every woman sugar. Like the mechanic who worked on my car calling everyone honey.

I looked up at him, my embarrassment morphing into something hot and slithery. My ever-tender nipples beaded up in my now too-tight bra. I’d just thrown up, and I was hot for him. Eager for what he had in his pants. And the dark words out of his mouth.

Clint was bossy.

I shouldn’t like that.

Not after Todd’s controlling asshole ways. He’d told me what to do, what to wear, what to buy.

But it seemed a girl never learned because Clint’s take-charge attitude just erased all nausea and left my panties damp.

I had hormonal whiplash. Nauseated one minute, horny the next.

Yeah, as if Clint wanted to get it on with a woman who just hurled on him. Soooo sexy.

Still, I hesitated. Part of me was anxious to escape, especially considering Clint was here with another woman. But he held out his hand and pinned me with that stern dark gaze, and I found myself passing the keys before I’d made up my mind whether to obey.

“What about your groceries?” Clint asked, glancing behind me at my cart.

“I just need to leave,” I begged. “I’ll come back tomorrow and apologize to the manager.”

“Okay. Shelby, would you mind—”

“No problem. I’ll take care of our shopping. Give me the keys to your truck, and I’ll finish up.”

Well.

She was awfully accommodating considering Clint was leaving with another woman. She must really be eager to please. When I glanced at her, I found her eyeing me with curiosity rather than jealousy.

Uh oh. Hopefully they weren’t into threesomes.

Oh, what was I thinking? Nobody was thinking about having sex with me right now. I just puked in a grocery store. On a hot cowboy’s boots.

He was just being a gentleman and seeing me home.

I let him steer me outside, and I pointed out my Subaru. He opened the passenger door and handed me in like I was some kind of elderly woman then walked around, pushed my seat all the way back and climbed behind the wheel.

“Where to?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Listen, you don’t have to drive me.” I opened the glove box and pulled out some napkins, which I thrust at him. “For your boots.”

He took them and leaned down to give his boots a quick swipe. “Thanks. Now, where do you live?”