“I think Trace left you to do all the dirty work.” I’m just starting to get back to work when her smooth-as-honey voice stops me. I know I won’t be getting anything done now. My sole focus will be on Blakely.
Two
Blakely
I knew what I was going to do the minute Trace sent me a text that Knox was going out to work on the fencing. It’s good to know that the youngest McCray brother has my back.
Knox has his head bent when I walk towards the fence line, wide shoulders giving way to strong forearms, making my insides clench in desire.
“Yeah, he seems to always disappear when it comes to work.” His head tips up. I see the way those eyes of his drink me in. It was definitely a good idea to wear a dress. I’m usually in jeans and some kind of shirt, but today, I wanted to switch things up a bit.
“He can’t help it. Trace always has been one to play more than he works, unless it’s his horse. Then he’s all work.” I make small talk. Trigger, my palomino, nudges my hand wanting me to pet him.
“You sure do know a lot about Trace,” he grumbles, and I’m thinking Knox doesn’t like that, not one bit.
I shrug my shoulders. I’ve got his attention, now it’s time to see if he actually does something about it. “It’s kind of hard not tell. Plus, he’s like a pesky older brother who won’t go away.”
“That he is. What has you all the way out here today?” Knox stands up to his full height, head and shoulders taller than me. Okay, fine, add another six inches. I’m short in stature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own.
“Had today off and figured Trigger needed a day away from the barrels. Plus, Momma needs some flowers for the table tonight, something about everyone coming around to your ranch for a potluck.” I bend down to pluck a few more of the blue bonnets that are blooming this summer.
“Shit, is that tonight?” he asks. My eyes are not turned away as I try to not show Knox just how interested I am.
“Yep.” Once a month, a handful of the surrounding neighbors get together at someone’s house and eat dinner. The men talk about the cattle, more often than not the prices going up for feed, or the market dropping. All the moms sit off to the side and talk about everything under the sun, and if you’re still living at home, let’s just say you’re expected to be there unless you’re on your deathbed. There was only one time I missed out on it, and that was this past summer. I had just turned eighteen, and Momma sent Knox up with strict orders to only drop off a bowl of chicken noodle soup, make sure I wasn’t keeling over, and then skedaddle. The flu somehow managed to hit me during the summer, of all times. He didn’t leave though. Instead, he sat beside me, so close to me I could smell his scent—leather mixed with citrus, the undertones of crisp evening air. Knox, this big, burly cowboy, rugged as the day is long, fed me soup while he sat with me in silence. Every time he brought a spoonful of Momma’s homemade recipe to my lips, I’d open my mouth like a baby bird being fed by its mother. Once I was finished, he left me with parting words I never thought I’d hear spoken from his mouth, “The things I want to do to that mouth, Blakely. It’s a damn shame you’re too damn young for me.” My mouth opened and closed. By the time I had a response, he was already leaving me.
“I guess you better get back on home and get ready, then.” Except Knox doesn’t go back to work but ambles closer to me instead.
“Why’s that?” My head tilts to the side, the sun in the background showcasing the hunger I see in his eyes.
“Because the longer you’re out here alone with me, the harder I’m going to take that sweet mouth of yours.” My breath hitches. The rise and fall of my chest captures his attention. The lingering glance he has on me causes my legs to clench together, and Knox doesn’t miss that either.
“Maybe that’s what I want, Knox.” I take a step closer, trying to bring our bodies together.
“Fuck, Blakely,” he groans, fists clenching at his sides. It takes everything I have not to smile or leap into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist, and finally feel Knox against my body.
“Yes, please.” The huskiness in my tone gives away exactly what I’m feeling.
“No, not happening. Your daddy would string me up by my balls. I’m fifteen fucking years older than you. There’s no damn way.” He does the unthinkable: Knox turns his back on me. Even though we both want each other, it might just be impossible for us to actually be together. I mean, the age difference doesn’t bother me. We’re both adults, and it’s not like I’ll be eighteen forever.