Bossing the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch 4)

“It can’t be that bad.” Maize waves me off.

“Not for you, maybe. You have a great view.” I smirk toward Gavin. By the way he’s looking at Maize, there’s definitely something going on between them. Maize’s furrowed brows and tight lips confirm I’m right.

“Glad to see someone appreciates me ’round here.” Gavin steps next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“Is Maize being rude to you?” I ask, playing along.

“If by that you mean she ignores and tells me off, or straight up groans any time I speak, then yeah, I guess so.” Gavin shrugs with the most pathetic look on his face. It’s obvious he likes her.

“Maize Bishop!” I scold, folding my arms over my chest. “I know your mama taught you better than that. Be nice to the new trainer. He seems sweet.”

“I’m plenty nice.” Maize says between gritted teeth. I can tell her head’s about to explode.

“That’s you being nice? Shit, I’d hate to get on your bad side then,” Gavin says with amusement.

“Keep talkin’, and you will be,” she snaps.

“Okay, I’m sensing some kind of…tension here, so I’m gonna go find me some pie,” I quickly say, then walk away.

They’re either secretly hooking up or will be soon. I’m calling it.

It doesn’t take long for the B&B to fill up with family. We stuff ourselves full of Maize’s delicious desserts and catch up. Of course, Grandma Bishop interrogates me about who I’m dating, and when I tell her I don’t have time for a relationship, she calls BS. I laugh because she got married right out of high school and enjoyed being a housewife and stay-at-home mom. She’d cook huge meals for all the ranch hands and loved raising her kids. I want to get married and start a family someday too, but not anytime soon.

Now that Thanksgiving break is over, I’m back on campus. Since I have no classes on Wednesdays, I picked up a side job. My friend Lydia hooked me up with a position at the strip club she works at. Since I was against pole dancing and have limited rhythm, I was hired as a shot girl. It’s easy work for big tips, especially when I wear next to nothing. It helps pay for the gas it takes to drive back and forth every week.

“Hey, Elle.” Mark smiles at me. He’s the owner’s son and keeps tabs on all the servers. He gives me the creeps with his beady eyes and the way his hand conveniently falls on my bare back. “How’s it goin’ tonight?”

“Just fine, thanks.” I grab another tray of shots and head back out. Walking around in four-inch heels took some getting used to. My calves burn by the end of my shift, but I like to think after a couple of months of being here, I no longer look like a newborn calf learning to walk.

As I go around the room, offering a variety of shots, four tall men enter and take one of the bar-top tables in the back. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to tell their ages, but I’d guess at least mid-thirties to early forties.

When they’re settled, I approach the table and lay on my thick accent. “Can I talk y’all into starting with some shots?”

“With an ass like that, you can pretty much talk me into anything, darlin’,” one of the men says, licking his dry, chapped lips.

“In that case, doubles for everyone.” I flash him a wink, and he hands me a hundred.

“Keep ’em coming, sweetheart.”

I set down half the shots, then walk around to the other side of the table and set the others down. As I’m making my way around, a chair slides out and causes me to trip over my heels. I manage to tighten my grip on the tray, but I stumble right into one of their laps. Large hands grip and squeeze my waist, holding me against him. I’m about to elbow him in the chest if he doesn’t release me, but when he brings his lips to my ear, I freeze.

“Are you okay, Elizabeth?”

My body shudders at the deep, familiar voice. His hardness presses into me, and I wonder if I’m imagining this because there’s no damn way Connor is here. He has no idea I work here. No one from my hometown does.

Glancing over my shoulder, I meet his intense gaze. He looks pissed—even more than usual. His sharp jawline clenches, and his fingers dig harder into my skin.

“I’m fine. Let me go now,” I tell him firmly.

As if he’s just realizing his erection is pressing into me, his hands fly off my waist. Carefully, I stand and walk away with my head held high. Since they’re sitting in my section, I can’t avoid their table. However, I make sure to avoid eye contact with him the next time I deliver another round.