Wrangled (Steele Ranch 2)

Damn straight. The guy had been aggressive, and if she was going to break down, she wasn’t doing it alone.

She glanced between us, offered us a small smile. “All right.”

She might have been comfortable with us, but we were sure fucked. She’d slipped right past an attraction and become an obsession. With something bad almost happening to her, it only proved how much she meant to me. And that was fucking insane since I’d known her all of fifteen minutes.

Yup, fucked.

4

PENNY

“We can kill him, you know. Just let us know and no one will find the body,” Jamison said.

We were sitting at a hard-laminate booth in the gas station at the intersection with the county road that led to the main highway. While I didn’t think either of these men brought dates to the Quik-n-Lube, with the scent of hot dogs kept warm all day on metal rollers and the store’s fluorescent glow as poor mood lighting, it was the only other place open at this time of night. Besides the Silky Spur. I sat on one side, facing the wall of refrigerated beverages and the hallway to the bathroom. Boone was across from me, his knees bumping into mine beneath the table. I tried not to think about the innocent touch, but it was impossible. Boone was big and gorgeous and hot and just the touch of his knees had me flustered.

Where Jamison was all rugged cowboy, Boone was all broody with his dark looks and quiet intensity. Black hair that was a little too long, piercing eyes, strong jaw…strong everything. He wasn’t darkly tanned like Jamison, but being a doctor obviously kept him indoors more. From what I’d read of him, his quiet and watchful demeanor hid his intelligence. They might think I’ve got some diplomas on the wall, but Boone had a few more than me.

He was a watcher. I recognized the signs, because I was one, too. Jamison seemed to assess a situation and when needed, didn’t hold back. Like with the guy at the bar. He punched first, asked questions…never.

Jamison had dropped off two coffees for us and returned with his. He placed it on the faux wood surface, grabbed a metal chair with a vinyl cushion, turned it to face backwards and sat down, his forearms on the high back.

“What?” I asked, my mouth falling open.

“We’ll kill the guy who touched you. Steele Ranch has thousands of acres to bury him,” Jamison repeated. His tone and the serious look in his eye made me realize he wasn’t joking. A guy had touched me and he’d not only knocked him unconscious, but would kill him if I wished it. “I’d make Patrick, Shamus and the others do the hard work of digging the hole, nice and deep, just because they didn’t protect you.”

Boone’s look said he was in complete agreement, but probably couldn’t voice the words since he’d taken an oath as a doctor to do no harm. No, that wasn’t it. He’d back his friend in a heartbeat.

These two…they were intense. Fiercely protective. A thrill shot through me because that intensity, that fierce protectiveness, was directed all at me. It was potent.

“That…um, won’t be necessary.” They stared at me intently—Jamison’s gaze a piercing gray, Boone’s almost black. “I’m fine. Really. And it’s not their fault.”

Jamison leaned forward more. “Kitten, it is their fault. They take you out, they keep you safe. Period.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him about it because nothing I said would sway his opinion. My mind got stalled on the way he called me Kitten. I liked it. A lot. I cleared my throat. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

I was thankful. I’d spurned unwanted advances before on my own, many times, but it felt really good having someone step in and help. I’d just never expected it to be these two. I hadn’t even known they were at the bar, much less keeping an eye on me. God, watching them in action had been exhilarating. The testosterone in the hallway had been so great I cou

ld practically breathe it in. It had been elemental. Like two cavemen staking a claim and fighting for what was theirs.

Slightly unrealistic, because I wasn’t theirs. They’d just been gentlemen. Protecting me. I had no doubt if Patrick or the others had found me first, they’d have clocked the guy, too. I doubted, though, that any of the others would make me feel eager for them to drag me by the hair back to their cave after. Oh yes, and then they’d have their way with me, doing whatever it was to continue to show their dominance. Not that I had any idea what that was first-hand, but I had a good idea.

I’d seen movies. Even some porn. Being a virgin didn’t mean I was clueless. Although…I’d thought that had been true up until now. With Jamison and Boone, I had a feeling what I thought happened between a man and a woman was simply Tab A in Slot B. They seemed like guys who would be very thorough and didn’t stick to the basics. No doubt they were experienced. Ridiculously so. I glanced at their hands wrapped around their disposable coffee cups. Big with long fingers, veined. Strong. I shifted in my seat because my pussy throbbed. Even their hands were hot.

“You don’t have to thank us for keeping you safe,” Boone said. He spun his cup around on the smooth surface. “Tell us about you.”

I shifted, the backs of my thighs sticking to the hard bench. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” they said at the exact same time.

My eyebrows went up.

Boone leaned forward, put his forearms on the table. Fixed his dark stare on mine. Didn’t even blink. I swallowed, licked my lips and he watched that action closely.

“Well, I’m from North Carolina. I just finished graduate school.”

“You’re pretty young for that,” Jamison said, then took a sip of his coffee. Winced and put it down.

“Twenty-two,” I countered. “I skipped third grade.”