Hold Me Close (Bridgewater County 4)

“You’re out of your league,” he continued, not unkindly but his words stung.

Of course. Humiliation had me feeling like he’d just jerked the carpet out from under my feet. I should have known. He wasn’t really hitting on me. He was mocking me. Making a statement. As if I needed him to point out that I wasn’t the type of woman men like him went for. I wasn’t sexy. I didn’t flaunt my assets—not that I really had any. I had decent curves. Emmy had always been envious of my C-cups. But nothing like these women who should be on the cover of Playboy. I had no delusions that I was a sexy bombshell. I never had been and I never would be.

I was out of my league. Even if I could manage to get this man to desire me, one kiss and he’d realize that I wasn’t for him. I could never satisfy him, not the way a woman should. He was out of my league.

I refused to acknowledge my disappointment. It was ridiculous to be upset. I didn’t want the kind of dirty, emotionless sex he’d described. I wanted a relationship. Sure, I wanted sex, but sex that meant more than a quick fuck without exchanging names. My wet panties begged to differ, but I shoved that thought to the side.

His gaze softened a bit. Reaching out, he gently chucked the underside of my chin like I truly was a child. “You’re clearly too good for this place, darlin’. I hope you see that now.”

His condescending compassion was somehow worse than his mockery. Anger swept through me, temporarily knocking aside the humiliation and disappointment. I was an adult, dammit. A grown woman who could go wherever she pleased without being taught a lesson.

No matter what he thought, I hadn’t been coming on to him. I wasn’t going to throw myself at my new boss. I wasn’t an id

iot, but it seemed he thought me one. And, I didn’t need some cocky, arrogant stranger to tell me that I wasn’t sexy enough for him and his friends. Furious indignation had me standing taller and forced me to meet his gaze.

His brows shot up, no doubt shocked to see that this supposed-wannabe buckle bunny had a backbone.

“Yes, I see that now,” I said slowly, clearly, talking to him like he was the child and not me. “But I approached you because I wanted to introduce myself, not throw myself at you. It probably wouldn’t be the best first impression of your new employee, now would it?”

His forehead furrowed in a frown. “What are you talking about?”

I sniffed haughtily as I tilted my chin up to face him. “I don’t like watching people fuck. I’m not interested in seeing if you can go longer than eight seconds outside of the ring. I liked watching you in the rodeo, you jerk. I’m Rachel Andrews, Emmy’s older sister and your new office manager.”

I didn’t wait for his response. It was only a matter of time before my anger faded and I couldn’t bear for him to see me cry when the full weight of it all hit me. The fact that I’d been solidly rejected. Worse, that I’d have to face this man who’d humiliated me every day for the foreseeable future.

If he tried to call out, I didn’t hear him. I was already outside the stable, back in reality.

CHAPTER THREE

MATT

The Barking Dog was packed, just like the it was every Friday night. It was the best bar in Bridgewater and locals crowded around the booths in the back and the pool tables behind me in the bar area. Country music pumped from an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. But despite the crowd, there was only one person who caught my interest.

Ethan fucking called me on it. “Man, you’ve got to stop staring. If she catches you, we’ll be worse off than we already are.”

I turned to glare at him. Yeah, he was my friend and business partner, but that didn’t prevent me from giving him the finger. I took a swig of my beer.

The “she” in question had been a sensitive topic ever since that rodeo. That goddamn disaster of a rodeo a month ago. Yeah, I’d won the event, but I’d ruined every chance we had with The One. How the hell was I supposed to have known the hottest thing on the planet was our new office manager? And that the woman I’d tried to scare away from fucking an asshole on the rodeo circuit was Rachel Andrews.

That logic hadn’t worked on Ethan. Seconds after she’d turned away from me that day in a huff, her words having cut me to shreds, Ethan had come up to congratulate me on my ride. I’d pointed to her retreating form, her luscious ass wiggling in her jeans as she raced out of the stable and far, far away from me.

“Do you know who that is?” I’d asked, still dumbfounded by her revelation.

“Sure,” Ethan had said, his confusion obvious as was the obvious admiration in his tone. “She’s our new office manager. Emmy pointed her out to me earlier when I was in line at the concession stand. She’s something else, isn’t she?” After a long silence during which I’d stared after her even well after she disappeared, Ethan had finally asked why I was so curious.

Oh no reason. I might have just ruined our chances with the woman we’d been waiting for. The woman of our dreams.

Because by then, I’d seen the truth of it and it slapped me across the face. No, her words had done it for her. The adrenaline rush that had made me act so reckless had drained away and been replaced by the stark truth. Rachel Andrews was ours. Not just our new office manager, but she was our woman. The one Ethan and I’d been waiting for. The one we’d share and claim. Marry.

Even if I had been born elsewhere, I was a Bridgewater man through and through and that had been the reason I’d gotten so crazy protective, the reason I’d stupidly tried to scare her off. The moment I’d seen her I’d had the urge to bundle her up and whisk her away, far from the jaded rodeo world of users and takers. Sure, there were family men in the bunch. Gentlemen. But there were also young guys willing to fuck anything that had tits and a willing pussy and I’d wanted her nowhere near them.

But I’d been so amped up, I’d gone about it all wrong with her. I hadn’t taken a second to wonder why I’d been so protective. Why my heart said mine at the mere sight of her. But she wasn’t just mine, she was ours. Mine and Ethan’s. And so I’d had to tell him just how badly I’d screwed up.

I hadn’t been able to keep the truth from him. He was my best friend before anything else. We’d created Hawk’s Landing together, from scratch. It may have been my property, but it was his business skills that made it what it was today.

I was just a dumb baseball player with parents who’d had a large piece of Montana real estate. With my pro-ball earnings, I’d bought them out and Ethan and I had built up the place to have cabins for over fifty guests along the river.

He was the one who made the place run so well. Well, and Emmy, but she’d had her baby and found her perfect replacement. Her sister. Yeah, I’d blown it.