Corralled (Blacktop Cowboys 1)

“But tonight, when it’s just us, will you take advantage of me?”

He squinted at her, unable to tell if her words were exhausted babble. “Is that what you want?”

No answer.

“Lainie?”

“I want you to do all the things you’ve fantasized about doing to me when I’m in your bed.”

Had to be the tiredness talking. “No reason to hash this out now. We’ll talk later.”

“No.” Her eyes flew open. “Maybe it is lack of sleep giving me the courage to bring it up.”

“Bring what up?”

“You’ve held back with me, Hank. From the start six months ago, when we first starting sneaking around.”

Hank wasn’t sure if his tongue or his guts were tied in a bigger knot.

“Show me that side of yourself you’ve hidden from me.”

He swallowed hard. “And if it scares you?”

“It won’t. I’m tougher than you give me credit for. If I’m all in for everything a threesome entails, then you should be all in with me.”

“Hmm.” Hank let the back of his knuckles float up and down her jawline. “I’m not sure you’re completely coherent.”

“Try me.”

“If I spend the rest of the day getting primed to show you my kinky side, and I crawl into bed with a bottle of lube and a rope, will you freak out?”

“That won’t happen—”

“Good. Because, darlin’, you asked for it.” He smooched her forehead. “Sleep. If you think you’re exhausted now, it ain’t nothin’ compared to how you’ll be when I get through with you tonight.”

“Bring it, cowboy.” Lainie rolled over, leaving him staring at her back.

Hank filled an insulated mug with coffee before he wandered outside. The hazy sky weakened the light, a signal that they were in for a barn burner of a day. He tracked Abe to the new steel shed, which housed piles of odds and ends and busted machine parts beyond repair.

Abe had torn a motor out of an antique exhaust fan and was cursing at it under his breath.

“You oughta take that to Bob to fix. Quit pissing with it, Abe. Jesus, it’s been, like, four months.”

“I’m not trying to get it to work, dumb ass. I’m trying to figure out if those guys building the wind turbines are using this old technology. If I can reverse-engineer it, I’m planning to build a turbine down by the west end of the creek. Take advantage of the fact that the wind blows so goddamn hard here and harness it into energy.”

That was ambitious. Although Abe hadn’t gone to college, he was the smartest man Hank knew. “Why’s this the first I’ve heard of it?”

Abe shrugged. “Been doin’ more thinking about it than talking.” He stared pointedly at Hank’s leg. “You were limping after you got out of the truck. You okay to work?”

Hank waggled his mug. “A little caffeine therapy and I’ll be fine. What’re we doin’?”

“What do you think?”

He groaned. “Fixin’ fence. Damn. I hoped you’d finished that up while I was gone.”

Abe gave him a droll stare. “You ain’t been gone that long.”

The sound of tires crunching on gravel echoed through the open door.

“Guess who decided to grace us with her presence?” Abe said with an edge.

“I’ll talk to her.” Hank hustled out and caught Celia just as she’d started up the steps.

Why the hell did she look like she’d been rolling in the dirt? The back of her jeans were dusty, from the frayed white strings dragging on the ground by her boot heels to the dark smudges covering her back pockets.

“I assume you ain’t goin’ to church dressed like you’ve been mud wrestling?”

Celia spun around, as much guilt on her face as mud splatters. “Oh. Hey, Hank. I thought you probably got in late and you’d already be sleeping.”

“Obviously.” Celia’s resemblance to their mother increased damn near every day and spooked him a little. He let his eyes sweep over her, from scuffed boots to mussed hair. Yep, the front side of her clothing was as filthy as the backside. “Where you been?”

“Did Abe send you out here to grill me?” she demanded.

“No. I can see you’ve been up to no good with my own eyes.”

“See? You’re just like him! You automatically assume I’ve been doin’ something bad.”

“If it wasn’t bad, then why don’t you answer my question?” He sipped his coffee, waiting for the wildcat to hiss and scratch.

“Because I don’t answer to you. Or to Abe. I’m not a child, Hank, and I—”

“Spare me the rant and the reminder of your age. You’re right, Cele, you don’t have to answer to me. But what you do have to do, as long as you’re living here, is pull your weight. Which it don’t sound like you’ve been doin’. I count on you. So does Abe. And when we can’t even talk to you about it without you flying off the handle? Something’s goin’ on. Tell me.”

She glared, then focused on kicking the crap out of a clump of red dirt that had fallen off her boot.

“I don’t give a good goddamn if you were out all night partyin’ in some damn mud hole. Suck it up and check the cattle. Right now.” Hank held up his hand at her automatic rebuttal. “Before you ask, me ’n’ Abe will be fixin’ fence before it gets too hot, so by all means, complain and I’ll send you with him instead.”