Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Bran knew a fight was imminent.

They’d gone about daily chores as usual. She cut the strings on the bales of hay after he’d scooped them up with the tractor. She dutifully jotted down notes when he spied sections of fence that needed fixing. She opened and closed gates, while humming that annoying “9 to 5” song.

The instant they pulled into the yard, she bailed out of the truck as if she couldn’t stand to be in the cab with him another second.

Bran stormed after her into the barn and snapped, “What do you think you’re doin’?”

She whirled around. “My job.”

“Huh-uh. You jumped outta the truck before I had the chance to tell you what job I wanted you to do next.”

“So sorry, boss, that I jumped the gun and took some initiative. But I’ll remind you I need to finish up what I didn’t get done after I got here this morning because you had to chew me out first thing for feeding the bunnies.”

“I told you to stop feedin’ them, Harper.”

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

He loomed over her, crowding her against the outer stall. “Ever heard the phrase ‘reproducing like rabbits’? That’s what happens when they have an unlimited food supply. You feed them, and suddenly I’ve got a bumper crop of bunnies, which I sure as hell don’t want to deal with after you’re gone.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m surprised you haven’t scared them off, with the way you’ve been stomping around for the last couple of days, grumpy as an old bear.”

“It’s your fault. If you hadn’t—”

Harper drilled him in the chest with her index finger. “No, sir. You are not pinning your crap attitude on me, Bran Turner. I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to do and then some. So I don’t know what else you want from me.”

In a split second, Bran made his decision. He said, “I’ll show you what I want.” Then he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

It wasn’t a hard kiss; though God knew he could’ve inhaled her lush lips and sweet mouth from the get-go. He forced himself to take it slow, giving her every chance to push him away.

Harper didn’t even try.

But neither did she move. She just let him brush his mouth across hers, over and over. Tasting her top lip, and bottom lip. Kissing the corners of her mouth, coaxing her to kiss him back. To open her mouth and invite him inside. When Bran licked the seam of her lips, her breath caught on a soft gasp.

He swallowed that gasp, taking her invitation for an openmouthed kiss. His tongue sought hers, teasing and stroking, cranking the intensity until they were sharing the same breath. Even as they changed the angle of their heads, attempting to swallow each other whole, their lips were only apart for a fraction of a second as undeniable hunger consumed them both.

When Harper’s arms slid up his chest to circle his neck, he growled a warning, pushing her hands against the wooden slats above her head. Letting her know that he was in charge.

She moaned, arching her back, forcing their bodies to touch. Despite the fact that they were dressed in thick winter clothes, that movement affected him as strongly as if they were skin to skin.

Bran kissed her harder, bumping his hips into hers. Wanting her beneath him in his bed. Wanting her bent over the edge of the couch as he took her from behind. Wanting her straddling him as they rocked in the easy chair. Wanting her on her knees with his hands gripping her hair as his c**k plunged in and out of her pliant mouth.

Would you be paying her for these services? Since she works for you?

He froze immediately and pushed back from her, staring at her kiss-swollen lips. Lust, fear, need, anticipation, and regret swam in his head, leaving him so confused he wasn’t sure which emotion was the right one in this situation.

If he felt that way, what was Harper thinking?

At this point, he was too much of a chickenshit to stick around and find out.

His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “Fuck. I . . . we can’t . . . I shouldn’t do this.” He spun on his boot heel and walked off without looking back.

Put that amazing kiss out of your mind.

Confused and hurt, Harper unloaded the last of the stuff from the pickup and shut the barn door.

On the way home she cranked up the country music and sang along with the radio, tunes about lying, cheating, and drinking. She showered and changed into her favorite outfit for her shift at Get Nailed, but even that didn’t improve her mood.

Bailey came home and chattered away, appearing not to notice Harper’s distraction. As the middle sister, Harper had always been incredibly attuned to her family’s moods. Might be petty, but it sucked that Bailey didn’t care about her frame of mind. Chewing her sister out for being a teen wouldn’t be fair, so Harper left for the shop early.

Friday afternoons were busy with a younger female crowd looking to get prettied up for a wild weekend. Talk turned to bar hopping, one-night stands, and normal partying stuff that people her age did. Harper didn’t begrudge anyone fun, but even if she hadn’t been responsible for raising Bailey, it wasn’t her style to go out every weekend, trying to get drunk and laid. She’d witnessed the aftermath of that attitude and lifestyle with her mother, and she had no desire to repeat it.

“That purply pink would look kick-ass with what I’m wearing this weekend.”

Roused out of her melancholy, Harper plucked the color from the row of pinks and held it out to her former classmate, Tiffany DeMeter. “This one?”