Big Man’s Wife (Big Men Big Hearts 1)

I should just turn around and go back to the airport. Screw this place.

I should forget about this whole stupid thing and just tell my step-father to do it on his own.

But I can't. There's something inside me that's telling me to stay. To finish what I started and not give up just because Ryder's telling me I should. Going home would be easy, but staying will be a challenge.

I've always loved a challenge, and this is no different.

I'm not going anywhere. Two can play this game.

2

Ryder

Who the hell does she think she is?

The balls she has coming here like this, thinking I'm just going to roll over and give her my farm. Fat chance in hell. That's not how this works. I don't care how sexy she is. Her long smooth legs can carry her right back to where she came from.

She's not who I remember.

I don't recognize this girl anymore. Where's the tomboy who isn't afraid of the dirt? Where's the girl who would wrangle a pig in the sty and not care about getting mud in her hair?

The girl who's standing in front of me looks like a carbon copy from a Vogue magazine. If she had told me she was a model, I wouldn't be surprised.

Her hair is perfect, not a single strand is out of place. The makeup around her eyes is thick, making the blue pop. A copper color is smeared up to her perfectly shaped brows, and her lashes are black as coal.

Biting my bottom lip, I can't stop myself from enjoying the view as she storms back to her car. Her ass moves deliciously as she wobbles in the sand on her heels making my cock jerk in my pants.

She's fucking gorgeous. Always has been. But the girl I see now, and the girl I remember, are two different people. This version is all polish and foundation, fancy shoes and expensive clothes. The version I used to know was torn jeans, worn sneakers, with sandy grit in her hair.

But fuck me, if her golden blond hair and bright blue eyes still don't make my blood hot. I've hated her for years, never expecting to see her again. But here she is, appearing like the ghost of Christmas past.

My eyes keep bouncing with her ass, eager to dig my teeth into her flesh and give her a little bite. I want to taste her and feel her so bad my cock hurts as it presses against my zipper.

Her long legs slam angrily into the ground, causing her to stumble slightly as her heel gets caught in the dirt. Chuckling to myself, she slams the car door and sits inside for a second before speeding off.

She'll be back sooner than later. She isn't lying about that. I know this isn't done. Her asshole step-father isn't going to let this go. He's been trying to buy this place for years, but my father wouldn't budge, and I'm not going to either.

Sending Jenna to negotiate isn't going to change anything. She can bat her lashes; she can smother me with the grand idea of living the high life with loads of cash. But I'm not going to break for her. Nothing she can say or do or offer me will change my mind.

Maybe when we were kids I would have done anything for her. I liked her. I had a crush that I couldn't get rid of. Unfortunately for her, things change. She left, she left without saying a word, without so much as a goodbye.

I'm done with her.

Walking back inside the barn, I just can't shake her from my head. Her tight black skirt, her long slender legs, her cleavage popping out of the top of her white button-up blouse. And those plump, juicy lips, tinted pink, and shining like they're coated with glass. She looked so damn kissable.

I'd like to peel those layers right off her, every single piece of clothing, and make her see again how good being dirty can feel.

Raking a hand through my hair, I force the thought away. She's not here because she wants to be. I could see it in her expression. She's here for business.

She's here to take my family's legacy, to turn into fucking condos or some shit. I won't do it. I'm not destroying what my parents built. No amount of money is worth it.

What bothers me most is that she doesn't even seem to care. She doesn't care at all about the time we spent here or the memories we share.

Jenna sees dollar signs, and I see pavement. She sees more money, and I see lost trees.

Laughing to myself, I grab the hammer and a horseshoe. There's only one motel in this town, and she's going to get quite the surprise once she gets there. I wonder what she'll say then.