Wrangled (Steele Ranch 2)

I frowned, started walking down the hall choosing to just ignore him, but he stepped in my path. “Come on, baby.”

“My name’s not baby.” I veered to the left. He stepped in front of me.

“What is it then? ‘Cause I need to know it so I call out the right name when I fuck you.”

Gag.

“Not happening.” I shook my head, stepped to the right, then the left, trying to get around him. He wasn’t the first asshole I’d dealt with and he certainly was persistent. But when he stepped into me, turning us so I back stepped and was pressed against the wall, every hard inch of his body pinning me in place, I began to panic. He smelled of stale beer and BO.

And when his big paw settled on the back of my thigh, I began to fight. It was only a matter of time before it crept upward.

“Let me go.” My hands went to his chest to push him off, but he was just too big. Too strong.

“Not until I at least get a little feel.”

3

BOONE

The bar was packed. I hated crowds, hated loud music. I wouldn’t have come through the doors for anything—or anyone—but Penelope. I’d been damned lucky to be out at the Steele Ranch when she’d arrived the other day and all because Davies needed a follow-up visit for his concussion. He was fine, would be back in the saddle within a few days.

As for me? Just the sight of her tight little body made me feel like I’d been the one who’d fallen off a horse and whacked his head on a fence post. The damage was done; I’d never be the same again. She wasn’t my type; I’d never gone for tiny, curvy blondes, but maybe that was why I was still single. Penelope Vandervelk was one hot, little package and I wanted to unwrap every layer of her until she was bare before me. And Jamison.

I didn’t just mean her clothes. Since the other day, I’d checked her out online. Besides being gorgeous, she was smart, too. And that made her even more incredible.

But that didn’t mean jack shit if I couldn’t get her alone. Jamison had been adamant that we were too old for her. He was right, we were. Hell, going after a twenty-two-year-old when you’re thirty-five was close to cradle robbing. She wasn’t jailbait, not even barely legal. She had a fucking Master’s degree and a few years under her belt to know how things went. How to handle a man with those hourglass curves and hot pussy. My dick found everything about her hot as fuck, even that brilliant mind of hers. I’d left the ranch the other day and had to pull the truck over, take out my dick and rub one out. On the side of the road.

I’d fantasized about how her little pussy would feel dripping all over my dick. How it would be hot and wet and eager for my tongue to lap every drop of it all up. And that’s when I’d shot like a fucking geyser all over my hand. I hadn’t been that horny since I was fifteen.

And Jamison thought we were too old. I’d just had to be fucking patient waiting for Jamison to get his head out of his ass. Fortunately, I’d had two twelve-hour shifts to get my mind out of Penelope’s panties. Three days. Three long days of waiting for him to give up the fight. Finally. Fucking finally, he’d let his other head think for him.

I shook my head with impatience as I walked into the bar right behind him. He was immediately hailed by a friend and was forced to say hello. Focusing solely on our gorgeous target, I steered clear and went in search of Penelope, my hard dick practically leading the way.

I spotted the guys from the ranch and pushed through the crowd to their table. A new song came over the hidden speakers and I had to shout to be heard as I looked around. “Where’s Penelope?”

Patrick held up a clean pint glass. “Want a beer?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want a beer. I wanted my woman. I repeated the question. Patrick leaned in, shouted, “Bathroom.”

“Alone?” I countered.

Shamus slapped me on the shoulder. “Since when do we follow a woman to the bathroom?”

I glanced around, took in all the ladies who were scantily dressed, all the men who were checking them out, ready to fuck.

“Since this place is a meat market.” I cocked my head in the direction of a woman walking by in a jean skirt the size of a Band-Aid. If she lifted her arms in the air, she’d be ready for a GYN exam. She was beautiful in a fuck-me-now sort of way, but she wasn’t Penelope. “You bring a lady to a place like this, you keep a close eye on her. If she goes to the restroom, you wait for her in the damned hallway.”

The two boys—they were fucking boys—finally looked away from the passing woman’s ass and nodded as if I’d imparted some amazing advice.

“She’s been gone, like, ten minutes,” Shamus said, glancing at his watch.

I knew women and how long it took to do whatever the hell it was they did in the bathroom. But ten minutes? I saw Jamison approach and I angled my head toward the back. Veering, he caught up to me.

“Leave me alone!”

I heard Penelope’s voice before I saw her. That was because this big asshole had her pinned against the wall, blocking almost all of her from view. I couldn’t miss the way his meaty paw was sliding up beneath her thigh or the way she was twisting and shifting to avoid it. She lifted her knee to try to make contact with his balls, but she was just too damn small. Instead, she brought her heel down on top of his foot, which made his hand jerk away.

“Let her go, asshole.”