Page 18 of Ranch Rules

“Well, me, as it happens.”

“You?” she echoed, registering this with surprise.

“If you have no objections.” His smile was in full bloom now.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that I could have someone who hasn’t already seen me bare-assed and blubbering.”

“What would you want that for? Just so you can go through the first time all over again?”

She opened her mouth to say that she would not be getting spanked again, but decided against it. Somehow, she didn’t think it would sit well. “Never mind. I guess you’ll do.”

Thomas doffed his hat and bowed over his outstretched arm. “Well, I thank you kindly, ma’am.”

She couldn’t resist giggling and found that the much-needed rest put her in such a good mood she even took his arm when he offered it and let him escort her downstairs.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

The scent of biscuits, fried ham, cheesy eggs, and gravy wafted through the air. Natalie had smelt it even before they stepped into the hall, and her stomach grumbled at once.

“Looks like we’re headin’ down just in time,” Thomas remarked.

“I normally don’t have more than a breakfast bar and a cup of coffee in the morning.” Three cups of coffee, she amended silently.

“Well, seems like this trip is goin’ to be an experience for you in more ways than one.”

“Yes, well, hopefully the food is good at least.” As soon as the words popped out, she blanched. She had spoken without thinking—something she didn’t do often. Thomas had gotten her to let her guard down, and she’d slipped up.

He stopped right at the head of the staircase. “Look at me, Natalie. Don’t be shy.”

Sure that she knew what was coming, she raised her eyes with reluctance.

“I don’t mind a li’l sassiness every now and again, so long as no disrespect is meant.” He reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “This is a ranch, not a prison, though some of the accommodations are ‘bout the same.” He grinned before resuming their walk down the stairs.

Natalie felt herself relax, surprised and a bit uncomfortable at how quickly he could put her at ease. She hardly knew him, after all, and given the contract she’d signed and what it allowed him to do to her if he felt the so-called ‘need,’ she really couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

“Our cook is excellent,” he informed her. “She’s been with the ranch since it opened. A lot of people swear they come just for her cooking, although they enjoy the horseback riding and barn dances just as well.” Whether it was his intention to just give her information or for his melodic voice to work more magic on her strained nerves, she did not know.

She stopped up short. “Did you say horses? You have horses?”

“What’s a ranch without horses? Sounds like a cowboy without a hat.” He chuckled. “I take it you like horses?”

“Like all nine-year-old girls, I was horse crazy when I was young.”

“Ever ride?”

“No. My college had an equestrian team but I was too busy with the books to be distracted.” She shook her head ruefully as she remembered all the nights and weekends she’d spent pent up inside declining every invitation to go out, whether it was a party or a quick bite, because she was so focused on the future she was determined to have. Now that she was in it, ‘living the dream’ as her college self called it, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl she’d been.

“Well, we’ll have to see if we can find some time to go riding during your stay.”

“Really?” She looked up eagerly. “You mean it?”

“If it means that much to you, of course we will. You are on vacation after all.”

Funny, until just a few minutes ago she would have described herself a prisoner but maybe that been too harsh. Perhaps she’d misjudged the place. By the time she was sitting down with a heaping plate of biscuits and gravy, crisp bacon, and fluffy eggs in front of her, she was willing to give it a second chance.

Natalie savored every bite, not regretting the calories for a second. After all, hard work had been promised in the contract. She didn’t have time to be a runner or keep a regular exercise routine, but she didn’t need to. She’d wager that the amount of stress she endured at Briggs & Spric rivaled the calories burned during any Olympic sport.

Once she’d pushed her plate back, she looked longingly at the platter of bacon in the center of the table. She would have taken seconds if she thought she could stomach another bite.

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