Page 32 of Dirty Cowboy

“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping back, though I don’t mean it. Not one bit.

“For what?” she asks, her voice soft, curious.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I just… Grandpa was watching.”

That’s a lie. Grandpa wasn’t watching. He’s probably too busy with his apple pie to care what’s happening in the kitchen, but I need an excuse. I need something to justify the mess I’ve just made.

She straightens her shirt, smoothing the fabric over her breasts. The movement draws my gaze, and fuck me, her nipples are hard, pushing against the fabric like an invitation I desperately want to accept.

“It’s what I’m here for,” she says, all too casually, then elbows me and nods toward the window. “See? The kiss worked. They’re toasting now. We should do that more often… You know, when they’re looking.”

Right. I’m pretending. For Grandpa. That’s all. But if we do that again, if I taste her like that again, there won’t be any pretending about it.

“Sounds like a plan,” I grumble, shifting uncomfortably as my cock throbs with frustration.

We return to the dishes in silence, but my mind isn’t on the pot I’m scrubbing. Instead, I’m thinking about Emma, about how her mouth felt against mine, and how perfectly she fit in my arms. I think about what I’d do if we weren’t in this kitchen with my family just outside.

And fuck me, it’s a problem. Because my cock is straining again.

Emma turns off the water, drying the last plate. I nudge her with my elbow, needing to shake off the tension. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She flicks a stray lock of hair from her face, leaving a smudge of bubbles on her cheek.

“I’m thinking I should spend more time with Grandpa,” she says. “How long until he signs the papers for the ranch? What’s the plan here?”

She frowns slightly, and something in my gut tightens. I don’t want her leaving too soon. Not that quick. Not at all.

“Grandpa will want us to announce the engagement this weekend at Harvest Fest,” I tell her, watching for her reaction.

Her nose wrinkles. “That will work.”

“That will work for what?” I ask.

“Well, I need to go back to my dad, and Eric, I have to be honest here. This ruse is exactly what I need.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then bites her lip. “I’ve been going about my partnership the wrong way. I thought I had to prove myself over and over, but when I spoke to my father, he reminded me of something.”

She takes a deep breath. “There’s a relationship stipulation in the articles of incorporation.”

I blink. “Oh-kay?”

“Don’t you see? I don’t need to wait on my brothers' vote. Our engagement is all I need.”

I arch a brow. “Fake engagement.”

She waves a hand. “Point is, I only need proof that I’m in a serious relationship, send an application to corporate, and it’s an automatic acceptance for me.”

She lifts her hand into the stream of sunlight coming through the kitchen window, and the light bounces off my grandmother’s engagement ring, casting rainbow patterns across her fingers.

“You’ll sign an affidavit that we’re engaged. I’ll forward it to corporate tomorrow, get my partnership, you’ll make the announcement, and I’ll go back home to see my father before he…” She trails off, the light dimming in her eyes.

And that’s when it hits me—I don’t want her leaving.

But she should be with her father.

“So you’re using me to get a promotion?” I tease, pushing back the selfish part of me that wants her to stay longer.

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