Page 59 of Dirty Cowboy

His breath hitches.

"You havenoidea what a well-rubbed dick feels like," I murmur, my voice dripping with promise. "Because you’ve never been rubbed byme."

I pull my hand away before he can react, stepping back toward my room.

"Goodnight, cowboy," I whisper, letting the words linger between us. "Today wasincredible."

Two steps away, his voice reaches me, rough and full of wicked amusement.

"Goodnight, my darling Emma. I’ll cash in your offer soon," he calls. "But that was aprettygood preview."

I shut the door behind me, sealing myself in before Eric can call my bluff. My lungs strain for air as I lean against the wood, heart hammering. My feet feel like lead as I drag myself toward the bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a sigh. The day lingers on my skin, and in my bones in a chaotic swirl of exhaustion, anticipation, and longing.

Sleep creeps in, pulling me under, but my mind refuses to let go. Lords Valley tugs at me, wrapping itself around my heart in ways I never expected. Could I really belong here? I picture a future of mornings wrapped in crisp country air, afternoons spent chasing piglets, and my nights tangled up in Eric—until the distant roar of an engine snaps me from my dream.

Blinking against the haze of sleep, I rub my eyes and push off the bed. I shuffle to the window just as headlights sweep across the yard. Grandpa Albert’s old turquoise truck rumbles into the driveway, its engine sputtering like it’s holding on out of sheer stubbornness. Rust and peeling paint do little to hide its history—this truck has lived. And as Grandpa hops out, waving up at the house, I realize something else.

So have I.

"Good morning!" Grandpa Albert’s voice booms as he waves toward the house. His usual ease is wrapped in somethingurgent.

I rub my eyes. "It’snine o’clock!" I call down.

"Come downstairs!" he hollers back. "Breakfast is ready!"

“On my way!” I call out the window.

I change in a hurry and run downstairs where I find a bouquet of sunflowers on the kitchen counter with a note from Eric.

Gone to Blake’s. Pigs aren’t done yet. See you later. XOXO

I shake my head, grinning. Piglets are, apparently, a full-time commitment. Shrugging into a blazer, I head outside, where Grandpa Albert stands proudly beside his truck, running a hand over the rusted hood.

"Where did you getthisbeauty?" I ask, giving him a warm hug.

"Emma, meet Suzy. She was my wedding gift to Eric’s grandmother." His voice is thick with nostalgia.

I smile, running my fingers over the chipped paint. "That’s abeautifulgift."

"She coughed up some oil and gave up on me a while back, but Derek fixed her up." He pats the hood with affection. "Heard you had a late night."

"First time I ever saw piglets born." I laugh. "I don’t think Eric will make it to breakfast either."

"No, he’s at Blake’s," Grandpa Albert nods. "Which means Ifinallyget you to myself."

I raise an eyebrow. "So we’re driving Suzyfive hundred yards?"

"You wouldn’t deny an old man the pleasure, would you?" His grin is infectious.

The truck coughs to life, every inch of her groaning, but she moves. It’s charming. As we roll toward the house, Grandpa Alebert’s grin widens. The clunky vehicle rattles along the uneven road, transporting me to a world vastly different from the polished cabs I’m used to. The world away from the glass and concrete of New York feels grounding, and I realize that I’m falling for this place.

For the people.

Forhim.

And I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk away.

"Did you grow up on the ranch?" I ask, watching as Grandpa Albert scans the horizon like he can see straight into the past.

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