Page 16 of Red's Revenge

“Keep your fucking distance and your hands to yourself. I am here on business and nothing else. Got it?” The shock on his face is priceless.

“Yes, ma’am.” He fixes his shirt and backs away from me.

“Good. I’ll see you at seven.” I turn and open the door.

What the fuck are you doing, Camila?

“Seven?” He must be wondering the same thing I am.

“Dinner, Mr. Justice. We still need to discuss the future of your ranch. Unless you really want to lose millions. If that is the case, then I’ll be leaving tonight. Your choice.” I say all of this without turning because my traitorous hormones want this man like I’ve never wanted another in my life.

Not even Ryan and that’s a big fucking problem.

“Fine, I’ll pick you up.” I started to tell him where I was staying, but he stopped me.

“I know where Cami.” My heart stops.

The sound of my name rolling off his tongue makes me think of everything else that part of him can do.

And more…FUCK.

“Oh, and Cami?” I turn to look over my shoulder at him.

“Leave your panties. You won’t need them.” I slam the door closed behind me, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing his laughter.

“Have a nice day now.” The receptionist says way too fucking cheerfully for my liking.

When I get to my rental car, I want to hit my head against the steering wheel. As I start the car, I call Evelyn.

“Are you on your way home?” I sigh and let my head fall back.

“Eve, I’m in fucking trouble.” She laughs at my tone.

“You want to ride a cowboy, don’t you?”

I’m afraid to answer that question. Cause we both know it’s a fuck yes.

“What am I supposed to do?” I am on the verge of a whole-ass panic attack.

“Buy a pair of boots and a hat and work out your thighs?” I swear my best friend is the best in the world.

But that advice might just get me to dumped.

Or worse, fired.

Chapter Seven

RED

I’m standing in my closet looking at my clothes like I’ve never seen them before. I scratch my beard and wonder how a thirty-three-year-old man only owns one fucking suit, which is currently at the dry cleaners.

“You look perplexed, boy.” I turn to see my Pa watching with a rather amused look on his face.

“I gotta date,” I turn back to my selection of jeans, flannels, and boots, praying that something else has appeared.

“Oh? Where are you taking her?” Another great question that I haven’t figured out.

This town has exactly two places worth eating at, and we’ve already had bad memories of both.

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