Page 27 of When We Met

I blink slowly, my body frozen as we walk back toward the shop. “What if she’s a serial killer?” Look at her. No way she’s a serial killer. My reasons have nothing to do with my kids and everything to do with below my belt. A girl in my house that looks like that? Um, no. Bad idea.

“What, you think she’s hiding an axe up her ass? Don’t be a pussy.”

I don’t want to think about her ass, but I am now.

And then he says quite possibly the most insane shit I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. “She can stay in the bunkhouse.”

“Fuck that,” I say before I can stop myself. I don’t know why, but the idea of her around a bunch of cowboys sends an instant summersault to my stomach and chest.

Morgan arches an eyebrow, smirking. “So she’s staying with you?”

“Better than a bunch of roughnecks that haven’t seen tits in years.”

He laughs. “That’s not true. Betsy gives them a show from time to time. And most of them are married.”

I eye my brother carefully. “Didn’t stop you.”

“You know.” He shoves me hard. I slip in the snow and land on my ass. “You’re being a real dick tonight.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble, picking myself up and dusting off my jeans. “You know what I mean.”

He does. Those guys, I’m not sure what their morals are or if any of them have ’em. We have one girl on the ranch, if you can call Betsy a girl. Sure, she has tits and an ass, but she’s been ridden hard and put away haggard. Twice my age, she talks like a trucker, has spent way too much time in the sun, and her hands are more calloused than mine. Married or not, I’m pretty sure every cowboy here, aside from me and Morgan, has fucked her a time or two.

I shiver at the thought of Betsy naked. Nope. Not an image I want.

Inside the shop, the girls follow us back to where the woman is staring at her bloody car. This chick wearing my jacket, I can think of some things I’d like to do to her. I let my eyes drift from her dark hair to her leather boots to the skintight jeans she’s wearing.

She spots me and the corners of her mouth turn up. “Sorry about all this.”

Do you notice the way I shift my body toward hers and unintentionally breathe in? That’s a man who hasn’t had any in a while. “I have a couch. You could stay there.”

Her shoulders lift and then fall, my jacket on her looking like it’s going to swallow her whole. “Okay.”

Camdyn tugs on my hand. “She can sleep with us.”

I stare at Camdyn and Sev, who is now sound asleep in Morgan’s arms. “You don’t even know her,” I whisper.

“Neither do you,” she whispers back. “She can sleep in Sev’s bed.”

“Where’s Sev going to sleep?”

“I don’t care.”

And sadly, she doesn’t.

I help the woman with her bag when she reaches for my hand. “Thank you. My name is Kacy Conner.”

I shake her hand, fighting through the urge to bring her body flush with mine. “Barron Grady.”

She stiffens, eyes falling to the girls. “Barron Grady?” she repeats, as if she’s heard my name before. “Thanks for letting me stay with you tonight.” Her words come out forced, and I chalk it up to the cold, but there’s something in her tone that’s off.

With Kacy in the back with the girls, we drop Morgan off at his house with the buck and then head up the road to my house. I drive faster than I usually would with the girl in the side by side, but it’s so fucking cold I fear my balls have become ovaries at this point.

It’s when we pull up to the house and are inside the garage I think maybe I’ve made a bad decision. I watch with rapt attention as she peels my jacket off and hands it to me. I discretely check out the outline of her breasts and the curve of her waist. The plumpness filling her jeans in the back and the insane urge I have to grab her and haul her onto my lap.

Okay, balls are back, but so is my semi. Fuck. This is going to be harder than I initially thought.

Literally.

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