Page 2 of Dirty-Talking Cowboy
Rhett McKinnon was a man with money. And with money came power. Two things I was positive he wasn’t afraid to use to get exactly what he wanted.
Well, he wasn’t getting my aunt’s ranch. My ranch now.
“Funny thing,” I said, keeping my tone even. “From what I’ve been told, my aunt didn’t want to sell. Didn’t want to sell toyouin particular.”
Something dangerous flickered across his face. Dark and foreboding. No doubt he wasn’t used to hearing the word no. Well, it was going to be my word of the day—for however long it took him to understand its meaning.
He swung down from the saddle in one fluid motion, and suddenly he was standing on the ground in front of me, and oh God, he was even bigger than I’d thought. Had to be six-three, maybe six-four, all solid muscle and raw masculine power. He didn’t have that lean, wiry build of a cowboy. No, his shoulders were broad enough to block out the sun, and when he took a step toward me, my body’s immediate response was to back up.
Or hurl myself at him.
I did neither. I held my ground, even though my heart was trying to hammer its way out of my chest and my panties were growing damper by the minute.
“Your aunt never wanted to sell to anyone,” he said, and his voice had dropped lower, gone rough around the edges, if that was even possible. “She told me so every time I asked. She was a hell of a stubborn woman. Looks like it runs in the family.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Wasn’t meant as one.” He took another step closer, near enough now that I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. Near enough that I could smell him—leather and sweat and something woodsy that made me want to lean in and breathe deeper. “You don’t know what you’re doing, little girl. This place will eat you alive if you try to run it by yourself.”
I gave a loud huff. “I am my no means a little girl, as you can clearly see.”
“Oh, I see you alright.” Another long drag of his gaze over me. Over my curves. I clenched my hands by my side, refusing to give into the impulse to pull my shirt away from my stomach. My hips. No doubt he was use to stick thin women who looked like a puff of wind would blow them away.
That wasn’t me. I had curves. I had grit. And was here to prove to myself that I could do this. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your opinion.”
“You should be. I know this land. Know what it takes to keep it running, keep it profitable. You don’t.”
“So, your solution is for me to just hand it over to you? Let the big, successful rancher swallow up the little property next door so he can expand his empire?” I heard the edge in my voice, the defensiveness, but I couldn’t help it. He was standing too close, looking at me too intensely, making me feel too much. “How convenient for you.”
His jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought I’d pushed too far. Then his mouth curved into something that was almost a smile, but harder. “You think I want your land just to be greedy? To have more?”
“Don’t you?”
“I want it because I can take care of it. Because I know what the hell I’m doing.” He moved even closer, and now I did step back, my spine hitting the porch railing. He kept coming, bracing one hand on the railing next to my hip, leaning in until his face was inches from mine. “You, on the other hand, don’t know the first damn thing about ranching. You’ll run this place—and yourself— into the ground in six months, and then you’ll sell anyway. Might as well save yourself the trouble and sell to me now.”
I should have been intimidated. Should have been scared, maybe, with this huge man looming over me, using his size to make a point. Instead, I was furious. And beneath the fury, something hot and electric was building inside me, something that had everything to do with how close he was and how good he smelled.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said, and I was proud of how steady my voice came out. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“No?” His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered there. “Then enlighten me, darlin’. What exactly are you capable of?”
The word darling in that whiskey coated voice made my knees weak. I forced myself to meet his eyes, those gray eyes that promised I’d lose before I even knew we were playing.
My chin came up, defiant. “Maybe, I don’t know anything about ranching. But I’ve been working since I was sixteen. I learn fast, and I don’t give up. Ever. This land is mine now, and I’m keeping it. You can either accept that, or you can keep ridingover here trying to intimidate me into selling. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to work.”
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, slowly, that dangerous almost-smile came back. “You’ve got fire. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve got more than fire. I’ve got a deed with my name on it and a backbone you apparently think I don’t have.” I pushed away from the railing, forcing him to either move back or make me brush against him. He didn’t move. I had to turn sideways to slip past him, and the brief contact—my shoulder against his chest, my hip grazing his—sent sparks racing across my skin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have boxes to unload.”
I made it two steps before his voice stopped me.
“I don’t do things halfway, darlin’.”
That freaking, deep voiced endearment again.
I looked back over my shoulder. He’d turned to face me, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, hat shadowing his face again. But I could feel his stare like a physical touch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means when I decide I want something, I get it. One way or another.” He paused, and the air between us went heavy again. “I wanted this land. Now I’m thinking I might want more than that.”
