Page 42 of Wrangling Hearts
13
Claire
Beau was here again. And while I desperately needed the help fixing the place up and was grateful for it, it also made me feel like he thought I was some charity case. And that’s the last way I wanted him to look at me.
He was up on a ladder, patching part of the roof where there was a leak. He had already replaced the roofing, and I had watched with my heart in my throat as he walked across it thirty feet in the air. I couldn’t let him get hurt on my watch, doing something for my ranch. The ranch that was supposed to be his competition.
Neither one of us had brought it up in the five days since I kissed him. We hadn’t brought the kiss up at all since he visited Mama in the hospital either. But he was here when the ambulance brought her home two days ago; he even helped Emmett carry her inside.
I was conflicted. I needed this partnership to save my ranch, but it felt wrong to keep competing against the man who had been there for me so much during one of the worst times of my life. And I couldn’t have that on my conscience with everything else.
He had his own reasons for needing the partnership, his own point to prove to Mount. As much as I didn’t want him to win, I also did. I wanted him to get that closure with his father, to learn to believe in himself the way his siblings and I did.
Like I said, conflicted.
“I can feel you staring,” he said.
“I think you need to stop coming here,” I replied. I instantly regretted saying it, but it was out there now. No turning back.
Beau stopped working and lowered the nail gun slowly as he looked down at me. “What? Why?”
Ugh, I felt like crying. And I was so sick of crying. “Because it’s not fair to you.”
He climbed down the ladder, jumping off when only a few rungs were left. He looked…mad, very mad. His eyes narrowed, hands on his hips. “What about this isn’t fair to me?”
I waved my arms around the barn. “All of this. We have our final proposals for Cavendish duetomorrow, and you’ve been here every day working on your competition’s ranch instead of your own. How is that fair to you? To Joseph?”
“I’m a big boy, Claire, I know how to manage my time.”
“I know that, but?—”
He walked towards me slowly. “But what? Do you not want me here?”
My back met a hay bale, the straws rough against my skin, but I stayed silent. The truth was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t tell him that I loved having him here. That watching him with my brother and mother melted me. That I was pretty sure I was falling for him. I couldn’t say any of it.
So I said, “No, I don’t.” It came out weak, pathetic, and so full of need, it made me sick. His proximity alone was enough to turn me desperate for him. But that was why he needed to go. We were too much of a distraction for one another. It was dangerous when we both had so much at stake—me even more than him.
He scoffed, bracing a hand next to my head on the hay bale, trapping me. “You’re a terrible fucking liar.”
“It’s the truth,” I whispered, my eyes darting between his. They were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, likely mirroring mine.
“Yeah?” His voice was taunting and sexy enough that I let out a breathy whimper. His chuckle was low, teasing. “That little whimper says otherwise.”
My heart was pounding, my panties were soaked, and I was dying for him to touch me. “I mean it, Beau.” My voice was unrecognizable, desire-ridden and thick.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed roughly. His hand slid down my stomach, a ghost of a touch that sent more heat pooling between my legs. He stopped at my hips, his fingers working my belt slowly enough to give me the chance to tell him to stop. I never would.
“Tell me how much you don’t want me, then, while I show you how much I need you.”
I looked between us as he popped the button on my jeans and dragged the zipper down so slow I almost screamed at him to hurry up. “I don’t want you here,” I whispered shakily. “We’re competing against each other.”
“We are.” His voice was nothing more than a gruff rasp. “I guess that means I shouldn’t do this, then.” I gasped as his hand surged forward past the waistband of my panties, his fingers finding my clit instantly.
He let out a low groan. Something close to a growl. “Fuck, baby, you really don’t want me, huh?”
“No.” The word came out tangled with a moan. I gripped his arm as he began to move his fingers in quick circles that had me panting.
“Really? My soaked hand disagrees.”
