Page 5 of Unexpected Sweetheart
Looks like I got that wrong.
Because he doesn’t want me.
Because he sees me as a child, a spoiledheiress, and a nuisance he doesn’t want around.
Seems that no matter where I go, I’m never Rory Jenson. I’m still just a thing.
Well, I don’t want to be a thing anymore.
I want to be free.
Ryan
It’s about one in the morning when my eyes pop open, and I have to fist my cock before I blow a load all over the sheets. Despite being exhausted when I got into bed, that little visit from the heiress upstairs managed to stir something deep inside me that I struggled to ignore, and when I finally willed my body to relax enough for sleep, I was assaulted with dream after erotic dream, this final one ending with me racing to the bathroom and letting out my release with a shudder before I splash a bunch of cold water on my face, and take a long hard look at myself in the mirror.
“You’re fucked,” is all I can say.
The underside of my skin burns with shame because the last thing I wanted to think about is this girl in my bed, moaning for me as I take what I want andneedout of her body. I feel depraved, not only because I just came over a filthy dream when I didn’t want to, but because my dick is hard again just thinking about it.
Shaking my head, I scoop another handful of water over my face and the back of my neck.What the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never felt this out of control over a woman before. I just met her, I’ve barely spoken with her, and I find her irritating yet entirely fuckable. And the insanity of that desire does not escape me. I’m pushing forty, and she’s not even old enough to drink. I’m knocking on poverty’s door, and she’s so cashed up she could probably self-fund a bank.
No matter what my dick or my subconscious think, she and I just aren’t going to happen. And after the hurt look in her eyes when she flew out of my room last night, I’m fairly sure that ship has well and truly sailed. Hell, I’ll be surprised if she’s even talking to me come morning. But that’s fine. She doesn’t need to talk. Lorelei Jenson is here for one thing and one thing only—a lesson in hard work. And that’s what I’m going to give her. My depravity will stay in the dark recesses of my mind where it belongs. Instead of thinking with my dick, I’ll channel the spirit of my father and turn her into a rancher in no time. She’ll go back to New York and inherit her billions, and I’ll keep hoping this ranch sells before I die here too. Seems like a fair trade?
With a hollow laugh, I dry off then trudge back to my room, trying to decide between attempting to get a couple more hours sleep or going outside to check on the heifers who are calving this season. I haven’t heard any alarming mooing, but I’m on edge because I’ve seen too many births go wrong, and this is the first calving season I’ve had to oversee since high school. Had I been in charge of the ranch nine months ago, I would have held the first-year heifers back. But Dad—despite the fact his doctor warned him to slow down—was a man who ran at full capacity no matter what the cost. I have five calves due any day now.
Shoving my legs into a clean pair of jeans, I pull on a shirt and jacket while I boil some water to make a thermos full of coffee that I plan to drink as I walk over to the paddock closest to the calving shed. There used to be a utility vehicle for these kinds of trips, but since those things are worth good money, I got rid of it along with a lot of the other equipment and reverted to horse and manpower. It bought me a couple of week’s grace with the bank, but I pay for it in aches and pains.
The heifers are either sleeping or quietly milling about. I get a couple of moos to let me know they see me, but other than that, things are pretty peaceful on the ranch, so I pour myself a coffee and just watch over the animals while I think and think and think. But that doesn’t last long, because both the heifers and I are disrupted when a set of lights and the rumble of an engine heralds the approach of what can only be an unwelcome caller. No one in their right mind shows up unannounced before the rooster has crowed.
“What the actual…” I fling the rest of my coffee over the grass at my side and cap the thermos, making my way back to the house to meet my visitor. I’m hoping to God it isn’t another spoiled rich kid, but when I get close enough to see who’s getting out of the black and white sporting the words ‘Sweetheart PD’ I realize it’s still the same spoiled rich kid who’s responsible for this visit from none other than Sweetheart’s Chief of Police.
“Ryan.” Chief Bruno Stockdale tips his hat as I approach.
“Chief.” I nod politely as I let my gaze shift to the designer jeans wearing woman standing a step behind him with her arms folding tight across her parker wearing chest.At least she’s not in that ridiculous pink get up again.
“Seems I found something of yours wanderin’ along the main road.” He gives her a little push, so she moves forward before his hands go back to his hips. “Didn’t think you were taking trouble on board anymore?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I say as I glare at Lorelei before taking the bag the chief hands me. “But the booking was made before Dad passed. Thought I should honor it.”
“Good man, your father. I’m sure he’d be proud of what you’re doing here.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I say, grinning as I wrap my hand around Lorelei’s upper arm. “Thank you for bringing Miss. Jenson back, Chief. I’ll see to it that I keep a better eye on her in future.”
“OK, Ryan. And Miss. Jenson, I don’t want to see you out there alone like that again. The roads aren’t safe to wander at night.”
“Because I could get kidnapped?”
“No!” Chief Stockdale says. “Because you could be mauled by a mountain lion or gored by a bull.”
It’s hard for me to cover my smirk as Lorelei balks. “How about we let the good chief get back to work, and I take you back inside, Lorelei?” I say, guiding her toward the house. “You can explain to me where you thought you were going at one in the morning when you should have been asleep in bed, preparing for your first day on the ranch.”
“I was just out getting some fresh air and got lost,” she says with a smirk.
“With this?” I lift the single bag she chose to take with her, and the chief takes that as his cue to leave, chuckling to himself as he gets into his truck. Lorelei isn’t the first escapee he’s returned to the ranch, but she’ll sure as hell be the last.
“Maybe I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted.”
