Page 19 of Possessive Rancher

“Um, say, you wouldn’t know a place to stay around here or anything, right?” he asks.

“About three miles up the road, you’ll head into town. We’ve had a power outage from the storm so best of luck to you.” I’m not giving him any inkling of hospitality when I have a very naked Heather waiting for me to get back to her.

“You sure? I heard about this place, Heaven’s Haven. This is it, ain’t it?” he asks and that makes me step out of my truck. My demeanor tells him everything he needs to know, shooting his hands up in the air as I crowd him against the steel frame.

“No vacancies, sir. You best be on your way,” I tell him and refuse to back off. He has to squeeze his 6’2 body from between me and my truck.

“Sorry, my apologies, didn’t mean to impose. Thanks for your help, Hudson. I appreciate the Conklin hospitality,” he says with a chuckle and gets into his car to leave.

Whoever that guy is, I don’t like him. I don’t want him anywhere on my property, and I damn sure don’t want him anywhere in Conklin.

10

HEATHER

Sun peeks through the curtains when I open my eyes.

I have no idea what time it is. When I push myself to sit up, I see I’m no longer on the couch. When I glance out of the window, there’s no view of the lake.

The sound of Hudson grunting as if he’s having sex wafts into the room and forces me to my feet. I stand up, trying to get my bearings when I realize I’m back in the main house.

When did I get here?

My head feels fine. As a matter of fact, this is the most refreshing feeling I have had upon waking up in months. The stirring in the pit of my stomach drives me to find where the noises are coming from.

The stairs creak as I take them down to the first floor. Coffee is brewing and the sounds traveling through the house lead me to the room Hudson wants to use as an office. Instead, I find him there on some machine doing pull-ups.

Sweat pours down his body, one drop pouring into another over the peaks and valleys of muscles I wonder are in everyone’s back. It’s fascinating to watch. Every stretch and contraction of his strong frame excites me. The noises he makes take me back to our time in the lake house yesterday.

“Do you require your employees to exercise every morning?” I ask him.

He does another ten before hopping down and spinning around to face me. The room is a blank slate with charcoal carpeting and light gray walls. The only thing in there is the machine that lets him do a variety of exercises.

His smile makes me feel all kinds of things as he slicks back his dark brown hair. His stubble is growing more and more, tickling me as he bends down to kiss me.

“Morning, Heather. No, employees are not required to exercise, but there’s not much to do out here so it helps pass the time. You sleep well?” he asks, licking his lips before biting the bottom as he drags his gaze down my naked body.

“Like the dead apparently. I didn’t feel you move me or anything. When did we leave the lake house?” I ask him, taking a step closer to the contraption.

I wonder how many pull-ups I can do.

“Uh, sometime this morning, about four or five. I didn’t want us to wake up starving or thirsty so after I helped some guy get back on the road, I went back to grab you,” he says. “After you whined about me not shoving my cock in your mouth, you cooperated and let me bring you back here.”

“There was a guy on the road?” I ask, looking down at my naked body.

“He didn’t come on the property, just got himself stuck in a ditch. That guy you said you think got you fired from your last job, you have a picture of what he looks like?”

“No, but I think I can call the motel and have one of my friends send me a pic of his ID. They should still have it on file, and I know a few people who owe me favors. Why?”

Hudson shrugs. “I just want to be sure if I see this guy in passing, I can slug him first thing and he’ll know what it’s for.”

I turn to face him, now with a towel around his sweaty shoulders, stroking the side of his face with a smile. “Always the protector.”

“For you? Yes. Give your people a call and get that picture to me. He got a name?” Hudson asks.

“Yeah, Walton Emory,” I tell him, never forgetting the name of the guy who scares the hell out of me.

Hudson grabs his phone and pulls up a video, showing it to me, “Does it look like this guy?”

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