Page 2 of Big Burly Foreman

“Careful, princess,” he’d said in his deep, growly voice, his ocean blue eyes swimming with mirth, and I’d been robbed of my ability to breathe.

That had been his first day at work, and the foreman had been showing Logan around the ranch when I ran into him. Over the course of two years, we’ve seen each other plenty of times, and I always smile sweetly at him, pretending I hadn’t spent the previous night touching myself and imagining it were his calloused hands running over my body instead.

It’s been years of not-so-discreetly watching him, finding excuses to be in the barn on the off-chance I’ll get to talk to him, dreaming, imagining, and yet, I know it will never go beyond that.

Of course, Logan has never been rude to me. I’m the boss’s daughter, after all. He’s always patient and kind whenever I pepper him with questions about the most random things, just to hear his voice. Maybe it would be easier to stay away if he stopped calling meprincessevery time I see him. Maybe if he stopped looking at me the way he does . . .

I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. It’s useless to imagine myself with Logan, as it will never happen in a million years.

I am the heiress to massive wealth, my fate is written in stone, and the second I finish college, my father will parade his friends’ sons before me and demand I pick one to be my husband. At least I’ll have a choice, even if it’s from a list of men I have no interest in, but that’s better than nothing.

“The Berkleys will be arriving in a few hours. Do you need my help in picking something to wear?” Magda says, cutting into my thoughts.

I start to say something, but my mouth runs dry when Logan turns in our direction, and for the first time since stepping onto my bedroom balcony to ogle the man I will never have, I forget how to breathe. Nerves churn in my stomach, and even from a distance, his gaze sends a flurry of heat between my thighs.

From this distance, I can’t see the color of his eyes, but I have them memorized in my mind. Blue, ocean blue, so deep, they threaten to pull you under. His hair is plastered to his face, and I suck in a sharp breath when he sweeps it off his forehead.

His stare lasts less than a minute, but it feels like an hour, and it sends a delicious shiver through my body and goosebumps rising on my arms despite the oppressive heat. His gaze is not a gentle and soft caress over my body.

No, instead, it’s a storm. It’s hotter than the heat threatening to drown me, but it leaves me wanting for more. More of my cowboy’s stares, more of his attention . . .

I want more!

Can he feel it?

Can he feel my desire from this far away?

There is more than just this distance between us though.

I am the daughter of a man in the top 10 percent of the wealthiest people in the States. My surname carries more weight than any weapon, and the expectations are just as heavy.

I know it’s useless to want more from a man prohibited from coming close to me, and I can’t help but wonder if that is the reason I actually want it.

Want him.

I startle out of my delusions when Magda pats my back again. There is something akin to curiosity in her eyes when I meet her gaze, and for a moment, I am afraid that I let my desire for the cowboy show.

“Dress,” I blurt out. “I was thinking of wearing the green dress I bought the other day. You said it matches my eyes, right? I haven’t found an occasion for it, but maybe tonight will be it.”

“Uh-huh,” she mutters, following me back into the house. It is not her responsibility to look after me the way she does, but Magda and I have a close bond and she treats me like a daughter.

She follows me to my bedroom where I rummage through my closet for the green dress, but really, I just need something to do with my shaky fingers.

I want that which I cannot have, and how fucking frustrating is that?

It’s scary, too.

Even scarier is the look I’ve seen in Logan’s eyes every time I look into them. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about Logan has my mind screaming at me to stay away while my body whispers to move closer. Something tells me that whatever it is, that look means trouble. But I can’t help wondering if trouble is just what I need.

“Ash!”

“Huh?” I turn around to face Magda, and by the frown on her face, I can tell it’s not the first time she’s called out to me. “Sorry, did you say something? I was thinking about tonight.”

“Right,” she says, sounding skeptical, but I don’t say anything. “I forgot to mention something else about this dinner. The Berkleys’ son will be there as well.”

“Why?” I whisper, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth. My thoughts of Logan are a whole other issue and enough to get my blood pumping hard, but this dinner has me worried.

My parents are notorious for hosting dinner parties with their wealthy friends, but they rarely include their friends’ children, not since my father promised I could graduate from college before marrying. The fact that they have invited the Berkleys’ son and chosen to wait until the last minute to inform me is worrying, and Magda’s next words only confirm my fears.

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