Grump’s City Girl (Boots and Heels #2)

7. Beau

Chapter 7

Beau

I was nursing a beer in my office, feet flung up on the table while my head swam in a swamp of thoughts. Again, what the fuck had I done this time? Had I stroked the flame, or had I started a wildfire?

“Knock-knock,” Ron said from the doorway before he ambled in. “Ya got a minute and one more of those?” He eyed my beer.

I waved to the mini-fridge in the corner, and he pulled a Lone Star out, popped the cap, and sunk into the seat. “So, we’ve got the west pasture’s weeds and brush gone, and we’re ready to plant the new grass and grain.”

“Good.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “We’re getting somewhere, then.”

“Speaking about getting somewhere—” Oh, goddamnit. I knew what he was about to ask, and I cursed myself outright for forbidding it. “What’s the deal with you and this girl we have never seen from Adam? She was one of your dates.”

“Dates is putting it lightly,” I said humorlessly. “Dates would imply I have a social life, which I don’t, and all of you know that. Cassie, well, she ended up at the wrong place at the right time, I should say.

"Those damned producers were egging me on to choose a girl to partner with on the show, and I kept putting ‘em off. When she came around, I decided to bite the damn bullet and roped her into my mess.”

“Oh,” Ron blinked. “Sounds like a considerate girl.”

“She is,” I replied. “Been hurt too, but from what, or should I say, who, I don’t know. She was running from it when she got into our neck of the woods, Ron. That was plain as daylight after a nasty storm.”

“So…” he dragged the word out. “This all for show? You don’t have anything going with her?”

What is he fishing for here?

“Nothing but smokescreen an’ mirrors, Ron,” I assured him, even while tamping down on the truth of how I’m attracted to Cassie. That wouldn’t get us anywhere. She was here for a short time, and even if something did happen, it would never go anywhere, so I stuck to the narrative I knew would be easiest for all of us.

“I wanted us to get kicked off by this week, but apparently, the producers have us as the darlings on the show, and they want to dig into the backstory we created for them, how we were past lovers and such. The lie got too real, too fast, and now we need to figure out how to wiggle out of it.”

His graying brow lifted. “You sure about that?”

This time, I frowned. “What’d you mean by that?”

“'Cause we’ve seen how you are with her,” he replied. “The way you look at her doesn’t seem fake.”

I huffed a breath. “I’m attracted to her, if that’s what you mean, and who the heck are ‘ we ’?”

“Me, Bran, Freddy, all the guys on the ranch, really.” Ron shrugged. “I suppose it’s easy to mistake lust for the other thing.”

A growl left my throat. If he dared utter the L-word, I would have no problem kicking him out of my office.

“She’s a looker, that’s for damn sure. Even before she turned herself brunette,” Ron added while heaving himself from the chair. “Even if this is pretend, Beau, it's high time you gave yourself some slack to have the real thing. Try to enjoy it like it is, will you?”

It was about three thirty in the dark hours of the morning when I gave up on sleep and left the room. I was damn sure these pesky producers with their intrusive cameramen were asleep, so I headed down to the back porch to get some air.

The night was clear, and the stars twinkled brightly in the summer sky. The cool breeze flowing over the trees washed over me, and I had just taken a breath when I saw a star shoot across the sky, leaving a trail of shimmering light behind it.

I thought about making a wish… but didn’t know what the hell to wish for. In the next second after that, it ran through my head, and I knew I was lying to myself. There was a lot to wish for, including an almost impossible reconnection with my estranged family. Most of them had—well, not exactly cut me off, but had certainly left me behind.

After all, I was the dumbass who thought taking on a ranch in the era of computers and AI and whatnot was wise.

“…Did you make a wish?” Cassie said from behind me.

I stifled the urge to jump.

“Nah,” I replied. “I don’t put much stock in that stuff. A big ball of rock shooting through the air isn’t any guarantee. Did you?”

“Yes,” she came forward, tightening the belt of the baby blue robe she had on. She wore fuzzy house shoes on her feet, and her hair was clamped in one of those claw pins. Sitting, she drew her legs up, and I spotted a pair of tiny shorts under the robe—goddamn, her skin looked creamy under the moonlight.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she mentioned, giving me a quick eye. “So much happened today; it kept running through my head over and over.”

“It was a lot, that was for sure,” I replied. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking about how to get out of this mess,” I admitted. “I didn’t want it to get to a point where we were sinking deeper into the hole I created.”

She giggled. “I don’t mind. Well, for now. But it would be good to get out of it pretty soon. What do you think about the others? Y’know, aside from Ryker?”

I grunted. “He’s a jackass. But Rome and the other guys are cool. Some of the girls, too. Sissy made my jaw drop, though.”

“I think, by the end of this, Nelly and Quentin might be a thing,” Cassie replied, eyeing me. She must have seen the incredulous look on my face. She asked, “You don’t believe in such a thing?”

“Nah, I agree, but I don’t think it was because of the game show. They probably would be together if they had met in a different circumstance. But as for Ryker and Danielle, those two cannot keep their mouths shut.”

“I don’t want to assume, but hate sex is a thing,” she said with a shrug. “Probably better than being in a one-sided shithole of a relationship. At least you know where you stand in that one.”

Yep, her last relationship had ended badly.

“Was your last relationship that bad?” I asked, then tacked on, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It was bad, but it… it was one of those things you don’t even realize is bad until it slaps you in the face, you know?—”

“I don’t.”

“—but… I guess it was better for me to wake up and see who he was before I got even deeper into it.” A gust of wind ruffled her hair, and she tucked it behind an ear. “I’ve got the worst luck with guys. Remember what I said about money making you paranoid?

"I never know if they want me for me, if they want me to be a pretty picture on their arm… well, that’s for the guys on my level. For the ones that are not, I never know if they want a meal ticket.”

I winced. “I never expected that.”

“Neither did I,” she replied. “Do you think you could make us some tea or something warm?”

“Sure,” I nodded, then stood. “Want to join me?”

We made quick work of making the tea and returned to the porch, cups in hands, sitting on the double egg seats. “This guy you were dating… how bad was he?”

“He was the charming, attentive, persuasive piece of selfish shit that made you believe he was a good guy when in truth he was not only fucking behind your back but was spending money like no tomorrow and apparently expecting me or my dad to pay his debts. Dad cut him off and slapped enough warnings and restraining orders against him that would make a king quake in his boots.

“And the worst thing was, I thought he loved me only to find out he loved what I had,” Cassie added. “I thought the nephew of an Italian ambassador to the States and the man with three degrees, spoke four languages fluently, had a business, and was a jet setter around the world was a standup guy. Silly me.”

Her tone made me think. “You think you were destined to be unhappily married?” I took a sip of chamomile tea.

“It’s getting clearer and clearer that I might not be,” she lifted a shoulder. “Or if I do get married, it will be a status marriage like my parents did, except I don’t want that. I want to have a marriage based on love, not… not appearances.”

“Got it. You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time.” I looked up at the sky, swallowing over the burn in the back of my throat. It was something Ron would have told me about finding a girl, except my priority was getting the ranch up and running and proving my family wrong, especially my brother, Weston.

Cassie chewed on her lip, and I started to realize it was not something she put on for the camera; it was a natural habit of hers.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

I gave her a wary, sideways glance. “…Okay.”

“Why is it just you on this ranch?” she asked while the wind picked up and fluttered her hair. “Seems to me an operation like this would be a family thing.”

“It was a family thing,” I admitted. “Until my granddad died, my mom left dad, and my brother went off to college to find a life away from, and these were his words, this hick, one-horse town.” A minute ticked by in silence while my mind wandered between the past and the present.

“My mom left us when I was nineteen,” I said, the words pouring out of me without conscious permission. “She was born around here and knows rural life. She got married to Dad at twenty-one and had me and then my brother two years later.”

I stared into my tea. “There were arguments and fights. Mom would sulk, and Dad would storm off. I didn’t know what was happening until Mom literally packed up and left. My brother blamed Dad for all of it, and the second he turned eighteen, he left, too. Dad was ill, and I took over the day-to-day for him until he passed. Only for me to realize that Grandad, Dad’s dad, had left the ranch to me.”

“That must have been tough,” Cassie surmised. “Have you seen your mom at all? Visited?”

“She moved down to Tennessee after she left, and my brother went to Georgia. Mom used to make promises about coming up to see me and the ranch, but she never kept them and only turned up when Dad passed. I visited but never loved it, and when she got remarried, I stopped altogether. It felt… strange, if you get my drift.”

“I can see how awkward that could be.” Cassie nodded after a sip.

“What ticked me off, though, was Mom and Wes pressuring me to give up the ranch, telling me it was a dead-end, that it would drag me down like it did to Dad, and that it had taken Grandpa to the grave. They said it was a hunk of cursed rock, that beef-raising was a dying industry, that ranches were obsolete, and I’d come to nothing if I stuck with it.

“I suppose they might think they are right; my brother is a successful architect and graphic designer, while Mom is a society wife. I’m here, rounding up cows for a living.” I shrugged. “Not exactly twenty-first century, is it?”

Cassie leaned in and rested her hand on my forearm, her expression sorrowful and commiserating, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but?—”

“Hm?”

“—you found another family, didn’t you?” she added. “These guys on the ranch, the other cowboys, they seem to want to stick with you thick or thin.”

“They do,” I replied. “Most of the guys here don’t have other family either. As much as they tease me to find myself a girl, they’re not any better off. Yeah, one or two would get someone, but a month or two later, they’re back on the single wagon like me.”

“I guess we might have to create a Singles Club,” Cassie said before licking a droplet from her lips.

As she spoke, my gaze was drawn to her mouth; my eyes fixated on her delicate bone structure. Her skin was as smooth and flawless as porcelain. “A singles club… while being on a TV show for couples?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “Sometimes you’re most alone while being in a relationship.”

I wanted to kiss her.

How would her lips feel against mine? They looked soft, plump, and fit to kiss.

I ripped my gaze away from her face, but not in enough time, I supposed, because Cassie had fallen quiet. When I managed to meet her eyes, her head was cocked to the left, and her eyes slipped to half-mast. Her nails, oval-shaped and painted nude, tapped on the ceramic mug, and a soft shiver ran down my spine.

“Beau, are you all right?”

I drew up a leg and tried to act nonchalant. “Yeah, why?”

“Your body language changed two minutes ago…” she trailed off, her eyelashes sweeping up. “…do you want to kiss me, Beau?”

My gut went tight. “Would you hold it against me if I did?”

“No,” she whispered, setting the cup aside, and I did the same.

Shifting to the side, I crooked a hand around her nape and stroked my thumb over her cheek. Bending my head, I tipped hers up, our lips meeting in a tender kiss. The taste of her chamomile tea and a touch of whisky, the feel of her being in my arms… nothing had ever felt this right.

She threaded her fingers through my hair and pressed herself against me, her softness a complete opposite of my hard slab, her tongue dancing with mine. Her entire being quivered at the hot demand of my kiss.

Cassie gasped and tilted her head, swallowing my kiss and making it her own. She tangled my fingers at the back of my neck, and my fingers dug into her hips to pull her closer, pressing our bodies together.

My lips were hard and commanding, my tongue sweeping into her mouth. She sucked eagerly on my tongue, and I growled against her lips, feeling the taut tips of her breasts against my chest, even though there were two layers of clothes between us.

It was overwhelming.

It was everything.

I groaned when she peppered my bristly jaw with kisses and suckled my earlobe, flicking it with her tongue. Gripping her hips, I asked, “Where are you taking this, Cassie?”

Pulling away, I saw the haze covering her eyes begin to clear, and she ducked her head, blushing. “Ummm. I got a bit carried away, didn’t I?”

“I think we both did, darlin’,” I made it clear that it was not only her. My cock was a throbbing steel pike beneath her bottom, and I knew she could feel it.

Brushing her hair from her cheek, I said, “It might be a good time to stop. Dawn is in about forty-five minutes, and those pesky camera crews will be up with it. We don’t need to give them more ammunition than they already have.”

She pulled her whole bottom lip in, and I was sorely tempted to pry it out and latch my lips on it. Cassie nodded, “We should get back, yes, but Beau…”

“Hm?”

“At least we know if they ask us to kiss, there won’t be a problem.” She flashed me a grin.

I snorted. “Damn right.”