Heart & Hope (Rosewood Ranch #2)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

REED

“ R AW-LINS!”

“RAW-LINS!”

“RAW-LINS!”

Fists pound the table on either side of me. The huge guy about to shatter my wrist with his enormous mitt scowls inches from my face. Must be the direct descendant of Popeye, ’cause he’s set to snap me in half.

Bare-chested and sweating up a storm, I buckle down for pain, re-affirming my grasp on his hand. I strain against his twitching forearm, holding my own for a moment.

Arm-wrestling isn’t one of my finer moments. But tonight, it garners the attention of two women at the bar. And I have every intention of milking those sympathy looks until at least one of them is in the bed of my truck.

If Hudson were here, he would have slapped the back of my head by now. But he’s not, and my chances of losing spectacularly are high. The way I want them. It’s easy to be the loser when your entire family expects it.

A role I have long known how to fulfill.

But it has its perks.

It absolutely does. I snap my gaze from the brunette at the bar who’s about to have kittens over watching me die a slow and painful arm-wrestling death. I would smile, if I wasn’t about to be in a world of pain.

At least the ER in Great Falls is well-stocked and staffed. This isn’t my first rodeo.

“Reed, it’s fine. You don’t have to defend my honor!” With a whirl of cheap perfume and cigarette breath, the brunette closes in. A second later, she is hanging off Popeye’s flexing forearm. “Please, it’s not a big deal. Let him go. I’ll take the drink, please. Just don’t hurt him.”

The big guy’s scowl slides to her. A blush floods her neck and face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she only did it to egg him on in the first place. When his eyes dip to her breasts, almost spilling from the neckline of her tank top, his hand on mine loosens.

“You’re not goin’ to let her distract you that easily, are you, buddy?” I growl.

“Huh?” he rasps, grip turning painful.

A second later, my arm is wrenched in its socket and the back of my hand smashes into the wood.

Fuck.

Sweet Jesus, that’s goin’ to hurt tomorrow. Cheers go up around him as his friends celebrate his win. My loss is commiserated by the remaining two women at the bar, who fawn over my quickly reddening hand.

“Oh my god, do you need some ice?” one asks, the redhead, I think.

“Can we take you to the ER?” the other swoons.

“Nah, all good, ladies. A beer and a little love and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Oh god, yes, let me get you a drink.” The redhead scoots off to the bar as I drop into the couch on the back wall. The establishment is small, but central to town and filling up as the hour gets on. The redhead walks back with two drinks. The brunette drops into my lap, resting my hand in her palm, inspecting the bones, moving each finger as if she has a clue what she’s doing.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” she says softly.

“Only my pride then, hey?”

She dots a kiss to my cheek, and I take her chin with my free hand. She covers my mouth with hers a second later. My cock stretches in my pants, digging into her ass.

“Don’t forget about me, Reed.” The couch dips beside me as the redhead settles in close, placing the drinks on the coffee table in front of us.

“We should call it a night,” I say, knowing full well they will protest.

“Can we come with you?” the woman on my lap says, tilting her head to one side, biting her bottom lip. The redhead leans over and nips my ear. “Both of us?”

Plan prepped, executed, and successful. All blood has migrated south, and my rational brain has closed up shop for the night.

“Are you sure?” I put on my most innocent face, nursing my injured hand, but my grin pokes through.

The redhead slaps my shoulder and giggles. “Don’t play dumb with us, we know all about your reputation. That’s why we’re here—to fuck the Great Reed Rawlins.”

And just like that, my boner is as limp as a dead fish.

They are chasing me .

Resisting the groan that wants out of my throat, I say, “Right, I gotta be up early in the morning, ladies. If you don’t mind.” I widen my arms and raise them, palms up.

The woman on my lap stands, confusion twisting her face. “Ladies?”

It’s one thing to have a reputation. But something else entirely to be hunted down because of it. Who volunteers to sleep with a ladies’ man? Pretty sure that’s what Huddo calls me. If anyone needs these two cock jockeys, it’s my oldest brother.

Me? I’ll see myself out.

I push through the doors of the bar and onto the quiet paved sidewalk of Great Falls. The street is lined with glowing heritage lamps. A few people mill about, nothing much for a Friday night. Shop fronts are lit up and one restaurant is still open. My truck is parked a block away. With only two beers under my belt, I may as well drive back to the ranch on the other side of Lewistown.

I hear clacking heels before I see a blonde with her head down, gorgeous brown eyes lit up by her phone. Her shoulder bumps mine. She throws a manicured hand up with a breathy apology, not taking her eyes off the screen.

She didn’t even see me.

But I stand and watch her walk away. Blonde waves bouncing over her shoulders. Hips swaying with every long stride she takes in the most ridiculous red high heels. The fancy suit she wears fits her shape, cinched in at the waist. Now she doesn’t belong in this backward backwater town.

Her fragrant perfume hits me a second later. And something heavy tugs in my gut.

Strawberries.

Something is moving in my back pocket. The hum of my phone vibrating fades in.

Shit.

I pull it out.

Hudson.

Don’t get fucked up tonight, Reed. There’s a fence line with your name on it, little brother. Bright and early!!!!!

Ugh, the only thing worse than early starts? Early starts for ranching chores I fucking hate. And fencing is top of the shit list. In fact, apart from being in the saddle, there isn’t much I like about ranchin’. Mountains and fields only entertain you for so long. I’m more of a people person. Maybe one day I can go someplace else and explore some of the world.

The clack of heels comes back my way. Still glued to her phone, the woman walks past me. My usual Reed Rawlins swagger is nowhere to be found as I open my mouth to ask if she’s lost. But nothin’.

Not a word falls out.

Fuck me.

Head down, I cross the street and head for the truck, shoving my hands in the back pockets of my Wranglers. I glance back as she turns onto the avenue the Heritage Inn sits on, disappearing inside the giant old building a moment later.

I run a hand through my messy hair before rubbing it over my three-day scruff that I wasn’t self-conscious about ’til five minutes ago. Sliding into my black F-250, the sweet Napa leather seat hugs my ass as I slam the door shut and drop my forehead to the steering wheel.

Mind stuck on loop, blonde waves and dark eyes flying past, I breathe deep and close my eyes. That damn scent. Would be enough to drive a preacher crazy. I stare at the Heritage Inn as I fire up the engine. The rumble of eight cylinders brings me back to reality. The only thing I love more than my family, and a quick fling in the back of my truck, is my actual truck.

F-250, 6.7-liter Power Stroke V8 diesel. Blacked-out mag wheels and twin sports exhausts, black Napa leather interior. Rumbles at an idle. Pulls like a sixteen-year-old. Roars like nothing else when I open her up on the highway.

I let her roll to the first set of lights and glance back down the street. No gorgeous blonde. Probably for the best. A girl like that wouldn’t last two minutes with the red-blooded hicks in this town.

The light turns green, and my foot flattens to the floor. The rumble rattles the street, and rubber burns in our wake. A smile grows across my face. This, right here, is almost as good as what I was chasing in the first place.

The hour and a half it takes to drive back to Rosewood Ranch, the woman in the red heels fills my fantasies. I imagine her looking up at me. Me not losing the ability to speak at the most inconvenient time. I say hi, and she says hi back.

Nope.

This is getting way too Dear Diary.

Maybe, the blonde wearing only the red heels.

How about those heels over her head . . .

Oh fuck.

I’m goin’ to have to pull over if I don’t shut that down real fast.

When the familiar lights of home come into view down the long dirt road I have been driving for the last twenty-eight years of my life, I yawn. Bed sounds like a fantastic place right now. At a quarter past midnight, I roll into the barn and turn off the engine. With a little luck, Ma will be sound asleep.

Hudson, too.

I can count on Pa being out like a light; that man sleeps like the dead, luckily for me. Mack is away on tour again. And it’s hard without him here. The two of us have been peas in a pod since we were little boys. Huddo was always busy trying to be just like the old man. And Lawson left for the city for college the second he graduated.

Smart.

I push through the white gate to the yard of the homestead. Charlie, Hudson’s little mutt, growls at me from the far end of the porch. “Shut it, gremlin boy.”

He pops his head up and yaps.

Fuck.

I slip inside, and the smell of Ma’s cookin’ greets me. A covered plate is in the still lit up oven. God, all of a sudden, I am fucking starving. I open the door and go for the plate. It burns my hand, and I hiss a curse, grabbing a tea towel.

“You’re home early, my boy,” Ma says from the end of the hall, leaning on the corner in her robe pulled closed, the tie knotted. Her dark blonde hair is plaited to one side. Her green eyes, identical to my own, hold nothing but love and kindness. At twenty-eight, I’m still her boy. It’s sweet, I guess, but being the youngest, it only reminds me how far I have to go.

“Town was quiet. Huddo should have come; that’s his style.”

“I wish he would. Your brother needs to get out more. Maybe Addy could get him to town; he could use some more time with her. I like her, she’s good for him.”

If Ma knew what I did when I am “getting out,” I doubt she would approve. Huddo is too caught up in his head and his horses to make time for women. Well, usually, that is... Addy, the new vet, certainly has his attention. And to everyone’s surprise, even Charlie the evil hound-dog likes her. From what we can tell, he’s keeping their relationship strictly professional.

Sucks for Huddo.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Ma says, pushing off the corner and walking back down the hall.

“Yeah, night, Ma.”

I pull the drawer open and dig into the pot roast with maple veggies. My favorite. Guilt pangs at my gut for missing dinner. But it was worth it for a glimpse of the prettiest girl god ever made. I chew and savor the flavor, running her face and the swaying of her hips through my mind one more time.

Yep, that’s goin’ to keep me entertained for months.

Sweet Jesus, now I’m fucking hard.

Urgh, thank god Ma’s not still here.

I shove my dirty plate and cutlery in the sink and run the water over it. Pulling my shirt over my head, I head down the hall to my room. Still living with my parents. World’s biggest loser, right here. Don’t let the shiny, fancy truck fool you, folks—this man does not have his shit together.

Not even close.

If I could be half the person my mother is in this life, I’d die happy.

Plans for the future?

Nope.

Marriage and kids?

Nada.

Career and savings . . .

Say what?

Floundering in my own cesspool, that’s me. Reed James Rawlins, six feet of muscled, cheeky, live-wire, good-hearted (so I have been told), dark blond, and unintentional facial hair—a hunk of useless burden. All because I can’t pick a trade or find a path that excites me. And I’m definitely not a rancher.

Not a willing one, at least.

I lay on my unmade bed and push my boots off with my toes. The duvet doesn’t even bother putting up a fight when I toss it aside to get inside the warmth that calls my name. As my eyelids droop, her beautiful face fills my drowsy mind over and over.

The woman that is the makings of a man. His captain. Pa’s words. Always tossing them around when one of us relents to listen. A man could do anything with a captain like her. I could man up for someone like her.

Or live the rest of my days in a fantasy that will eventually break my heart.

Fuckin’ hell.

A girl like her ain’t never goin’ to want a wanderer like me.

I roll over and shove my face in my hands.

Fuck this bullshit.