Her Filthy Cowboy (Fit Mountain Cowboys #2)

1. Brody

Chapter One

brODY

I’m scowling at my reflection in the mirror when my brother, Jace, walks into my bedroom.

“Reporter’s here.” He jerks his thumb toward the hall. “Want me to tell her you’ll be out in a few minutes?”

I sigh. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Then my head snaps toward him. “Hang on a second. The reporter is a woman?”

“Yeah, why?”

Shit. I meet my brother’s gaze in the mirror. “You ask to see her ID?”

You can never be too careful these days. It wouldn’t be the first time a groupie tried to pass herself off as a journalist to get some alone time with me.

Jace chuckles as he walks out the door. “Trust me, she’s legit.” He turns back to look at me and smirks. “And don’t worry. She’s definitely not a buckle bunny.”

I let out a small sigh of relief, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t loosen.

I don’t want to do this damn interview for the Fit Mountain Monthly , but my agent and sponsor insist it’s necessary for my image.

Winning the national bull riding championship was a dream come true, the culmination of years of blood, sweat and tears. The roar of the crowd, the weight of that trophy in my hands, the pride swelling in my chest...it was a high like no other.

But of course, I had to go and screw it up. Partied a little too hard at the after-party, let myself get caught up in the moment. And now there are all these photos floating around on social media, making me out to be some kind of wild party animal. It’s bullshit.

They know damn well how hard I work, the blood and sweat I pour into this life. I’m up at dawn every day, training, tending to the ranch. I push myself to the limit and then past it, all to be the best at what I do.

This house, this land—this is what matters to me. Being a good rancher, a dedicated brother, a man with dreams that go way beyond eight seconds on the back of an ornery bull.

As I walk through the living room, my eyes fall on the framed photos lining the mantelpiece. Me and my brothers, grinning ear to ear after a cattle drive. An old snapshot of Mama and Daddy on their wedding day. This is my legacy. This is what I want to be remembered for.

I stride into the kitchen, ready to paste on a fake smile and get this over with. But when I walk in, I stop dead in my tracks.

There, perched on a stool at the island counter, is none other than Savannah Sullivan.

The girl who’s starred in every single one of my dreams since the ninth grade.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Savannah. Last I heard, she was off living her big-city journalist dreams.

Savannah looks up at the sound of my footsteps. “Hey, Brody.” She slides off the stool and gives me a cute little wave. “Long time no see.”

My nostrils flare as I take in her appearance.

She looks sexy as fuck in a pair of fitted Wranglers that hug her thick thighs and a tight black T-shirt with a red flannel on top, the sleeves rolled up her forearms. Her brown hair cascades over her shoulders in loose waves, and it takes all the willpower I have not to run my fingers through it and tug her gorgeous body against mine.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. “Savannah.” My voice is like gravel. “What are you doing here?”

She blinks at me like it should be obvious. “I’m here for your interview.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “ You’re the reporter?”

A panicked look crosses her face. “Your agent didn’t tell you I was coming?” She grabs her phone and starts scrolling. “I’ve got the email right here if?—”

“She told me about it. I’m just surprised they sent you.”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“I guess I figured they’d want someone more... objective.”

Savannah glares at me. “I can be objective.”

“Really? Because last time I checked, your family hates mine.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. The movement makes her tits strain against the fabric of her T-shirt. “I’m a professional, Brody. I can put my personal feelings aside to do my job.”

I drag my gaze back to her face. “I also thought they’d send a reporter who actually lives in Wyoming.”

Savannah’s chin juts out defiantly. “I moved back last week. Not that it’s any of your business.” She snatches a pen and notebook from her bag. “Look, can we just get this over with, please? I don’t like this any more than you do.”

I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. “Who says I don’t like it?”

Her green eyes flash with irritation, and I feel a thrill zip through me. Riling up Savannah Sullivan has always been my favorite hobby.

I cross the kitchen and yank open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “Thirsty?” I hold one out to her.

Savannah eyes it warily before reaching out to take it, her fingers brushing against mine. Electricity crackles at the contact. I wonder if she feels it too.

“Thanks.” Clearly agitated, she twists off the cap and takes a swig.

I lean my hip against the counter and cross my arms. “Your daddy know you’re here?”

Savannah frowns, the bottle hovering at her lips. “Not exactly.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

She sighs, setting down the water. “He knows I took a job at the Fit Mountain Monthly . He just doesn’t know my first assignment is... you.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Savannah. I don’t want your angry brothers showing up here and causing problems.”

Savannah rolls her eyes. “I can handle my family, Brody. I’m an adult. I make my own decisions.”

The whole thing with the Sullivans started way back, but it really blew up about twenty years ago.

We were in the middle of this nasty drought, and Dad stumbled onto this underground water source on our land. We started using it to keep our fields green and our cattle happy.

The Sullivans, on the other hand, were not happy. They said that the water ran under their property, too, and they should get a piece of the action. It went to court, and we won fair and square.But old man Sullivan just won’t let it go.

Savannah’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “I was thinking we could start the interview with some basic questions about your rodeo career, then move on to your life on the ranch.”

“I have a better idea.” I set my own glass down on the counter. “How about we take a ride around the property?”

Savannah raises an eyebrow. “A horseback ride? That’s not exactly standard interview protocol.”

I flash her my most charming grin. “Since when have we ever been ones to follow protocol?”

For a moment, Savannah hesitates, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. But then she nods.

“Fine. But I’m warning you—I’m not going easy on you with these questions. No matter how pretty the scenery is.”

I laugh. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, sweetheart. Let’s go saddle up some horses.”

We head out of the kitchen through the back door and step into the sunshine. The warm rays hit my face, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of freshly cut hay.

“I saw your brothers when I first got here,” Savannah comments as we walk past the barn. “I can’t believe Wyatt actually has a girlfriend now. I remember we all thought he would be single forever.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, they just met two days ago.”

Savannah looks at me with surprise. “Two days ago?” She shakes her head in amazement. “I swear, the Walkers really did a number on this town.”

I glance over at her as we walk side by side toward the barn. “You don’t believe in love at first sight?”

She bites her plump bottom lip. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just never experienced it myself.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes meeting mine. “Have you?”

The truth is, I have. The moment I first laid eyes on Savannah back in high school, I was a goner. But there’s no way in hell I’m admitting that to her now.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I think when you know, you know.”

After we enter the cool shade of the barn, I lead her over to where my horse, Ranger, is waiting in his stall. I quickly saddle him up, then turn to Savannah.

“You can ride Buttercup.” I nod toward the pretty Palomino mare beside Ranger. “Need a hand getting up?”

She brushes me off. “I think I can manage.”

I watch as she puts her foot in the stirrup and swings her other leg over the saddle. The sight of her straddling the horse, her jeans stretching tight across her thighs, makes my blood run hot.

We ride out of the barn and into the pasture, the horses’ hooves thudding against the packed earth. As we ride past the paddocks, memories of our childhood flood back to me.

Savannah and I spent countless hours racing each other on horseback, daring the other to go faster, to take bigger jumps. She was fearless even back then.

I glance over at her now, admiring the confident set of her shoulders and the way she handles the reins with ease. “Remember how we used to race down by the creek?” I ask.

Savannah looks over at me and grins. “I remember that you could never beat me.”

I chuckle. “That’s because I was too busy admiring the view from behind.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Clayton.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

Savannah blushes and changes the subject. “Tell me something about yourself that nobody else knows.”

“Starting with the hard-hitting questions, I see.”

She smirks. “You thought I was going to ask you whether you preferred blondes or brunettes?”

I bark out a laugh. “I like brunettes, for the record.” I let my eyes rake over her. “Especially ones who look sexy as hell on horseback.”

Savannah groans. “Brody, would you please be serious? This is an interview.”

“I am being serious! I also like long walks on the beach. Oh, and I give really good massages.”

Savannah snorts. “I find that hard to believe.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Why is that hard to believe?”

She gives me a smug look. “I don’t know. I guess you don’t exactly seem like the massage-giving type of guy.”

A stab of irritation lances through me at her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Savannah shrugs, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “I just mean, with all those buckle bunnies throwing themselves at you, I doubt you have to work very hard to get a woman to...relax.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You don’t know the first thing about me or how I treat women.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” She lifts her chin, meeting my gaze head-on. “The Brody Clayton I remember was only interested in one thing when it came to the opposite sex.”

With each word, I feel my temper rise along with my undeniable hunger for her. I want to kiss that smart mouth of hers. I want to show her that no other woman has ever set my blood on fire like she does.

“Is that really what you think?” My jaw clenches as I stare her down. “That I’m just some dumb cowboy looking for my next conquest?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “I calls ’em like I sees ’em.”

I urge my horse closer to hers until our knees are nearly brushing. Her cinnamon scent invades my senses, making my head swim with need. “I’ll have you know I’m very good with my hands. I’d be happy to give you a demonstration sometime.”

She laughs, but it comes out a little breathless. “In your dreams, Clayton.”

“Careful what you wish for, baby.” My voice drops an octave. I tap the championship belt buckle that I’m wearing with my forefinger. “In case you haven’t noticed, my dreams tend to come true.”

Savannah swallows hard, her eyes darting to my mouth. “Whatever you say, Brody.”

“How about a wager, then? For old times’ sake.”

Savannah frowns. “What kind of wager?”

“A horse race. You win, I’ll answer whatever question you want. My deepest, darkest secret. My biggest regret. You name it.”

Savannah bites her bottom lip again and it takes all of my willpower not to reach out and tug it from between her teeth. “And if you win?”

“If I win, you give me one night.”

“One night?”

The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. “One night. Alone. In a bed. With you.”