Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dixon

I didn’t mean to crash on her couch. But I didn’t feel comfortable leaving that gaping hole in her kitchen unguarded to sleep in my truck.

Imagine my surprise when I wake up and find her focused on my crotch.

When the icy truth hits me what she’s looking at, I sit up quickly and tug the blanket over my waist, hiding myself.

My fucking dick just gets harder as she stands there.

I was hoping it was a fluke when I was wiping her face last night that my cock woke up because I was in my skivvies.

Please let that be the same reason this time.

Jeans will be the firm rule from now on around her.

“I didn’t want him to sneak back in.” I gesture at the missing door, hoping to bypass the awkward moment completely.

If neither of us acknowledge it, it’ll go away.

Right?

“Oh.” Her mouth makes a perfect circle before she clamps her jaw shut.

My nuts ache over their missed opportunity.

Hell.

I still have my boots on, thankfully. Rising with the flannel draped in front of me in a way to hide my waist, I need to get out of here.

“I’ll go get the wood.” Fumbling, I grab the handle behind me to leave.

“I think you already have it,” she says quietly.

I don’t think she meant for me to hear her.

With a growl, I shut myself away from her, throwing the worthless blanket into the back of my truck angrily.

I’m such a fucking ass.

My zipper bites the underside of my stiff dick, and I deserve every ounce of pain I inadvertently cause myself.

The entire drive I squeeze the steering wheel so hard it squeaks.

Would it have killed me to throw on some pants before laying down?

Or at least make sure I was actually covered with that ridiculously small quilt?

I’m not there to seduce her.

I’d break her.

There’s no way she’s my type anyways.

After her history, I can’t expect that she would ever want to give herself willingly. She’d never trust me enough to let me take control.

But the thought of her letting me makes my God damn cock hurt.

I must be a monster. Her bruises haven’t healed from the first attack, much less last night.

Yet here I am, fantasizing about pinning her over the back of her couch and eating her until she screams.

I bet she tastes sweet, like the honey she uses in her tea.

She’s only known pain, but does she know it can bring pleasure?

I’m a fucking shitbag.

It’s easy to distract my thoughts at the lumber yard.

Plywood and screws are adequate for today. I should buy some needles to shove under my fingernails to keep the thoughts of her mouth and pussy out of my head.

I’m fifteen years older than her.

That alone should be enough of a deterrent.

She’s completely off limits.

I need to remember that.

This is only until I know she’s safe. Nothing else.

Then I go back home and Char lives her best life with someone else.

My fist clenches until the nails dig into my palm.

I hope she waits for me to leave before she meets him.

But what if the next one is like Matt? Could I walk away without vetting whoever she wants to see?

I’m not her father.

I’ll just protect her for a while. Keep tabs. Be there if she needs me.

Or wants me.

Begs me.

Stop.

When I get back to her house, I pull past the house and around the side to get as close to the broken kitchen door as possible.

“Knock, knock.” I make sure to announce myself before climbing the porch steps.

Char glances up and a tint of pink blooms on her cheeks.

Better than the yellow of the healing injuries.

Paisley twists around from where she’s sitting on the floor. At first, her eyes are wide with the threat of tears pinching them, but when she sees me, a toothy smile spreads across her face.

That’s a plus.

“I brought something to cover this hole.” It looks like Char has been busy, there isn’t any glass left in the frame or on the floor.

Dammit. I was going to do that. Well, that was before I acted like a fool.

Char rises from the couch, and I see her grab something off the end table and put it on the shelf over the TV.

A pistol.

Good girl.

“I felt bad I didn’t even send you off with a cup of coffee this morning.” Her blue eyes dance around without ever looking directly at me.

Boy, I fucked up.

“Don’t. I’m fine, honest.” I rarely drink it anyways. Only when I have back to back shifts in the emergency room.

“Um, do you want a glass of tea? I can put it over ice?” She doesn’t wait for my response, but pulls a mason jar out of the cupboard.

Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, a frown tinges the corner of her mouth. “I don’t have any regular cups. I used to have a nice set…” She trails her words off with a flicker of pain tightening her cheeks.

It makes me wonder if Matt broke them. From the way her forehead knots, that would be my bet.

Bastard. I wish I got a hold of him last night.

Fast little prick.

I’m tempted to buy her new dishes, but is it to spite him?

Or to please her?

I wouldn’t mind putting that smile back on her face. Maybe that “O” she made with her lips.

Jesus, fuck.

“Tea would be fine. I’m not picky about the cup.” I need to get this damn door fixed so I can get out of here.

My thoughts keep shifting when I’m around her to ideas I haven’t entertained in a very long time.

There’s too many people who flirt just because I’m a doctor.

I’m not an easy ride.

Is that why I’m here? Because Char never acted interested?

Yet I’m carrying an eight foot chunk of plywood into her kitchen.

“Did you call the sheriff about him breaking in?” I’m worried if she didn’t, but even more concerned if she did and there will be retaliation.

I can’t see her if she reacts, I’m trying to hold this damn board in place and screw it to the frame by hand.

When I get the threads to catch, I pause to glance at her.

Both of her palms are flat on the counter, and her head is lowered between her drooping shoulders.

My feet take the steps closer I hadn’t planned. I’m only a foot away when I stop.

It’s not my place to comfort her, even though every single cell in my body is screaming at me to.

“Char?” I let my voice drop to a hoarse whisper.

Her chest swells in a deep breath before she turns, clasping the full jar. “He suggested I get a restraining order. But I’ve already tried that and was denied.”

Damn. That pisses me off.

I can feel the muscles in my body tense as anger courses through me. It reinvigorates me that I’m doing the right thing.

She needs my help.

I’ll have to learn to ignore the urges to do more than protect her.

Gently, I take the drink from her, careful not to brush her skin with mine. “When I get this done, I’ll call Wade and see if there’s anything else he can do. In the meantime, can you get your friend to stay during the day when I’m on shift tomorrow?”

Tucking my twitching fingers into the box of screws is the only way I can keep myself from wanting to touch her.

A few more, and I’m done.

Only the bottom row left, so I drop to my knees to get them fastened.

“How long does this have to last?” She leans against the sink with her elbow, jutting her hip out in a way that makes me want to reach out and—

“The door? Just until the replacement glass comes in. The hardware store said probably next week.” It’s so difficult to look up at her from this angle and not see the swell of her breasts jutting beneath her navy blue t-shirt.

Or the small gap where a sliver of her bare belly shows above the hem of her jeans.

I’m starting to wonder if there’s any way to view her without my dick reacting.

It seems to pick up on every single detail that I never noticed before.

I’ve seen her in the exam room. She’s been a patient. I wasn’t affected then like this.

But now even that glimpse is enough to make my zipper snug.

She gives me a lopsided smile. “I meant needing a bodyguard.” Her cheeks pale. “How much was the new glass? I can write you a check. Um. Can I post date it?” When her lower lip begins to quiver, I have to grit my teeth to keep from jumping up to her.

“Don’t worry about it.” My hand with the screwdriver in it waves idly. “It was on sale. End of summer or something.” Dropping my focus down to the last fixture doesn’t take every other sense away of just how close she is.

I can hear her fidgeting, and a board in the floor creak as she shifts her weight.

Picking up the box of extras and the full jar of tea, I stand up and try to put a little distance between us.

She has her arms wrapped around her waist clenching the loose fabric of her shirt on the sides while she looks like she may be sick.

I hate how my gaze keeps getting drawn back to her nipples poking through the snugged tee.

The ice is almost melted in my tea, but when I take the first sip, it washes over me in a cool wave.

I’ve never tasted anything like it, but I savor the distraction.

“When does this end? Am I supposed to live in fear of him forever?” She glances into the living room where Paisley is splayed out on her blanket amidst a wild array of books and toys, sleeping soundly.

Char doesn’t know it, but I’m in this for the long haul. Every moment that goes by makes me want to stay longer.

Guilt prickles the back of my neck over the fact that I’m almost enjoying the excuse to spend time with her.

Another swallow of the chilled drink clears my mind.

“The paramedics have a saying I’ve heard a few times. ‘Eventually, all bleeding does stop’.” I give her my best grin, and hold my jar up in a silent toast.