His Ranch, His Rules Read online

Panic filled me. After all that? My sporty tampons being exposed? Brody getting an eye full of my super plus pads? The man had literally held my giant penis-shaped vibrator. There was no way I was going down without a fight. “I can’t—I have nowhere to go!”

  Turning his back to me, he headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, “Call your mommy and daddy to pick you up. I’m sure they’re used to bailing you out.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered, defeated. I slumped down onto the bottom bunk of the bed.

  He paused at the doorway, turning over his shoulder. My breath caught at his perfect profile as he asked, “Why not?”

  “They died a few years ago. Ted is my only family. And he’s not really even… family.” I held back the tears.

  “Oh, crap.” Brody ran his hand through his hair, rubbing worriedly at the back of his neck. He hesitated, then walked across the room returning to me. The springs of the mattress creaked under the weight of his tall frame as he sat next to me. His thigh pressed against mine in the cramped enclosed space of the bunks. The heat of his skin radiating through his jeans, the press of the firm muscles against me made a wave of desire win out over my grief and worry.

  His husky voice was thick with emotion when he spoke. “I’m sorry. What happened? I mean you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but—”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “No, it’s okay. It was a long time ago.” Six years, three months, and five days to be exact. But who’s counting? “I was out with friends, they were on a date. Left the movies and someone ran a light. They were hit head on. My mom died on impact. My dad wasn’t so lucky. He spent a week in ICU until his body finally gave up.”

  “I had no idea. Ted never mentioned it to me. What did you do after that?”

  “I moved in with Ted’s family and finished senior year. The only family I had lived on the other side of the country—I hadn’t seen them since I was a toddler. I didn’t even recognize them at the funeral. Ted’s family were close friends of ours for my whole life. He’s like a brother to me. His parents took me in, let me live with them—I only had three months left till graduation. Ted got me through the graduation ceremony as best he could—I was a total wreck.”

  “Ted’s a good guy. And my aunt and uncle are good people—I’m glad they could be there for you. What did you do after graduation?”

  “Luckily, the week before they died, my parents and I had already gotten everything lined up for paying for college. College was a good change of scenery for me; the looming absence of my parents wasn’t in my face every second of the day.”

  “I’m surprised I never met you when you were living with my aunt and uncle. We didn’t make it out that way to visit much but surely, I would have seen you on holiday or something. I mean, Ted had mentioned his friend ‘G’ in passing once or twice but—”

  “I made friends with the international students. Hung out with them on campus over holiday breaks. Then a professor from my college offered me a summer internship on her farm—I loved it so much I went back every summer. Plus, I didn’t want to further burden Ted’s family, and there were just too many memories in my home town.”

  Brody’s face tensed with concern. I had practically told him my whole life’s story, why stop there? It was time to come clean.

  “Then I had a bad breakup with my boyfriend of four years and that’s when the drinking started. I was fired from my last job, my roommate kicked me out, and it was just the wakeup call I needed. I stopped drinking. And luckily, this job came available and Ted…Ted has already helped me enough—” I looked up at Brody, my eyes pleading. “Which is why you can’t kick me off the ranch. I can’t let him down. I couldn’t take Ted being disappointed in me. He was the one who kept telling me I’d be great at this job. And… I literally have nowhere else to go.”

  I watched as his chiseled jaw tightened. Obviously thinking over whether to kick my sorry self out on my ass the same night I had shown up on his ranch. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. I couldn’t help the liquefying reaction my lower body had to his low, husky voice.

  “I tell you what, Miss Georgia. You came very highly recommended from Ted, and Ted is family. And as I see it, since Ted is like a brother to you, you’re kind of like family as well. I have three little brothers I had to keep in line over the years, and I would never kick them off my ranch no matter what they did. If you want to stay, I’m afraid it’s not going to be on employee terms, but family terms. I’ll be holding you to the same standard I hold my own.”

  I gulped. I had some idea what that would entail.

  “I know Ted told you about the way I like to run my ranch. With me as the boss and what I say goes.” His brown eyes locked on mine, a shiver of electricity ran through me. One dark brow raised to me, as if challenging me; leaning in toward me, he said the words, “And I know he told you how I run my women.”

  Heat whooshed through my sex. His words, his nearness, hell, the sexy smell of his aftershave—it all had my head fuzzy and my limbs weak.

  “I’ll do anything,” I practically panted.

  A twinkle danced in his eyes, as if he already knew I would agree to his terms. This was a man used to getting his way. Confidence oozed from him as he said, “Meet me at the Mess Hall in twenty minutes. Head north from your cabin and it’s the third building on the right. Don’t be late.” His dark eyes locked on mine as he punctuated his last statement by giving my thigh a hard slap.

  The pain shocked me, making me give a yelp and jump up from the bed.

  A smirk crossed his face. He considered me for a moment, then, giving me a single nod, he left the cabin.

  * * *

  My stomach was a pulsing bundle of nerves. My nipples tightened against the fabric of my bra.

  There was no turning back.

  I would go to the Mess Hall. I would accept whatever it was I had coming to me.

  Now this city girl just had to figure out which way was north. I had a feeling the well-being of my ass depended on it. Luckily, I found an abandoned flashlight in the top drawer of the blue dresser. At least I would be able to see while wandering around in the dark, headed toward a very large, slightly pissed-off cowboy.

  Finding north was easy enough—it turned out all the buildings were in the same direction, up and over a hill. Hiking over the trail I’d stumbled onto, my heart beat hard in my chest. A combination of marching alone in the dark wilderness, hoots from random animals making me jump out of my skin, and the mental picture of what may await me, had my spine ramrod straight.

  “Third building on the right. This must be the Mess Hall.” The giant sign declaring Mess Hall Restaurant helped.

  Brody appeared at the door, holding it open for me. Seeing him for the second time in my life had the same effect as the first—he was gorgeous. My shoulder brushed his chest as I made my way past him, into the impressive rustic-style building. Long wooden tables ran down the center of the room, chairs lined up neatly on either side of the tables. I stopped in front of the first table, a sleek laptop and some ledgers were splayed out on it, and turned to face him.

  “Brody, I’m really sorry about—”

  “You made it.” There was a hint of surprise in his husky voice. He stood over me in a way that was both nerve-racking and exhilarating at the same time.

  “Of course I did. Who doesn’t know what direction north is?”

  “I thought the dark might be too much for you, coming from the city and all.”

  “Doesn’t scare me.”

  “Doesn’t it?” He raised a brow, eyeing the flashlight in my hand.

  I shrugged, moving the flashlight behind my back while my stomach tightened with nerves.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Brody began to pace in front of me. “What to do with you, Miss Georgia? Can’t get rid of you—wouldn’t be fair to Ted. And honestly, if your situation is how you say it is, I think a healthy dose of wholesome could be just what you need.”

  And a very hea
lthy dose of over the knee action.

  A stern voice startled me from my thoughts. “You with me, Georgia?” My eyes connected with the cowboy’s, his chiseled jaw tightening impatiently.

  “Yes… Y-yes, sir,” I stuttered. Heat pricked at my cheeks. Had I just called him sir? Something about this tall, strong man’s commanding presence had me standing straighter, feeling almost—what was that word those crazy women used on the internet—submissive.

  “Sir—I like it. A fella could get used to a plucky girl like you calling him that,” he said. His boots thumped on the floor as his panther-like body made a circle around me. My pussy clenched as he looked me up and down with an intimidating stare.

  “Um,” I swallowed nervously, “what are you planning on doing with me, exactly?”

  “I think you already know. I’m going to punish you.”

  Gulp. It was happening. Oh, my God, oh, my God.

  “H-how?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? We are in the Mess Hall after all.” He gestured over his shoulder to a dirty sink filled to the brim with food-crusted plates and cups. “You are going to wash up all those dishes over there. Punishment fits the crime for that trick you pulled—sneaking liquor onto my ranch like you did. I’m going to sit right here,” he pointed to the opened laptop, “and work on my numbers for the month while you wash.”

  “Okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief, and, crazily enough, disappointment.

  Of course he wasn’t going to spank me. The very idea was ludicrous. He was just playing the ‘tough boss,’ showing me from the get-go who was in charge. I could handle a few dirty dishes.

  As the sink filled with lemon-scented suds, I snuck a peek at Brody over my shoulder. Peering over the frames of his wire-rimmed reading glasses, his brow furrowed as he looked at the screen of the computer. Catching my stare, he held his hand up in a small wave. Blushing at the sight of his flat palm, I denied repeatedly as I scrubbed that I was disappointed he hadn’t spanked me.

  Nerves took over as I washed dishes with my new boss just a few feet away, him clearly focused on his work. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little small talk, would it? Get to know him a bit.

  “What all do you and the team do on roundup day?” I called over to him. His typing froze. His gaze rose, and he looked at me over his glasses. “I-I’m just curious, that’s all. I know what I’ll be doing but…” I trailed off, my attention going back to my dishes.

  Relief washed over me when he began to speak.

  “The very first part is corralling the calves. We spent the better part of today moving temporary metal panels into one of our larger, flatter pastures. We herd all the cattle into the corral, then separate the calves from the mature cattle.” He went back to typing. I could hear the clicking of the keys on his laptop.

  “Sounds tricky,” I said, wiping a dish and trying not to look at him.

  “It can be, but my team has become very good at working as one unit,” he answered distractedly. I snuck a glance at him. His focus was on the screen and his brow was furrowed as if his work was giving him as much trouble as I was.

  “What’s the next step?”

  “Branding.” He looked in his ledger, scribbled something down, then turned back to the screen with a frown.

  “Branding! Doesn’t that hurt the poor babies?” Picturing the velvety fur of the wide-eyed calves made me upset. Swallowing hard, I said, “Why do you have to brand them? Maggie didn’t brand hers.”

  He sighed, putting his glasses down in front of him and rubbing his forehead. “You aren’t going to let me get any work done, are you?”

  I shrugged, wiping innocently at the dishes.

  “I assure you my team is very careful and beyond the three-second press of the iron, we make sure no calves are hurt in the process.”

  “But why do it?” I had all the dishes sudsy and scrubbed. Time to rinse. I pulled the plug out of the sink and let the foamy water drain.

  “Now that the calves are weaned, we’ve got to mark them before we turn them out to pasture. A return address if you will. Farms use mostly fenced-in pastures and on a smaller farm there is little chance of losing cattle.”

  My mind couldn’t get off the hot iron.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “I can handle it.”

  “After the branding, we’ll put the calves on a calf table and lock ‘em in so you can vaccinate and tag and do your checkup. Have you worked with a calving table before?”

  “Yes, that’s what we used on the farm.” The calf table is set up at the end of a short chute. Someone would push a calf in, then a contraption called a head gate would shut down on the calf, holding it in securely. Then, the whole thing is turned to hold the calf on his side and that was how I was able to do my work. It wasn’t too different than a larger breed of dog, say a Mastiff, lying on a table at the Vet and Pet with two of us holding him down for Darlene to vaccinate. “Why don’t you brand the cattle on the calf table?”

  “Two reasons. First being, the guys and I like to keep a few time-honored traditions on the ranch. Pass them down to the next generation. One of those is ‘wrestling’ cattle, being able to manage them as a team, with our bare hands. The other reason is timing. If we can do the branding, that leaves you more time to do the vaccines and checkups.”

  I managed to say, “Sounds good.”

  “You’ll do great—don’t worry. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a tough time talking and focusing on numbers at the same time. You get to work finishing your job and I’ll do mine.”

  It was clear—I had been ordered to be silent. Shifting my weight, I began to rinse the dishes.

  After a half an hour, I put my hands on my hips, blowing a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail off my forehead. I was more than satisfied with the work I had done. The dishes were all washed, dried, and neatly stacked. The countertops sparkled.

  “Finished?” Brody called from the table.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered dutifully. I could throw in a few more ‘sirs.’ It wouldn’t kill me. Might as well stay on the boss’s good side the very first night I was here—since he hadn’t fired my ass and sent me packing into the dark night.

  My eyes met his.

  “Come here.” It was a command, not a request. One that sent the most delicious shiver through me.

  My sneakers barely made a sound as I made the long trek across the shining oak floor to Brody. I stood across the table from where he sat, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl called to the principal’s office.

  Slowly, he took the glasses down from the bridge of his nose, placing them onto the tabletop.

  “What are you working on?” I asked, not ready for whatever it was he had planned for me.

  Surprise flashed in his eyes. He obviously had expected me to stand there, submissively accepting his post-punishment lecture. After a moment, he answered, “The numbers for the month. Though I hate to admit it when I can’t wrap my head around something, this month is giving me trouble.” Running his hands through his hair, he gave a frustrated sigh. Mumbling to himself, he said, “I know we are in the black, but the bottom line keeps showing red.”

  “Let me take a look.” I hightailed it from my ‘naughty spot’ around the table to him. I sat down in the chair next to Brody. Breathing a sigh of relief to be on equal footing with Boss Man, if only for a few minutes, I helped myself to his laptop, turning the screen toward my face. I was instantly lost in the numbers.

  “What do you think you are doing? How long have I known you for? A few hours? And most of that was spent with you already in trouble and washing dishes, and now you are looking at the private numbers of my family’s livelihood—” His heated words hardly registered as I scrolled through the Excel pages.

  “Shhhh…” I interrupted, holding a hand up to stop his chatter as my gaze bore into the black and white lines and numbers in front of me.

  “Excuse me?” The dangerous tone that came from him sent a chill down my spine as I t
ore my eyes away to stutter a reply.

  “I-I’m sorry—it’s just that I love math. Crunching numbers is my very favorite thing next to animal care and this spreadsheet is fascinating. I promise I won’t repeat what I see—numbers are just problems to be solved to me, I don’t even think of these as dollars,” I explained, waving my hand at his laptop.

  Relief washed over me as he cracked the tiniest of grins, his dimple just visible on his left cheek. “Fascinating, huh? I have to say, I think that is the first time I’ve ever heard of a spreadsheet described that way.” He skootched his chair back with a screech, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He crossed his legs, his ankle over his knee. Throwing his hands up in the air, he chuckled, “Have at it.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured but I was already three pages in. I could sense his eyes, watching me as I worked, scrolling down, my eyes running right to left over the screen. There were a ton of line item expenses, mortgage, utilities, taxes, feed for animals, feed for people, stocking the pond, boat repair, truck repair, it went on and on, the last one reading, Cass Charitable Donations. Some expenses were monthly, others quarterly. There were purchases made year-round, then others made only seasonally.

  “You really ought to organize this better,” I murmured while I worked.

  “Keep the advice to a minimum, would you? You’ve only just arrived.”

  It was good advice. But I kept quiet as I worked. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I shouted out, “Gotcha!” making Brody jump in his chair.

  “What the what?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

  “I found the problem.”

  Scooting his chair beside me, Brody leaned forward, looking over my shoulder. His nearness was making a heat radiate on my skin, my heartbeat quickening as his thigh pressed against mine, his elbow brushing against my forearm as he planted it on the table. His eyes locked on mine. “Show me,” he commanded.

  “Please?” I said teasingly, enjoying the fact that I finally had some leverage over my new boss.

  One brow raised, his stern gaze sending a delicious thrill though me. “Now.”