Page 7

“ I asked you to leave, Patrick,” I said, staring in disbelief at my ex as he stood outside my door.

“Yeah, but you don’t mean that. Let me in, we can discuss things, and I swear I won’t be weirded out by all your hocus pocus,” he said, sniffing and wiping his nose.

His eyes looked glassy, and his nose was red. The ugly sneer he wore was not something I wanted to be around. I knew exactly what Patrick thought about me and my psychic abilities.

Just like I now understood he had a problem with drugs. Not to mention his money issues.

“Unless you’re here to pay back the $197 you stole from me before you left last year, you need to get off my property,” I replied, narrowing my gaze.

Fuck this guy.

“Stole? Come on! You don’t mean that,” he said and tried to push his way inside.

One good thing about being a fat girl. I did not budge.

“Oh yes, I fucking do. I’m fat, remember? And a freak,” I added for good measure.

“Look, Jez, I’m sorry I was so hard on you.

I know you haven’t been with anybody since I left.

Why don’t you let me in, and we can spend some time together?

I’ll help you remember what it can be like between us,” he said, with what I was sure he thought was a sexy smoldering look, but to me, it only looked like he had to take a shit.

“Ew! Gross,” I said, ducking as he leaned down as if trying to kiss me.

I closed my eyes, flinching at the thought of his slimy mouth on mine. The image turned my stomach. But when nothing happened after a moment, I reopened them, shocked at what I saw.

Patrick’s eyes opened wide as he was dragged backwards, down each stair, by a big, meaty hand on his shoulder.

“The lady said get lost,” a familiar voice snarled.

The menace in his tone was undeniable, and I stood up straight and watched wide-eyed as Emmet shoved Patrick into the rusted junker the prick had driven up to my door. Like he’d be welcome or something.

“What’s your name?” Emmet asked, squeezing his hand down on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Ow. Ow. OW! R-Patrick. My name is Patrick! Look, it was just a misunderstanding,” Patrick squealed unattractively.

“Misunderstanding? Oh, well, allow me to clear that up for you, son,” Emmet snarled and punched Patrick right in the gut. “You don’t come here. You don’t talk to her. And you sure as fuck don’t think about her anymore. Understand?”

“W-Who are you, man?” Patrick asked Emmet, cowering against his car and holding his stomach.

“I’m the man who’s gonna be gunning for you if you darken Jezebel’s door again. You get me?” Emmet growled.

I bit my lip against the sudden overwhelming attraction I felt towards Emmet in that moment.

He was like beautiful defiance and glorious vengeance all rolled up into one. A whirlwind of raw power and unyielding ferocity.

My core tightened, and I felt a longing that was bone deep as I gazed at the figure he made, standing there so tall and strong.

Okay, something was definitely wrong with me if I was getting turned on by this guy punching my ex in the stomach.

Whatever.

Patrick had it coming. His treatment of me left a lot to be desired. But I was not about to waste anymore time on that jerk.

One lone shade, a faded sort of figure, milled about the property, shimmering in and out of existence in the periphery of my vision. But I ignored the ghost, recognizing that feeling I got when a vision was about to come through.

Bam!

It hit me suddenly. That same image of a midnight-furred wolf flashed inside my brain, just like the first time I saw Emmet.

His hackles were raised, and he growled ominously, watching as Patrick hustled into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the lot like a bat out of hell.

I took in Emmet’s striking features as he stood watching until Patrick’s car was out of sight.

His sharp jawline. The tousled dark blond hair. Those piercing green eyes. All of it combined to create the perfect specimen before me.

I could see his rebellious streak a mile away. There was an innate wildness to him. This sense that Emmet was not like other men. He balanced on the edge of chaos with an effortless grace that left me staring in awe.

When he finally turned his emerald stare on me, I saw him again. The wolf .

This time, the animal seemed superimposed over Emmet’s features, and for one split second, it was difficult to determine who was who.

I closed my eyes, and when I reopened them, only the man remained. Head canted to the side, Emmet watched me as he slowly approached.

“You okay, Angel?”

I nodded in response. Of course I was okay now. He was there. With me.

Emmet managed to chase Patrick away and make my panties wet all in the span of a few minutes. The guy was basically Superman.

“Yeah. Yes. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Had to drop off feed and supplies to Jed. Oh, and this,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and taking out an envelope.

I accepted it and peeked inside, the breath leaving my lungs as I took in the amount.

“This is more than we talked about,” I said, mouth hanging open.

“It’s fair,” he argued, putting his hands up when I would have handed it back.

“Fine. I’m going to take it because I have financial obligations to meet, and I will send Penelope a thank you later,” I mumbled, more for myself than for his benefit.

“Come feed the goats with me,” he said, not asked.

I was already shaking my head, ready to decline. But men like Emmet Quinn did not take no for an answer.

He grinned, and I had to pinch myself to remember to breathe properly. The man was too damn handsome for anybody’s good— mine included .

It felt almost unfair. If I was being kind to myself, I would say I was plus-sized, not fat. But even if I ignored the obvious differences in our body types, I was just average when it came to looks.

Emmet was in another class. The way he could command attention without even trying should be downright illegal.

His jeans were molded to his powerful thighs and calves, and I had no doubt his ass would look fine as hell once he turned around.

His smile held an air of playful mischief along with a hint of mystery that hot boys often had.

My life was fairly mundane, but standing there with him, it felt more than that. The heat I thought I saw in his gaze drew me in, threatening to swallow me whole.

I gulped.

I guess I hadn’t noticed in the rain last night, but now, in the soft light of morning, I took in the full scope of him. His hair was thick and wavy, a dark blond color that caught the sunlight in a way that made it almost shimmer.

It framed his face perfectly, accentuating those chiseled features that seemed to belong on a movie screen rather than a small North Jersey ranch/farm.

His eyes sparkled with mischief. The energy surrounding him was so intense it made my stomach flutter. But I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or nerves. Or both.

“Come on,” he urged, leaning slightly closer.

The scent of fresh earth and rain clinging to him like a second skin. There was something disarming about the way he spoke. Like feeding goats was my dream date. A thrilling adventure I could hardly even imagine.

With him, I might just believe it.

“They’re waiting for their breakfast.”

“Um, speaking of breakfast, I haven’t had anything yet and I need to eat. Sorry,” I said again, watching his face for any sign of judgment.

The thing about carrying some extra weight was people always looked at you as if you should feel ashamed of needing food.

But I got news, folks, everyone eats. It’s sort of a requirement for living.

Emmet’s eyes seemed to heat as they roamed over me from head to toe, and I had the distinct feeling he was not judging me. Actually, it looked like he was hoping I was on the menu.

Yes, please.

“Come with me now, and I promise to feed you after, Angel. What do you say?”

I should say no. I know I should say no.

“Alright,” I replied softly.

“Good Girl.”

Warmth suffused me at his words, and I bit my lip as he grabbed my hand and tugged me towards his truck. Emmet opened the door and helped me inside with his big hands on my hips, giving me the boost I needed.

The truck was tall, but I couldn’t help but secretly hope there was another reason he put his hands on me. Especially when they glided over my ass cheeks on the way up.

“Don’t look so worried, Angel. I promise you’ll enjoy it.,” he growled, and his gaze lowered to my chest as I buckled myself in.

I was wearing a thick sweater over two more layers of thermal shirts and a pair of fitted jeans. Nothing even remotely sexy.

But the way he was looking at me? I might as well have been in some lacy lingerie number I’d likely never buy or dare to wear with my soft belly and too wide hips.

My oh my.

I squeezed my legs together, willing the needy little ache his husky voice and intense stare had created to go away.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I said, replying to his earlier statement.

“You do that, Angel. Hold me accountable. Make me earn it.”

I was speechless at that, and Emmet, he just winked and walked around the front of the truck to get in on the driver’s side. His assent was a lot more effortless than mine. But I still enjoyed watching the play of muscles beneath his tight shirt as he moved.

A spied a swirl of ink coming out the collar and I closed my eyes on a moan.

Tattoos. He has tattoos.

Of all the things the sexy ass man with blond hair and green eyes could have that would make him any hotter, it had to be tattoos. Okay, so I had a little weakness for body art.

Why did I even bother with underwear?

“Something wrong, Angel?” he asked.

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow was raised as he looked me over, biting his lower lip as his gaze strayed to where my legs were clenched tightly together. It was all I could do not to melt into a puddle right there in the front seat.

“What? Oh, no. Nope. I am all good.”

“Damn right you are,” he whispered.

Holy. Shit.

If Emmet kept saying things like that, I was going to need a whole lot more from him than breakfast. But that would lead to all sorts of complications I did not think I was ready for.

I turned my head and gazed outside, wincing when that shade I’d seen shimmering around outside last night appeared again. This time it was clearer, and the figure seemed somewhat feminine as it floated beside the truck, keeping pace despite the speed.

“Angel?”

I jumped, startling as Emmet’s big hand squeezed where he was gripping my thigh.

“I called you three times, Jezebel. Are you okay?” he asked, concern filling his gaze.

“Sorry. Um, lost in thought?” I replied, but it came out like a question.

“I got you, Angel. Sit right there and wait for me,” he said, coming around the side of the car to open my door.

Holy hotness.

I never thought of myself as the obedient kind, but there was something about the innate power in his commands, and the heat beneath his words, that had me wanting to do anything he said.

Unexpected?

Definitely.

I had zero luck when it came to sex or relationships, but something about Emmet Quinn made me wish the opposite was true.

Sure, he looked at me like I was a bowl full of chocolate pudding and he wanted to lick it clean. But after he saw the real me, the one I tried to keep so carefully hidden, I could almost guarantee that look would be replaced by something else.

Pity. Or worse. Disgust.

But was that going to stop me from craving him or spending these stolen moments with him?

Probably not.

I was just that desperate for a bit of human interaction. And no, not just anyone would do. I wanted to get to know him. This sexy cowboy, who I learned in a text message from Penelope earlier this morning, came from Texas to take a job working on her fiancé’s ranch.

So, what did I have here?

A single. Able-bodied. Hot as Hades. Honest to goodness cowboy. And he seemed interested in me.

Oh yeah, I was so screwed —or I would be soon, with any luck.