Page 7 of Dirty Cowboys (Masked Men #7)

Walker

The sun had barely hit the horizon when I climbed onto the Patterson house’s roof. The shingles were worse than I thought, and I discovered a hole near the chimney big enough to throw a cat through.

I’ve been up here for an hour now, ripping off damaged shingles and tossing them onto the ground below.

I hear the front door open, and Indie steps out onto the porch in nothing but an oversized T-shirt that barely covers her thighs and ridiculous fluffy slippers.

Her blonde waves are piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s squinting up at me.

“Morning,” I call down, pulling another shingle free. “Duke said the roof needed fixing. Figured I’d get an early start.”

“I didn’t know anyone was coming today.”

“Duke mentioned it at the branding,” I say. “Thought you’d be expecting someone.”

The reminder of our conversation about branding has my cock waking up, and I have to think of anything but that to keep myself under control.

“Right,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”

She turns back toward the house but then pauses and walks across the lawn to the fire pit. She settles into one of the chairs and pulls out her phone.

I try to focus on my work, but I can feel her watching me. Every few minutes, I look over and see her snapping pictures.

I’ve never been one to show off—I don’t need an audience—but there’s something about the way she watches me. I don’t hate the way it makes me feel. Though after twenty minutes of her discreet photography session, I’ve had enough.

“You gonna sit there all morning taking pictures, or you going to get your ass up here and learn somethin’ useful?”

She nearly drops her phone. “What?”

I lean back on my heels and look down at her, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You planning on sticking around this place? Climb up.”

“I don’t know anything about roofing,” she protests.

“That’s why it’s called learning.” I gesture to the ladder leaning against the side of the house. “Unless you’re afraid of heights.”

The challenge in my tone does exactly what I intended. She lifts her chin, and I can practically see her pride kicking in. “I’m not afraid of heights.”

“Prove it.”

She disappears into the house, and I go back to work, grinning to myself. When she emerges ten minutes later, she’s traded the T-shirt for jeans, boots, and a flannel tied at her waist.

“Slowly,” I call down as she approaches the ladder.

I watch her climb, worried that she might fall to her untimely death—Duke would never let me live it down. He might even accuse me of throwing her off. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pushed someone from a roof, though that was Nash and he deserved it.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, looking toward the Callahan Ranch. “This is incredible.”

“Not bad at all,” I drawl, but I’m looking at her instead of the scenery. “Alright, city girl.” I clear my throat and force myself to focus. “First lesson: how to hold a hammer without taking off your thumb.”

I hand her my spare hammer, and her fingers wrap around the handle awkwardly. Her thumb twists completely into the wrong position.

“Jesus,” I mutter, moving behind her. “Like this.”

I wrap my arms around her from behind, my chest pressing to her back, and my hands covering hers. She goes rigid at the contact, and her breathing changes. This close, I’m surrounded by the cherry scent that’s been driving me crazy. I could smell it on myself for hours after our last encounter.

“Grip it firmly but not death-grip tight,” I murmur near her ear. “Let the weight of the hammer do the work, not your arm.”

She nods, and I guide her through a few practice swings at a piece of scrap wood. Her body relaxes, and I bite back a groan when her ass presses back against my cock.

Fuck. This was supposed to be about teaching her, not fucking torturing myself with how good she feels.

“Good,” I say. “Now let’s see you do it on your own.”

I step back and watch as she attempts to nail a shingle into place. Her first few attempts are terrible, but after five attempts, she hits and doesn’t miss.

“This is harder than it looks,” she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Most worthwhile things are. ”

“Can I ask you something?” she says, setting the hammer down and turning to face me fully.

“Shoot.”

“Why do you do this? Ranch work, I mean. You could probably make more money in the city doing... I don’t know, construction or something.”

I consider her question, as it’s not something I think about often.

“That type of work has bosses breathing down your neck and makes you deal with bullshit that has nothing to do with getting the job done,” I say.

“Out here, you work hard, and you see results. Take care of the land and the animals, and they take care of you. It’s honest work. ”

“And Duke and Nash?” Something shifts in her tone, like she’s digging for information.

I study her face, looking for clues about how much she knows. “They’re good men to work with,” I say honestly. “We understand each other.”

“Right.” She picks up the hammer again, but I can tell her mind’s not on the roofing anymore. “It’s just you’re all so different. I would have thought?—”

“That we would drive each other crazy?” I fill in, cutting her off. “Sometimes we do, but different doesn’t mean incompatible.”

She nods like she understands, but I can see the wheels turning in her head.

Smart girl. Too smart for her own good. We work in silence.

I handle the technical things while she helps with the simpler tasks, like holding shingles in place and handing me tools.

She wipes the sweat from her face, so I take off my hat, reach over, and drop it on her head.

“Thanks,” she says, a smile beaming on her face. If anyone were to see my hat on her head, they might have a few questions.

Now and then, our hands brush as I pass her a tool or she steadies something for me, and each touch sends electricity shooting through my body.

I want to join in the fun after the chases, but I have to make sure she is ready for me.

I also need to trust in myself that I won’t lose control.

Ever since she asked about branding, all I have wanted to do is get our gear and ride over, then bend her in half and leave the Callahan brand on her creamy, pale skin.

But I truly believe what I told her: it takes a lot of trust to let someone brand you.

A few of us have the Callahan mark, but it isn’t just given to anyone.

“Walker?”

Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring at her for the better part of a minute.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You looked like you were somewhere else.”

I was thinking about bending you over on this roof and showing you what rough really means, I say in my head. Instead, I clear my throat and get back to work.

“Just planning the next section,” I lie.

Before she can respond, the sound of approaching vehicles cuts through the morning. Duke’s black F-250 comes into view, followed by Nash’s beat-up Chevy that’s held together with duct tape.

“Looks like the cavalry’s here,” I mutter.

Indie peers over the edge of the roof, shading her eyes with her hand. “More help?”

“Supervision, more likely.” I gather my tools, knowing Duke will want a progress report and Nash will want to flirt. “Duke doesn’t trust anyone to do a job right unless he’s watching every step.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me. He thinks I’m too focused on getting things perfect instead of getting them done fast.”

She tilts her head, studying me with those blue eyes that could trap a man into doing whatever she asks. “Are you?”

“Maybe. But if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.”

As the trucks pull up, I help Indie down the ladder, my hands supporting her waist as she finds her footing. Duke and Nash climb out, and I don’t miss the way they both eye me off.

“Looks like Walker’s been giving private lessons,” Nash says with a smirk.

“Learning basic home maintenance is something every person should know,” I say, stepping back from Indie and reaching for my tool belt.

Duke nods. “Good thinking. How’s the roof looking?”

“Worse than we thought, better than it could have been. Give me another day, and it’ll be solid.”

“Another day?” Nash grins at Indie. “Does that mean you will be back tomorrow, ready for lesson two?”

I watch as she smiles at him. “If Walker doesn’t mind having a student,” she says finally.

“I don’t mind,” I say. “As long as you’re willing to work and not just take pictures.”

I’m only teasing, but my traitorous stomach is doing backflips because she picked me. Fucking hell, Walker, since when do you give a fuck?

“Deal.” She extends her hand to shake, and when I take it, I let my thumb brush across her knuckles just long enough to see her shiver.

Yeah, I think as Duke outlines the day’s ranch work and Nash begins his usual commentary. She could definitely handle my kind of rough. The question is whether I’m ready to let her try.

We spend a few more hours fixing the roof, then Duke gets a call that has him leaving to head into the nearest town. It’s almost a two-and-a-half-hour drive, but an order he needs has come in. Indie has gone inside to make a snack, leaving Nash and me on the roof alone.

I can feel Nash watching me as I finish the last section I am working on today. He is sitting a few feet away, leaning back on his elbows, like he has been since Indie went inside murmuring something about sandwiches.

“You’re quiet,” I mutter, without looking up.

“Just thinking.”

I pause mid-swing. “Just thinking or jealous?”

He snorts. “Of what?”

I turn toward him. “That I got here first. That I didn’t wake you.”

He raises his brow. “Well, it would’ve been nice.”

I let the hammer drop beside me and wipe my hands on my jeans, then walk over slowly. “I woke up early and got a head start. If you’d wanted to do it, you would have beaten me here.”

“Why is Indie wearing your hat?”

I smirk. “She was hot.”

His jaw tenses, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I crouch down in front of him.

Before he can say anything, my hands are on his jaw, tilting his face up.

His lips part, and I kiss him hard enough to bruise.

It’s rare that he gets jealous, and right now I don’t know if he is jealous of me or Indie, and that pisses me off.

His hands twist into my shirt, trying to pull me closer, but I press him flat against the roof. I climb over him and grind my cock against his through the denim. He groans, and I grasp his hair, dry-fucking him into the roof of the old farmhouse.

A gasp has me pulling my lips away from Nash’s, and I glance over my shoulder.

Indie stands at the top of the ladder, holding a plate of sandwiches.

Her mouth is slightly open, and her cheeks are flushed.

She watches us curiously, and my cock twitches against Nash’s.

He snorts. Nash has always wanted to add a girl to our mix, but I don’t want to be reduced to some fucking fantasy.

A kink for some woman to get off on, while we become a story she’ll tell her friends.

Nash is mine.

I’ve never let myself imagine what it’d be like to let someone in until now. The way Indie watches us, it’s apparent she’s not envisioning what we would look like in her head, but rather it’s as if she wants to be part of us. For the first time, the thought doesn’t make me want to run.