Page 2 of Her Grumpy Cowboy (Courage County Standalones #1)

Walker

All day, I’ve been waiting for this delivery and it has nothing to do with getting horse feed to prepare for the coming autumn. It has everything to do with the curvy woman who haunts my dirtiest fantasies.

Yeah, I purposely waited until I knew the weather would be bad to call the store.

Everyone knows that Sam has a bad back and it acts up when the air pressure changes.

I could only hope that he’d talk his sweet daughter into coming down here.

He doesn’t know that every time he does that, he’s sending her into the lion’s den.

Every time I see that juicy ass, all I want to do is pounce.

I want to knock her to the barn floor and maul her like the animal I am.

I’d lick her until she screamed out my name.

I’d wedge myself between those pretty thighs and show her everything this dirty cowboy has to give her.

I can almost hear her breathy moans in my ear, and I have to silently will my cock to go down.

You’re too old for her anyway. At thirty-six, I’m not exactly ready to be put out to pasture.

But she’s only twenty and so damn innocent if the blush staining her cheeks is anything to go by.

Every time she opens her pretty mouth, all I can think about is ways I’d like to fill it.

I can’t tell her that so mainly I end up grunting whenever she’s around. Seems like the best of options.

As soon as I hear her truck, I’m scrambling out of the barn. I have to walk casually so it doesn’t seem like I’m a kid on Christmas morning.

She’s greeting Michael who looks far too pleased to be around her. As soon as she’s gone, his ass will be mucking out stalls. Because that beautiful curvy woman is mine. No one looks at her but me. No one appreciates the fine sway of those hips but me. No one gets to kiss those lips but me.

The possessive thoughts might be out of line but I’m too irritated with my new ranch hand to bother with them. Besides, they are true.

“What are you doing?” I demand the moment she steps into the barn. She’s carrying one of the bags of horse feed. They easily weigh fifty pounds each and seeing her carry it is pissing me off. I’d bet anything her father let her load it too. How the hell that man can work her so hard is beyond me.

“You ordered horse feed. I’m delivering it,” she answers. Her voice is cool and detached. Not at all like when she was talking to Michael and it was filled with warmth.

I try to grab for it because even if she’s not struggling under the weight of it, I still don’t like it.

If she lived here with me, she’d never have to do the hard work.

I’d make it so that she could spend her days taking it easy.

Sitting on the front porch and sipping iced tea while she grows round with my babies. Damn, I love that image.

She darts around me and heads to the tack room behind Michael. I watch them add the bags to the pallet. The moment, Michael puts his hand on her shoulder, I see red. He doesn’t get to touch her. No one does.

I bark his name, and he hustles over. In a low tone, I tell him that he’ll be supervising the day hires with repairing the south fence. Disappointment flickers in his gaze but he wisely doesn’t look back toward Jenna and he doesn’t argue with me.

The moment he’s gone, I turn my attention to the blonde beauty in front of me. Her blue t-shirt is tucked up, giving me a peek at her curves. I want to drop to my knees right now and feast on her.

Her cheeks warm under my appraisal and I can’t help but wonder if her panties are damp. Is she aching between those thick thighs? Would she let me cure that pain for her?

She pulls down her t-shirt covering that beautiful body from my gaze. If she were my woman, I’d make sure clothing was always optional. She could wander around my house making coffee and humming under her breath with those stunning curves on display.

She moves to leave the tack room and I step back but only by a little bit. Call me a bastard but if this is the closest I’m going to get to her than I’ll savor it. I inhale her scent as she bumps into the doorframe, eager to get away from me.

I follow her to her truck rather than walk beside her because it gives me a fantastic view of those denim-clad globes. I’m probably going to hell for the number of times I’ve rubbed my cock raw to thoughts of her ass. But what a trip it’ll be.

She tries to grab another bag of feed and I call out for her to stop in a warning tone. I don’t like this. I don’t like seeing my woman work so damn hard.

Reaching around her, I grab the bag of feed and ignore the twinge in my shoulder. Years of bull riding mean I’ve dislocated it more times than I can count. Now it’s just a chronic injury that aches almost all the damn time. “You don’t do this shit around here.”

Everyone else might let her work like a horse but not me. She’ll always be sheltered and protected on my ranch. She’ll be treated like the treasure she is when she’s on my land.

She’s trudging behind me and when she speaks, her voice comes out in breathy little pants, “Who do you think loaded it? Women are not some delicate little flowers that have to be protected by the big, strong man. Maybe try stepping into the twenty-first century.”

I stop in my tracks and drop the bag of feed.

I know I have to be scowling when I turn to face her.

I open my mouth to tell her that my woman doesn’t have to lift a finger.

Then I realize she’s not mine and the thought pisses me off even more.

She’s not mine to protect. She’s not mine to boss around and how I’d love to boss her around.

I’d make her bend over my bed and plow deep into her.

It’s a fantasy I’ll never get to live out.

The crack of thunder reminds me that I only have a few more minutes to get this done. I need to get her back on the road, so she can be far away from me and the dirty things I’d love to do to her perfect little body.

Jenna

He was speechless when I confronted him, and he didn’t say anything the rest of the time we worked together. He didn’t stop me from trying to lift the feed again and for a second, I wonder if he’ll call my dad and complain. But that doesn’t seem like something Walker would do.

The skies finally open up as we’re making the last two trips and send a driving rain down. Not that we stop working. The thunder is rolling, and the barn door thumps loudly in the wind. The entire time, I will myself to stay calm as I continue carrying in the feed.

I can’t tell Walker I’m a tough, independent woman then cower just because the storm reminds me of that day.

“Be careful,” he tells me as he raises the tailgate. “Creek rises faster than a lot of people realize.”

I nod and swipe at my bangs, trying to blink the rain from my eyes. How is it that he looks so sexy with rain dripping down his beard? I have to stop this. I have to get back on familiar ground with him. “Are you worried about me?”

“Course I’m worried.” He steps closer, so close that I can feel the heat coming from his body. He’s like one of those electric blankets. I’d like nothing more than to have him stretched out over my body, warming me. “I need someone to deliver my horse feed.”

He’s almost smiling. One corner of his mouth is tipped up and I think Walker might have just made a joke. Before I can ask, he’s backing away. He pats the side of the truck. “Get gone now.”

I do as he said, puzzling over it the entire time. Walker is a mystery I can’t quite figure out. He’s definitely a mystery I’d love to unravel but I doubt I’ll ever get the chance. He clearly doesn’t think I’m capable or competent.

Shaking off the thoughts, I grip the wheel tighter as I approach the bridge. Except that I can’t see the bridge. My wipers are going at full blast, trying to clear the deluge from my windshield but the bridge isn’t here. It’s gone.

The water from the creek swirls and the banks are swollen. In the distance, I can see a collection of lumber. It looks like his creaky old bridge finally gave up. Without a way to cross the creek, there’s only one choice left: go back to Walker.