Page 3 of Sexting The Tattooed Outlaw (Curvy Boss Babes of Wild Bronco #3)

KAY

I can’t get Sam off my mind for the rest of my shift. I’m so distracted, I spill a whole pitcher of hot, steamed milk all over my leg. The piping hot liquid sears my skin through my jeans, bringing actual tears to my eyes.

I’m taking this little accident as a divine sign that I need to call it a day and go home.

Once my afternoon shift manager pulls in, I take off my apron and wave goodbye to my crew. I need a shower…and probably some burn ointment and a bandage.

I also need to get my head on straight after seeing Sam today.

I pull into the driveway of my family’s house. Yes, at twenty-six years old, I still live with my parents. At first, I stayed home to save up money. Then I stayed to help take care of Dad.

I used to be insecure about living with my parents at my age. But I’ve gotten over that. Yes, I live at home with my parents…but I also own a successful business that I created all by myself. How many twenty-six year olds can say that?

Besides, it’s not like the ranch house is small. Actually, it’s huge. I have plenty of privacy in my own little wing on the other side of the house from my parents’ suite.

Images of Sam’s infuriatingly handsome face are still in my brain when I open the front door and step inside. And that’s when I see Sam’s real life face, along with the rest of him, sitting on the leather sofa next to my dad.

Dad raises a gray brow.

“You’re home,” he says with a gentle smile. “I thought you were working until nine.”

I can tell from the shadows under his eyes that he’s tired. He should be in his bed resting, but instead he’s downstairs sitting next to Sam, whose large, powerful body only magnifies how frail my dad has become in the last couple of years.

“I was,” I say. “I got hurt, so I came home early.”

“Hurt?”

It’s Sam who asks this question, his brow knitting in concern.

“Just a little burn,” I shrug, looking at Dad instead of Sam.

“Why’d you get burned? How?” Sam presses. His tone suggests he’s not going to let me brush this off.

“It’s nothing. Just clumsiness,” I say flatly, still looking at Dad. “Burns tend to happen when you work with hot liquids for a living. It’s not a big deal, I’m fine. I just wanted to wash up and change clothes. Anna is closing the shop tonight, she’ll be fine without me.”

Dad nods. He’s so sweet, he remembers the names of all of my employees, and even the names of the seasonal drinks and specials that we run.

He’s so proud of me, and on some level, I know he wants to believe that everyone is doing alright in the world even as he gets older and sicker, worried about what will become of his wife and daughter when he’s not here to take care of us anymore.

So I try to be strong in front of him, even on a bad day.

I glance at Sam. He’s still looking at me with that concern on his dumb, handsome face.

Heat flows through me. My nipples tighten.

Damn you, Sam Wallace.

“I’m going to go, then,” I blurt out quickly, darting for the stairs before anyone can stop me.

I want to know why the hell Sam Wallace is sitting in our family room, but I’ll find out later, after Sam has left and I can pump Mom for information.

Once I’m upstairs, I close the door and exhale sharply. I close my eyes. Sam’s probably just here to visit while he’s passing through town. Saying hi to my mom and dad who, unlike me, are always willing to turn the other cheek no matter how hard they’ve been hit.

Blame it on their southern Christian upbringing, I guess. My parents are probably the nicest rich people you will ever meet. It’s honestly amazing that they have any money at all, because they are always willing to give and give...and give and give.

Thinking about this makes me feel angry at Sam all over again. It’s bad enough he had to betray everyone’s trust and then abandon us without even explaining why. Now he’s back and taking advantage of my parents’ kindness once again.

“He’s such an asshole! ” I mutter to myself as I strip my coffee-stained clothes off.

I examine the red burn mark on my thigh, brushing my fingertip against the tender skin. Despite what I told my dad just now, it actually is a pretty bad burn. Bigger than I expected, and deeper than just the topmost layer of my skin.

I’ll probably have a blister tomorrow. This is going to take weeks to heal.

Damn .

All because I let myself get distracted by Sam.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left him down there with my parents. Who knows what kind of shady schemes Sam is up to these days? As a teen, he was in and out of trouble all the time.

Maybe he’s gotten even worse.

Maybe he’s here to ask for money, or to steal from my parents, or-

“Why are you hiding from me?”

I scream, whirling away from the door and shielding myself from Sam’s eyes. I look at the bed, trying to find my clothes.

“Get out!”

“Not until you tell me why you’re hiding from me.”

I find my shirt, pulling it over my head. Where are my pants? I can’t find my pants, dammit.

“This is my room!” I shout over my shoulder.

“I know. I remember it well.”

How does his deep, sultry voice manage to give me full body tingles like this?

“Don’t look at me! Get out!”

“Hold on,” Sam says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the spot on my thigh. “That burn looks bad, Kay.”

“It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I told you to stop calling me Kay.”

He kneels in front of me, his face inches from my upper thigh. He brushes the pad of his thumb lightly against the reddened blotch of skin and I suppress a wince.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve always known you as Kay.”

“You don’t know me at all,” I retort.

“That’s not true,” Sam says. “I know when you’re lying. This isn’t ‘no big deal.’ This is a bad burn, Kay.”

He rises, going to the ensuite bathroom.

“What the hell are you doing?” I call to him.

I finally find my milk-stained jeans and start to pull them back on. But he’s already exiting my bathroom, holding a tube of Aquaphor in his large hand.

“Put that back!” I hiss.

The only reason I’m not fully shouting at this frustrating man right now is because my parents are downstairs.

I don’t need to give Mom yet another thing to worry about.

Sam ignores my order, coming closer to me.

“Are you going to let me help you with that burn, or not?”

“Not,” I snap, lifting my chin in defiance.

“Fine,” he shrugs. “Then we’re doing this the hard way.”

“What do you mea-”

Before I know what’s happening, Sam pushes me down against the bed. I fall back and he pins me there with one powerful arm, using his other hand to assess the burn on my bare thigh, my jeans still around my ankles.

I freeze as his palm slides up my outer thigh.

“You should have treated this burn right after it happened,” he chastises me.

His voice is low and deep now, almost soothing. His gentle touch is provoking full body goosebumps all over my skin. My nipples pebble and my breathing grows shallower.

“I was a little busy operating a business,” I reply.

Despite trying to sound tough, my voice comes out as a strangled whisper. All of my fight seems like it left my body the moment Sam’s hand touched my skin.

The man is currently pinning me down on my bed. I should be wrestling against the thick, tattooed forearm that he’s bracing across my hips…but I don’t.

I never thought I was the kind of woman to enjoy being man-handled by a guy, but it’s undeniable that Sam’s forceful way of getting me to comply is turning me on. My skin feels hot, not just the red burn on my thigh but every inch of it.

The room is quiet as Sam examines the burn on my thigh. My eyes wander over the tattoos that peek from his shirt collar, wandering up the side of his neck.

And that’s when I see it. A bold, ornate letter ‘K’ inked behind his left ear.

It’s a coincidence, I tell myself. ‘K’ could mean a lot of things.

He’s opening the tube of Aquaphor and squeezing some out onto his finger. I watch as he glides the sticky ointment over my reddened skin. His touch is gentle, careful, as though he doesn’t want this to cause more pain than necessary.

That gentle hand is sharply contrasted with his other arm, which is still pinning me in place on my mattress, heavy and steady even though I’m not struggling against his hold anymore.

“There,” Sam says quietly, finally releasing his hold on me. “That’ll help.”

“Thanks, nurse,” I mutter, quickly standing up. I pull the jeans over my legs, smearing the ointment in the process. I don’t even care, I just need to not be pantless in front of Sam Wallace for a moment longer.

“You should really put a bandage on that.”

“Noted. Now get out.”

As I say this, I’m careful to stand away from the bed now, as if worried he might try to push me onto it again and…

And what?

My imagination goes wild thinking of all of the things Sam could do to me on that bed with his strong, masculine body.

No, Kay. We hate him, remember? We. Hate. Him.

My brain understands this well. My body is a traitor.

Sam nods, walking to the door. He turns, looking at me.

“I’m going to be in town for a while, Kay,” he says.

I shouldn’t care about this. But I can’t help myself.

“Why?” I ask him.

“I know that I burned a lot of bridges before I left town last time,” he says. “That’s why I’m here. I want to make things right with everyone I wronged. That includes you.”

“You wronged my parents, Sam. Not me.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

We do?

I always felt like Sam had abandoned me here. But I doubted he ever looked at it the same way. Our connection was something I believed to be one-sided. He left me without knowing that it would destroy me…without knowing how much he meant to me.

I bite my lip.

“Well. Maybe some bridges can’t be rebuilt,” I say after a pause. “Maybe once they’re burned, they’re gone.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says.

And then he’s gone.