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  She shook her head. “I don’t need time. I know what I want, and this isn’t it.” She turned and walked away.

  Son of a bitch. How had he misjudged the situation? Pete picked up his sketchbook, the chairs and trash, and followed her back to the truck. Maybe he hadn’t misjudged. Maybe she just didn’t know her own mind right now? Either way, he’d give her space.

  For now.

  But he wouldn’t make it easy for her to ignore him.

  Chapter Six

  That night, Pete walked into the bar at nearly ten. Saturday night, and the place was packed. He had his drawing rolled up in his right hand. Nearly three feet long, and almost five wide, it showed the bike from a half-dozen angles.

  He watched her talking to a biker sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the bar. She never smiled. She’d barely ever smiled at him, even when he knew he was being funny. She took life too seriously.

  CJ had been sullen and uncommunicative on the short drive back to Dirty Harry’s this afternoon. Pete hadn’t tried to change her mood, hadn’t tried to mellow her. He’d let her burn. Then, when he’d stopped by the garage, and she was sliding out of the truck, he’d struck. “We’ll do that again—and a whole lot more—when you get your shit together.”

  She’d been speechless, open-mouthed, and furious. “Don’t plan on it, Pete.” Slamming the door, she’d spun and stormed into the bar. CJ in a full fury was a spectacular sight, and one that he’d never forget.

  Now, when she looked his way from across the bar, he could still feel the sexual tension, the pull between them that she wanted to deny.

  He held up the drawing.

  Her eyes widened, she excused herself from the conversation, and strode over to him. Jeans and boots, a bar-logoed black T-shirt, she could have easily been a biker mama.

  “You done?” She stared at a spot on his shoulder.

  “I am.” He really wanted her to like them. He’d taken one of her ideas and added it to his original drawing, but the rest of it was…not even close to what she’d suggested.

  She gestured for him to follow her back toward her office.

  He grabbed her arm. “Wait, CJ.”

  The glare she gave his hand would have melted skin from bone if she’d had her way. That same laser zap gazed into his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about…what happened this afternoon.”

  “No, it’s not that.” He handed her the drawing. “I want you to look at it when you aren’t busy. Not when it’s rushed. Take some time to really see the story.”

  She grabbed the drawing from him and frowned. “Story? What the hell do you mean?”

  “I’m heading back to the ranch tonight. You have my number if you want to talk.”

  She nodded and turned away, striding stiff-backed to her office, her jeans cupping her round butt so well, he could almost feel it in his hands.

  “Ya don’t want to get her too wound up, friend.” Dolby stood beside Pete, watching CJ stalk off. “She’s more likely to unravel and kick your ass all the way back to Lemmon than crack a smile for you.”

  Pete gave the security chief a smirk. “Anything would be better than the freeze-out I’m getting now.”

  Dolby laughed, loud and fast. “Don’t bet on it, Pete. Do not bet on it.” He walked away, a smile fixed on his craggy face.

  Pete went out the front door and walked around the building to his truck. He didn’t want to bump into her again. He’d said his piece. Now it was up to her. Crack a smile, or kick his ass on up to Lemmon. Either way, he’d get to see her again.

  The next morning, Pete woke to the sun streaming in the window of his room in the ranch house. A change from his usual pre-dawn alarm when he worked the oil field. He sat bolt upright. Was that bacon cooking?

  Five minutes later, he sat down to a breakfast the size only his mother could create. She sat opposite him, a mug of steaming coffee between her hands. “Glad you made it home this weekend. The Amhurst boys have been giving your dad conniptions since they got here yesterday morning.”

  “He just doesn’t like anyone but us Gonallys monkeying with his equipment.”

  “That’s for sure.” She stole a strawberry from the bowl next to Pete’s plate. “When he saw your truck in the yard this morning, he went from grumpy bear to teddy bear.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if he’s ever gotten close to being a teddy bear, but I’m glad he didn’t run upstairs and drag me out of bed at first light.”

  She smiled. “He’s got a rough exterior, but he’s soft as cotton on the inside.”

  The description could almost apply to CJ as well. Except for the cotton inside. She was more—steel wool. “Mom, how do you get around the hard part and into the soft part?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I’m assuming you’re not asking for bedroom advice, here.”

  He laughed. “No, ma’am.”

  She fanned her face. “That’s a relief.” Tipping her head, she stared off, looking pensive. “I guess it’s just a matter of learning where he’s at in his head. When he’s really hot under the collar, I relax and just let him blow off steam. When he’s frustrated, I offer to help, but I don’t push or make suggestions.” She shrugged and looked at him. “You have someone who you want to get closer to?”

  He poked at his hashed browns. “Yep. And she’s a challenge.”

  “Good. That’ll make it worthwhile, but…” His mother stood and set her cup in the sink. “I hope she’s worthy of your efforts, son.” Patting his shoulder, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That big house of yours is nearly finished. And I’m looking forward to your filling it up with a bunch more Gonallys.”

  “Aw, Maw.” He ducked his head, chuckling as she walked out the screen door. Pete could just make out the roof of his house. What would it be like, having his own home? Finding the perfect woman to share it with. Creating the next generation with her.

  The vision of a half-dozen curly blond heads in sizes from infant to teenager popped into his brain. And in the center of them all, CJ wearing an apron and a smile.

  He nearly choked on the last bit of chow. “CJ is not likely to wear either one of those any day soon.” He loaded his dishes in the dishwasher and checked his phone again.

  She hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Did she hate the drawing? Love it so much she was speechless? Or was she still just mad as a wet hen about the kiss? And his promise afterward? His thumb went to the call button, but he forced it back. She’d contact him in her own good time.

  But it was hell waiting for her.

  ****

  CJ jumped as the front door of Dirty Harry’s opened. Three bikers walked in. No Pete. It was Wednesday night and she’d been expecting him to stomp in the door since Monday when the call had come in from Williston—and she’d said something she wished she hadn’t.

  Pushing it out of her mind, she finished making a margarita and set it on the waitress’s tray. She looked up, and there he was; Pete, in all his cowboy glory, from his black hat all the way down to his fancy boots. The in-between looked damn good, too; a red plaid shirt and dark jeans.

  In his hand, he held a long roll of paper, and in his eyes, she saw…nothing. No anger, no disgust, no frustration. Just those beautiful brown eyes looking at her like she wasn’t worth the time or effort to get worked up about.

  “Ma’am.” Pete touched the brim of his hat. “If you have a moment, I have the revised drawing you requested.”

  CJ swallowed. Requested was an interesting choice of words since she’d practically told his school counselor that Pete had fucked up.

  She had two bartenders on tonight, and she gestured to Tony that she was taking a break.

  As she walked out from behind the bar, she was glad she’d dressed a little nicer, in a sleeveless teal blouse and a black denim skirt that reached the top of her dress boots. “In my office please, Mr. Gonally.” She led the way.

  Not that she didn’t feel guilt at the way it had happened, but she wouldn’t back down and apologize to h
im. She’d been right to say the things she’d said. When CJ opened the door to the office, laughter floated out. Her payroll and payables person, Vanessa, sat talking to Dolby and his son, Jake.

  They all greeted her, she said hello and backed out, closing the door. Only one other place for privacy. “Come upstairs.” She walked to the elevator, assuming Pete was following by the clomp of his boots behind her.

  Silent, proud, angry Pete. She’d be lucky if he ever spoke to her again about anything besides the bike. Turning to look at him, she realized he might not talk to her about the bike, either.

  The doors opened, they stepped in, and she pressed the code in for her apartment.

  As the elevator moved slowly upward, she worked up the courage to start the conversation. “He called me. Your school counselor, I mean. Monday, he called me, not the other way around.” Damn, she sounded like a moron.

  “He told me.” How Pete was able to speak through teeth clamped that tight, CJ had no idea.

  She’d just been emotional that day. Had been since Saturday night when she’d first looked at the drawing. It was…phenomenal. He had immense talent, but what he’d drawn had been too painful for her to live with.

  On one side of the gas tank, a street view of Dirty Harry’s Saloon. On the other side, a framed landscape, and in front of it, her father with a paintbrush. The front fender showed the town of Deadwood, and the back fender… It choked her up even now to think about it. A sunset, a long, winding road, leading down to where Harry’s old bike sat. On the gas tank of the drawing of her dad’s bike, the word “Memories” was written in cursive.

  Then, Monday morning, she’d gone to see Harry, and he’d been clutching the drawing of her that Pete had left with him. The staff said he didn’t want to let it go. With her heart beating fast, she’d sat next to him. “Daddy?” Would he recognize her?

  He held up the drawing. “Do you know CJ?” His eyes looked into hers, not seeing her at all.

  She’d broken down, crying silent tears as her father stared at the television, holding the drawing tight in his hands. When she’d gotten home, the school placement counselor called to ask how things were going with Pete.

  And she’d poured out all her concerns.

  “All I told him was that your drawing was good, but it wasn’t what I’d asked for.” The elevator door opened and she stepped into her apartment, turning on table lamps as she walked through the living room.

  Pete’s bootsteps followed. “You could have told me.” His voice was so quiet, she thought she might have imagined it.

  She turned, searching for the words to explain why she hadn’t.

  He held out the papers. “I redrew them. Just like you wanted.”

  CJ took them and stepped to the dining room table. As she flipped on the light, she saw him shoving his hands into his front pockets. Damn. He wasn’t happy.

  Using coasters to keep the drawing flat, she unrolled it on the table. Colorful scenes of the Badlands, Needles Highway, Mount Rushmore. And animals; buffalo, an eagle, a rattlesnake, all the animals she’d mentioned. But it looked kind of hokey. “Glad I didn’t mention coyotes and donkeys.” She tried to curve up her lips when she looked at him, but it felt uncomfortable.

  Especially when he just stared at her with those dark, emotionless eyes.

  His nostrils flared. “This project goes toward my final grade. If this drawing doesn’t work for you, I’ll keep drawing it until you’re satisfied.”

  Her lips thinned. She hadn’t realized her comments to his school would affect his academic standing. “Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect…” He took his hands out of his pockets, but they ended up in fists. “I’ll need to start painting this weekend if I’m gonna finish in time... I’ll go wait in the garage, if that’s okay, until you’re ready to make a decision.” With one hand, he gestured toward the drawing. “Whatever you decide, I’ll need to order the ink by tomorrow to make sure it gets here on time.”

  Even though he’d started his speech saying with all due respect, she didn’t hear any in his tone, nor see any in his gaze. “Oh, okay, you’re just going to camp out here until I make a decision. Is that it?” She shoved her hands onto her hips. She really, really hated to be pushed. “Is that the professional way to do this? Is that how they taught you in art school?”

  Chapter Seven

  CJ stood her ground even though Pete’s eyes narrowed and his big body made her roomy apartment look small in comparison. How had he worked her up into such a temper? Even to her own ears, she sounded like a complete bitch.

  His jaw clenched and he just breathed for a few seconds. “Perfect. You’re saying that because I want to make sure I can get the fuc…the darn bike painted in time, I’m unprofessional?” He took a step toward her. “In my book, ‘unprofessional’ is choosing to talk to your contract worker’s counselor instead of directly to him.” His voice rose with each word.

  No one called her unprofessional. She gave her life for her business. “Bullshit.” She stomped toward him, one index finger leading the way. “My talking to your counselor was completely appropriate, and you know it.” CJ gave his chest a good poke. Then another. Then drew back to give him one more.

  He grabbed her wrist. “I don’t know what kind of business school you went to, ma’am.” He said the word like it was sour milk. “But in the real world, people talk to each other. They don’t go whining to somebody’s boss.” His face and neck turned a wild shade of red.

  Her heart beat fast, her breath puffing in and out. Holy shit, she wasn’t mad. She was hot and wet for him, her nipples puckering tight against the fabric of her bra, and between her legs, her sex pulsed, quick and achy. She didn’t like the feeling of losing control over her own body. “Grow up, Pete. This is how the real world runs, and if you’re too sensitive to take it, maybe it’s time you get out of it and go back to farming.”

  Heavy breaths raced in and out of his mouth, his grip on her wrist tightened, and he leaned in, way inside her personal space. “You have no idea what goes on in the real world, lady. Holed up here in your bar—”

  “You gonna be the one to show me?” She didn’t know where the words came from, but once the challenge was out of her mouth, she desperately wanted him to do it.

  His body jerked once, his head tilting like he wanted to kiss her, to shut her up with his mouth.

  And, oh God, how she wanted him to. Her brain misfired, sending shimmers of lust along her spine and down to her pussy.

  He grabbed the brim of his hat and tossed it to the floor. “You want me to show you?” His eyes had turned more green than brown, and he stared into her eyes. “Just say the word, CJ, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  He pushed too far, too hard. “Asshole.” She raised her free hand to strike his cheek.

  Pete didn’t move, didn’t try to stop her, as if he welcomed the hit, wanted her to stop this raging fire building between them.

  Instead of smacking him, she clasped her hand to the back of his neck, feeling his soft, blond curls. “I want it.” She tugged him down as she went up on her toes and smashed her lips to his.

  “Fucking…” He murmured the word against her mouth, his hand on her wrist twisted her arm behind her, tugging her flat against him. Opening his mouth, he lashed his tongue between her lips, past her teeth, and deep into her mouth, rolling her tongue with his.

  Against her belly, his hard erection pressed hot through his jeans.

  His kiss turned frantic. He found every crevice of her mouth and tasted it, he sucked her tongue into his mouth and bit it lightly.

  Her stomach jittered as heat flooded her down low, tightening her insides, swelling and pulsing in her pussy lips, juicing slick and dangerous between her thighs.

  His free hand grabbed her breast, palming it roughly, pinching her nipple between his finger and thumb.

  With a cry, her head dropped back, breaking the riotous kiss, breaki
ng any willpower she had left for resisting this dirt farmer. “Show me, Pete. Take me now.”

  His growl shook along his entire body, transferring to hers in sweet, naughty chills. Releasing her, he tore open her blouse, buttons popping and skittering along the floor. Then her bra, rended in half with one tug, and her breasts chilled in the cool air.

  When she looked at him, everything heated again. He stared at her breasts, his eyes dark, his breathing fast, and his body stiff. “You sure now, CJ?”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking sure.” She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth to her nipple.

  He immediately fastened his lips around it and suckled, bending her back over his arm.

  Letting go, she closed her eyes and just felt. Nips and bites, laps and sucks, that sent bursts of desire flooding her bloodstream.

  Suddenly, her feet weren’t on the ground, he sat her on the dining room table and stepped back. With one tug, he popped all the snaps on his shirt and tore it off.

  CJ wanted to reach out, touch the light furring of blond hair on his strong pecs, grip those big biceps and play in the crevices of his ab muscles. She reached for his belt and he stepped closer, pushing her legs wider, tightening the denim of her skirt close to ripping.

  “Go ahead, boss lady. Do what you want.” His words came out almost nasty.

  A quick gaze at his face showed CJ he was watching her hands. Maybe she’d misinterpreted his tone. But did she care? Right now, she wanted into his pants. She unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped, then shoved his jeans down.

  His cock pressed tight to his red briefs, and he tugged them down, too, releasing a beautiful hard-on, eight inches of thick, pulsing, creaming delight.

  Stroking a finger over his slit, she stared into his eyes. When she sucked her finger, his whole body vibrated. “Mmmm.”

  “You’ll get your chance at a taste. Right now, fast and rough, me inside you.” Pete tugged the hem of her skirt up as he pushed her backward.