Chapter Two

"Here we are. Bungalow 12. My personal favorite." Dylan opened the quaint door of the log cabin for Sloane to enter first.

She stepped in, breathing in the clean scent of real pine, not the chemical facsimile, and what smelled like cinnamon rolls. She almost laughed. On the application, she answered cinnamon rolls to the question about her favorite food. This couldn't be a coincidence.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she drifted into the living space. It was open and airy, decorated in deep green with wood accents.

"It's very cozy." She looked to Dylan. Again, she found him watching her. That focus he promised her wasn't something she'd only noticed when he led her off the stage—she saw it during their short ride from the harbor.

His eyes weren't any old shade of brown. They were hickory and oak, and the warmth of maple syrup. Eyes that could send many a woman to her knees.

Of course, that made her think of what sort of fun happened on her knees, and heat climbed her throat to settle in her cheeks.

He stepped forward, a crooked smile quirking his manly lips. When he lifted a hand to cradle her cheek, swiping his callused thumb over the blush she knew was there, her heart pattered a little faster.

"I think us being together calls for celebration. Champagne?"

She smiled. "That sounds nice." She couldn't recall the last time she drank an adult beverage.

"The rain stopped. What do you say about taking a little walk around the ranch? We'll pop a bottle and watch the sun set."

"Sounds perfect." That would be an ideal icebreaker, something she needed. The thought of being cooped up alone in the bungalow with a stranger who she'd paid to wine, dine and…romance her…gave her a case of the jitters.

As he strolled to the kitchen area, she watched him. He moved with an easy, loping grace. His muscled form was a nod to the hard work he obviously put in around the ranch. Not to mention all the hip thrusts and pushups they did over the women who came here.

The gray plaid shirt he wore stretched over his shoulders with each rolling step he took. And his ass in those tight Wrangler jeans…

She felt her teeth clamp on her bottom lip, trapping her sigh in. He reached into a small wine cooler and withdrew a bottle. Holding it up, he studied the label.

When his gaze shifted to her—and he caught her looking—he flashed that stunning grin. Just like it had back at the dock, it stole her breath.

"It's a good one."

"You know champagne?"

With the bottle in one hand, he approached her nice and slow. Her insides clutched. What was he about to do? Would he touch her face again? Try to kiss her?

Stopping a few inches from her, he stared down into her eyes. "Ready, beautiful?"

Her happy feelings died out like a snuffed flame. Irritation wove through her at the nickname that everybody called her. Getting attention shouldn't be a negative to her, but she wanted to be seen as…more.

So much more.

She nodded. "I'm ready."

If he noticed her sudden change of mood, he didn't let on. He caught her by the hand and led her out of the bungalow.

She threw a look back at the closed doors. "We don't have to lock up?"

His deep chuckle sent another prickle of awareness through Sloane. "Not around here. This is the safest place you'll probably ever visit." He tipped his head up to the sky. "See that? The clouds blew away with that storm. You can see the mountaintop."

When she turned her attention to the sight, a gasp escaped her lips. "It's beautiful. It makes me wish I was an artist and I could paint it."

"Lots of things I wish I could do."

"Tell me some of them." Anything to shift the focus off herself. Her nerves weren't ready for explaining her reason for being here.

"Well, I grew up in a ranchin' family in the lower forty-eight. As a kid, I had dreams of being a vet. But my grades didn't make the cut. After that, I did some odd jobs. Apprenticed with a plumber for a while before I realized I didn't want to fix toilets for a living."

She smiled.

"Then I came to Alaska and wished I could find a way to describe the beauty. Maybe become one of those wildlife writers for magazines. But the wind blew me in other directions."

"I see."

He didn't say more, and she didn't ask.

They set off walking, her hand firmly enveloped in his warm clasp and the bottle of champagne in his other. He slanted a look at her. Those brown eyes glimmered with interest that made her nerves jump again. Now she was rethinking her desire for someone to know her and not only her body.

"What do you do for a living?" His question threw her.

She fell silent for a few steps.

"You don't have to tell me. What happens on the ranch stays on the ranch."

The statement brought a laugh to her lips. When she surrendered to it, Dylan's stare zeroed in on her with more intensity.

"I'm glad to hear it, since I don't want anyone in my personal life to know where I am. What if I don't tell you what I do for a living? Instead, you have to guess."

A playful smirk brought out a dimple in his cheek—totally unexpected on the rugged composition of his features.

"I love games."

She dipped her head at the innuendo in his voice and words. Her nipples hardened, and it wasn't from the cool mountain air.

"I'm going to guess you do something in an office. Accounting."

She laughed. "I'm terrible with numbers."

"Public relations then."

"Nope."

They strolled along a path that circled some log bungalows. The pastures behind it were dotted with the cattle the ranch was known for just as much as the men who ran it. He pointed to a spot along the edge of the field.

"This wood bench has been perfectly placed here for a couple looking to escape the world with a bottle of champagne."

When he held up the bottle and slowly began to shake it…so slow…in such a sexual manner…

Her already hard nipples puckered into even tighter buds. Liquid heat slipped into her core, and she squeezed her thighs together on the sensation.

Dylan shook the bottle faster. When he pushed against the cork with his thumb, it exploded.

An unexpected laugh burst out of Sloane. Then Dylan brought the wine that was spilling over the rim to her lips and bubbled it into her mouth.

* * * * *

Watching the champagne flood over those sweet lips had Dylan's stiff cock pressing against his fly. Sloane was so alluring that he didn't even try to give her more time to get to know him.

He leaned in and kissed her. She gulped down the champagne and stilled at the firm pressure of his mouth on hers.

Then her eyes slipped shut, and she melted.

He let out a groan and settled a hand on her waist, tugging her close. Her plump lips underneath his sent shockwaves to his groin. Oh yes, the chemistry between them wasn't only present but strong.

She lifted a hand to rest on his chest, steadying herself as he slowly stroked his tongue over her closed lips.

On a gasp, she opened to him, and he plunged inside, flicking his tongue across hers in a tiny movement before he decided to take it down a notch instead of pushing her too far.

He lifted his head, and she slowly opened her eyes. That dazed expression she wore would usually boost his ego a hell of a lot.

It did more than that—it left him shaky with barely controlled lust.

The one and only time he'd ever experienced something similar was when Shaw happened across him fucking his client. When their gazes locked, a primal need to bite, scratch, claw and own that man had him screaming out in not one orgasm but two that night.

Reeling, he offered Sloane a smile and then raised the bottle to his mouth. After that kiss, he could use more than a swig of alcohol that was too weak to affect him much. But he had to remain in charge at all times with his women.

She ducked her head in a cute, shy gesture and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He passed her the bottle, and she took several sips before dropping to the bench. He sat beside her, his thigh inches from hers. That horny little devil on his shoulder urged him to drag her into his lap and let her feel his every inch while plundering those sweet lips.

He attempted to turn his mind onto another track. "You were telling me what you do for a living."

The tilt of her lips was echoed in the depths of her green eyes. "No, you were supposed to guess."

"Hit me then. I'm ready." He took the bottle from her hand and sucked down a swig.

She sat there, hands on her knees as if indecisive. Finally, she stood and turned around, presenting her backside to him. And a lovely ass it was, too. Full and tight. Perfectly shaped.

When he simply stared at her luscious curves without speaking, she twisted to look at him. "Well?"

"Uhh…"

"Okay, let's try this." She took off in a sultry walk a short distance across the field and then came back.

"You're an Olympic speed walker."

She dropped her face in her palm, laughing. "No!" This time she ran in a circle and came to a stop before him.

He cocked a brow at her. "A jogger?"

"Seriously? Fine, I'll tell you—a butt double."

He cocked a brow. "What exactly does a butt double do?"

"Actors contract me to stand in for them in scenes where they want to be portrayed better than they are."

"So you do movies." Damn. Why was she even at the ranch? With her looks and connections, she could get any guy. But maybe that was the problem—she didn't want just any guy seducing her.

She bobbed her head. "And model shoots."

"You have a fantastic ass, Sloane. But I'm a boob guy. Would I have seen those before?" He eyed up her breasts.

She gave him an are-you-kidding look. "Just the butt."

Reaching out, he latched on to her ass, dragging her up to the bench and her breasts to his eye level. "Well, I am thrilled that these are just for me." He dipped his head to nuzzle them.

* * * * *

Shaw knew Dylan was going to take Sloane to the water's edge at sunset. Like clockwork, it was his routine.

Shaw could hide for the entire week and avoid seeing his ex with another man, but there was no stopping his feet from carrying him there.

When he scoured the shoreline, he reached up to pull his hat off his head.

They weren't here.

That left one more spot to look—the field.

Taking a detour through a patch of woods, he rubbed at his sore jaw. Ever since he spotted Sloane on that dock, he'd been clenching it in unabated frustration.

Weaving around trees and stepping over fallen logs took him too much time, but finally he reached the field.

Under cover of the trees, he edged up to the south border. From here, he had a perfect view of the bench.

Sure enough, Dylan was there with Sloane in his lap.

What made Dylan change up his routine with Sloane, of all women?

He bit off a growl.

That perfect ass—the one that had once belonged to him, goddammit—was pressed against Dylan's cock.

Shaw knew firsthand all about that cock too. Thick and long. He could still feel it in his fist while Shaw fucked his ass in slow strokes until they both shook in completion.

The client had been more than satisfied to experience a threesome…and Shaw had spent every day since their encounter fantasizing about doing it again.

Dylan's hand roved over her chest, and she squirmed in his hold.

Unable to look on for another second, Shaw uttered a low cuss that he really wanted to bellow to the sky.

In quick strides, he retreated without being seen and hurried back to the office. When he burst in, the door struck the wall hard.

The ranch's bookkeeper was standing at the copy machine a foot away. She let out a cry and grabbed her pregnant belly.

"Oh god, Avril. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

She pushed out fast breaths through her nostrils. "I think you…put me…in labor!"

"Jesus!" He rushed to her.

She dropped her hand from her stomach, straightening with a laugh. "You should see your face, Shaw."

He barely contained a growl. This wouldn't be the first time he'd seen a woman go into labor. The night his daughter came into the world was the best and worst of his life. The best because of how perfect she was. The worst because he knew he couldn't remain in her life and keep her mother happy.

He still asked himself daily if he'd made the right choice in leaving Sloane to raise their daughter.

Marigold.

Fuck. Where was Marigold while Sloane was in Alaska, writhing on Dylan's cock?

Most likely with her grandparents. They were more than capable of caring for the child, but it still didn't sit well with him. Nothing about this situation was right, goddammit.

"Where's Maggie?" His abrupt question made the smile slide off Avril's face. As if he didn't feel shitty enough, now he'd made a pregnant woman unhappy.

Avril pointed to the conference room. "She's in with a couple of vendors who are looking to buy some of our beef. Piers and Ash are with them."

Piers and Ash had recently left the lineup of Boot Knockers serving women and shifted to ranch operations exclusively. They were remodeling a small cabin just over the mountain ridge for use as their personal home they would share with the woman they loved.

Shaw stomped over to the desk Maggie used and grabbed her computer mouse.

Avril rushed to his side. "Hey, you can't just break into her computer and look at…at…files!"

"Who's gonna stop me?" He searched the hard drive for client files. When he couldn't find them easily, he typed a name into the search bar. Sloane Simpson.

Her name came up immediately. He clicked open the file.

A rough gasp escaped Avril. She set her hand on her baby bulge again.

"You can't get me with that act again, Avril." He skimmed the application Sloane had submitted.

Date of last relationship: Two years ago.

He rocked back on his heels. His mind swirled.

She hadn't been with anyone since him.

Avril gripped his arm hard, bringing his attention from the screen to her pink face. "Shaw! I…I think I really am in labor!"

He stared down at her, assessing the situation. Then water flooded over her feet.

"Son of a bitch! You are in labor." What should he do?

He was a father. Just a bad one.

He spun Maggie's desk chair toward Avril. "Sit down. Breathe. I'll get Maggie. She'll know what to do."

He stormed into the conference room so fast that the door banged off the wall. Six people looked up at him, shock on their faces.

"Avril's in labor."

"What!" Maggie leaped up and pushed by him.

Figuring they had this under control and didn't need him, he strode out of the office. The urge to circle back to the field was a strong pull, but he couldn't bear to see his ex with another man, even if Shaw himself had been with that same man.

Sloane's application still burned in his mind like the imprint of the sun after staring at it too long.

She hadn't been in a relationship since him. Now he knew why Sloane had come to The Boot Knockers Ranch.

He stopped walking and looked in the direction of the field, lit up with the gold and orange hues of the setting sun.

She was trying to get over him.

Too bad he wasn't going to let that happen.