Chapter Four

Sloane brought a mug of steaming tea to her lips and drew in the aroma of the fresh brew. Over the rim of the cup, she looked at the man who'd brought her breakfast in bed—and more than one orgasm last night.

"Did you make this tea yourself?"

He chuckled. "No. I ordered the tray from the dining hall."

"The food was delicious. Thank you again."

He perched on the edge of the bed, eyeing her like he wanted to start the cycle all over again. Boy, was she ready for it too.

She had hopes that having sex with a cowboy gigolo would help her get over the heartbreak and to forge on as a busy single mom. She definitely was ready to relax and have some fun this week.

"What is there to do around here?" She brought the tea back to her lips, saw his face and almost spit out her sip.

When he laughed, that dimple cut deep into his cheek, mixing his bad-boy look with the cute boy next door who would quickly divest a girl of her panties.

"Besides the obvious," she clarified.

He crawled into bed beside her and stretched out his long legs. "There's horseback riding."

She wrinkled her nose.

"It's not everyone's thing."

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

His lips hitched higher at one corner. "Among other things."

"Women."

"And bulls."

She sat up straighter. "Bulls? Are you serious?"

He leaned back and gestured to the big brass belt buckle he wore. Peering closer, she saw a bucking bull engraved on it, along with a date.

"You won that? Dylan, that's amazing!" She stared at him in awe. "How did you ever get into riding bulls? It's so dangerous."

"Same way you became a butt model, I'd say. You just jump in."

She shook her head in disbelief. "How do you find the time while working here?"

"I'm only here in the off-season." Hooking a knuckle beneath her chin, he stared deep into her eyes. "You got lucky."

Her smile spread through her whole body. Now that she knew the danger he faced when competing, she was even more intrigued. Too bad she wouldn't get more time to get to know him.

Not that he'd remember her after this.

"Besides horseback riding, there's strip poker and skinny-dipping."

She contemplated both activities. "I've already done both of those in my life."

His teeth flashed with a broad grin. "Tell me more."

"You know I do movies. I've done both on the big screen."

"Doesn't count if it was for a job."

She widened her eyes. "Yes, it does! I really get in character when I'm working."

He studied her for a long heartbeat. "Did you get turned on when you were jumping naked into the water while the cameras were rolling?"

"Um. No."

"Then it wasn't real."

She rolled her eyes, giving in. "Maybe you're right."

"Okay, so what can I offer that you haven't done yet?" He searched her eyes as though he'd find the answer. "Naked walking."

She giggled. "Now you're just making things up."

"Naked cornhole."

She envisioned the easygoing game of tossing beanbags into holes cut into wood—only without a stitch of clothes on.

She bobbed her head. "That sounds good."

He stared at her harder. "You're serious?"

"Yup." She scooted across the bed and got to her feet, placing the cup on the nightstand. "What do I need to participate?"

"Your birthday suit."

She tossed her head on a laugh. Dylan rolled across the bed and popped to his feet in front of her. His masculine scent filtered into her senses a split second before his lips came down on hers, cutting off her laugh.

The noise turned into a whimper. His warm fingers kneaded into her spine, sliding over the silky material of her nightie in a seductive fashion.

He deepened the kiss, drawing her closer, onto her tiptoes. Sloane's head spun. Getting swept away by a rugged bull rider was far from her norm. While she was definitely attracted to Dylan, he wasn't like anyone she'd ever dated—and that was exactly what she needed.

When he slipped his hands downward to cup her bottom, need spiked through her.

"Sure you want to play cornhole? I've got another game involving a hole we can play." His breath whispered over her lips.

Another laugh caught her off guard, and she threw her head back. Suddenly, he wrapped his fist around her hair, holding her in that position with her neck arched…exposed.

He took immediate advantage by brushing his mouth over her pulse point over and over. Her pussy flooded. Her nipples hardened as though they knew just how much of a breast man Dylan was.

After long heartbeats, he lifted his head and loosened his grip on her hair, allowing her to meet his gaze. His eyes glinted like warm syrup pooling on the most decadent treat.

That dimple was back, a deep prick in his cheek that drew her gaze. More than a little breathless, she dropped to her feet. She was still tall enough to meet his eyes with ease.

He gave her a light pat on the ass. "Get dressed and we'll go join a game of cornhole."

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of the erotic game she was about to play. Getting naked in front of people was part of her job, but she didn't run around in the buff for recreation.

Quickly, she donned a pair of jeans and a simple white top. While staring at her reflection, she dragged her fingers through her long brown locks. The loose waves often had a mind of their own, but the weather in Alaska seemed to be agreeing with her hair now that the rain ended.

She added a layer of hydrating tinted lip gloss and used her eyelash curler. Briefly, she contemplated adding earrings or a necklace to the look, but what good was it going to be wearing only a chain?

Walking out into the living area of the bungalow, she spotted Dylan staring off into space. The crease between his brows spoke of a silent struggle.

When she approached him, he jerked his head up. The startled expression in his eyes faded to appreciation. Shooting to his feet, he settled his hands on her waist in a way that made her flush inside and out. He touched her with such familiarity, as if they'd known each other much, much longer than a single day.

She brushed away the thought. He was simply good at his job. While she didn't love the idea of being anyone's job, she was paying him to help her forget Shaw.

With any luck, she'd leave here feeling refreshed. If a good man came along, she wanted to be open to giving him a chance.

Right this second, she was broken, jaded.

"You're so lovely, Sloane." Dylan dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Before she could twist her face into him, he stepped back to skim her appearance. "You look as good in clothes as out of them."

She tensed at the compliment. So many males treated her as though she didn't have a brain, a heart, a soul. Only one man had, and he walked away, without putting up much of a fight for her.

Dylan squeezed her fingers. "Let's hope you're good at cornhole too."

The switch in topic drew the attention from her looks to whether or not she possessed a skill, as silly as it was.

"Guess we'll see." She gripped his hand back, allowing him to lead her to the door, where he'd neatly set their boots side by side.

Once they were outside, the fresh Alaskan air teased the hair at her temples. The scent of earthy plants and things she associated with harbors filled her nose. She drew in a deep breath. All of a sudden, she actually felt like she was on vacation.

She loved Marigold and missed her like crazy, but walking beside a hot cowboy, her hand in his, with stunning mountain views, fed her soul.

The walkways curved through the ranch in a way that offered a new view each time they rounded a bend. Lush green pastures spread out in front of her one minute, and the next she was staring at a pristine barn.

A short distance away, a cowboy had a woman in his arms, kissing her like he was going off to war. The woman melted in his grasp. As Sloane and Dylan drew closer, she heard the soft whimpers the cowboy pulled from the woman.

Feeling like a voyeur, she forced her gaze away.

At that minute, the cowboy pulled up the woman's skirt and plunged his hand between her legs. She moaned. Rocked.

Sloane's insides clutched with need.

"Nice view, eh?" Dylan's soft rumble at her ear sent another spike of desire through her.

"I feel like I shouldn't look!"

"That's exactly what they want you to do."

She blinked. Glanced back at the couple. The woman was bowed in the cowboy's arms while he fingered her pussy.

That the couple was outside in plain sight of anybody who walked by both stunned and aroused Sloane. Her career presented her with a lot of worldly experiences, but The Boot Knockers Ranch was very different from anything she'd ever known before.

* * * * *

Dylan squared up to the wooden board, the beanbag a slight weight in his hand. Sloane looked on from a few feet away, wearing nothing but a lace bra, a pair of teeny tiny panties, and a smile.

She clapped her hands. "Let's go, Dylan!"

"Yeah, man! Miss the shot! We're all waiting to see your goods."

On the back of a bull, he'd learned that showmanship got the crowd going just as much as a good ride. He glanced down his bare chest and abs to the very evident bulge pressing against his white boxer briefs.

"He wasn't joking when he said he sucks at this game," one of the other guys jeered. "If you miss this shot, Dylan, you're the first man naked and you lose."

He glanced at Sloane. "Either way, I win."

A pink flush climbed her face. Christ, he wanted to put his hands on her—now.

He pitched the beanbag. It struck the outer ring of the bullseye painted on the board and slid off the side into the grass.

Laughs and cheers echoed across the lawn where they were playing. Pointedly, he pivoted toward Sloane, hooked his thumbs in his boxers and slid them down his hips.

When his cock bobbed against his abs, several gasps sounded, and they weren't just from the women either. Plenty of guys enjoyed getting a piece of him. Too bad only one had ever held his attention, and not only was Shaw not interested, he wasn't even here.

Sidling up to Sloane, he held her gaze every step of the way. Her tongue darted across her lips. He stopped just shy of touching her. "Your turn, sweetheart."

She dipped her gaze from his eyes to his cock, stiff and swollen, the head red with need. Getting naked in front of the gang and a handful of clients was always a turn-on, but having her watching him so closely, with that blazing look of desire in her beautiful eyes, made him even harder.

She skirted around him and stepped over to the game. Hunter Hart, aka The Gigolo, caught Sloane by the wrist. She sucked in a gasp of surprise that turned into a squeak when he lifted her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss there.

Everyone applauded the show and several guys issued catcalls. Dylan looked on, knowing it was all in fun—but Hunter was known for stealing women from other Boot Knockers.

What he didn't know was that Dylan wasn't opposed to using his fists if it came down to it. He was enjoying Sloane far too much to give her up so soon. She was just starting to let her guard down with him, but he saw the effects of his efforts in the glow she now wore.

Hunter placed a beanbag in her hand and stepped back. He thumbed his straw Stetson. "Now, little lady, every man here is counting on you to miss. And I'd also place money on the fact that a lot of the women want to see you take off one more item of clothing."

Sloane stared at him for a long second before her gaze traveled over the ring of people gathered around. Then she shot a glance at Dylan.

He nodded at her to go for it. When she swung her arm back and released the beanbag on the forward move, everyone silenced.

The bright-colored bag hit the wood, dangled on the edge of the hole, but skidded down the sloped wood instead.

Sloane plastered her face with a hand and the crowd hollered.

"Take. It. Off! Take. It. Off!" someone began to chant, and everyone joined in.

Laughter bubbled on Sloane's lips. She turned to face Dylan. He eyed up her body, waiting to see whether she'd remove her bra or panties. She was much more comfortable baring her ass to the world, so his bet was on the tiny panties coming off.

But she held his stare, ran her tongue over her full bottom lip again…and unclasped her bra.

For him.

She did it for him.

Knowing how much he loved breasts—hers in particular—she'd chosen the bra.

His cock jerked with need. In three strides, he caught her up around the waist and carried her off the cornhole pitch to the sound of shouts.

The barn was the closest place they could be alone, and he could find it blindfolded. His lips met Sloane's, and she moaned against his mouth, feeding her tongue to him. The dark desire to claim this woman had him walking faster. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed and kissed him.

When they entered the dim space, the scent of hay and animals greeted them. He had only one thought in his head: get inside her.

He moved to set her on her feet, then thought better of it. She was barefoot, and while they kept the barns clean of debris, they were a working ranch and as such, there could still be a nail around.

With Sloane still in his grip, he moved to the workbench where he'd just seen Shaw oiling a saddle hours before. The saddle had been put away, but the smell of the oil remained.

He reached under the bench and located a stack of blankets. He tossed one on the floor and lowered Sloane to stand on it. Her eyes were glazed with lust. She pressed her bare breasts into his chest.

"Christ. I need to make you scream my name and then come inside this." He reached between her legs and stroked his middle finger over the seam of her pussy. His eyes hooded. "Your panties are wet."

"How can they not be? You're so hard and—"

He cut her off with a kiss. The slick glide of his tongue over hers sent him reeling. Fuck, he hadn't wanted a woman this bad in a long, long time.

He palmed her breasts, loving the feel of them in his hands and the knowledge that she'd taken off her bra for him. The nipples hardened to tight pebbles, which he teased with small plucks of his fingers.

When he ducked his head to take one into his mouth, she gasped.

But not the good kind of gasp because of what he was doing.

Dylan went still. Sloane's body was stiff enough to make him think if he touched her, she might snap.

He raised his head and saw the man in the barn with them.

Shaw.

The man wasn't looking at him. In fact, it seemed like Sloane and Shaw were the only two people in the barn.

Oh fuck.This was why Shaw wanted her so damn bad, bad enough to argue, growl and attempt to fight for her, only to be cock-blocked by the personnel in charge.

It looked like Shaw and Dylan's woman shared a history.

* * * * *

She was wearing his marks. Two red hickeys on her breast.

Shaw's chest felt volcanic. Scorching lava filled his veins where blood should be. Ash settled in a thick layer over his heart that had once beat for this woman and this woman alone.

"Nice to see you, Sloane. Where's my daughter?"

The jab hit its mark. She flinched at his words, pain cutting through the sexual daze she was wrapped in.

Shaw clenched a fist and battled the urge to pound Dylan into the floor until he matched the wood grain.

Sloane crossed her arm over her bare breasts, trying to cover herself from him. And Dylan actually placed his body in front of her to shield her from him.

From Shaw—the man she'd damn near married. The father of her goddamn child.

Recovering, her stare shot missiles at him. "She's with my parents, and she's doing great, thanks for asking."

He bit back a growl. "I wondered why you hadn't sent any photos lately. Seems you were too busy booking your stay on the ranch."

She sucked in sharply. "You're throwing shade at me? You're here too!"

"I didn't come to be serviced." He tossed a glare at Dylan.

The man rose to the baited statement. With one arm, he pressed Sloane behind him, again shielding her—and stared down Shaw.

"You need to leave, Sheridan."

"Yes, he does." Sloane's voice rang with a strength that shouldn't gouge deep into the pit of Shaw's mind, but it fucking did.

Just like seeing another man with his hands and mouth all over her. If Shaw had walked in a second later, he would have caught them fucking.

And he didn't know if he would have been able to walk away.

The thought was a black coal searing his brain.

She poked her head around Dylan's shoulder. "You chose to walk away from me and our daughter, Shaw. You're not welcome in our lives now, and you're sure as hell not wanted in this barn. Leave!"

He opened his mouth to spout the ugliness in his heart right that minute, but Dylan cut off anything he'd say.

"This isn't the time or the place, man." He reached to grab another blanket and threw it over Sloane.

Clutching it around her nude body, she glared at Shaw.

God, she really was beautiful. He missed her so damn much in the two years since they were together. That night she walked out on him would forever be etched in his heart as the worst he'd ever experienced.

Now he had this moment to compare it to, to play in his mind over and over again.

Except when he envisioned Dylan sucking on her nipples, his cock jerked behind his fly.

Fuck, what was wrong with him? He never wanted to see another man's mouth on her again, let alone allow his own body to respond to the vision.

He spun on his heels and strode out of the barn. Each step was longer, quicker than the last. He needed to get away from that place and the memories of Sloane and the knowledge that she had carried his child for nine months.

His lungs seared. A bellow waited in his throat. He needed to find a place to be alone and release some of this fury pounding through his system.

When he reached the field where he'd spotted Sloane in Dylan's lap, he snapped. Racing to the bench, he let out that roar that had been trapped behind his lips. He swung his boot back and slammed it into the bench seat. The wood plank snapped, the cracking noise bringing only a small measure of release.

He kicked it again and again, snapping several more chunks of the seat and annihilating the bench arm until it hung by a single nail.

He'd been in enough fights on the ice to know that busting property wasn't going to settle anything. No, this was between him and Sloane…and now Dylan.

Shaw dug his thumb and forefinger into each eye, trying to black out the vision of them making out in the barn.

It couldn't be erased, though.

Worse? He didn't know if he wanted to break Dylan's neck…or join in.