Roped Tight (Ryker Ranch #4) - Kim Loraine Page 0,4

watched him walk away a little longer than I should’ve. I’d been attracted to guys before. I never acted on it, but the pull was there. Tucker was drawing me in like a moth to the fucking flame, and he didn’t even know it.

“Shit,” he breathed, stopping in his tracks. “Looks like they’re spending the night in a jail cell.”

I sighed. “Again? My dad’s gonna be pissed.”

“This happen a lot?”

“A few times a year. Trav’s a hothead where his wife’s concerned. And she just eggs him on. Honestly, I don’t know why they’re still together.”

Shrugging, he leaned against the wall. “Maybe he loves her.”

“Maybe.”

As the cop car pulled out of the parking lot with Clint and Trav in the back, dread curled in my stomach. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

“Let me guess—they were your ride?”

Adjusting my hat, I nodded. “I got keys. I’ll be fine.”

He snorted and shook his head. “The hell you will. I’ll drive. You’re drunk.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he gripped my shoulder and stared me down. “Trust me, your brother will thank you for not wrapping his truck around a telephone pole tonight.”

He was right. I was drunk enough I’d been swaying on my feet since before the fight. “All right. Where’s your truck?”

Tucker

Sam tipped his head back as I drove us toward the ranch. He was just this side of drunk, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning at him as he let out a little snore.

“Hey, cowboy,” I said, giving him a slight shove as I drove through the ranch gate. “Where am I dropping you? Main house?”

He jerked awake and ran a hand over his face. “Nah, I’m bunking in the other house, the small one, with Clint.” Motioning to the right, he said, “Take that side road there. Park around back.”

I did as he instructed, pulling up behind the house and waiting for him to make a move to get out. When he didn’t, I shut off the engine and stared straight ahead at the dark windows of the quiet little place.

“Why’d you try to get me to dance with that girl tonight?”

My stomach lurched at the question. “She seemed like your type.”

“You have no clue what my type is.”

Blowing out a tense breath, I took off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re a bull rider. You could have your pick of the girls.”

“I don’t want any of them.”

“Right. Distractions are the last thing you need if you’re hoping to go pro. Gotta keep your head clear if you’re gonna stay on that bull.”

He sighed. “I need to stay focused.”

“What do you want?”

His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, a muscle in his jaw working as he ground his teeth.

“Sammy?” I asked, using a nickname I’d heard from his brothers.

Bright blue eyes found mine, and the flash of panic in them had me fighting the urge to touch him. I opened my mouth to ask if he was all right, but before a single word left my lips, he was on me. Sam Ryker’s kiss was frantic and desperate, tongue pressing inside and teasing mine. Fuck, I liked the way he tasted. I liked everything about him.

My hand slid over the nape of his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, but he went cold, backing away. “Shit.” It was just a whisper, but it made everything clear. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“I’m not…I’ve never…”

“It’s okay. You’re drunk. I’m irresistible.” I held up both hands and offered him a slow smile. “Never happened, okay?”

He gripped the door handle and all but threw himself out of the truck, adjusting his hat on the way to the house.

Fuck. I’d just been kissed by my boss’ son. And I sure as hell kissed him back. A man who clearly hadn’t explored his sexuality until just now. I wasn’t interested in helping him figure out who he was. Not when I depended on my job here at the ranch.

Once I saw a light come on inside the house, I started the truck and headed toward the bunkhouse. My pulse thrummed in my ears, the electricity still racing across my skin from what happened with Sam. I’d just have to put it out of my mind. Forget it ever happened. Because Sam wasn’t ready for a lot of things. The least of which was me.

My boots crunched on the gravel as I walked toward the bunkhouse, the sound louder than it should have

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