Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,23

know someone. So," she paused, leaning forward. "Who do you know?"

"Sterling," he blurted. "We're... distant cousins." They had the same last name, so she couldn't dispute that, could she?

"So you've been here before, then?"

"Sure," he said with bluster, heart hammering. He hoped to hell Sterling was too busy at the ranch to come out to the arena this afternoon.

"So maybe that's where I know you? When were you here?"

"Aww, shit." Panic set in. If he fucked this up now, his career was finished. "I can't remember. Our families didn't exactly get along. I was a kid." Nice and vague. Sterling would cover for him if she asked questions.

Cecilia's voice sharpened. "So why now? Why come back here?"

"Why not? Maybe I wanted to find some connection to family," he snapped, letting his fear get the best of him. "Is that so hard to believe? That maybe I needed a life change and at least there was a connection to family here?"

"So you don't have any siblings?"

He shook his head. "No." That, at least, wasn't a lie. "I've been on my own since I was fifteen." Also not a lie. He might be a dick at times, but he wasn't a liar, and he hated being in this position. Prairie was supposed to be the place where he could lay low and avoid questions. "When Weston mentioned you were a reporter, I didn't expect you to go after me like a shark chasing chum." He pulled into the arena, found a spot underneath a large cottonwood, and jammed the truck into park.

"Is that what you think this is?" she snapped. "And I'm an investigative journalist, by the way. Biiiiiig difference." Her arms spread wide, making her point. "And why wouldn't anyone be curious? You show up from out of town in fancy clothes with a big fancy truck, stirring all the single ladies into a tizzy." The look she gave him would have made a lesser man tremble. "You could be a con man for all anyone knows."

"Except I'm not." Except that in this case, she was perilously close to the truth. "And you heard Weston, I've been vetted."

She shook her head, voice rising. "There's something funny going on there and I'll get to the bottom of it, because I can always tell when someone's hiding something." She poked his shoulder with a finger. "And Weston's helping you hide it."

"You're barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart. You-"

"My name's Cecilia."

Damn this tough as nails woman and the way she got under his skin. She would be the absolute death of him. He unbuckled and shifted in his seat, leaning forward and meeting her snapping gaze head-on, face inches from hers. "Know what, Cecilia?" he said, voice going rough with frustration. "I can't decide whether you need spanking or more kissing." Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, but she didn't back off. The woman fucking leaned in.

"Maybe it's both," she tossed back, voice husky and molten.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Always escalating." His voice dropped an octave. "What do you want, Cecilia? What do you think you're going to win?" He knew a thing or two about always escalating. He'd played that game most of his adult life and it had nearly ruined him. "You want to rumble? I won't say no. You want to take me down a notch? I'm already at rock bottom sweetheart. What are you trying to prove?"

Chapter Eleven

Cecilia's insides melted under his intense scrutiny and the whiskey-rough quality of his voice. Goosebumps pebbled across her skin, right down to her aching nipples. What was she trying to prove? And why, why, why did he have to smell so damned spicy and manly and delicious in the close confines of the truck? When she hesitated, he continued, face still close enough his breath was warm against her cheek. "If you think there's some big story, you're mistaken."

Was that it? Was her pushing some kind of a misguided attempt to show up her former boss? To shed light on yet another injustice delivered to the vulnerable? Was she looking for a story where there was none? All she needed to soothe her bruised ego was to send off her exposé to another publication. Someone was bound to pick it up. This... compulsion to uncover the truth went deeper.

"But if arguing is some kind of kinky foreplay for you, I'm game... sweetheart." Trace's eyes heated as he called her that. He was poking her on purpose... and