Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Her teeth sink into my shoulder.
My dick throbs so hard, the fucker is in danger of breaking in half.
"Did you just bite me?"
"Yes," she growls. "And I'll do it again if you don't put me down right now!"
I flip her upright, not because I don't want her to bite me again—I actually do—but because I want to see her face. It's red, her eyes wild as she slaps hair out of her face. Her glare is too goddamn cute.
It doesn't quite hide the terror in her gaze, though. She's scared of something, real fucking scared. Of going to jail? Maybe.
Jesus. Who is she?
I'm mad as hell that she spent the last two nights in the barn. No one should be forced to sleep with Jon, especially not a girl like her. She belongs in my bed.
Wait. No, that's not what I…
Ah, goddammit.
That's exactly what I meant.
I don't want her hiding out in the barn. I want her in my bed. And I want to know what the fuck she's so afraid of, so I can handle it for her. If she's running, I want her running to me.
I'm so fucked.
"I need better dreams," she mutters, crossing her arms. The pout on her face is too damn cute. "This one sucks."
"It's not a dream, Calamity."
"Concussion hallucination, then."
"Do I feel like a hallucination to you?" I ask, one brow arched.
Her brows furrow like she's seriously considering the question. "Yes," she finally decides. "Because not even cowboys just manhandle women in reality."
"But they do in your hallucinations and your dreams?" I can't help but grin at her. "Sounds dirty, baby."
She squeezes her eyes closed. "One. Two."
"What are you doing?"
"Counting my way back to reality."
"Yeah? How's that going for you?"
One blue eye pops open as I climb the steps to my cabin. "Not well," she sniffs. "You're still here."
I just chuckle and carry her inside. I briefly consider setting her on the sofa, but after taking a look at her face, I decide against it. If I let her go, I'll be chasing her pretty little ass down in point five seconds when she tries to bolt. Better to keep her in my arms until Gunner gets here to confirm she does not, in fact, have a concussion.
Once we get that out of the way and she accepts that I'm her new reality, we can deal with the important shit—like figuring out who I need to kill, why, and how to get my ring on her finger.
Walker and Flint arrive before Gunner, strolling in without waiting for an answer to their knock.
"Wade said you needed us," Walker growls, not commenting on the pissed-off woman currently trying to pry my arms from around her gorgeous body. I see the curiosity in his brown eyes, though, and I have no fucking clue what to tell him.
It's not like goddesses materialize out of thin air every day around here.
Flint just shakes his head, fighting a grin.
"This is Calamity Jane. I found her sleeping in the barn," I say, nodding at her. "Baby, this is Walker Jessup and Flint Stockton. They help manage the cowboys around here."
"My name isn't Calamity Jane," she mutters, scowling daggers at me. "It's Elizabeth."
"It's Morgan Elizabeth Lott," Flint says, his eyes on her. "You're Darius Lott's kid."
She blinks wide eyes at him, her face paling. "You knew my dad?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," Flint murmurs. "I did. We worked together for a while. I was damn sorry to hear it when he passed."
"Your dad died, baby?" I ask, my whole goddamn body going soft for her. Is that why she's been sleeping in the barn? Poor baby.
Unfortunately, hers does not go soft for me. She just sniffs at me, scowling as if she'd prefer to set me on fire, then turns her face away as if she can ignore me if she can't see me.
I chuckle in response. She has no idea how fucking cute she is when she's pissed, like a grumpy little kitten just dying to be coddled.
"You were sleeping in the barn?" Flint asks her, his expression darkening.
"I…" She huffs again and then nods, guilt written all over her round face. "I promised to leave and not to do it again, but this big bully wouldn't listen. He dragged me here against my will. You should probably fire him. Cowboys who kidnap women aren't a very good look for your ranch, Mr. Stockton."
Flint looks to me for confirmation, amusement in his gaze.
"She fell off the stall door trying to climb over it. Figured I should get her checked out." My lips quirk. "She swears I'm a concussion hallucination because I look like sex on legs and have a horse named Jon Bon Pony."
"I did not say that," she lies.
"It'd solve so many of my problems if you were a hallucination," Walker mutters, fighting a grin.