Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

“What’s it doing?” he asked.

“Turning over but not starting,” I answered, standing next to the open driver’s side door.

“Okay.”

A few rattles and clanks followed. Then, “Go ahead and try it.”

Shocked to hear he was ready for me to try starting it already, I ran back to the house, grabbed the keys, and plugged them in the ignition. The car turned over once, twice, three times and then the engine sputtered to life.

Was it that simple? He hadn’t changed a part.

“It started!” I shouted as I circled around to the front. “You’re a magician.”

“No, just a mechanic, ma’am.”

“A mechanic who performs magic,” I confirmed. There was no way this man was getting away from me. There were far too many machines on this property to keep running, beyond my piece of crap car. “What’s your name?” I asked, extending a hand.

“Mike.” He accepted my offer and gave my hand a firm shake.

“Mike,” I said. “And in case you weren’t aware, I’m Morgan, the new owner of Silver Sage Ranch.”

Smiling, Mike gave a quick nod. “I was aware. Welcome.” He released my hand then made a face and handed me a rag. “I think you need this now.”

I laughed and checked. Sure enough, a black smudge darkened my hand. “Thank you.” I wiped off the grease and returned his rag to him. “Well, I’d better let you get back to your job. Thanks again.”

“No problem.” He loped back to the tractor he’d been working on while I leaned against my running car and tried to decide if I there’d been any spark between us.

The answer: not really. And I didn’t understand that. He was definitely good looking.

And he could do amazing things with his hands.

He was polite. He didn’t leer at me like some guys—make that, a certain guy—did.

He didn’t make me feel like he was undressing me with his eyes.

God help me, was I one of
those
girls? The kind who could only be attracted to the bad boys—the ones that would crush my heart over and over?

I
knew Clay was back before I saw him. The energy in the air changed. Electricity crackled, like before a thunderstorm. It was so appropriate. Because wherever Clay Walker went, lightning struck.

He hauled several grocery bags inside the house.

Trying to pretend I didn’t know he was nearby, I continued with my chores. My pitiful breakfast wasn’t holding out. Once again my stomach was voicing its anger at being empty. I had no choice. I gave in and went inside. I found him in the kitchen, unloading bags.

He waved a package of tofu at me. “You owe me for this. I had to drive all the way to Riverton to get it.”

“That far? Why?”

“In case you didn’t notice, people around these parts like their
meat
. This vegetarian shit isn’t fit for human consumption.”

He was doing it again, pushing my buttons. I knew it. So why couldn’t I just ignore his needling comments? “Have you even tried that ‘vegetarian shit’?” I countered before I’d been able to talk myself out of it.

“No. You wouldn’t catch me dead eating that shit.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “When was the last time you ate something normal?”

I took inventory of the spread on my table.

Greens. Avocados. Berries. Tofu. He didn’t consider those normal?

“I ate an egg this morning.” Surely eggs were normal, right?

“Besides the egg?” He clucked his tongue when I shrugged. “How the hell do you live, eating this rabbit food?”

“It isn’t rabbit food.”

“I tell you what, you owe me for driving all the way to Riverton to buy that shit. So
you
can do something for
me
.” Evil glitters sparkled in his eyes.

My gut twisted. Here it came. The sex demand.

What would it be this time? A hand job? A blow job?

I had news for him. This girl was
not
getting close to that dick ever again.

Never, never, never.

No matter what.

No way in hell.

Maybe if I ignored him, he would drop it.

I grabbed my tofu and stuffed it in the refrigerator.

“Dinner,” he said. “Tonight.”

What’s this? He wants dinner? Not sex?
I whirled around to give him don’t-shit-me eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” He blinked. “There’s no catch.”

“There has to be.” I grabbed the carton of berries and waved it at his extremely guilty-looking face. “There’s always a catch with you. You’re the king of catches.”

“I’m glad you think so highly of me,” he said, a warm chuckle echoing through the room. He gently removed the carton from my hands. Our fingertips brushed and a tiny stream of heat skittered up my spine. “A
king
. King of catches. I like it. I’m
one hell
of a catch.” He reached behind me to put the carton in the refrigerator, caging my body between his bulk and the open fridge.

“It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” I declared to his broad chest.

He cupped my chin, forcing it up until our eyes met. Heat whooshed through me. “Now, don’t try to take it back.” He flopped a thick arm over my shoulder, and another wave of heat pulsed through my body.

I glared at him and shuffled to the left. “Hands off.”

“I don’t have any hands on you... yet.” He stepped closer, trapping me again. This time it was worse. His big, burly chest was now smack dab in front of my nose and I had to crank my neck way back to meet his gaze. His heat warmed me. Everywhere.

My face. My breasts. Lower. Between my legs.

This was not good.

I angled back, pressing against the shelves in the refrigerator. The cool air blowing on my nape made my skin pucker into goose bumps. That wasn’t any better. Now I was hot
and
cold. “And you never will,” I declared with more conviction than I felt.

Truth be told, my heart was racing. Heat was pulsing. I was alive, on fire, and God help me I was
liking
this feeling. The thrill. The tension.

He shifted closer still. “We’ll see about that.”

I jerked up my chin. “No, we won’t.” Brave words there. Words I didn’t believe, really.

“Oh, come on. The last time was good, wasn’t it?”

Good? Hell no! It wasn’t merely
good
.

It was mind-blowing, earth-quaking.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point, I reminded myself, was that it had been a mistake. A massive mistake that I still regretted. So why would I ever do it again? “No,” I murmured.

“No?” His Cheshire smile couldn’t get any wider. Nor could he get any closer without our bodies melding together, my curves smooshing against his hard angles. Male and female, molding together. “No? I recall you screaming, ‘Yes, yes, ohmygod yes’ at the top of your lungs.”

Did he have to remind me?

A hot blush bloomed on my cheeks. I jerked my gaze from his. “Well, I was a little caught up in the moment at the time... but...”

He thumbed my chin, lifting it until my eyes met his again. His were smoldering, dark, fathomless. “Maybe you’ll ‘get caught up in the moment’ again.” He tipped his head.

Oh God, he was going to kiss me.

My breath hitched. All my thoughts evaporated, like mist on a hot summer day.

Yes. Oh, yes.

No.

No!

I planted my hands on his granite chest and shoved. “No.”

He smiled into my eyes as he took a step back and dropped his hand. “You say ‘no’ now. But you won’t later.”

Arrogant jerk.

Throwing his cocky response right back at him, I said, “We’ll see about that,” and shoved him again.

He turned, threw a smoldering look over his shoulder and loped out of the house, leaving me there, breathless, dizzy, and needing to knock some sense into my head.

I’d almost like that big dickhead kiss me! What an idiot I was.

Why couldn’t I feel that kind of electricity with a nice guy? Like Mike? Why?

I had no answer a half-hour later, after I’d whipped up a quick lunch and ate.

Nor several hours later, after I’d worked myself into a near coma, cleaning out the old storage shed.

But something good came out of all that hard work. I’d found several unused pieces of equipment I could sell. The extra money would help keep the ranch afloat for a while. And I wouldn’t have to fire anyone.

All the boys were gone by four o’clock. All the boys except for Clay. He stuck around, looking busy. I tried not to notice him as I worked. I failed. Every time I caught a glimpse of him, I had to look. No matter what I was doing. My eyes just had to track him. I couldn’t stop them.

By five o’clock I was done. I was filthy, like I’d never been before. My hair. My face. My hands. My clothes. Covered in dust and dirt. And my shoes—caked in shit. I was starving, but before I would allow myself to eat, I had to get clean. I smelled like shit. Literally.

Shower.

I stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor and jumped under a stream of cool water. Absolute bliss. The water pattered against my body, massaging my aching muscles and chilling my overheated skin. The water at my feet ran off brown and muddy. I scrubbed until not an inch of skin had been left unwashed, shampooed my hair twice then cut off the water and wrapped myself in a clean towel.

I stepped out into the hall to find Clay standing in my kitchen, arms crossed.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped.

“You. Me. Dinner. Remember?” He shouldered the wall.

Dammit. I had forgotten, having been so exhausted and grimy from all the work I’d done. All I could think about was getting clean. “Oh. Crap. I forgot.”

“No problem.” His gaze slid south, to my breast region, and my nipples hardened. I tugged the towel tighter around myself, hoping he wouldn’t see them. “You can go throw on some clothes... or
not
... and we can head out.”

“You know, I’m really tired after today—“

He stepped closer, head shaking. “I knew you’d try to get out of it.” He continued to prowl nearer, eyes focused on my face, expression intense.

The way he moved, looking at me like that, reminded me of a big jungle cat, hunting down its prey.

Me. I was the prey. And I wanted to run.

But, just like a big cat, I knew my running only triggered his chasing instinct. So I stood my ground as he crept closer, closer still. Before I knew it, my towel-clad body was within inches of him. And he was glowering down at me.

“It’s either we have dinner,
or
...” His gaze raked down my body, and a spark of dark male hunger ignited in his eyes.

I knew what that
or
meant. Sex.

A little quiver quaked through me. “No ‘
or
’. No.” I shoved on his chest, pushing him away for the second time today. How many times would I have to do this in one twenty-four hour period? In a week? In a month? Would this guy ever get the message?

What happened that day, years ago, was a mistake and I had vowed never to repeat it. I meant to keep that vow. No matter what.

The towel gripped in one fist, I pushed past him. “Fine. I’ll get dressed. Give me a few minutes.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d go for option two.”

“Not a chance in hell,” I shot back.

His laughter followed me into my room.

Adrenaline pumping, blood rushing, heart throbbing, I slammed the door.

Why, oh, why did I have to feel this way about such a jerk? What was causing this disconnect between my brain and body?

As irritated with myself as I was with the jerk in question, I gathered my hair into a messy, soggy knot on top of my head, stomped into a long cotton skirt, yanked on a T-shirt and shoved my feet into a pair of tennis shoes. Then I grabbed my bag.

“Ready to go,” I announced.

Next to the door, Clay pulled it open and waved me out first.

I felt his leering gaze on my ass as I stormed down the steps.

What the hell was I doing, going anywhere with this jerk? Favor or no, he was my employee.

This was wrong. And stupid. And totally unnecessary.

And it would
not
happen again.

Ever.

Because I was done lusting for the bad boys.
Done.

W
hen Clay had told me we were having dinner tonight, I hadn’t known what to expect.

This was definitely a surprise.

I mean, true, the restaurant options were extremely limited out here in Nowheresville. It was a long drive to find anything remotely decent—as in, served food on genuine plates instead of paper wrappers. But I had still expected, and dressed for, a dinner out. At a
restaurant
. With tables. And people. And service.

Not out, as in, out in the middle of a freaking
pasture
.

A large bonfire heated my face as I sat, in my skirt, staring into the dancing flames, poking at the embers with a stick. Two steaks the size of my freaking head were sizzling on top of a homemade grill setup, built with a wire mesh resting on top of stacked stones. The smell of burning meat wafted my way with every breeze. Even to my vegetarian nose, I had to admit the smell was making my mouth water.

I hadn’t eaten a single bite of animal flesh since the last time I’d visited Aunt Sandee, the summer before my freshman year of college. I’d decided to go vegetarian after watching a video about how industry-farmed animals are handled and slaughtered. Horrifying. All my life I’d seen how my aunt had cared for her animals on her small ranch. I hadn’t realized it was different from the way the larger farms operated. The shock had been enough to make me stop eating any meat that was sold in chain grocery stores. And since that was all I could find where I lived... you get the picture.

So there I was, about to eat my first bite of beef in four years.

Proclaiming the slabs of cow flesh done, Clay forked them onto plates he’d stowed in his picnic box and handed me a plate, knife, and fork. Then he produced a bottle of wine and poured us both a glass.

I stared down at the grilled meat, juices running from it, filling the plate. My stomach rejoiced. My mind wasn’t as enthusiastic. I hacked a tiny piece off and reluctantly slipped it between my lips.