Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One) (5 page)

Annie laughed and Hunter relished the sound. He tried to tell himself it was only attractive because there weren’t a lot of available women his age at Farpoint, but he knew better. She had a nice laugh. And a pretty smile. And a gorgeous face.

Fuck.

“You have a very good point,” she said. “I have no doubt my father will kill me when he hears where I am.”

“Your dad doesn’t know you’re here?”

Annie shook her head. “As you pointed out, it was a pretty impulsive trip. I left a message with his secretary that I was traveling on assignment the morning I flew out, knowing he was in meetings all day.”

“Coward,” Hunter teased.

“When it comes to my dad, I’ve learned it’s easier to apologize after than ask permission before.”

“You need to ask permission? At your age?”

“It’s just an expression. My dad’s got a fairly strong personality so I’ve learned to avoid annoying confrontations by employing stealthy measures.”

Was it Hunter’s imagination or had Annie touched his thigh as she spoke? “Ah, so you’re a bad girl.”

During their conversation, they’d somehow managed to move closer, the tenor of their words becoming more flirtatious.

Annie leaned even nearer. “I’m
very
good at being naughty.”

“How naughty?”

She flushed, but didn’t move away from him. They were treading a thin line between playful banter and outright seduction.

“I liked the way you kissed me in Sydney.” It was a charming admission—and all Hunter needed to hear. He leaned forward and captured her lips. The kiss at the airport had merely whetted his desire for more.

Annie met him halfway, her mouth opening eagerly when he touched her lower lip with his tongue. For several minutes, they lived in the moment, all thought washed away by sensation and lust.

He pulled her shirt hem out of her pants and dipped his hand beneath, savoring the feeling of the warm skin at her waist. With one smooth motion, he pulled her over him until she straddled his thighs. Gripping her arse, he ground his cock against the vee of her legs. She moaned then added more pressure, gyrating against him sinuously until the friction was almost unbearable. During it all, their lips never parted.

Annie retreated first. “What are you doing to me?” Her whispered question was murmured against his mouth, her breathless gasps driving him back for another taste.

She didn’t resist the second round, either; the longer, deeper kisses as they continued to rub against each other hard…harder.

Hunter was lightheaded with need. He gripped her face in his palms, holding her close. Her skin was soft, her breath sweet. When they parted again, he responded between panting breaths, “I think
I’m
the one who should be asking that question.”

Annie froze and he watched her hooded, hungry eyes widen with shock as she realized what she was doing.

With regret, he let her crawl slowly off his lap, reclaiming her seat beside him. “I’m not usually quite this…forward.”

He believed her. He felt the same. He’d only met her this morning and twice he’d held on to her like the world would end if she weren’t snug in his arms. It was odd, unsettling.

“You’re tired. You planned a trip and nothing’s turned out the way you’d intended. I’ve had an unusual day too, a break from my same old, boring routine. I have a feeling things will be normal again after we’ve both had a good night’s sleep.” Christ. He hoped that was true. He’d been seconds from peeling Annie out of her jeans and fucking her senseless on the family couch with his mum in the next room.

Annie tilted her head. Hunter suspected she wanted to dispute his explanation. Instead, she said, “Maybe you’re right.”

Hazel called them in for dinner and the conversation turned into the interrogation Hunter had been waiting for. Hazel launched no less than three dozen questions at Annie. Their American guest answered all of his mother’s questions regarding her schooling, her career at the magazine and her family with ease and even humor. Hunter noticed she didn’t go into as much detail with Hazel, shielding some of the more private things she’d shared with him in the helicopter.

Hunter was pleased she’d told him more. He waited for Annie to give him one of the signs to call a halt to the third degree, but she never winked, never stomped on his foot. Despite the dark circles and obvious tiredness in her eyes, Annie didn’t try to break away from his mother’s lengthy conversation.

“Mum, it’s getting late. I’m going to take Annie and her luggage to the guest room so she can get a bath and some rest.”

He expected Annie to look grateful for his reprieve, but instead she seemed disappointed to leave. Hazel shared the look.

“Forgive me, Annie, I’ve been terribly rude keeping you up so long.”

“Not at all. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Sullivan. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay. Is there anything worse than an unexpected guest showing up for a two-week visit?”

Mum waved Annie’s words away with the flick of a wrist. “Nonsense. We’re glad to have you. And none of this
Mrs. Sullivan
bull. Hazel will do just fine.”

Annie and his mum hugged good night and Hunter led her to the guest room at the far end of the hall. Unfortunately it was right next to his bedroom, and his dick thickened at the thought of Annie sleeping only one thin wall away.

As they walked into the bedroom, he placed her luggage near the dresser. He pointed to a door in the corner. “The bathroom’s in there. Knowing Mum, there are fresh towels and extra toiletries and God knows what else set up for you. I radioed the station about an hour after you fell asleep. Got an earful from Mum about not giving her enough notice.”

“And yet she managed to make up this room and prepare a yummy dinner.”

Hunter shrugged. “She wanted to make sure the place was nice for you.”

“Your mother is…” Annie paused. Hunter held his breath, waiting for her to finish the thought. “She’s just amazing. My mother left us when I was seven. Took off to Europe with a much younger lover. I only see her every three or four years at most.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

Annie shook her head. “Hard to miss what you never had.” She looked toward the doorway. “But I think your mother made me miss what could have been.”

Hunter couldn’t stop himself from responding to Annie’s wistful face. He walked over and hugged her. She accepted the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m glad you and Dylan fucked up the details.”

Annie laughed. “I’m glad we did too.”

He pulled away and resisted the urge to kiss her again. He’d already taken too many liberties, come on far too strong. While he was no stranger to one-night hookups, Annie wasn’t that kind of woman. For one, she’d come here to meet Dylan, and secondly, she was staying in his family’s home for two weeks.

Hunter knew all the way to his gut that it wasn’t going to be long enough.

He needed to get in touch with Dylan.

Chapter Three

Annie carried a Vegemite sandwich wrapped in a paper towel to the shed for Hunter. She’d panicked a bit when she’d come to the kitchen for breakfast this morning and discovered he wasn’t there. She was typically a fairly self-reliant person, but she felt like a fish out of water in Australia. Having Hunter around made things easier, less intimidating.

Hazel had put her at ease almost instantly at the breakfast table, entertaining her with funny stories about life at Farpoint. At least, Annie
thought
they were meant to be humorous. Mrs. Sullivan’s Australian accent was rather thick and she tended to use some colorful expressions. Annie was still trying to piece out exactly what “dry as a dead dingo’s donger” meant. She certainly had her suspicions, but still. It had been a bit shocking to hear, coming from the older woman’s lips. She’d have to use that line with Monet one night. Her girlfriend would love it.

She glanced at the sandwich and wondered how anyone could voluntarily eat anything so vile. Dylan had mailed her some Vegemite a month ago. She’d taken one bite and spit the shit out, passing the jar on to Monet, who for some strange reason loved the stuff. Not wanting to be rude to Hunter’s mother during her first breakfast in Oz, she’d forced herself to take a bite of the stuff on toast and swallow. Hazel had taken great pleasure in her discomfiture then complimented her for “hanging in there”, swearing the flavor would grow on her, but Annie had no intentions of making a third attempt.

She entered a shed made almost entirely of corrugated iron. It was a far cry from the fancy wooden barns she’d seen during her travels in America. She’d mistakenly referred to it as a stable last night over dinner and Hunter had set her right once more. Stable, shed. Ranch, station. Cowboy, stockman. Potato, potahto. She’d never keep it all straight. Despite her exhaustion over dinner, it had been a comfortable, fun meal. Hazel and Hunter were hospitable and gracious.

Annie followed the sound of male voices toward the back wall. Hazel told her a cow was giving birth and Hunter had come down to help. She’d learned over breakfast that Hunter was less of a stockman than he’d led her to believe. According to Hazel, Dylan did more of the hands-on work around the property, while Hunter handled the business end. Where Dylan had a talent for buying stock—according to Hazel, he had a brilliant eye for picking prize cattle—Hunter spent most of his time in negotiations with banks and other buyers. Annie idly wondered why Hunter would keep that information from her.

She peered around the corner of a stall and found Hunter and another man kneeling by the laboring cow, who appeared to be in serious distress. The poor creature was breathing hard and every now and then she gave a low bellow. There was a slight odor in the air. Annie tried to place it.

Blood?
Ick.

“Is she okay?”

Hunter glanced over his shoulder. He was wearing long plastic gloves that were covered in something shiny and gooey-looking. “The calf’s a breech.”

Annie knew the term, but wasn’t sure what it meant in regards to cattle. “Can you do anything to help her?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying. Do me a favor, Annie, go sit by her head and try to comfort her. We need to get the calf turned so he comes out. She’s been laboring too long.”

Annie placed the sandwich on a nearby stool then slowly dropped to her knees by the cow’s head. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She’d grown up with a couple of cats, and once, for her tenth birthday, her father had given her a toy poodle that she’d loved dearly. Reaching out, she stroked the cow’s neck. It was a huge animal in comparison to Annie’s small house pets or even Dylan’s Mutt, but the cow acknowledged her touch, her chocolate-brown gaze taking in Annie’s face.

She began to murmur soothing sounds as Hunter and the other hand conferred on what to do.

“Hush,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay.” At least she thought so—until she watched Hunter put his hand inside the cow.

“Holy fuck.”

Hunter glanced up at her exclamation, grimacing as he continued to reach around inside the cow. He was elbow-deep. Annie felt lightheaded.

“Sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. “This calf’s not going to come out without some help. This would be easier to do if the mother would stand, but she’s worn out. That’s why we need to move quickly.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Hunter continued to work and Annie swallowed against the bile gathering in her throat. The sight of blood had always made her queasy, but this…

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Hunter’s face. “I’m trying to get the calf’s front legs facing forward. If I can do that, she may be able to push the babe out herself.”

“She’s having another contraction,” the other man said. “You think we need to consider pulling him?”

“Not yet,” Hunter said. “That’s the last resort. I’d like to give her a chance to deliver him without the strap.”

“Strap?” Annie whispered.

“It’s not as dire as it sounds,” the other man assured her. “If Hunter can’t get the calf in the right position, we put a nylon strap around both of the calf’s legs and pull a little. Help things along.”

Hunter continued whatever he was doing inside the cow. Annie patted the mother again, murmuring more words of comfort. She suspected her comments weren’t just keeping the mother calm. Hunter seemed to take solace in them as well. He gave her a grateful smile as he tried to move the calf.

“I’m glad you’re here, Annie.”

Annie imagined her sisters’ faces if they could see her now. She was in a barn in Australia, petting a cow, while Hunter had his hand somewhere Annie would never dream of sticking her own. What a day.

“Okay. It’s coming.” Hunter removed his arm and Annie leaned closer, trying to get a better look. She’d never seen anything born in her life—not an animal or a baby—and she was absolutely fascinated, despite the blood.

Soon, legs appeared, then a nose, a head. The cow continued to strain until finally, amazingly, the calf emerged.

“Get me straw, Annie,” Hunter said as he reached for a towel. Annie grabbed a handful of hay.

Hunter took a single piece. “Just one will work.” He tickled the calf’s nostrils as it started to breathe on its own.

Annie gasped when the tiny creature began to move. He was okay. The calf was alive. She’d never seen anything so incredible in her life. “It’s a cow!”

Hunter glanced at her and grinned. “A male cow.”

“A boy,” Annie said with wonder. “We’ll have to go out and buy blue.”

The other hand gave her a funny look. “Where are you from, love?”

Hunter chuckled at the man’s question. “Marc Thompson, this is Annie Prince, from America. New York.”

“New York?” Marc asked. “Isn’t that where Dylan went?”

Annie nodded but didn’t add more. She wasn’t sure how much the hands on Farpoint knew about her and Dylan, didn’t know how much Hunter wanted to share with them.

Marc chuckled, his blue eyes shining with a light Annie recognized as mischief. “There’s no bloody way I’d take off halfway ’round the world for a woman. Even if she
was
as pretty as Dylan reckoned.”

Annie’s belly knotted a little at the hand’s words.

Hunter let out a low sound, and to Annie’s ears it sounded like a growl. “That’s enough, Thomo.”

Marc grinned, dropping Annie a cheeky wink. “Although I gotta admit, the accent’s bloody sexy. Say something else for me, Annie Prince.”

Annie blinked, unsure how to react. Australian men unsettled her at times, their sense of humor hard to get a handle on. She suspected Marc was teasing her in a friendly way—at least the easy way he smiled at her indicated such—but she wasn’t sure. The hands on Farpoint really didn’t know who she was. Maybe he was flirting with her?

She cleared her throat, flicked Hunter a quick look and then gave the waiting cowboy a smile. “Wanna get some cawfee from Starrbucks, Marc?” she asked, turning on her most New York accent.

Marc threw back his head and laughed, a relaxed sound that echoed around the shed. Annie noticed the hint of ink peeking from under the open collar of his shirt, but what the tat was, she couldn’t tell.

“Oh, that does it for me, baby.” He grinned at her. “Any chance you wanna crawl into my bed tonight and talk in that sexy accent some more?”

“Settle down, Thompson,” Hunter said. “You’ll give us Aussie blokes a bad name.”

Marc flashed another grin at Annie. “Me? Nah. Besides, I’m not the typical Aussie bloke.”

Hunter snorted. “That’s for certain.” He shook his head. “Do you carry on like this when Dylan’s around?”

Marc burst out laughing again. “Hell no.”

Hunter groaned. “Then shut the hell up now and pretend I’m the boss out here for a while, will you? I’m the one who had my hands elbow-deep in cow, you know.”

Marc tapped the brim of his hat with a finger, dropping Annie another wink. “Can do, boss.”

Annie found herself smiling. She couldn’t help it. The whole tête-à-tête was so bizarrely unexpected and fun.

Marc pointed to the calf. “You ever seen a calf born?”

Annie shook her head. “Not a lot of cows in Manhattan.”

“Well, we appreciate your help, even if you are a Yank,” Marc teased. “In fact, I think maybe we should mark the occasion somehow, since it’s your first time.” Marc looked at Hunter. “How about we call this little fella Prince in honor of our assistant?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Annie insisted.

Hunter winked at her. “You did plenty. And I think that’s a great idea, Marc.” Hunter bent over and placed his hand on the newborn calf’s nose. “I hereby dub you, Prince.”

Annie felt her throat tighten, touched by the sweet gesture.

Hunter walked over to her. “I’d help you up, but…”

He lifted his slimy, glove-covered hands and she crinkled her nose. “No thanks.” She stood and followed him to a large sink behind the stable. They took turns washing their hands.

“So what did you think of that?” Hunter asked.

“It was the most fascinating, scary, exciting thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to write about it.”

Hunter handed her a towel. “You’re right. It
is
all those things. I’d forgotten.”

“How could you forget that?”

Hunter shrugged. “Seeing a calf born isn’t a new thing for me. Happens pretty often around here. I guess I’ve let the wonder of the moment slip away. You just gave it back to me.”

Annie smiled, pleased. Hunter was clearly born to the right place, the right time. It was a concept she’d considered a lot lately. She’d never felt like she fit in her family, her home. Annie wished there was someplace where she could feel a sense of belonging. She envied Hunter that. He belonged on Farpoint Creek.

“Hey, boss,” Marc called from the shed. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

Annie’s heart dropped. “Prince.”

They rushed back into the stable. The mother had risen and was standing in a corner, away from her new baby.

“She’s rejecting it,” Hunter said.

“What’s that mean?”

Hunter shrugged. “Just what it sounds like.”

Marc was in the process of cleaning the calf. “Ordinarily the mother will do this, but she’s not feeling too kindly toward the little thing right now.”

Hunter sighed. “Dylan would push this issue, right?”

Marc nodded. “I can tie her up, pen her in with Prince, but she’s pretty anxious right now. I’d hate to see her hurt the calf.”

Hunter was quiet for a few minutes as he watched the mother. “Get a bottle, Marc. We can feed Prince that way until the mother calms down a bit.”

Marc’s face cleared and Annie knew he approved of Hunter’s decision.

“Is this normal?” she asked.

Hunter grasped her hand, tugging her close enough that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She’d never been with a man who held her hand, hugged and kissed her so often. It was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Annie liked it. A lot.

“It’s not unheard of in difficult births. Or even easy ones, for that matter. There are ways to get the mother to accept the baby, but I think we’ll give them both a rest for right now.”

Marc came back with a large bottle. Hunter handed it to Annie. “You want to feed Prince while Marc and I get some clean straw for that stall? Our little calf and his mother are going to stay in here for a few days.”

Annie took the bottle and looked at the newborn calf. “Um. Okay. Sure.” She sat next to the baby and coaxed him to suck on the bottle.

Hunter ruffled Annie’s hair. “You’re a born jillaroo.”

She snorted. “Did you just make that word up?”

Hunter shook his head. “Nope. It’s a real one. Means you were born to work on a station. What you Americans call a ranch hand. But a girl one. A jackaroo is a bloke. A jillaroo is…well, you get the drift.”

Hunter and Marc left her alone in the stable with Prince. As the calf suckled, Annie sighed contentedly. She could see the appeal of this lifestyle. It was peaceful at Farpoint. No horns blaring, people yelling, construction work. No paparazzi following her, cameras flashing, phones ringing. Nothing but quiet, blissful silence.