Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) (10 page)

I might feel like I
still knew him, all those old emotions so raw and ready to clamor to
the surface, but Declan lived in a different world now. He’d
ascended into a life of wealth and power, while I remained a simple
rancher with dirt under my fingernails. And I couldn’t afford to
let my heart get broken again.

My cell phone blipped. I pulled it
out and read a new text message.

Do you have an answer for me yet? My
offer won’t stand much longer.

Lymon Culpepper, aka
the toad man who wanted to buy my family’s ranch. I shuddered.
Something in the way he looked at me with those black, beady eyes, I
didn’t know what it was but I did know that man wasn’t right. I
wanted nothing to do with him—and it was more than just not wanting
to sell my family’s ranch. That man gave me the creeps.

My fingers hovered over the screen.
Words sprang to mind that I’d love to text to him right now real
fast. But I didn’t tell him to fuck off or get lost or any other
choice retorts. I had enough realism in me to recall that his was the
only certain offer I had on the table right now. Sure, Declan had
promised, but did I really know how this week was going to go down?
No, I sure as hell did not.

I’ll let you know next weekend.

I sent the text,
another cold shiver running down my spine. I took a deep breath.
Sometimes when too much was going on all at once, I’d learned it
worked to focus simply on the task at hand. Right now, I had a baby
blanket and zip-up hoodie in my hands. I’d buy them. And then I’d
keep putting one foot in front of the other and somehow everything
would work out. I didn’t know how, but I told myself it would.

§

First I popped into a
florist. After all, fairy godmothers in consignment stores deserved
huge thank you bouquets. That woman with the ostrich feather had
saved me on Friday. Plus Declan’s penthouse could use a bit of
color. Then I forced myself back into the fancy boutiques. The
saleswoman had been aloof at first. After all, I was still wearing my
same old t-shirt and jeans. But then I’d explained that I needed a
whole bunch of outfits for a week with a man in New York City.
Suddenly she became my best friend and partner in crime.

Standing in a spacious
changing room in the boutique, I checked myself out in the mirror.
Apparently, there were white button-down shirts and then there were
white button-down shirts. The one I had on was nothing like my
father’s faded Sunday best, more cream than white after years of
use and laundry lines. It was neither prissy nor fussy nor boring nor
any of the other things one might associate with something that
sounded so run-of-the-mill.

First of all, this
white shirt had stretch to it. It was subtle, though, not molded to
me so much as brilliant in clinging and draping just so. Somehow it
accentuated both curves in the top half of my hourglass, making my
breasts look full and lush and my waist look tiny. All while still
looking like a million bucks. Give me some tortoise shell glasses and
I’d morph into an A-list lawyer gunning down the opposing side’s
star witness. The shirt had class. It might even have an Ivy League
degree. Who knew that they made shirts like that? For $150, I guessed
they did.

“Sizzling secretary,”
the salesgirl had called the look.

I paired the shirt with
her suggestions, a narrow charcoal gray pencil skirt and some
Christian Louboutin patent-leather 4-inch pumps, all glossy black
except for a flash of flirty red underneath. Looking at myself in the
mirror, I felt as if I’d been sent to the principal’s office. If
the principal was me.

I tilted my head and
turned my body so I could check out my ass. I filled out every inch
of the tight skirt. I felt nervous and excited, imagining showing it
to Declan. He’d told me he’d want me to model it all for him
tonight. Why did it arouse me to think of doing that? I could picture
him sitting and watching me with his dark, hot gaze as I strutted
around in front of him. I turned front and center again, checking out
the way the shirt clung to my breasts. The thought of pleasing him
turned me on so much my nipples started to harden. I could see them
pushing against the soft cloth.

The salesperson knocked
on my changing room, this time handing me a heap of dresses plus a
bunch of jeans and shirts. I had to try on every single one of them.
I loved the dresses and they loved me, caressing my curves and
showcasing all my assets. Trisha would have been proud. Thinking of
her, I grabbed a black skirt. I’d send it to her as a replacement,
compliments of Declan. After all, he was the one who’d torn it in
half.

The jeans and t-shirts
were just like my old ones—if they spent a year in Paris as an
exchange student, had a torrid love affair with an older man and then
hit the lottery. The fabrics kissed my skin, silks and whisper-soft
cottons. The jeans were clearly magic, making my legs look a mile
long and my ass defy gravity.

I pouted in the mirror,
striking a pose in a clingy silk dress. It was a dress for New York,
for going out on the town. A dress Declan would enjoy taking off of
me once we got back to the hotel. I shivered at the thought. We still
had one last night together in Billings in his penthouse. What would
he want to do to me tonight? And what would he have me wanting to do
for him? Those handcuffs had felt so good, stretching my arms up
overhead, displaying me for Declan’s pleasure. Why had I loved that
feeling so much? Thinking about it made me want it again.

The blindfold had been
better than I’d ever imagined, and I had imagined it in the past.
One too many long nights with nothing but a sexy book on my Kindle
and, sure, I’d thought about how it would feel to lie there
blindfolded, Declan tormenting me with his fingers, his mouth. I’d
felt ready to explode from the second he’d tied the silk around my
eyes, so sensitive when I couldn’t see. I loved not knowing what
he’d do next, the electrifying charge of submitting to his control.
I didn’t know what he had in store for me, but my pulse raced to
find out.

I made my selections,
an embarrassing pile of clothes I couldn’t believe I was actually
going to purchase. With Declan’s money. While the salesperson rang
everything up, I avoided my eyes. I knew Declan had told me to spend
a lot, but really this was ridiculous.

Funny thing was, when
you looked away in a candy shop, there was nowhere to turn without
spotting something else delicious. A pair of Jimmy Choos. Oh, the
siren song of metallic gold platform sandals, all straps and shine
and heels. I could see myself modeling those for Declan. Maybe not
wearing anything else.

“You have to.” The
salesperson grabbed the sandals for me and the entire transaction was
over in a New York minute. Signed, sealed and arranged to be
delivered to the penthouse.

Out on the sidewalk, a
bit shocked at what I’d just done, I started walking my way back to
The Stanyon. I’d just spent more than I guessed I ever had on
myself. But not long after, a welcoming storefront stopped me in my
tracks. Home and Hearth. I loved absolutely everything in the window.
An antique bench draped with a star-pattern quilt. A rustic wooden
cart, here with several potted plants but I could picture it
positively overflowing with wildflowers.

A devious smile crept
across my face. I knew someone whose home wasn’t exactly homey.
Stark. Immaculate. A decorator had clearly been at work, calculating
everything to cultivate the image of the masculine, powerful bachelor
businessman.

In Declan’s
penthouse, I hadn’t seen a single photo of family or friends. No
kids’ artwork up on the fridge, which I had to say I found almost
criminal. Even if you didn’t have your own, you had to have a
neighbor, niece, cousin or friend with a little one. And, clearly,
you had to proudly display their art. No home was complete without
it. Also, Christmas Cards you kept up until July and cheesy calendars
of puppies.

Declan’s penthouse
could use a few touches here and there. He had told me to go
shopping, after all. I was pretty sure his credit card still had some
room on it.

My smile grew wider as
I pulled open the door and went inside. He had warned me that he
might discipline me tonight. I felt ready to cause some trouble.

Declan

Then

It had to rain. Other
than that night in the barn, the sun had been scorching down on our
patch of land for weeks now, relentless and fierce. The earth looked
as cracked and parched as a desert. The cattle lowed in their pens,
restless and moody. I sure as hell got no rest, though that had to do
with my own demons more than the weather. Demon in chief: Kara
Brooks.

She was avoiding me,
and doing a good job of it. I never caught more than a glimpse of
her. A hint of a blue dress through the kitchen window, her singing
drifting up into the hot, still air. Sometimes she’d shoot out from
the house to her pickup as fast as a firecracker, scared I’d try to
grab her or something. She was right about that. Grabbing her was
exactly the kind of thing I had in mind.

I was supposed to leave
next month, only a few more weeks at this ranch. Sometimes I thought
of it as motivation. I could hold out. Other times it spurred me on
like a drumbeat. Not much time left. Better act fast.

Since I’d had the
flu, it had gotten worse. It was like the fever had gone straight to
my brain. I’d been hot for women before, sure, from a young, randy
age, but this was something different. This came close to stark,
raving mad. I could feel her hands on my skin, hear my name moaned on
her lips, smell her musky sweet scent. At night I’d dream so vivid
I’d wake and swear it was real, her caressing my chest, trailing
her fingers along my muscles.

I walked around with a
raging hard-on and balls so blue I could barely see straight. The
girls I typically partied with didn’t offer any relief. I had no
interest in them anymore. My hand didn’t help, though I brought it
to my cock often enough, calling out Kara’s name as I jerked myself
off in the shower. It didn’t matter. Nothing gave me relief. There
was one remedy and one remedy alone.

I wasn’t myself, that
much was clear. There had been one time over the past few weeks I’d
managed to see her alone, just her and me in the barn. And what had I
done? Stood stock still like a dummy. I literally hadn’t been able
to move. She’d looked so beautiful, delicate and perfect. I’d
felt like the Hulk, big and dumb and only able to smash. That had
never happened to me before. Bill had walked in soon enough, anyway.

But I knew it was just
a matter of time. Like you knew one day it had to rain, I knew one
day I would have her. It was all a question of when.

The rain came sudden
one afternoon in mid-August. The morning started like all the rest,
hot as hell and not a cloud in sight. I had to hand it to Bill,
though. Old timers sometimes knew and he told me, first thing, it
would rain that day. I had my doubts, but around 4 o’clock things
got real dark real quick. The cattle started bucking and rearing up,
their big eyes rolling in their heads. They knew a change was coming.

Rain after a drought
was a good thing, of course. But too much rain too fast onto dirt
that had dried as hard as cement? That meant flash flooding.

We had to get all the
equipment and all the cattle up into the barn on high ground as fast
as possible. All hands on deck. Every man dropped whatever he was
doing and got to work, fast, focused, intense. I was down by the
creek. Low and trickling just then, I knew it could be flooding its
banks within hours. I’d seen it happen before. You didn’t grow up
in Montana without a deep respect for the destructive powers of
Mother Nature. No force could be as violent or vicious.

I lay down some
sandbags at the most vulnerable point, where dirt and rocks had
tumbled down into the creek creating kind of a funnel. That’s where
the water would break through first, so I shored it up. Then I turned
my attention to the cattle we had down in the low pasture, the ones
in the most danger. The first few drops started to fall, both a
blessed relief and a warning of what was to come. I could tell it
would be a driving, relentless storm when it broke full force.

Fast as a whip, Kara
rode in, wind thrashing her hair, rain starting to pound down hard.
With more expertise than I knew she had in her, she prodded and
coaxed, nudged and circled the cattle, moving them up to safer,
higher ground. Up on my horse I joined her and together we worked as
a team. I scared the shit out of them and got them moving along,
quick. Kara kept them calm enough to help them head in the right
direction.

We worked well
together, reading each other’s signals without words. I knew when
she needed me to circle on back. She knew when I needed her to slow
down with a young, scared one. Helping each other, we got the cattle
where they needed to go, safe and dry and locked into a covered pen
up on the ridge in about a third of the time it would have taken me
on my own.

Reins in her hand, Kara
sat tall on her horse, exhilarated and proud of the work we’d
accomplished. The rain fell fast and relentless now, plastering her
hair to her head, her clothes to her body.

“Come on!” I called
to her, spurring my horse around up toward the far ridge of their
property. She followed, driving hard behind me in the rain.

Up at an enormous, old
willow tree, I pulled up, jumped off, and led my horse under the
shelter of the giant branches. I tied my horse to the trunk and she
calmed quickly, sheltered underneath the leaves and branches of the
ancient willow.

Kara led her horse
underneath as well, following my lead, tying her horse to the trunk.