With This Ring (Denim & Spurs Book 1) (6 page)

Neither man spoke as the truck parked and the engine fell silent. The door opened and Finn jumped out, a harried expression on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she called out, hastening toward them. “I had to do an emergency shoe and…” She trailed off as she dashed up the steps to pause beside him. “I figured if I stopped to call you I’d be even later than if I came home”—she turned to her father—“hi, Daddy”—then returned her dark stare to his—“so I am truly sorry I am behind. I don’t know if you still—”

Dustin placed a hand over her mouth, creating a lull in the endless litany streaming from her mouth. “Breathe,” he ordered. He tried to ignore the soft touch of her lips against his palm and how it created waves of lust within him.

She watched him, her big brown eyes framed by thick curved lashes. Women paid lots of money for their eyes to resemble her natural ones, or so he’d learned from the ones he’d dated. Lord, he wanted to kiss her again. And again.

Her deep breath moved her entire body. Cute really. She removed his hand and folded her own before her as if she’d approached slowly. Demurely.

“I can be ready in ten minutes if you still want to go.”

As if he’d give up on the opportunity to have his date. Studiously avoiding her father’s gaze, Dustin nodded. “I’ll be here.”

She flashed a smile he would swear could battle back darkness. Then she was gone and he remained with her father.

“A date then?” her father asked.

There was no inflection in the man’s tone, but Dustin leaned more toward disappointment than approval were he to hazard his own opinion. “Yes, sir.”

“Daddy, you get in here and take your pills. Invite Dustin in and stop trying to intimidate him.”

Trying? There was no need to try. Dustin was properly intimidated. It didn’t matter the man used crutches, he still appeared fully capable of handling him as if Dustin were still in nappies.

“Reckon you’d best come in then before she thinks I left you out on the porch like an unwanted guest.”

Because
that
was such a warm welcome. “Yes, sir.” He trailed her father into the house, closing the door quietly behind him. A totally different feel than when he’d been there before.
You weren’t there to take the man’s daughter out.
Good point.

Evan took his medication then hobbled to a chair where he sank with a groan. “You still running about sixty thousand head out there at the Diamond J?”

Closer to forty thousand, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Running it like your daddy did?”

“No, sir, in some aspects I am, but not in others. We’re getting more into horses, which is why the cattle numbers are lowering.”

“That’s right, you have all those nice Quarter Horses. Good for you. You seem like you’ve got a decent head on your shoulders.”

“Thank you.” Honestly, he wasn’t at all sure the statement had been a compliment.

The rest of their time alone passed in silence. He could hear someone humming in the kitchen as succulent scents wafted around them. Taunting him.

One second the room had two, the next, three people in it. Finn stood there, hands folded modestly before her. His breath caught in his throat as he stared.

Clad as she was it was all he could do. Her black skirt had a wide waistband, cross-wrapped layer in the front, asymmetrical, which allowed the high-low effect to show off part of her leg. Her shirt had no sleeves, and the pale purple silk melded beautifully with her skin tone. Her shoes had high heels and matched her shirt in color. Simple. Elegant. Arousing as sin. The reaction she caused wasn’t his fault, really. He was a red-blooded human male. It happened.
They got distracted by beautiful things.

“Ready?” she asked, approaching him after kissing her father.

“Yes.” Christ, he sounded like a boy on his first date.

“Bye, Daddy.”

The man never looked away from him, as if he could read each and every erotic thought Dustin had toward his daughter. “Bye, princess.”

Yes, he knew the look. Touch and die. Hands off. They were all broadcasted. Samantha walked by him, and he groaned slightly. Her shirt was backless except for a thin crisscross. The skirt highlighted her ass and as he followed her, he knew he would be sporting wood all night.

“Hope daddy didn’t grill you,” she said as he held the door for her at his truck.

“Not at all. We talked a bit about ranching.”

She brushed against him as she climbed into his vehicle. His gaze fixated on her long, smooth brown legs as he envisioned them high around his waist, or hell, even over his shoulders as he…

“Good,” she said with a smile. “He can be a bit overprotective.”

“You’re his baby girl, no matter how old you are.” He closed the door and walked around the hood to the driver’s side, readjusting himself before hopping in the truck.

“I’m really sorry I was late,” she said as he got them on the road.

Christ, he could smell her intoxicating scent every single time he breathed. That perfect blend of jasmine, honeysuckle, and woman—more specifically, Samantha.

“I understand, emergencies come up. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, I’ll let it go. How was your day?”

He stole a glance at her. She’d angled herself slightly in order to see him more. Her expression was one of actual curiosity, as if she truly wished to know.

“Busy. I wonder some days how they ran ranches so effectively in the past. Amazing how much paperwork cattle and horses create.” He shook his head. “But I should be grateful business is so good.” A pause. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Wonderful. A day off, well, you know what I mean.”

He did.

“It was good though, then Jack called about one of his horses having thrown a shoe. They’re leaving early morning, and he wondered if I could come fix it. So I did then I rode the horse over a few jumps.”

He heard the wistfulness in her voice. He knew she missed dressage, he’d asked before. The night he kissed her. “Then you had to get back, to meet me.”

“You make it sound like a chore, going out with you.”

“It’s not?”

She shook her head. “If it were, I would have said no.”

Straight forward and she pulled no punches. Two traits he admired greatly.

“Glad you didn’t.”

* * * *

Finn couldn’t much think past Dustin’s callused hand settled upon the small of her back. Lord, she must be turning fanciful because it was all she could focus on—how warm and comforting his touch was.

He looked amazing tonight. All black, including his hat. She loved Brumby hats and wanted his. All together he looked handsome. Mouthwatering.

She just couldn’t quite grasp what Charlotte had been thinking to do what she had done to this man. Had she a man like him waiting to marry her, no way she’d ruin it. Or so she’d like to believe.

Dustin held her chair and she accepted with a brief “Thank you.” His long-limbed stride took him around to his own seat, and she enjoyed watching every motion. He sat and gave her a small grin.

“What are you thinking?”

“That they don’t have men who look like you in Maryland.” Heat surged up her cheeks. Had she truly said those words?

The sexy smirk, which lifted the sides of his kissable bow-shaped mouth, let her knew she had. Yep, it was official, she longed to sink beneath the floor.

“And you thought they would?” His voice, full of teasing, wove around her.

“Yes,” she replied. “Being as how I live there.”

His gaze pinned her. “Maybe it’s time to move back home then.”

That timbre, heaven help her, the things it did to her.
More like the
man
and what he does to me.

“Pretty happy with my life there.”

He ordered their drinks and food from the waiter before returning his attention to her. “Pretty happy indicates room for improvement.”

She sipped her water and imagined this man to come home to daily. That would do it. “True, it does. But psychoanalyzing my life isn’t on the menu.”

His grin did wicked things to her and her insides. She hoped her nipples weren’t visible through her silk shirt. As it was, her panties were already damp.

Chatter was light between them as they dined on the Italian fare. They’d been a few years apart in school, and it was fun catching up.

“We’ll have the tiramisu, two forks,” Dustin ordered right after she shook her head and asked strictly for coffee. “No pressure,” he said. “You should at least try it.”

Leaning back in her seat, she sighed. “I don’t usually eat dessert, but sure, I’ll give it a go.”

She wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions if he continued smiling at her like that and staring at her with those royal blue eyes.

“What?” she asked after he merely gazed at her.

“Just wondering why you don’t usually do dessert.”

“That’s easy. Sugar and I have a love-hate relationship. When I love it, it loves my ass and hips, then I hate it.”

The way his gaze moved over her told her he approved of what he saw. So intense she almost reached for more ice water.

“Hello, Dustin,”
a male voice interrupted.

Finn observed as the joviality was sucked from Dustin’s face by those two simple words. She glanced up and stuffed the urge to punch the intruder in the throat. Travis Hill.

His blue eyes skated lewdly over her, and she blew out a breath as she began counting in her head.
One. Two. Three. Four. Ten. Fifty. A hundred. Fuck it.

“What are you doing here, Travis?” Dustin’s tone was dagger sharp and ice cold.

The smug smile Travis sported grated on Finn’s last nerves. “Just finished eating with a date, saw you here, and wondered if you were ready to let me come back to work.”

He had guts, Finn would give the fool that, at the very least. She reached for her water and drank, waiting to see how this would play out. Wasn’t boding well at the moment that was for sure.

The tensing of Dustin’s jaw was the only indication he teetered on the edge of his control. Something which Travis didn’t appear to notice. Like she would be pointing it out. In her estimation, the man deserved to get his ass kicked.

“You’ll never work at the Diamond J again, Travis. I don’t work with men I can’t trust.”

“She was a whore. A woman shouldn’t come between men.”

“Get out of my face, Travis.” Growled words. Not a good sign. A worse one was the fact Travis didn’t heed the warning.

The man looked at her briefly, managing to make her feel dirty and wanting a shower in a mere second. “Trying out a different flavor?” he asked with a sneer.

Dustin exploded into action, blowing out of the seat before she knew what happened. Travis had taken two direct punches before she could even react. Scrambling from the booth, Finn wedged herself between the men, back against Travis.

“Don’t, don’t do this, Dustin.” It didn’t matter she sounded like she begged.

His gaze wild and tumultuous, overflowing with fury, barely recognized her before he dismissed her. The bloodlust was there, front and center.

“You hit me!” Travis yelled from behind her.

Dustin made another move and this time she countered, keeping between them. It happened twice more before he glanced back down to her. She wanted to hide from the anger there, but she refused to, trusting he wouldn’t ever hurt her.

“He’s not worth it, Dustin,” she implored.

Lord, she wanted to touch him, offer comfort but she didn’t, just kept between them. Hopefully she could talk him down because there was no way she could physically stop him—his strength, far superior to her own.

He lifted his hand, and she saw the cut on his knuckles. Taking a peek over her shoulder, she saw the blood streaming from Travis. Not her concern.

“He’s not worth it,” she reiterated.

Waitstaff showed and escorted Travis away, and she finally got Dustin out to his truck, after paying for the meal and grabbing their dessert on the way.

He didn’t speak until after she got him in the driver’s seat of the truck and had climbed in on the other side.

“Sorry.”

“What for?” she asked. She opened the med kit she’d found in the backseat. “Give me your hand.”

“Making a scene.”

She smiled, keeping her focus on his bleeding hand. Drawing it to her, she cleaned it with an alcohol wipe, the scent strong and sharp.

“I don’t care about that. I didn’t want you to go to jail.” Rooting around in the kit, she withdrew the liquid bandage then applied it. “The man’s an ass and deserved what he got, hell, he deserves more.” She tilted her head and observed her handiwork. “There you go. No permanent damage.” Why did she feel the need to brush her lips against his new injury?

He didn’t speak and she busied herself with cleaning up. She reached for the door to get into the back and return the items when his hand curled about her wrist. Fissures of pleasure rocked her and she licked her lips before facing him in the truck’s interior light. “What?”