Curvy Girls: Claimed By The Cowboy (The BBW and the Billionaire Rancher) (2 page)

She turned away and as she did, the sky darkened overhead and lightning cracked loud and hard, striking a tree that wasn’t more than 500 feet from her, and she shrieked and started. She’d been so caught up in arguing with Ty that she hadn’t noticed how close the storm had drifted.

She could smell the ozone in the air, and a curl of smoke drifted from the tree which had been struck.

Fat drops of rain pelted her, and thunder rumbled, alarmingly close. She quickly popped the lens off the camera and shoved the camera body and lens in their respective sections in her camera bag, zipping it shut.

Ty raced over to her, grabbing her arm, and pulling her to the truck.

“Get in!” he yelled.

“I’m not going anywhere with the person who’s going to destroy Crooked Creek!” she snapped, trying to pull from his grasp. His grip was like iron on her arm.

“My brother’s the one with the plans to plow over the ranch, not me.  I’m here to stop him.  And I’m not leaving you out here to drown or get hit by lightning, no matter how much of a stubborn, smart-mouthed,  trespassing pain in the ass you are. Get in the truck, now, or I’ll pick you up and put you in there myself. I’ll hog tie you if I have to.”

To her horror, she felt a flash of arousal heat her body at the idea of Ty Jackson going all caveman on her, grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder, dragging her off to his bedroom…

No. That’s not what he’d offered. He’d offered her a ride because she was stranded and a storm was bearing down on them like a freight train.

Well, screw him anyway, she didn’t want to go anywhere near his bedroom. 

For a split second, she thought about arguing, about fighting him off, but the heavens opened and dumped torrential buckets of rain on their heads. With a groan of surrender, she scrambled into the truck and slammed her door shut; he ran over to the other side and climbed in.

The rain poured down in blinding sheets as he slowly maneuvered through the field. “We’re not going to make it back to my house,” he said. “We’re right near the Settler’s Cabin; we can wait out the storm there.”

The Settler’s cabin dated back to the 1800s, a tiny, one-room structure built from saddle-notched logs.  They’d be right on top of each other.

“So what are you up to these days? Other than trespassing?” Ty said as he slowly maneuvered the truck across the bumpy field, through blinding sheets of rain.

“That’s about it. I trespass for a living,” Abigail said

“Really? I always thought you had more potential than that. I figured you’d at least be robbing banks.”

Abigail managed a small smile. “I work at the Telegraph. I have a nature column and a blog, and I’m their nature photographer.”

“No more pictures of big stupid jocks screwing up the winning touchdown?”

“Not lately, no.  Do you still come up with inventive names for fat chicks?”

“You weren’t fat! You were full figured. And I always had a secret crush on you.”

When he said that, her heart did a crazy little dance in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. How many nights in high school had she lain awake in bed, tossing and turning, wishing that were the truth?

She turned away quickly, staring out the window, although she couldn’t see a thing with rivers of rain washing over the truck.

They rode in silence for a minute, and she hoped he couldn’t hear the sudden pounding of her heart echoing in the enclosed space of the truck’s cab.

“You can’t still be mad at me for things I said back in high school.”

Silence.

“Okay, I was a jerk. I admit it. And I’m sorry. Although you gave as good as you got.”

She choked back a laugh. That was also true.

“What can I do to make up for it?” he asked, gliding slowly to a stop in front of the Settler’s Cabin.

“Save the ranch. Don’t let your brother plow over it and build a stupid condo complex and destroy everything that Crooked Creek stands for.” Her voice shook; the thought of what his brother planned for the Jackson Ranch, and Crooked Creek, made her lightheaded with anger.

Ty turned to look at her, meeting her gaze. “I’m already here to do that. I swear on a stack of bibles, on whatever you want me to swear on, that I will not let him go ahead with any development on the ranch.”

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief. There was real passion in his voice when he said that; he meant what he said with every fiber of his being. He’d stop Clayton, stop the development which would pave over this remote slice of heaven.

“Consider yourself forgiven, then.”

 “Oh, it’ll take more than that to make up for what a jerk I was.  How about I take you out to dinner?”

Abigail started. If only he’d asked her eight years ago, she’d have melted into a puddle at his feet. But she was a different woman now.

“Thanks, after all those fat jokes, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable eating in front of you.”

He grimaced.  “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Are you sorry about all those dumb jock jokes you made, and printing up my bad grades for everyone in the school to see?”

She managed a smile. “I plead the fifth.” Glancing at the door of the cabin, she sighed. The clouds were still in full downpour mode; it would be like running through a waterfall.

Ty had carefully angled the truck so her door was near the front door. “Go on,” he said.

Well, after all those years in the big city, he was still a gentleman, she’d give him that much.

The two of them leaped from the truck and made a mad dash for the front store, as torrents of rain poured from the sky and soaked them to the skin.

Ty slammed the door shut behind them.  They stood in the livingroom/bedroom/kitchen, water streaming down their faces and clothing plastered to their skin. The room was tiny and dark, with a wood-framed bed, kitchen table, chairs, and potbellied stove crowded into the small space.

“We’d best strip right here so we don’t track mud everywhere. I’ll start a fire and we can hang our clothes up in front of it to dry,”  Ty said, nodding his head at the potbellied stove. He began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his broad, tanned chest.

“What? Take my clothes off right here? In front of you?” She gasped.

He flashed her a wicked grin. “Why not?  You afraid you won’t be able to control yourself once I’m buck nekkid?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Abigail scorched him with a withering glare, but he just smiled blithely as he peeled off his wet shirt and dropped it on to the wooden bench by the door. Her mouth suddenly went dry. His arms were muscled perfection, his skin smooth and tanned, his abs so defined they looked as if they’d been carved by a sculptor. A narrow dark trail of curly hair started at his navel and traveled straight down, disappearing underneath the waistline of his jeans…

Which he was rapidly unzipping.

He looked up at her and saw her watching him undress, and flashed her a grin. “You’re going to catch your death in those wet clothes, darlin’. You need some help?”

Mutely, she shook her head, and began unbuttoning her shirt with trembling fingers. She thought maybe he’d at least pretend to be a gentleman and look away, but his eyes were fixed on her, with an unmistakable hunger.

She peeled off her shirt, and mutely dropped it on the wooden bench by the door. Ty had pulled off his belt and unzipped his jeans, but he stopped to watch her, openly staring at her now, lips parted, eyes gleaming.

She was stripping in front of Ty Jackson and he was looking at her as if he wanted to sweep her off her feet and ravage her.  Ty Jackson. Her. In the same room together. She felt as if she’d somehow ended up in a strange alternate universe; this couldn’t be happening.

He sat down on the bench to take his boots off. “Mind giving me a hand here?”

She sank down to her knees, grasped his boot with both hands, and slid it off, and set it down on the floor. Then she looked up, and saw him looking down at her.

She was kneeling before him. Looking up at him, big and dominant and powerful above her…as if she were waiting for his command. 

And she was indeed, she realized. She was waiting for him to tell her what to do next. 

Lightning bolts of arousal shot through her, and she felt her lips parting involuntarily as she stared up into his eyes.

He breathed in harshly, his gaze locking hers.

“Now the other one,” he commanded.  She felt as if the world had stopped turning, as if everything fell away from her and the two of them were the only people in the universe. As if hypnotized, she reached up and grabbed his right boot and pulled it off.

Following his orders.

And loving it.

“Put it on the bench,” he ordered her. She did, moving as if in a trance.

What else would he tell her to do?

He reached down and brushed his calloused fingers across the side of her face, slowly, a feathering, teasing touch.

His hands were still rough. How was that possible? He’d moved to New York, he should have the soft, manicured hands of a metrosexual city slicker by now.

“What?” he asked, at her startled glance.

“You – you still work with your hands. I thought you were living in New York, doing some kind of stock market job.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Is that what you thought? I was a stockbroker in New York for a few years. I was pretty good at it. When I had made enough money, I bought some property in Wyoming. I have my own cattle ranch there now.”

His own ranch. Of course, that was no surprise. He’d been practically been born on horseback, with a lasso in his hand. 

He traced the outline of her cheeks with his thumb, than ran it slowly along the swell of her bottom lip. “Forget about the past.  Let’s concentrate on the here and now. You’re soaking wet and you’re shivering. Stand up and take your pants off. Now.”

Her body seemed to react without consulting her brain.  They both stood up, and as he shucked out of his wet jeans, she followed suit, sliding her pants off and stepping out of them. Then she stood shivering before him in her rose-colored lace bra and underwear, her ivory skin dimpled with gooseflesh, hugging herself against the chill.

In a heartbeat, he had his arms around her, and she was pressed up against a solid wall of muscle. She could feel the heat radiating through his body, warming her like a blanket, and the length and thickness of his erection, straining through his plaid boxers, took her breath away. 

His strong arms tightened around her and she felt safe and warm in his embrace,  and she had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. 

He bent down, lips parting to claim her with a kiss…and a blast of lightning struck, and it sounded like the world exploded right outside the front door.

They both glanced out the window. The lightning had struck his pickup truck, blowing out the windshield in an explosion of shattered glass.

They were trapped there until someone could come pick them up…unless they wanted to trudge miles and miles across the vast property to reach the main ranch house.

The lightning strike had shocked Abigail back to her senses. When Ty turned back to take her in his arms again, she pushed him away from her, furious at herself.

What the hell was she doing? Eight years ago Ty had made her life miserable. They’d just run into each other, and she was already ready to fall on her back for him, like all of the dumb cheerleaders in high school. The ones he’d screwed and left. Mindy and Cindy and Trudy – all those girls with cutesie “y” endings to their names.

Quickly, she turned her back on him, scooping up their wet clothes.

Chapter Three

“Here, I’ll get this.” Before he could argue, she’d scooped up their wet clothing, rushed over the clothesline strung up in front of the stove, and pinned up their clothing. She reached in to his pocket and pulled out his wallet; a packet of condoms fell out, and she picked them up.

Ribbed, lubricated, extra girth. Although she already knew that last part from the bulge in his boxer shorts.

She held them up and looked at them before handing them to him.  She forced herself to ignore the throb she felt pulsating low in her stomach, and the fire that flared through her when his fingers brushed hers.

“Dang, Ty, did you plan on getting lucky when you were headed out to the field today?”

He snorted in amusement, setting the condoms down on the small wooden table and turning his attention to the potbellied stove.  First he opened the draft.  Then he reached into one of the wooden baskets by the stove, grabbed wads of paper and shoved them into the stove, set kindling on top, and lit them on fire with matches from a small ceramic jar.   

“Of course, Abigail. Whatever trespasser I found out there was going to get a taste of my man-meat. That’s how I operate.” He shoved in several logs in a cross pattern on top of the burning kindling, and shut the stove door.

“As I recall back from high school, that’s just about true.”

He stood up, shaking his head at her. “I’ve matured.  Where you going?” he said, as she backed away from him, towards the bed.

With her back turned to him, she grabbed the blue and red plaid flannel blanket from the bed, and wrapped it around herself, sarong style.

 “I’m not up for a quick roll in the hay with someone who wouldn’t be caught dead being seen in public with me. And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Her mind flashed back to the day when all the teasing started, freshman year in high school, and her cheeks flushed with anger.

That moment when he’d run into her behind the high school bleachers, looking at her as if he’d seen her for the first time.  Literally run into her; he hadn’t been looking where he was going.  She’d developed over the summer, big time, and this was the first time that he’d seen her with her full breasts and her rounded hips.  She’d stumbled and fallen against him when he ran into her, and he’d put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.  And then, looking around furtively, he’d bent down and kissed her.

Part of her knew what he’d just done – he’d been looking around to make sure that no-one saw them together. But his lips were warm, and soft, and his tongue was sliding into her mouth, and…