Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (8 page)

When they arrived at Montgomery Ranch, the men had been civil enough, although there could have been a stare down there for a few seconds. Wyatt had glared at her when it was obvious she was wearing Trent’s shirt. She hadn’t bothered putting her shorts back on either, but her manager didn’t know that. Trent did, and boy did she have the satisfaction of knowing he was uncomfortable on the ride home. Served him right. She had more or less offered herself to him on a silver platter, and he had to grow a conscience and in the process make her feel unworthy of him.

So she focused all her energy into becoming everything he didn’t want—aggressive and far from sweet. It was who she was anyway.
 

*****

“There, girl, I wish I could ride you,” Cassie whispered to her favorite mare, Stella, whose fancy name was Royal Estelle V. The Arabian neighed softly, extending her neck from the 12x12 stall and nuzzled Cassie’s cheek. Ever since the incident on Route 623, it had been decided that the twins shouldn’t wander around the ranch. There were cameras installed in the immediate vicinity but not on the horse trails. They had finally made contact with Colt and Matt, who were due back on the ranch in two weeks. They were wrapping up an operation that was related to the Chrysalis black op project, and Colt indicated he had some news. This was making Cassie antsy. A few months ago, there’d been shaky evidence that Piper was alive. No information on Kate. A tightness gripped her chest, borne of unprocessed grief or maybe guilt. The guilt of leaving someone behind. Stella nudged her again, seemingly wanting to absorb her pain. It wasn’t on a whim that Arabian horses were chosen as companions for the Chrysalis survivors. Cassie felt an affinity with these amazing creatures. They were high-spirited and alert and had historically been used in war. Much like she had been.

Montgomery Ranch boasted a 200-acre expanse of natural landscape. There was grazing land, equine trails with a variety of native plants and trees, and granite rock outcroppings. A spring-fed creek ran along the line of the property. It was a small breeding operation for Arabians with four stallions and six mares, consisting of a twenty-four stall barn, a bunkhouse, a ranch house and an annex, an indoor and outdoor training arena, and various paddocks around the ranch. A seemingly legitimate business. It was all a front. Colt knew fuck-all about breeding horses and neither did Cassie and Lucas, although they did know their way around the animals, including their care and maintenance.
 

Mac and their four permanent ranch hands kept the breeding program going. All of them were ex-military and vetted by no less than the CIA. Visitors coming in under the guise of buyers were really agents having downtime, frequently from an injury or who needed time to regroup after a particularly traumatic mission. They usually stayed at the annex—another ranch-style structure behind the main house. The duration of their stay lasted a week to a month.

Voices and footfalls broke through her thoughts. Mac’s and ... He had some audacity showing up here.

Trent.

“What are you doing here?” She glared at him before transferring her displeasure to Mac. “Why did you allow him through the gates?”

“Said he had business with you.” The ranch caretaker shrugged.
 

“G’afternoon, Cassandra,” Trent greeted in a sexy drawl. There he went calling her by her full name, and she’d admit she liked hearing those syllables roll off his deep, bass voice. He was wearing a snug white tee, well-worn jeans, and military boots. It was the first time she had seen him out of uniform, and she’d grudgingly admit he looked good in civilian clothing as well. The sun was just setting outside, and now that he was in the barn, he pulled off his aviator shades to reveal those crystal blue eyes. Amazing blue eyes that were focused on her.

“Couldn’t be business seeing that he’s not in his sheriff uniform.” Cassie returned her attention to Stella, pointedly ignoring the newcomers.

“I’ll be at the bunkhouse,” Mac said. “I smoked some barbecue ribs this morning, and I’d invite you over, Cassie, but I’m under strict orders from Mr. Stratford about your special diet. He called, by the way, saying that he’d be swinging by to drop off your meal for tonight.”

Cassie’s jaw dropped as she swung her head toward Mac. She couldn’t believe he would reveal such a thing to an outsider like the sheriff.
 

Trent’s face had locked up in anger and he couldn’t control his muttered, “What the fuck?”

“I have blood sugar issues,” she fibbed quickly. “The sugar in the barbecue sauce is bad for me.”

Mac coughed. “Well, as I said, I’ll be at the bunkhouse.”

She would be having words with Dugal McKenzie later. As fond as she was of the old man with his head of white hair and his sun-weathered face, he could be a pain in the ass with his meddling. She knew he meant well and wanted her to have a normal life, but with the town’s future at stake, keeping Wyatt Stratford III happy was a small price to pay.
 

Cassie watched Mac’s lanky form walk away, leaving her under the scrutinizing gaze of Trent Stone. She could feel his eyes stabbing her from his position five feet away.

When the ranch manager was out of earshot, Trent stalked toward her, stopping six inches from her. She looked up at him, daring him to say his worst.

“What exactly is your relationship with Wyatt Stratford?” he asked softly.

“He’s a concerned friend, that’s all.”

“For all your sass and bluster, hellcat, you’re not a very good liar.” His jaw tightened reflexively as if fighting for control. Well, Cassie knew what had happened the last time he’d lost control and she wasn’t hanging around for a repeat, although a treacherous shiver of anticipation snaked up her spine.

She broke eye contact and brushed past him. Exiting the barn, she marched toward the ranch house. Better to lock him out from there. “Who are you to judge what’s a lie and what’s not. And what do you care?” She threw over her shoulder. Cassie spotted his Silverado parked in front of her home.
 

“I want you to”—she whirled around suddenly and slammed into a brick wall—“Umph!”

Big hands steadied her and she was once again staring up into heated eyes that were definitely pissed off.

“I want to know what the hell is going on?” Trent growled. “So help me God, Cassie, I will haul you, Stratford, and your brother in for questioning.”

“On what grounds?” she shrieked, losing whatever patience she had left with him.

Trent paused. “I’ll make something up. Abuse, maybe. He certainly has you on a tight leash.”

“Well, you’re certainly abusing your authority.” She kicked him childishly in the shin.

“Goddammit, woman,” he grunted, releasing her.

Cassie took the opportunity to escape. She had reached the bottom of the porch steps when the back of her tank top stretched, ripped, and she was yanked backward. She reacted on pure instinct and training. She threw back her elbow and caught Trent square on the chest. She followed up with a left hook, but because he was so tall, it glanced off his jaw.
 

“Jesus Christ,” Trent muttered as he caught her right fist before it connected with his cheekbone. He used his grip on her hand to draw her closer and she used that leverage to slide under him, intending to throw him over her hip. But she hesitated, costing her momentum that had her thrown over his shoulder. Cassie contemplated several moves to get free, but Trent’s stinging slap on her butt made her hesitate. Again.

“Don’t you dare, Cassie,” Trent growled. “I swear to God, woman, I’m this close to turning you over my knee and blistering that ass until you can’t sit for days.” The door to the house sprung open as she heard him muttering about unlocked doors.

As violent as their encounter had become, he gently lowered her to the floor. He stepped back from her with eyes alert and narrowed. “How’s your leg? Did I hurt you?”

“It’s fine. No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Where did you learn to fight?”

“I’m sure you know there’s a boxing gym attached to the garage in town. Only pastime here besides horses.”

Trent nodded once as if accepting her answer, but his face remained skeptical. “There’s a lot more story behind it, isn’t there, Cassie? But I know short of torturing it out of you, you’re not going to tell me a damned thing.”

“Why are you here, Trent?”

“I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Cassie was struck mute by his blunt confession.
 

He stepped forward, right behind the window where the last rays of the summer sun were battling with the horizon, casting him in shades of black and gold. His face was in the shadows, yet she could feel his penetrating gaze studying her like a predator. She was also starkly aware of the rip in her tank, the top of her breasts exposed to the stifling heat of arousal thickening the air between them.

“I thought I’m not your type.”

“I never said that. I said you’re unlike the women I usually go for.”

“Are we gonna argue semantics?” Cassie scoffed.

“No, we’re not. You were right. I want my women sweet and proper, but I understand now the difference between what I want and what I need.”

Trent moved forward another step, revealing the heat in his eyes.

Cassie retreated and bumped the console table behind the couch, frozen to the spot by the hypnotic gaze of the man before her.

“You’re what I need, Cassie. I can’t get that kiss out of my head, the feel of your body against mine. I want—no, I need to get inside you so deep and feel your vulnerability and warmth from the inside out.”

Vulnerability? What the hell is he talking about?

“So you’re here to fuck me out of your system?”

He visibly stilled, his hands clenching and unclenching beside him. “No, Cassandra, I’m afraid I need more.”

“I can’t give you more. Besides, why do you need more when you won’t be around for long.”

“I’ll be here.”

“What?”

“The reason I didn’t push you four days ago was not because I didn’t want you, but because I didn’t know how to have you without fucking it up. If I don’t win re-election as sheriff, Atlanta is an option, and it’s only two hours away from here.”

“Whoa!” Cassie’s brain needed to catch up with her sudden heart palpitations. “Hold. The. Fuck. On. Sheriff.”

“Trent,” he prodded a bit smugly.

“What?” Her head was spinning. He would stay for her?

“I’m not in uniform and I intend to kiss you again.” He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her with one hand slipping under the loose leg of her shorts to cup her ass. Cassie gasped as wet heat spasmed from her core. His head lowered beside her face, his breath fanning her cheek. “Although I’m not sure kissing’s gonna be enough this time, hellcat.” He raised his head to stare at her. “I want a taste.” His hand moved to cradle her mound. Eyes that were scorching before now turned molten.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “I don’t want you.” Her treacherous body belied her words as she arched toward him. She craved him. She wanted his body to cover her and pound her into submission.
 

Fingers brushed against her very soaked panties. Cassie was wound so tight, if he flicked her clit even through her underwear, she would come.
 

“This,” he husked, as he slipped his fingers past the edges to stroke her slippery folds, “makes you a liar.” A groan rumbled up his throat as he pushed a finger inside her, sliding in wetly a few times before adding a second one. “You’re slippery as fuck.”

“Oh, God!” Her mouth fell open as intense sensations spread through her body. He ruthlessly subdued her cries by kissing her fiercely. The need, the pent-up frustration, was evident in the way his mouth dominated hers as their tongues and teeth clashed in their desperate attempt to get closer to each other. With a growl, he yanked down the cup of her bra and captured a breast, sucking and rolling its nipple on his tongue.

“Trent!”

“That’s it, babe, I want to hear you beg.” With his fingers fucking her hard, Cassie was in sensory overload and the pressure between her thighs grew unbearable. She was feverish with the need to come.

When Trent withdrew his fingers, she wanted to scream in frustration. But before she could protest, her ass landed on the table while her shorts and underwear were yanked off.
 

“I have to taste you,” he growled.
 

He threw her legs over his shoulders and put his mouth on her. He licked up and down her sensitized flesh, circling his tongue over her clit, the nub engorged and swollen.

“Please, oh, God, Trent, let me come.”
 

“So sweet, so sweet ...,” he mumbled against her folds, lapping up every drop of moisture that flowed from her core.

“Suck it, please, I need to—”

His tongue fluttered over her clit before he sucked. Hard.

Cassie screamed as she shattered into white-hot shards of pleasures. Pulses too intense, she begged him to stop, but Trent was unrelenting. He flattened his tongue against her clit and held the pressure. Her fingers dug wildly into his hair as his head continued moving between her thighs. She angled back further, trying to escape the agonizing rapture, but his grip on her thighs was absolute—steel bands keeping her in place as he ate her like his last meal before an execution.

 
“I can’t! Enough. Enough!”
 

“You take what I give you, hellcat.” He raised his head momentarily to stare up at her. Her juices dripping down his lips only aroused her more. “I can’t wait to fuck you. So damned responsive.”

He lowered his head and continued tongue-fucking her, and all she could do was come.

She was boneless by the time he helped her from the table. He kissed her tenderly this time, languidly. Cassie was confused when he picked up her shorts and helped her back into them.

“You?” she whispered.

“This is all about you tonight,” Trent said. “I wanted to give you a preview of what I can offer you.”

“Endless orgasms?”

“Yup.” He smiled crookedly. “I realized the usual methods won’t work with you. Like I’m sure you’d shoot me down if I asked you out on a date, so I decided to just show you what you’d be missing if you turned me down.” He paused. “How am I doing so far?”