Ropin' Hearts: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 4 (5 page)

She ran far and flat out. Praying Ty was getting a long look at her as she threw him out of her thoughts for good.

The minute Ty walked into the auditorium, he was met by the rhythmic slap of the whip. Stowe stood on the darkened stage. Alone. Something was definitely bothering the man.

Ty sauntered up the center aisle and came to lean against the stage wall. Stowe’s whip never paused, though he looked up and acknowledged Ty with a nod. So many women loved the BDSM life. They melted under Stowe’s power and control. While Ty knew little about the intricate workings of the lifestyle, it fascinated him.

The cat-o’-nine-tails slid across the stage right in front of Ty. “Ready to be my slave?” Stowe joked.

With a laugh, Ty hooked a boot onto the stage and climbed up. “Have you ever had a male sub?”

“A time or two, but it’s a soft woman I need. Seeing her cry and beg for me to give her what she needs…” Stowe trailed off, staring across the stage.

“You want to talk about her?” Ty asked.

He started and swung his gaze around. “Who?”

“Whoever’s got you so unfocused.”

Stowe’s expression rippled with something Ty couldn’t name. “Did you see how I hit the center of that bench every time with my whip? You call that unfocused?” As if to prove his point, he snapped the leather again. It flicked out and struck the padded bench where a woman’s ass would be.

“I see.” Ty didn’t press the issue. The Aussie would talk it out if and when he was ready.

“What are you here for?” Stowe was always direct and sometimes came across as brusque. But Ty didn’t mind. He watched his friend store his whip in a big black chest and padlock it shut.

Ty tried to put his thoughts in order. But, as always with Bree, they were scattered. She really
was
driving him crazy if even he couldn’t put words to what he wanted to say. He prided himself on being in touch with his emotions, which was why he was good at his job. Because he knew himself so well, he identified the problems his female clients suffered from and was able to present their troubles to them in a way that helped them better understand themselves.

Stowe arched a brow at him. “That bad?”

“No. Just that confusing.”

“Ah. Male or female?”

“Female,” he said at once. Bree’s face popped into his mind’s eye as he’d seen her last, giving him that
look
. Narrowed eyes, twisted lips. It made him want to punish it right off her pretty face then fuck her silly.

“I’m here to find out what’s wrong with me.” His words seemed to echo in the empty space. Stowe eyed him before gesturing to the bench. Ty took a seat, ignoring the thought of all the women who’d been pleasured while bent over the soft leather. Stowe hooked a boot around the leg of a short stool and dragged it close. He sat and waited for Ty to speak.

“There’s a woman. I don’t know what to do with her exactly.”

“If you’re coming to me, you must have an instinct about what she really needs.”

Yep. Straight and direct.

“She’s…” What was Bree? A pain in the ass, cute beyond belief even when she was writing checks with a mouth that she wasn’t willing to pay for with her butt. Or maybe she was. Ty shook his head. “She needs her ass spanked.”

Stowe didn’t laugh at the revelation. He took spanking and punishment seriously, which was exactly why Ty had come to him, even if the decision hadn’t been conscious.

“Have you doled out this punishment?” Stowe asked.

“No.”

“But you want to. The power makes your head spin a little.”

Damn, his friend did know his stuff. That was exactly how Ty felt. He nodded slowly. “She drives me to it. Her mouth… God, she’s smart-mouthed. She won’t shut up, even when she must see she’s digging herself deeper. And she won’t listen to me and stay where she belongs.”

“That’s because she’s enjoying the hell out of running you around in circles.”

“No shit.”

“No, really. Listen to me.” Stowe rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. Ty was reminded of having serious talks with his own brothers but, being oldest, he’d never been on the receiving end. He sat up and listened.

Stowe continued, “In her own way she’s making you react because it’s what she needs.”

More confused than ever, Ty shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“She mouths off and you react, saying you’re going to make her do something, maybe even saying you’ll spank her. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve never followed through with your punishment, have you?”

“No. She’s not mine to punish.”

He pushed back and stared at Ty. “Maybe that’s what she’s asking of you, man.”

Something forbidden sprouted in Ty’s chest. Before he’d blinked twice, the kernel had grown into a full-fledged vine, tangling him up.

“She’s young, right?”

“Yes,” Ty answered.

“But she’s all woman and knows how to use it.”

“You’ve seen girls like her before?”

Stowe nodded. “She wants to be taken seriously as a woman and maybe nobody gives her that. It’s a need she wants fulfilled. She also wants rules and she’s acting out because she wants you to set them.”

“Me?” Fuck. He tore off his hat and spun it counterclockwise, the way his thoughts always swirled when thinking of Bree. She made him feel out of sorts—and so fucking good. The idea of setting boundaries for her and making her adhere to them gave him a woody.

“Girls like her want to act like just that—girls. But they want to be viewed as strong women. They don’t know how to meld the two, and there’s no rule book that states they
should
. We come in all shapes and sizes. She just needs both sides admired and acknowledged, as well as loved.”

“What…what would you call this?” Ty asked.

“I’d say,” Stowe said slowly, “she needs the care of a Daddy.”

Ty stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “She has a father.”

“No. I mean a Dom. Daddy and Dom are interchangeable here.”

Ty pressed his lips into a hard line, feeling as if he were on a roller coaster and about to hurl.

“She sasses you, is that right?”

“Fuck yes,” he ground out.

“She’s encouraging you to play with her. The play she wants is punishment, boundaries.”

“Why?”

Stowe lifted a shoulder. “Some women just have the need inside them. Others have suffered from some lack in their lives or a trauma that brings it out.”

Ty’s thoughts shot to Bree’s mother, lost too soon. He swallowed against the protective lump that rose in his throat. After a few beats, he said, “I don’t want to be anyone’s daddy.”

“This isn’t about age-play. She wants care and guidance, intimacy and someone to nurture her while she acts like a sexpot. On the same note, deep down she wants to please someone. You.”

Ty closed his eyes, breathing hard. How sick and twisted was it that he
wanted
her to
want
to please him? Of all his years working with women, he’d never encountered anyone as complex as Bree.

He opened his eyes to find an amused expression on Stowe’s face.

“It’s a power exchange. She has power, does something naughty. You punish her and then you hold the power.”

“It’s what she wants?” It was a half question, half epiphany.

“Give her what she needs—unconditional love, reliability, nourishment of the soul—and see if you aren’t both rewarded.” Stowe stood. “But, Ty? Your brat needs a firm hand.” He shot Ty a wink and strode offstage, leaving him alone in the shadows with thoughts of Bree and a hard-on like stone.

Ty was going to throttle her when he found her on the ranch again. But she didn’t care. She straightened her shoulders and walked into the grub house.

Cowboys looked up and one tipped his hat at her. Another gave her a wink. Damn, the Boot Knockers were a flirty crew. But she found herself scanning the room for one face.

When her gaze settled on it, her stomach did a backflip. Ty was sitting with a few guys, talking and laughing. As she watched, he stuck a thick hamburger in his mouth and chomped off a bite no man should be capable of chewing. But he did. Even the way his jaw worked was sexy. And when he swallowed, his tanned throat working, she pressed her knees together.

As if feeling her attention on him, he looked up. His expression blanked and he stood. When he started toward her, she backed up a step. Heart racing, panties wet.

“You’d better try to get away before I teach you a lesson.” The heat in his voice infused her with want. He grabbed her by the elbow and directed her out into the cooler evening air. Without a word he marched her across the turf. His silence unraveled her and she opened her mouth to say something smart. But for the first time in her life, she couldn’t think of anything.

He led her past the barns and through a small stand of trees. The wind whistled through the branches, whispering warnings to her that she was unwilling to heed. She was exactly where she wanted to be and no one—especially Ty—was going to scare her away from getting what she wanted.

When they broke through the trees surrounding the pond, she dug in her heels. “Why are you taking me here?” Visions of him picking her up and tossing her in fully clothed jumped into her mind. After the harsh hosing off he’d given her, she had no doubt he was capable of leaving her dripping wet in the pond.

He slid his fingers down her forearm to her hand. Entangling their fingers, he said, “Sit and talk with me, Bree.”

If she weren’t already standing still, she might have pulled up short. Talk? About what? Damn, she was in deep trouble now.

Was it her or were his eyes warmer than usual? He tugged her hand and she followed like a puppy after its master. He sank to a dry spot on the bank and patted the space beside him. Angling a worried look at him, she did his bidding.

“What do you want to talk about? I didn’t know Boot Knockers had thoughts that don’t deal with being naked. Are you sure you’re even capable of having an entire conversation in English?”

She waited for the sparks in his eyes or his annoyed retort. Neither came.

“Would you like me to switch to French?” He spit out a string of words that melted her core. “Or Italian?” This time when he spoke the foreign words, her nipples hardened.

She peeked at his profile, seeing him cast in a new light. She shivered at the new complexity beneath the gorgeous man beside her. “How do you know all these languages?”

“Rosetta Stone.”

She studied his face for signs he may be joking. “Really?”

He laughed and his face transformed, creases forming at the corners of his eyes in a way that seemed to etch into her being. “No, not really. I had an Italian grandmother and she taught me early how to cuss. I studied the rest of the language in college. As for the French…” he dropped a lazy wink, “…I learned that for the ladies.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees and tipped her head up to the vast sky.

“Do you know any languages?”

“No. Nobody really took me seriously in school. I was the dumb blonde—the cheerleader. I didn’t care about making good grades as much as I cared about my social life.”

“You earned your degree, though. You must have buckled down in college.”

“Yeah, but Daddy never changed his view of me.”

“It’s hard to break out of a mold once people see us in a certain light.” The tone of his voice suggested he didn’t see her in that same light. What did he see in her?

They sat for a while, not speaking. Finally he lay back and his hat tumbled off. She skimmed a finger over the brim, burning with something she didn’t know how to voice.

He yanked a lock of her hair and she squealed. Laughing, he pulled her down to lie next to him. He felt good, strong and solid. And he smelled divine.

“See that cloud? It looks like a turtle.” He pointed and she followed his long arm to his tanned finger. She nodded, her cheek brushing the warm, soft cotton of his shirt. He kept talking. “My younger brother got a turtle once on vacation at the beach. Brought it home in a cardboard box and put it in his room.”

“What was its name?”

His eyes crinkled more, and she devoured each delicious line with her gaze. “Picasso.”

“What kind of name is that for a turtle?”

“My brother loved
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
. They were all named after artists, so he found another artist to name his turtle after. He was always in to art, even as a little kid. He’s at Texas A&M right now, finishing a degree in art history.”

“He must be smart to get in there.”

“It’s my alma mater.” He gave her another crinkle-eyed look that seared her panties.

“What about your other brother? There were three of you in the photo in the bunkhouse.”

“Tommy just graduated from high school and has his sights set on becoming a Boot Knocker.”

She shifted closer, lured by his voice and the comfort of just lying here talking. “Would that be weird, having him on the ranch too?”

“Nah. We’d have to be careful to stay away from each other, though. Absolutely no sharing.”

She longed for him to flip onto his side, lean over and kiss her. But how to urge him to do that? She stared at the clouds, unable to see any shapes within the cottony puffs.

“What happened to Picasso?”

“Well…” his drawl slammed her with desire, “…the turtle came up missing one day.”

“Oh no.”

“We found him, don’t worry. It was in an unexpected place, though.”

“Where was that?” She couldn’t resist pushing onto an elbow and leaning over him. Staring into his face was much better than cloud gazing.

“The turtle ate lettuce and my brother got distracted while feeding him. He left the bag in the turtle’s tank. When he remembered to put the bag back, he didn’t look closely. He tried to put the bag into the fridge and Mom said to leave it on the counter—she needed a little lettuce for sandwiches.”

When he released a low laugh, Bree’s nerve endings sat up and took notice—but her heart did a slow somersault she felt to the tips of her toes.

“Mom reached into the bag and found Picasso.”

Bree giggled.

“My brother got grounded for a week. If he’d put Picasso in the fridge…”