The Virgin Next Door Read online

  She laughed as he awkwardly set her down. But he pulled her back into his arms as soon as her feet touched the shower floor. The spray was still hot around them. The beauty of hotel showers. If they were back at the ranch, there would have been pounding at the door for using up so much hot water at once.

  He kissed her again, a short, sloppy press of lips. He couldn’t decide if his body felt light or heavy. The moments after orgasm always left him feeling emptied out. Not just physically. There was a coldness that usually stole in the second he recovered from coming.

  But having Calla in his arms, the way she clutched him back… He looked down and her features were relaxed and happy. Satisfied.

  And damn if that didn’t have his cock hardening all over again.

  Liam pulled away from her reluctantly. “Come on,” he said, running his hand through his wet hair to get it off his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  He soaped his hands and caressed down her stomach and then between her legs. She grabbed hold of him, her whole body shaking. He needed to get her to the bed. He hurried at his task and soon they were both stepping out of the shower.

  15

  CALLA

  “Dad, have you seen these statements from the bank?” Calla chased her father down as he walked to the barn. She shook the papers from the envelopes she’d uncovered from the very back of Dad’s filing cabinet. “Why didn’t you tell me the ranch was having money problems?”

  “‘Cause it’s none of your concern,” her father bit out as he leaned on his cane and took another step. The tremors that had started out in his hands a couple years ago had worsened until his whole body now shook. Which made even simple tasks like walking the uneven dirt lane out to the barn difficult.

  “None of my concern?” Calla’s mouth dropped open. How could he— She’d cut her sophomore year at college short to come back and help with the ranch. She’d only known the ranch was in trouble because Harris, her dad’s ranch manager, called and told her what was going on. About how her dad’s condition was worsening more rapidly and about all the debt. Harris had been working at reduced wages for six months out of loyalty to her dad since he’d been with them for almost a decade. But he had a family and couldn’t afford to keep it up.

  When Calla got mad and asked Harris why he hadn’t called her earlier, he said her dad forbid him to.

  So she came home and was doing her damndest to save the legacy that had been her family’s for three generations. Four, counting Calla.

  “That’s right,” Dad turned around and snapped at her. “I didn’t ask you to come back here. I’ve run this farm for twenty-two years. Then you come home from your one year of college—and suddenly you think you know everything about my business? Tryin’ to tell me what to do.” He pointed one trembling finger at Cal. “We just hit a spot of bad luck. Happened before and it’ll happen again. Us Carters always come out just fine.”

  Calla breathed out heavily. “You levied a second mortgage on the ranch.” Why wouldn’t he just listen to reason? “And you can barely pay back the interest on the loans each month, much less start chipping away at the principal. Dad,” she pleaded, “the bank’s gonna take the ranch unless we—

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” her dad yelled, his face going red as he spun toward her. He lost his balance as he did it. He took one stumbling step forward to try to stay up but it only sent him crashing to the ground with more momentum.

  “Dad,” Calla cried. She’d tried to lurch to catch him but wasn’t able to get to him in time. She leaned over to help him up.

  He just swatted at her hands.

  “How many times I gotta tell ya to leave me be. The ranch was fine before you got here. I was fine.”

  His legs jerked back and forth in the mud with the uncontrollable shakes. He tried getting to his feet by propping his cane and hefting himself up. But his cane slipped in the mud and his butt hit the ground with a splat.

  Ignoring his protests, Calla got her hands underneath his armpits and lifted him up. Until he started shouting in her ear, “Don’t need no help getting to my damn feet!”

  He pushed her away even though he was collapsing back to the mud by doing so.

  Calla finally pulled back, heartbroken as her father glared her down. “Get on,” he waved a hand toward the barn that was still half a field away. “Animals won’t feed themselves.”

  He didn’t really mean for her to just leave him there, did he? “They can wait a few more minutes.” She reached for him again. “Just let me help you—

  “Dammit girl, am I not speaking English?” He jerked his tremoring arm away from her. “Get on your damn way.”

  “Daddy, just—”

  “GET!”

  Calla turned away and jogged toward the barn, tears stinging her eyes.

  “Calla. Calla, it’s just a bad dream. Shh, you’re here with me, baby.”

  Calla blinked and startled awake.

  There was a warm body at her back. Arms around her. Holding her.

  “Liam,” she managed, swallowing and swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

  “Shh, gal, I’ve got ya.” Liam rolled her so that her face came against his chest. Calla hid her face from him. Dammit. She hated crying.

  The dream had felt so real. Probably because it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory.

  Dad never would listen to reality when it came to the ranch’s finances. He’d gotten more and more distant every time she’d tried to talk to him. She didn’t know if that was because he just didn’t know what to do about the debt or if it was because of the Huntington’s.

  Getting less communicative was one of the symptoms. Memory loss, too. It about broke her heart when her dad would repeat something he’d said just a few minutes earlier. Even when she did manage to get him talking, it was like he wasn’t tracking the conversation in real time. He’d respond to something she’d said five or ten minutes before as if she’d just said it.

  Heart. Breaking. Like a machine had come in and bulldozed little sections, one chamber at a time. She’d left little pieces of her heart all over that ranch.

  One piece with Prissy. Another chunk lost the day she had to drive her dad to the nursing home. More when he refused to speak to her the whole way except to point a tremoring finger at her. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  Another tear crested and fell down her cheek. She swiped at it angrily.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Liam asked.

  “Nothing.” She gave what was probably a weak smile and tried to pull away from Liam. He didn’t let her go.

  “It’s not nothing. Talk to me. I know I’m usually just a pompous asshole, but I swear I can listen.”

  Calla balked. “I’ve never thought of you as a pompous asshole.”

  One half of Liam’s mouth quirked up. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

  His words made Calla’s chest warm. She still pulled away and Liam let her. She swallowed and looked at the ceiling the moment her back was to him. How much more of her heart had she lost last night? How long before there was nothing left of her to lose?

  “Calla?”

  She felt Liam sit up behind her. She tried to shake off the dream. She’d just spent the night with Liam O’Neill. Her. Calla Carter. She’d woken up in his arms. And last night, with Liam… and Mack. Where had he gone when he tore out of there like a bat outta hell? Would it be awkward the next time she saw him?

  Pretty sure, yeah, it would be. He had his cock inside you. She didn’t know how you just smiled and pretended that never happened.

  “I’m not sure how to do this morning after thing,” she murmured. She’d been serious but Liam laughed, his arms coming around her waist. He dropped a kiss to the top of her spine in between her shoulder blades and she shivered.

  “What time is it?” she asked. She looked back at Liam and he leaned over to grab his phone off the nightstand.

  “Seven-fifteen.”
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br />   Calla jerked her feet to the edge of the bed. “Shit. Xavier’s gonna be pissed. He wanted to get out before morning traffic.”

  She looked around for her clothing, leaning over and snatching up her bra from the ground beside the bed.

  “Shit,” she said again, stubbing her toe on the frame of the bed and jumping up and down.

  “You’re fecking adorable, you know that?”

  She glared at Liam. “Did you hear the part about how we’re gonna be skewered like breakfast sausage if we don’t get our butts moving?”

  Liam just continued grinning at her with that wide smile of his.

  She rolled her eyes and hurried over to her suitcase, dragging the sheet with her to cover herself.

  She pulled on a fresh pair of panties and then pulled her sports bra overhead. “Dammit,” she swore, the bra getting stuck on her face as she tried to wriggle into it.

  This was met with a loud chuckle.

  She was about to snap at Liam again but then his hands were on her. He helped get her bra over her head and down over her breasts. He also used the occasion to give both her breasts a good squeeze before letting her go and smacking her ass.

  “Get going, woman,” he said. “What do you think? We have all morning for me to spend ogling you and inspecting your assets?”

  She spun around and pretended to be annoyed. “You’re one to talk. I actually have my underwear on. You’re still—” She gestured up and down his body. His naked body. He stood there for her and God to see, completely unabashed. Wow. Was his cock always that size or was he aroused right now? What did dicks look like when they weren’t—

  Suddenly Liam swooped down on her and landed a kiss. A leisurely, lingering kiss. All thought of them needing to hurry flew from her head.

  There was only Liam, his hands in her hair, the heat of his bare chest as it brushed hers. When he finally pulled away, she felt dazed.

  Never in her life had she felt such crazy joy. Happy to the point of silly. It was too much. Too fast. She was gonna come down hard from this and the crash was gonna be brutal. But for at least one more minute, she basked in everything that was Liam O’Neill.

  “You keep staring at me like that, woman,” Liam growled, eyes dark, “and we won’t get out of this hotel room before noon.”

  Calla knew she was definitely lingering in an alternate universe when all she wanted to say was, Yes, screw it, let’s lay here and make love all day.

  There was today. Today, today, and only today.

  Exceeeeeeeeeeeept, what about her job? And Xavier? And the mustang that even now was waiting to be trailered?

  With a sigh of reluctance, she gave Liam one last peck on the lips and then pulled out of his arms.

  “I hear reality is waiting for us outside that door,” she said ruefully and gestured toward the door.

  Liam frowned, eyes scrolling up and down her body like he was trying to memorize what she looked like without clothes on.

  Then he strode forward, eliminating the small bit of distance she’d put between them. When he pulled her into his arms again and she heard his growled, “Fuck reality. It can wait another half hour,” she didn’t even put up a token resistance.

  All she could do was shriek with laughter when Liam picked her up in his arms and carried her back to bed.

  “Wow, you’re the last one I would have thought would turn out to be the town slut.” Bethany’s shrill voice cut across the parking lot and Calla froze in her tracks. After she and Liam had finished one last energetic round of sex—seriously, she’d heard of doggie style and reverse cowgirl, but she never thought she’d ever have an adventurous enough sex life to experience them firsthand. Well, after this morning, those were another two bucket list items she could cross off.

  Then she’d checked her phone and found a text from Mel saying Mack was too hungover to drive and would Calla mind driving the last trailer back? Mel would be driving Mack’s.

  Calla’s heart had hiccupped at reading it. Mack was hungover? He’d been perfectly sober when he joined her and Liam in their hotel room. Was the experience with her really so bad that he’d had to go out and get drunk? Really drunk if he didn’t even feel well enough to drive home.

  Calla hurriedly texted Mel back that it was no problem. She’d been hauling trailers since she’d gotten her driver’s license at sixteen.

  Mel immediately messaged back: Great. Keys will be at the front desk. We’re heading out, see you at home.

  Calla had just pulled the truck and trailer into the BLM’s holding facility where they were picking up Liam’s horse—the one they’d be hauling. Liam had jumped out to go in to see about the mare’s status in the lineup and Calla was out double checking the rigging and lights on the trailer when Bethany’s words stopped her cold.

  “Guess you never can tell about a person. But really, taking both of them up to your room?” Bethany made a tutting noise through her teeth.

  Calla turned around and barely stopped her hands from clenching into fists. Bitch said what?

  Bethany stopped right in front of Calla. It was eight in the morning but Bethany was in full make-up and hair, skintight jeans and a halter top that exposed her midriff. She cocked her head at Calla. “Then again, your mom was the town whore, so I guess it’s not that surprising. But not even she had two at once. Tell me, did they fuck you at the same time or did you make them take turns?”

  It wasn’t premeditated—Calla genuinely had no idea what she was doing until her fist connected with Bethany’s face. Her nose, more specifically.

  Bethany howled and stumbled back, grabbing her nose. Calla could already see it was bloody. Wow, it was a sight that really shouldn’t feel so goddamned satisfying.

  “Usually I’d say violence is never the answer,” Calla said, for once in her life giving the devil on her shoulder full reign, “but in this case, I gotta say—red looks good on you.”

  In the distance, Calla saw Liam waving his hands at her. His mustang must be up next for trailering.

  And with that, Calla climbed back in the cab of the truck, ignoring the slew of expletives pouring from Bethany’s mouth. And for once, she had the rare joy of doing and saying what she felt, exactly when she meant to. Seize the fucking day. She’d never felt more liberated in her life.

  “You’ll pay for this, you whore! You broke my nose! I’m going to file assault charges. You’re going to be sorry you ever—”

  Calla turned the engine over then held a hand over her ear when it roared to life. “What’s that? I can’t make out what you’re saying.”

  Bethany screamed and gesticulated wildly. Calla genuinely couldn’t hear her over the engine though she thought she made out a couple words. “… sue… arrested!”

  Calla glanced around the lot. She didn’t see any cameras. “Good luck with that,” she called out her window, then revved the engine and left Bethany in her dust.

  16

  MACK

  Mack clutched his head. “Jesus, can you turn down the music?”

  Xavier just swung his head to look at Mack, then his eyes were back on the road. He didn’t say a thing, just reached a hand over and turned up the volume on the blaring country station.

  “What the fu—”

  “Watch your tone in my truck,” Xavier said low, eyes cutting briefly back to Mack. “I had half a mind to leave your ass back in Denver. The one thing I asked was that none of you embarrass me or the horse rescue. You think I named the rescue after my wife so my employees could start a fucking bar brawl at last call? Or that I came all the way down here just so I could get up at two in the goddamned morning to smooth things over so you didn’t end up with another strike on your record? You trying to make me sorry for taking a chance on your ass?”

  Throughout Xavier’s tirade, Mack’s head sunk lower and lower. This must be what it felt like to get chewed out by a father. The way the pain in his head spiked with every angry syllable, he was actually glad he’d never had a dad. He hated feeling lik
e an errant fucking schoolboy. Then again, he’d fucked up last night. He knew he deserved this and far worse. Plenty of folks woulda cut his ass loose after the shit he’d pulled last night.

  “No,” Mack said quickly. “No sir. You know I appreciate everything you and Mel have done for me—”

  “Do you?” Xavier cut in, hard eyes glaring at him again. “‘Cause you sure got a funny way of showing it.”

  Mack swallowed and looked out the passenger seat window. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It better fuckin’ not,” Xavier muttered. Then his hand moved to the dial for the music again. He turned the volume up even louder.

  Mack groaned and slumped further down in his seat.

  That day and the next were not fun ones for Mack. Xavier had let up on the radio, turning it off an hour outside of Denver when the signal started failing. Too bad the raging headache Mack was sporting had grown to epic proportions during the hour-long high-volume blast.

  And he’d swear, every time his hand went to his aching forehead, Xavier smirked.

  Suffice it to say, it was a long six and a half hours.

  Then when they’d gotten back to the ranch, he was supposed to start training his mustang. Right away. From the second the horse stepped out of their trailer into one of the round pens.

  After a year and a half on the ranch, Mack wasn’t clueless about what needed to be done. He’d watched Xavier break two mustangs the previous year.

  But after almost seven hours in the cramped cab of the truck, paired with the worst hangover he’d swear he’d ever had in his life, all that training flew out the window.

  Patience. That was what Xavier always instructed them when dealing with a new horse, wild mustang or not. You had to listen to the horse. That’s what he was always saying. Listen to the horse. They’ll speak loud and clear if you let them.