Apparently, he wasn’t the only one putting his foot in his mouth tonight. Of course, a foot was better than her tongue, something that’d happened during the kiss that a) he had already decided was a mistake and b) every blasted inch of his body would remember for the rest of his life.
Josh just stared at her, his right eyebrow sliding up. He was reminding her that employee-employer sex complicated the devil out of things. Especially things framed in his jeans that she’d been staring at.
She nodded, mumbled something he didn’t catch and nodded again. “So, we’ll put in an appearance at the party, silence our parents, and tomorrow we’ll pretend that I never saw you naked.”
“Ditto,” he agreed.
Of course, they were lying to each other. Like the kiss in the barn, there was no chance of them forgetting something like nakedness when the air was suddenly scalding hot between them. Scalding hot and next to a bed and a book filled with X-rated sex poses. If she looked at page sixteen, then the “ditto” facade would evaporate as fast as the wrapper on the condom he carried in his wallet. That “threat” was definitely his cue to get them moving.
“And no more kissing,” she added as they left the cabin. It sounded like a question, but Josh decided it was best if he treated it like an iron-clad contract that they’d both signed in blood.
Hope made a stop by her house to change into the sparkly sandals, but thankfully she hurried—saying something about the sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave. Josh agreed. As it was, the party was going to be packed enough, and that would mean having to gab with more people as they trickled in. He wasn’t antisocial—by his own standards, anyway—but he preferred being at the ranch...and avoiding their parents. He wouldn’t be able to do either tonight, but at least he could try to minimize their interactions if they made a quick exit.
They used Josh’s truck to drive to the Granger Ranch. It wasn’t far, less than five miles, but then, it didn’t take long to get anywhere in Wrangler’s Creek. The town itself was primarily a Main Street dotted with mom-and-pop businesses, and it had ranches surrounding it on all sides. The Granger Ranch and the one owned by their cousins—yet more Grangers—claimed a good chunk of the acreage. Considering their ancestors had founded the town, that only seemed right.
“I need to talk to Karlee,” Hope complained as Josh drove. “To chew her butt out for throwing away my pants. And then once we find Roger Hawley and put in some face time with him, we should be able to leave. We haven’t shaken hands on the deal with Roger, and I won’t breathe easier until we do.”
Josh nodded, not to the chewing-out-Karlee part but to the other. He’d yet to meet Roger Hawley, but Josh certainly knew who the man was. He was one of the largest horse brokers in the state and was critical to Hope’s plans to bring in a new champion line of palominos.
Actually, it was Josh’s plan, too.
It would improve the stock and give the Applewood Ranch even more respect than it already had. More important, it would help Hope fulfill that dream she’d always had for the ranch to be the place where everyone went when they were looking for quality, well-trained horses. Her parents might even be impressed by that and get off her back.
Might.
Josh would definitely be impressed, and he was glad to be part of it. Because the ranch felt like it was his, too.
He’d been right about the party being packed, but the Grangers had taken down one of the fences to turn a pasture into a huge makeshift parking lot. There was a sea of trucks and Cadillacs with longhorns on the grilles. The sea continued inside with dozens of people threading in and out of the multiple rooms that fed off the giant foyer.
The word giant applied to the rest of the house, too. Once Josh had asked one of the owners, Dylan Granger, how many rooms were in the place, and Dylan had said they’d narrowed it down to somewhere between thirty and thirty-three. Josh didn’t think that was a joke. The place was so big that it would have been easy to lose count.
With all those people, there should have been plenty of food, beer and conversation to keep everyone occupied, but when Hope and he walked in, the immediate areas went silent. All eyes landed on them. Not smiling, approving eyes, either.
Gossip eyes.
It wouldn’t be long before the rumor mill embellished their arrival together as a full-fledged affair, complete with reenactments from page sixteen of the sex book. From there, it would morph into talk that Josh was a man-whore/gold digger and Hope an airhead for falling in bed with the hired help.
“I told you people would notice my flaky toenail polish,” Hope mumbled.
Josh laughed before he could rein it in. God, it was hard not to like her. Even harder not to lust after her, but he reined that in, too, and forced himself to walk into the crowd. He wasn’t going toward anyone per se, but he did see a gleaming silver tray of longneck beers on the back side of the foyer. He snagged one for himself and a glass of wine for Hope, but when he turned around to hand it to her, she was bringing him something.
Or rather someone.
“This is Roger Hawley,” Hope said. She bit her bottom lip, her nerves showing, a reminder of just how important this meeting was.
“I’m Josh Whitlock.” Josh gave Hope the wine so he could shake the man’s hand. First impression wasn’t good. The guy had a wimpy grip, and he didn’t make eye contact. That was because Roger was looking down the front of Hope’s dress.
Since it was best not to punch the very man who was critical to the ranch’s future, Josh slid his arm around Hope’s waist and eased her next to him to rob Roger of his peep-show angle. Roger noticed the maneuver, too. And frowned. Maybe because he was no longer able to see Hope’s boobs or it could be that Roger was filling in the blanks along with the rest of the gossips. In this case, the filling in might lead Roger to believe that Hope and he were lovers.
“I promise I won’t stay up too late tonight,” Hope told Roger. “I’ll get plenty of sleep before our meeting tomorrow.”
Roger slid glances at both of them. “You’ll be there at the meeting, of course.” His glance settled on Josh for that.
Josh nodded. “We’ve worked up some breeding charts so that Hope and I can show you what she’d like for you to supply the ranch.”
“What she’d like,” Roger repeated. He did more of those glances, even one aimed at Hope’s breasts.
Crap. The guy was one of those assholes who didn’t respect women. Josh had run into them from time to time. It could happen in a business like theirs, but it riled him to the core that this turd had dismissed Hope because she had breasts.
Maybe Roger saw the bad fire in Josh’s eyes or perhaps he picked up on the fact that Josh was about to shatter his beer bottle with his grip. Either way, Roger mumbled something about seeing them tomorrow, and he wandered off. However, before Josh could get Hope’s take on what had just happened, or vent about it, he spotted someone else who wasn’t going to loosen his grip on the beer.