Cowboy Dreaming. Delores Fossen
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good friend. However, at the moment Hope didn’t sound very friendly about the woman. Tossing the pantsuit would have done it, though, and it explained the red dress. It was more Karlee’s style than Hope’s.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go through the trash looking for the pantsuit,” Josh said.
“I did!” She didn’t let go of him until they were in the tack room—and she closed the door. “I think Karlee took it with her. That, and most of the other clothes in my closet. It was this dress or nothing.”
The “nothing” gave Josh another wave of those scalding thoughts until Hope added the next part. “Please, Josh, I need you to come to the party with me. My folks will be there, and if I show up without a date, they’ll spend the evening trying to fix me up with assorted sons of their assorted friends.”
She’d started the request with that please, but that didn’t help. Josh shook his head. “Trust me, even if I’m with you, they’ll spend the evening trying to fix you up with the right assorted guy. I’m not the man they want to see on the arm of their princess daughter. My collar’s much too blue for their liking.”
“So is mine,” she said under her breath. “Well, it normally is when I’m not wearing this blasted red dress.” Hope looked up at him. “Please go with me. Please.”
He looked down at her. “No.” Though that second and especially the third “please” had given him a couple of moments of hesitation, Hope’s red dress hadn’t given him amnesia, so he knew what would be in store for him. Lusting over her while having a miserable time.
“Remember, my folks will be at the party, too,” he said.
Of course, his parental dilemma was a little different from Hope’s. His dad, Elgin, was a hand at the Granger Ranch, and the Grangers always invited all their employees and spouses to this shindig. If Josh went, too, he would have to listen to his mom and dad go on about how disappointed they were that he hadn’t made something more of himself, what with all the sacrifices they’d made. Specifically, the scrimping and saving they’d done since his birth so he could go to college and be a doctor.
And they would use the actual word, sacrifices, too.
No matter how many times Josh had told them he didn’t want college or medical school, they just badgered on. A party setting wouldn’t cause them to ease up on that, either. They’d just badger in front of an audience.
Hope huffed. Stared at him, probably trying to think of some way to change his mind. Her next huff let him know that she hadn’t come up with such a miracle. “All right, then at least help me get ready.”
She might as well have announced that she needed him to perform brain surgery. “Uh, you look fine to me.” And yep, he’d added that “uh.” It was catching.
“Then look again,” she complained. “So help me, you’d better not tell anyone about this.” Hope threw off the tablecloth/shawl and whirled around with her back to him.
And all the air was suddenly sucked off the entire planet.
That was because the back of the dress was open—wide open—and Josh could see her naked back. He could also see the top of her naked butt. Holy moly. Either she was wearing the tiniest panties in the known world or...
“I had to ditch the bra because the straps were showing,” she added. “The panties, too, because they gave me a muffin top.”
That was better than the hard-on he was getting from being aware that she had gone commando. Best to minimize the time he had of this view by fixing the zipper. Fast. Josh immediately started to tug at it.
“I know the boots don’t go with the outfit,” Hope went on. “Karlee took me shopping, and I bought some sparkly sandals, but I didn’t have time to get a pedi, and my feet look awful. I’ve got some scabby bits of toenail polish still there from the pedi I had done about six months ago. People notice things like that.”
Since he’d never paid attention to a person’s toes, he wasn’t buying it. “They’re more likely to notice the horse shit on those boots,” he mumbled, but obviously he needed to work on his mumbling skills because she heard it just fine. She made a sound of agreement and looked down at the boots.
“Just wear the sandals,” he advised her though he had no idea why he suddenly considered himself a fashion guru.
It probably had to do with his fried brain.
The zipper wasn’t budging, and the dress was as slick as saddle oil. It kept riding up with each tug, and in order to hold it in place, he had to place his hand on Hope’s left butt cheek. Hence, the fried brain.
“I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of experience getting a woman into a dress,” she said, with a chuckle.
None. But thankfully he hadn’t needed any help with getting a woman out of one. Best, though, to keep that remark to himself—especially when Hope decided she should help. She reached back between them, her fingers knocking into his. Also knocking against the front of his jeans.
And she went stiff.
Josh didn’t have to guess why. She’d felt his erection.
She turned, looking up at him. Causing Josh to curse. “I’m a man,” he reminded her. “That dress is hot. And I’ve seen parts of you that your ranch hand shouldn’t see.”
The corner of her mouth lifted though there sure as hell wasn’t anything to smile about, and she slid her gaze down the front of him. From his shirt all the way to the part of him that’d caused her to turn toward him in the first place.
“You can look at the dress all night long if you come to the party with me,” she said with a wink and a sly smile.
Josh laughed before he could stop himself—though there wasn’t anything to laugh about, either. But leave it to Hope to say the right thing to make this situation a little less embarrassing.
Of course, the embarrassment gave way to a new problem. That was because she kept staring up at him. So close. Just a few inches away. He’d seen that look in her eyes before. The day they’d let a prize stallion cover some of the mares.
Horse sex.
Lots of it.
And while it wasn’t especially romantic to watch, maybe it had reminded her of human sex. Because in one unguarded moment when Hope had glanced at him, Josh had seen the itch inside her.
An itch she was considering, and one that he could scratch just fine.
He could have, too. Josh could have peeled off her jeans, got between her legs and taken her then and there against the corral fence, but those minutes of scratching could mess up things for years. Maybe forever. After all, when the sex had finished, she would still be his boss, and he loved this job too much to screw it up by screwing Hope.
“Well?” she prompted. “You’ll go with me to the party?”
“No,” he repeated, getting his mind off sex and such, and he caught just a glimpse of her scowl before he whirled her around to have another go at the zipper.
Josh tugged and pulled. Unfortunately, he pulled hard enough that this time Hope’s butt bumped against the front of his jeans. Despite the logical argument that he’d just given himself about loving his job/not screwing it up, he got the other reminder.
The I’m a man one.
Just when Josh thought he was going to have to excuse himself to take a cold shower, the zipper from hell finally gave up the fight, and it slithered closed from butt to nape. No more peep show or booty bumps, so maybe now his erection could soften. He got a jump start on that softening, though, when the tack room door opened.
Hope and he scampered away from each other as if they’d been caught doing something wrong. However, the jumpy movement got the attention of the people in the doorway.
His