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Then Meadow switched her attention to the lucky woman.
Gabby Raylon. Son of a bitch! Of all the people for Colton to hook up with.
The other girl was always terrible to Meadow, ever since Forest dumped her for cheating on him. Did Colton know that? Surely not. How could he possibly know?
He moved his hand, wrapping those long, tanned fingers around her shoulder and spinning her to face him. Then he cupped her face in one big palm…and kissed her.
Chapter Three
The jukebox thumped out a tinny version of “Friends in Low Places” while some drunk guys in the back sang along, slurring their words.
This wasn’t Colton’s first night in Badlands, but tonight was even more packed and stuffy than the previous Friday when he’d come for a beer with a couple guys from the ranch. That was the night he met Gabby.
She was pretty enough, in a small-town way. She fit in with the rest of the crowd, all in their country best, which seemed to mean a clean shirt and jeans without holes.
Gabby planted a hand on his chest, face tilted up to his and a slightly tipsy but alluring smile on her face. He’d seen smiles like that before—it meant she would be more than willing to get in the old work truck he was driving and let him take her back to her place, which she’d informed him that very first night was only two blocks away from the bar.
Before she could suggest that they leave together, he nodded at the drink she held, a fizzy hard cider that turned his stomach with the smell.
As if reminded that she should drink it, she brought the bottle to her lips and took a sip. When she pulled her mouth away, her lipstick clung to the glass.
He looked away and scanned the crowd. The rest of the guys were on their way here, but since Colton completed his chores first—and fastest—Webb gave him the reluctant go-ahead to leave for the night.
The manager didn’t like the fact that Colton picked up on things fast and didn’t need to be shown how to do something more than once. In the first few days, he was doing everything faster and more precisely than the others.
His fellow ranch hands were amicable enough, though. Easygoing and as fun-loving as a pack of mutts. Colton noted how they joked more whenever the boss wasn’t around, and the minute Gracey drove down the long dirt road leading to the highway, they cut loose.
Word was the boss would be gone for at least two weeks, possibly three. And that left Colton wondering how Meadow would handle being in the big house all alone.
Being tallest in the room had its advantages, and he was able to see clear to the other side of the room. When his focus snagged on a head of blonde hair, he stared harder.
He’d seen the woman swish her thick hair over her shoulder more than once as she pranced around the ranch in skimpy sundresses and cowgirl boots, showing off those tanned legs to anyone willing to look—which was every man there.
Even Webb, who had a good fifteen years on Forest’s sister, wanted a piece of Meadow.
Colton’s gaze dropped lower to the tiny Band-Aid of denim barely clinging to her small, firm ass.
His cock jerked hard against his fly.
Goddamn the woman. Forest’s words swirled in Colton’s head.
Watch out for Meadow too.
How the hell was he supposed to obey his friend’s wishes when she was dressed like that?
She threw back her head and laughed at something the guy clad in black leather at the bar said. He slipped a hand around her, curling his fingers on the slim band of exposed flesh beneath her crop top, and tugged her closer to stand between his knees.
Gabby was talking, but Colton didn’t pay any attention to her at all.
At that moment, Dude, one of the workers on the Gracey, walked up to Meadow. He said something to her, and she shoved him away, still laughing.
Dude spoke to the guy who had his hands all over Meadow, spreading across her ass.
Meadow’s companion glared at him. Whatever he said to Dude had the ranch hand shaking his head and walking away.
From across the room, Colton watched the guy at the bar push Meadow against his cock and grind it into her.
Goddamn. The woman was just begging for trouble. Forest would not approve. But she must know what she was getting into—she’d probably done it a dozen times before.
