Page 23 of Savage Rancher
“Um.” I glance at Jake. Does his friend know?
“We’re a team,” Jake says, reading my mind. “You can talk plain here.”
Nodding, I look at them all. “Someone saw Jake in the parking lot at the Rusty Spur last night. I guess the sheriff thinks it’s weird he didn’t go in.”
“It could have been anyone in a black cowboy hat,” Jake points out.
I shake my head. “It could have been, but it wasn’t, and if you deny you were there and they can prove otherwise, it’ll look bad. So we’re going to say you were there.”
The blond man raises his brow. “Are we?”
“Yes.” Letting go of Jake, I tug at the button on my waistband, my fingers clumsy with adrenaline. "Jake, give me your shirt."
The dark, silent one chokes, apparently on air.
Jake's eyes narrow, tracking the movement of my hands as I unzip my jeans. "Emma, what are you doing?"
"Giving you an alibi." I meet his eyes, my heart pounding. "You met me at the bar, and then we came directly here, and I spent the night here with you. Understand?"
Comprehension flashes across his face, followed immediately by something hot and fierce that makes my skin prickle.
“Well.” The blond one props himself against a wall, his arms crossed and an amused look tugging the corner of his mouth. “It looks like your little lady is as fierce for you as you are for her. If she’s always this bossy, you’re in for a ride, my friend.”
I point at him. “What’s your name?”
His smile widens. “Luke.”
“Luke, shut up. We don’t have time for this.” I snap my fingers at Jake. “Your shirt. Now.”
He glares over my head at his friends as he unbuttons his shirt. “Turn around.”
Luke takes his time, smirking the whole time. I glance at the dark, quiet one. It’s like he’s found the only shadows in the bright morning and pulled them around himself. He’s already facing the wall. I need to get his name before the sheriff gets here. It’d be weird if I stayed the night but didn’t know the names of Jake’s partners.
“I’m Mason,” he says softly, his back still to me.
I blink in surprise. Does he have eyes in the back of his head? Shaking my head, I turn back to Jake as he pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion and hands it to me.
My mouth goes dry at his bare chest, but I know I need to get dressed ASAP—I can ogle later. I yank my shirt over my head and slip his on, the fabric still warm from his body and smelling like him. It falls to mid-thigh, and I leave the top three buttons undone so it looks like I threw it on in a hurry. I push my jeansdown and kick them off. I’m too put together, so I adjust Jake’s shirt for it to fall a little off my shoulder. “How do I look?” I ask him.
“Fuck me,” he says, his voice low and reverent.
I shiver. It’s been eighteen years since I heard that tone, but I recognize it. Mybodyrecognizes, my nipples going hard under the soft cotton of his shirt.
"Well," Luke says, his voice rich with amusement as he turns back around. "This is going to be interesting."
Mason's already moving, gathering up my jeans and boots. "I'll put these in Jake's room. To make it look legit."
"Good." I run my hands through my hair, though I’m sure it’s plenty sleep mussed.
Jake crosses to me in two strides, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck. The touch feels claiming and grounding, and I lean into it without thinking. Is he going to kiss me? I wonder if I should ask. After a night with him, my lips would be puffy from kissing him—or from going down on him.
I wonder if he’d taste the same now as he did back then.
His fingers tighten on my nape, as if he knows where my mind went. Maybe his mind went there too.
An approaching car cuts through the tension.
"Showtime," Mason mutters as he rejoins us.
