Chapter Text
Only one month into my new job on the Yellowstone and I loved every second of it. I never felt more freedom than when I was on horseback with the mountains all around me, cattle ambling through the fields, the creak of saddle leather and the rush of wind to keep me company.
And then there was John Dutton.
I couldn't afford distractions. But every time he caught my eye – talking to Rip or one of his kids, checking over the cattle and shouting directions – I found myself staring. Just for a few seconds too long.
I couldn't help it. He had a commanding presence that drew me like a moth to a flame with his gruff voice and confident stride.
Eventually, I would tear my gaze away. Chastise myself for being stupid.
He was nearly twice my age. And my boss. There was no way on God's green earth he would ever notice my existence.
Until the day he proved me wrong.
Twilight sent long, dark shadows stretching across the landscape as I sat outside the bunkhouse, my tack scattered around me while I cleaned it. My saddle needed a fresh coat of oil to soften it up and prevent it from cracking in the summer heat. I kept putting it off until I didn't have a choice but to knuckle down and finally cross it off of my to-do list.
Ryan poked his head out of the bunkhouse.
"Hey, you missed a spot," he said.
"Ha ha. Very not funny."
"When you're done with that, do you mind giving my gear a scrub-down, too?"
"I'm not your maid," I countered. "Do your own dirty work."
Ryan held up a beer bottle and gave it a shake.
"How about a little alcohol to sweeten the deal?"
I raised my hand, palm open. Ryan tossed the bottle to me and I caught it.
"I still say do your own dirty work," I replied.
He pointed at me. "You're a little cheater. Filthy, rotten cheater."
I laughed as I twisted the bottle cap off and thumbed it at him.
"Never made any promises, did I?"
Ryan opened his mouth to protest. I raised my eyebrows, waiting. He blew out a breath and waved me off.
"Fine, you win this round. Excuse me, I have to go get another beer because someone stole mine."
"You gave it up without a fight!" I called after him as he disappeared back into the bunkhouse.
Someone cleared their throat.
I startled in surprise and turned to find John Dutton himself standing…right there. Only a few feet away. His profile lined in gold from the setting sun. Half of his face cast in shadow. His thumbs hooked in his back pockets.
My stomach plummeted straight to my toes. I fumbled my beer, nearly dropping it into my soapy bucket, and set it on the ground at my feet. But then I had nothing to hold onto, nothing to still the restless twisting of my fingers. I snatched up my old rag, fidgeting with it.
"Hi. Hello, sir. I didn't…I didn't see you there," I stammered.
John held up a hand to quiet my babbling. I clamped my mouth shut, fighting the urge to straighten my shirt and smooth my hair. I'd been working with cattle and horses all day in the sun. I certainly didn't smell like a rose. Couldn't imagine I looked all that great either.
"You're the new hand, right?" John said.
I nodded. "Been here about a month now."
"And you're settlin' in okay?" His gaze flicked to the bunkhouse. "No one's givin' you any trouble, I hope?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. They're all really good to me."
A small smile tugged at the corner of John's mouth.
"Glad to hear it," he said.
Silence settled between us. I tugged at my old rag even more, worrying my finger into a hole at the hem. What was I supposed to say? I'd been leering after this man like a stalker for weeks and now that I finally had the chance to speak to him face to face, I was at a total loss.
"Are you…looking for Rip?" I said.
I stifled a grimace. Of all the things I could have chosen to talk about, that's what I decided to come up with!?
"No," he replied. "I came to see you."
My breath caught in my throat. I definitely wasn't prepared for him to say that. Maybe in my dreams but…
No, no, no, I definitely couldn't let myself think of what I'd dreamed about this man. Not if I ever hoped to maintain a sliver of my composure.
"Oh," I managed to squeak.
John's smile spread a little further and warmth bloomed in my stomach at the sight of it. He ducked his head, his face mostly shielded by the brim of his hat. Except that smile.
Then he stepped closer, cupped my chin in his hand, and brushed his thumb against my cheek.
"I think you had a bit of that saddle oil there," John said.
My mouth went dry. My heart felt as if it would burst right out of my chest. I couldn't reply, couldn't think, couldn't say a goddamn thing with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth and the feel of John's fingers cradling my chin.
Then he stepped back and his hand fell away. For the first time in what felt like hours, I sucked in a breath. The loss of contact made me lean forward slightly in my seat.
"Don’t let those boys in there push you around too much, you hear?" John said, tipping his head toward the bunkhouse.
"No, sir, I won't."
John half-turned away and nodded.
"I should…yeah, I should get going," he said. "But if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, all right?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
I watched John walk away, his figure a darker shadow amid nightfall as he made his way back to the house. After he was out of sight, I released a shaky breath.
Had that really just happened?
"Well, well, well," Ryan said.
He leaned in the doorway of the bunkhouse, looking smug as a cat with a fresh bowl of cream.
"What?" I demanded.
"You've just…you've got a little somethin'…right there…" Ryan gestured to the corner of his mouth.
Dread pooled in my gut. Just how filthy was I!? Frantically, I swiped at my mouth. Ryan snickered.
"I think you might be droolin' a little bit," he said.
"Ryan!" I chucked my dirty rag at him, smacking him square in the chest. "Shut the hell up, you asshole."
He laughed. "I'm just saying! You don't see the big boss man himself taking time out of his day to caress the dirt off of my face."
"I swear to God, Ryan, I'm gonna kick your ass all the way from here to California."
He snorted. "Oh, I doubt that. You'll be too busy bangin' Daddy Dutton – "
"All right, that's it."
Ryan yelped with laughter and took off running as I chased after him.
***
When it rains, it pours. And when it pours, cows get stuck in the mud.
"Put your back into it, rookie," Ryan said from atop his horse.
Meanwhile, I was up to my thighs in mud, shoving at a cow's ass in an attempt to get it out of the pit it had wandered into.
"A little help would be appreciated," I countered.
Colby gestured to his rope, looped around the cow's torso and tied to his pommel.
"I'm helping, see?"
"I meant down here."
Ryan added, "But we couldn’t possibly rob you of the invaluable first-hand experience you're gaining right now."
I put my shoulder against the cow's haunch and shoved again.
"Ryan," I said, voice straining. "You are so full of shit."
Ryan put a hand to his heart. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Colby chuckled.
"Dude. You're askin' for it."
Ryan shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. He tugged his coat collar up against the rain.
"Hey, could you…uh…hurry this up?" he said, circling his finger in the air. "I'm gettin' a little damp and it's uncomfortable."
I drooped against the cow, gasping for air and laughing at the same time. Then I scooped up a big handful of mud and flung it at Ryan. He put up a hand to shield himself but – too late – it hit his cheek with a wet plop.
Colby doubled over, wheezing with laughter. Ryan blinked in shock.
"Oh, it's on," he said, dismounting from his horse.
By the end of the day, I was coated head to toe in mud. So was Ryan. And eventually, Colby, too. I was soaked to the skin and my teeth ached from chattering for hours.
"You think Rip will let us use the showers lookin' like this?" I said. "He'll kill us for trackin' mud through the bunkhouse."
"You're the newbie," Ryan pointed out. "He'd just make you mop it all up."
I sighed. "You're really working that new hire card, aren't you?"
Ryan grinned as he rode past me. "Milkin' it for every last drop. Last one back to the bunkhouse gets a cold shower!"
"Goddamn it, Ryan!"
But Ryan and Colby already had a head start and I was too far behind to make up lost ground. I didn't even bother going to the bunkhouse and headed straight for the barn to put my horse away for the night.
As I rounded the corner, there was John, standing at the other end of the barn as he stroked a horse's nose.
I skidded to a stop and for a split second, considered making a run for it. I was pretty sure there was mud in eyelashes, for God's sake. Why did our paths always have to cross when I was a mess? Why couldn't I be relatively clean for once?
But then John's gaze met mine and I knew there was nowhere to go. I tucked a lock of dripping, muddy hair behind my ear, self-conscious. He raised his eyebrows at the state of me.
"Cattle and mud don't mix well," I said.
"I've pulled my fair share of cattle out of mud holes before," John replied. "But I never ended up lookin' like that."
"You should see the other guys."
John chuckled and ducked his head. Oh. Oh, I liked that sound. A pleased little thrill shot through my chest. I'd made him laugh. And I wanted to do it again and again. I felt like I was floating on a cloud as I walked my horse to her stall and removed her saddle.
"What brings you out here anyway?" I said. "If you don't mind my asking."
John shrugged and gave the horse one final pat before he turned toward me.
"The kids are bickerin'. Again. I was about to lose my goddamn mind if I didn't get out of the house."
"Never thought John Dutton was the type to hide," I said, casting a sideways glance at him.
John opened his mouth to protest then caught my eye and realized I was teasing. Instead, he gave a small shake of his head with a wry little smile.
"What about you?" he said.
"What about me?" I replied, sliding my horse's bridle off.
"Why are you in the barn and not the showers like everybody else?"
"Because I'm the newbie. No hot water for me." I gestured to the well pump outside the door. "Hell, I should just strip down right here and use the hose."
John coughed a laugh. Then I realized what I'd just said. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"I – wow…that came out so wrong," I said. "I am so sorry, sir."
"Certainly gave me something to think about," John replied.
Any reply fizzled in my brain and died on my lips in a puff of air. Oh, I was definitely in way over my head. I had inadvertently flirted with the boss. And now the boss was flirting with me right back.
"You should shower up at the lodge," John said.
Now my brain definitely wasn't working properly anymore.
"I…what?" I sputtered.
John gestured to me. "You're soaked to the skin. Like you said, there won't be any hot water left by the time you get to the showers. So beat 'em at their own game. Take a different route."
"I…" I didn't know what to say to that. I fiddled with the bridle, toying with the leather between my fingers.
Something was happening here. Something that made my heart race, my palms clammy, and a riot of butterflies take wing in my stomach. Something I desperately ached for.
But there was a line, too. Crossing that line, allowing myself to fool around with my boss, could complicate my position in the bunkhouse.
Without saying anything, I turned my back on John and hung the bridle up. Taking my time. Allowing myself a chance to weight the pros and cons of my decision. Then I put my horse into her stall and closed the door.
Slowly, I turned around to face John again. Folded my hands behind my back and leaned against the stall.
At last, I said simply, "Why?"
John raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.
"I mean," I went on, "you wouldn't open your home to just anyone. And I'm the new girl and you're the boss and maybe you think you can just…toy with me and…"
John held my gaze as he stepped closer and came to a stop in front of me.
"I made the offer," he said, "because I'd like to kiss you. But I prefer to do it when you're not covered in mud."
"Oh. That's…that's a good reason," I stammered.
"I thought so, too." John tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Is that a yes, then?"
I bit the inside of my cheek to hide a smile.
"Yes."
John held out his hand. When I placed my palm in his, he curled his fingers around mine. Then we ran through the rain together to the back door of the lodge.
I tried not to drip all over John's giant, gleaming, cavernous bathroom. He was showing me things – faucets and soaps and towels – and I wasn't really registering any of it. I was so dirty, dripping in thick splotches of mud all over his floor. It only served as a reminder of the different worlds we lived in.
I glanced at the door, imagining running out into the rain again and all the way back to the bunkhouse.
What on earth was I thinking to do this?
"Hey," John said, squeezing my hand. "You still with me?"
I blinked, dragging my attention back to his face.
"I'm getting mud on your floor," I whispered.
"I won't tell, sweetheart," John replied softly and I didn't think we were talking about his muddy floors anymore.
I fiddled with the cuffs of my sleeves, shivery with anticipation, jittery with worry that maybe this would turn out to be the biggest, stupidest mistake of my life.
John closed his hands around my fidgeting fingers.
"You can change your mind," he said. "Any time. All right? I won't hold it against you."
I nodded. Then, slowly, as if I was afraid this might all go up in smoke if I moved too fast, I reached out and traced my fingertips along John's jawline.
"Fuck it," he rasped.
In the next breath, he kissed me, hands at my hips with a bruising grip. I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck, smearing mud on his shirt. I nipped at his lower lip, drawing a sinful sound out of him that made my brain go blank for a blissful moment.
John stepped forward, pushing me back against the sink. Barely breaking away for a few precious seconds, he stripped my jacket off, dropped it on the floor. He cupped my face in his hands, heedless of the gritty mud sliding against his palms. I swiped at a spot of mud on his chin only to leave even more mud behind.
"I still can't figure out," he said, "how you managed to get this dirty. What the hell did you do? Roll in the dirt with the cattle?"
I grinned and pecked him on the lips. "I might have instigated a small mud fight."
John hummed. "I should have guessed."
"I have to hold my own out there, sir, remember?"
He huffed a laugh and shook his head.
"Don't call me that," he said quietly. "Don't call me sir. Not in here. Just John."
I nuzzled against his cheek with a quick, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"John," I whispered, because I didn't dare say it any louder than that. It was our secret. Just him and me. In this room, right now.
I trailed my hand down his neck, down his chest, my gaze following everywhere my fingertips touched. Then I hooked my fingers under his belt buckle and flicked my gaze back up to his face.
John raised an eyebrow.
"Don't start somethin' you can't finish, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low, playful growl that sent a shiver up my spine.
"All I'm hearing is a lot of talk and no action, cowboy," I replied, tugging him into the shower with me.
As I kicked off my boots, John turned on the water and I yelped as the frigid spray hit me, crowding at the back of the shower against him to escape the cold. He shifted to stand with his back to the shower, shielding me from the cold water. I unbuttoned his shirt, peppering his neck in kisses then nipping at his shoulder.
By the time steam filled the shower, I was nothing but bare skin while John was still in his jeans. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, self-consciousness washed over me like a tidal wave. It was one thing to flirt with a big girl like me when I was clothed, but to see me fully naked? I couldn't deny how vulnerable and exposed I felt, letting John Dutton truly look at me, thick thighs, soft belly, and all.
John took my hand and pulled me closer, turning me in his arms until my back was against his chest. He dipped his head, skimming his lips over my shoulder.
"You look even better than I thought you would, honey," he said softly.
Retrieving a bar of soap, John lathered his hands up and trailed his palms over my body. It didn't take long to wash the mud away but he continued tracing the rounded curve of my hips, up the dip of my waist, and cupped my breasts in his hands.
I closed my eyes, arching into his touch. But he never went lower than my hips. I took John's wrist and guided his hand between my thighs. It took no coaxing for John to get the hint, stroking his fingers against my clit before sinking two knuckles deep into my slick pussy.
"Ah," he whispered, nosing at my earlobe. "So, that's where you want me."
"You have no idea," I replied.
I turned to face him, looping my arms around his neck, my breasts pressed to his chest as I kissed him. John dropped the soap and it went skittering across the shower floor. He kissed the way I expected him to – a clash of teeth and tongue and heat, grappling for power and laying everything out on the line.
I broke away, gasping for air and fumbled at his belt buckle, desperate to get it off of him now. When my knuckles brushed against his fly, I could feel the hot bulge of him straining against his jeans. I dragged the zipper down, slipped my fingers inside and – oh – the girth of him. Throbbing in my grip.
I traced my thumb over the vein that ran along the top, followed it to the head. Gave his cock an experimental squeeze.
John flinched. "God…damn it, honey," he croaked.
"Oh," I said in a teasing tone. "Sensitive?"
He rasped a laugh. "Sweetheart, play nice."
I hummed as I tipped my chin up and kissed him. "I don't think so."
I stroked up and down his shaft then twisted my palm over the head of his cock. John swore and he braced a hand against the shower wall to steady himself. When I kept going, his whole body flinched and he caught my wrist.
"Okay, okay, darlin', you're turnin' me into a damn teenager here, okay? You keep doin' that and I won't last another minute."
I chuckled and released my grip on him.
"Just…wait here," John said, brushing his thumb over my chin. "I'll get the condoms."
He stepped out of the shower and I heard him rustling around in the cabinets. Then he swore under his breath. I poked my head out.
"Is there a problem?"
John stood at the sink, all the cabinet doors open, as he scrubbed at the back of his neck.
"Could have sworn I had a box in here," he said. "Beth probably stole it. Again." He cast me a sheepish look. "Sorry, honey."
I stepped out of the shower and took his hand, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
"Don't worry," I said. "There are plenty of other things to do."
After tugging John's jeans off, I knelt between his knees, dragging my nails along his thighs. He took my chin in his hand, pulling my gaze up to meet his eye.
"You don't have to, sweetheart," he said. "We can just – "
I pushed up to kiss him, cutting him off, and my weight threw both of us off balance. John slid into the tub and I fell on top of him, laughing. I ducked my head, burying my face in his chest. He draped his arm around me, his skin warm and wet from the shower, smelling fresh and clean, with only a hint of horse and leather still clinging to him. With this ranch permeating his blood, I doubted that smell every truly went away.
Then I kissed my way down John's chest, fingers scratching lightly through the hair on his torso. I settled between his legs and lazily curled my hand around his cock again. Closing my mouth over the head, I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, pulling off of him with a loud, wet pop!
John groaned as he closed his eyes and dropped his head back. I breathed a quiet laugh, mouthing at the vein I'd admired earlier. Flicking my tongue over the head of his cock.
I swallowed him down once, giddy with delight at the way John's thighs twitched tight against my body. Then I tongued at every sensitive spot I could find until he surged in my hand and spilled over my fingers.
I gave a pleased little hum as I rested my chin against John's hip. He blew out a breath, his eyes gradually beginning to regain focus. When he met my eye, I bit my lip with a smile.
"I've been wanting to do that since you first said hello," I said.
John gave a hoarse laugh. "Come here."
As he pulled me up for a kiss, a knock echoed at the door.
"Grandpa! I have something to show you!"
"Shit," I whispered, hiding my face in John's neck and curling my body into his chest.
John wrapped an arm around me.
"I'll be out in a minute, Tate," he called.
John and I held our breath as Tate's footsteps retreated. I peeked up at John.
"I have to go," he said, apology thick in his voice.
I nodded.
As John retrieved his wet clothes, I wrapped a towel around myself and perched on the edge of the tub. He started for the door then changed direction and kissed me, a feverish, hurried thing, tongue sliding against the roof of my mouth, teeth scraping my lower lip.
"We'll finish this another time, I promise," John said.
I didn't reply, didn't allow myself to hope for that. Instead, I simply touched his cheek for the briefest of moments before he was on the move again and my hand slid away. I curled my fingers into a fist, holding onto that fleeting warmth from his body heat.
When the door closed behind John, I was left alone in the bathroom with the quiet plop-plop of my wet hair dripping onto the floor and my damp body rapidly growing cold.
I touched my lips, remembering that final kiss. Did I dare wish for more? Once was risky enough. Twice was…twice was asking to get caught.
I tugged on my mud-caked clothes and tiptoed out the back door, determined to put John Dutton behind me.