The Cowboy's Rules (Cowboys After Dark) Read online

  As she walked out the back door she saw Chad standing in the corral, and his horse, wearing no tack whatsoever, was moving freely, following Chad’s voice commands. The dog was sitting outside the pen, but completely focused on what was happening with his master, and didn’t even look her way as she approached.

  She glanced at her watch; if they were to miss traffic they’d have to leave right away. Trying to control her urge to yell at him to hurry up, she walked up to the fence and stood for a moment, hoping he’d notice her. He didn’t.

  “Um, excuse me, I think we should load and move out,” she called, unable to stay quiet.

  “You have everything?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his horse.

  “Yes, I brought my overnight bag down, and my suitcase is by the van waiting to be loaded.”

  “What about something to eat? We won’t be stoppin’ except for gas, and I don’t think you’d like gas station food. I only have enough for my dog and me.”

  “Shit, I didn’t think about that.”

  “I’d suggest you rustle something up,” he replied cooly, still watching his horse and waving his arms, making the animal move its feet.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back, and then we have to go. Where’s Miguel? He needs to wrap the horses and load them, and get my trunks in as well.”

  “It’s already done. I’m just waitin’ on you.”

  “What?” she asked, raising her voice, completely astounded. “That’s impossible. It takes forever to load Shelby. She’s terrible at walking into the van.”

  Shelby was her thoroughbred jumper, a horse that she’d bought straight off the race track. Shelby could jump the moon, but she was a handful.

  “For you maybe,” he remarked, and dropping his arms he turned and stared back at her, “but she figured out right quick that I don’t put up that nonsense.”

  The stomach thing happened again, and swallowing hard, not knowing what to say, she turned and ran back into the house to find whatever food she could take with her.

  That’s totally bizarre. Shelby is a nightmare to load. How could he have gotten her on so fast?

  Darting around the kitchen she found a few things to throw in a paper bag, along with some beer. It was early in the morning, but it would be mid-afternoon by the time they reached their destination, and she had a feeling she’d be wanting a drink by then.

  As she stepped outside and started toward the corral, she discovered it was empty. Looking around she spied Chad and his dog waiting in the cab of the large horse van. Not seeing her suitcase and overnight bag, she ran to the driver’s side and gazed up at the open window.

  “Where are my bags?” she called, knowing she’d need the smaller one with her.

  “Overnight’s in here,” he replied, “and the suitcase is in the back.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m coming around,” she remarked, and moving to the passenger side, climbed the steps and into the cab, settling into the seat.

  Glancing across at him she thought he looked annoyed, and was about to ask if something was bothering him, when her eye caught sight of his arms. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his blue denim shirt. She frowned. Denim didn’t drape like that, but even more distracting was the intoxicating sight of his defined muscles laying beneath. Realizing she was staring, she shook herself back to the question.

  “What’s the problem? You look irritated,” she remarked, wondering why she was sounding so terse.

  “Hasn’t anyone taught you any manners, ever?” he scowled, staring straight ahead.

  “What? I don’t understand,” she snipped.

  “You’re welcome,” he declared, continuing to gaze forward.

  Blushing furiously, she dropped the paper sack at her feet and buckled up.

  “Your dog is really cute. Can I pet him?” she asked, trying to lighten the heavy mood, still not sure what he was miffed about.

  “Sure. His name is McTavish,” Chad declared, starting up the van.

  “McTavish? How come?” she asked.

  “My grandfather was from Scotland and his last name was McTavish,” he replied, and moved the vehicle smoothly forward, heading towards the gate.

  “Oh, here, the check,” she exclaimed, pulling an envelope from her jacket pocket.

  “What check?”

  “For driving me. $2000.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want your money. I told you, I don’t work for you, this is a favor.”

  “Take it,” she insisted.

  “No, thank you,” he said firmly. “I’m happy to help out and I’m not interested in a check. Give it to Max. He needs it, especially with the baby.”

  “Darn baby, coming a month early,” she said under breath.

  To her surprise, he slowed the van and brought it to a complete stop.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I’m gonna tell you this one time, and one time only, so listen carefully, can you do that?” he asked, pulling off his glasses.

  Shit, those damn eyes of his. I swear he’s looking right through me.

  “Sure, what did I do now?”

  “A baby comin’ into this world is a joyful event. The fact that the little tyke is here early is something that needs our prayers, not the selfish scorn of a spoiled brat.”

  “How dare you,” she exclaimed, though her voice was reedy, and much shakier than she would have liked. It didn’t help that she could feel a brand new blush over her face, and the stomach thing was taking on a whole new dimension.

  “What you need is an old-fashioned spankin’, and if you don’t get your head on straight I’ll be happy to oblige. Do we understand each other?”

  Her throat had constricted, and try as she might, she couldn’t make her voice work.

  “Do-we-understand-each-other?” he repeated sternly, his voice slow and clipped.

  “Uh-huh,” she nodded.

  Turning her head away, she looked at the open gate ahead and stuffed the check back into her pocket.

  Holy shit. I don’t believe this guy. He wouldn’t, would he? Shit.

  “I know what you’re thinkin’, and yes, I would,” he declared, and starting up the engine, rolled the van out on to the street.

  He could feel her stupefaction as he maneuvered the van on to the main road, and carefully pressing his foot on the accelerator, brought it up to a moderate speed.

  A sweet girl lived inside the self-centered young woman, of that he was sure, it was just a matter of putting her in touch with herself. The house in which she grew up was majestic, the barn truly stunning, and the van he was driving wasn’t cheap, not to mention the horses it was carrying. He imagined each of them had cost well over $100,000. She’d grown up with wealth and privilege, and suffered from a common malady; a sense of entitlement.

  Chad wasn’t a pauper, not by any means, having turned his passion for horses into a multimillion dollar business. Besides being a highly respected trainer and popular entertainer, he had parlayed his talent into designing and selling western wear for men. Along his life’s path he’d met a few wealthy young women like Cassandra, but more often than not he’d given them a wide berth. Those he’d chosen to spend time with usually ended up getting their bottoms well and truly spanked, and he suspected it wouldn’t be long before Cassandra met the same fate.

  Can’t wait to put you over my knee, he sighed, putting his glasses back on, thinking about how her jeans fit her so perfectly, displaying one of the most spankable bottoms he’d seen in a long time. The white turtle neck sweater told him she had breasts to match, and she was on the short side, which he found particularly appealing, but it was her baby-doll face that had caught his attention the minute he’d laid eyes on her; blue green eyes, pert nose, high cheek bones, and a mass of honey streaked hair.

  “Are your folks from Sweden?” he asked.

  Looking over at him, she shook her head in confusion.

  “Where did that come from?” she frowned.

  “
You just look a bit nordic,” he replied. “It’s a compliment.”

  “I do?”

  “Yep.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, my mother was born in Sweden.”

  “And what do you do when you’re not ridin’ horses?”

  “Um, I don’t know, stuff,” she answered vaguely.

  “Like?”

  “Like, you know, stuff.”

  “You don’t work then?”

  “I’m not sure what business that is of yours,” she quipped defensively.

  She did have a career, a path she’d carved out for herself, but she had an aversion to opening up. The truth was, she found it difficult to trust people, and the less they knew about her the better she liked it.

  “I was just makin’ conversation,” he sighed.

  “Interrogating me, more like,” she remarked tersely.

  What’s wrong with me? Why am I being such a bitch?

  “Oh, for Chrissake’s, now what?” she demanded. He was doing it again, carefully moving the van to the side of the road. “If you keep stopping we’ll never get there,” she railed.

  Expertly be brought the van to a smooth finish, and unbuckled his seat belt.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Comin’ around to your side to help you out,” he replied. “You stay Mickey,” he said to his dog, who yawned in response.

  As she watched him move around the front of the van, a flurry of butterflies sprang to life in her stomach and proceeded to flutter around furiously.

  What the hell is he doing? He couldn’t be thinking…

  Before she could finish the thought, her door was pulled open and his fingers had pushed the release button of her seat belt.

  “I figure we’d best get this over with now. It’s inevitable,” he proclaimed, and to her utter shock, he deftly pulled her forward landing her over his shoulder.

  “What the hell? Put me down you asshole,” she shrieked.

  “Keep yellin’ like that and you’ll spook your horses,” he warned.

  To her immense irritation she realized he was right, and while she stopped squealing, she continued pounding and kicking, but without shrieking she found it annoyingly frustrating.

  “Don’t wanna wait until we’re rollin’ along the interstate,” he declared, sitting himself on a large wooden log he’d spied laying a short distance from the van. “You’ve had this comin’ from the moment I arrived.”

  “Dammit, stop!” she squealed, as he jerked her over his lap.

  “The more you wriggle and give me trouble, the harder I’m gonna spank you, so how sore your butt will be is up to you,” he declared, slapping his hand down.

  “SHIT, THAT HURT!” she yelled.

  “Pretty damn sore then,” he replied, and with a practiced rhythm, landed his flattened palm across her seat with rapid-fire swats.

  “Stop, stop,” she squealed. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to keep whippin’ your butt. At some point you’ll start sayin’ your sorry.”

  “For what?” she wailed, as his hand continued to rise and fall.

  “Let’s see, bein’ rude, not sayin’ thank you for me turnin’ around and comin’ to help you, not sayin’ thank you for loadin’ your difficult mare, not bein’ happy for a guy whose havin’ his first baby-”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right,” she howled, wriggling and squirming, trying to gyrate her bottom away from his spanking hand.

  “Nope, I think you’re just sayin’ that. I don’t think you’re sorry at all!”

  “I am, really,” she cried. “I get it, I get it. I know I’ve been a bitch. I just don’t know why.”

  Abruptly, miraculously, it stopped.

  “Yep, you have, and now you know that don’t fly, right?” he asked, slapping to underscore his words.

  “Riiight!” she cried. “I’m really sorry.”

  The hand that had been tightly holding her waist, and the leg that had draped itself over her thighs, fell away.

  “Stand up.”

  Unsteadily she rose to her feet, immediately placing her hands on her scorched cheeks.

  “If you don’t start actin’ like the sweet girl I know you can be, if you give me reason to whip your ass again, you won’t have those jeans to protect you,” he warned. “You get my drift?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, and her face, already red, turned an ever deeper crimson at the thought of him baring her backside.

  “Good. Now let’s hit the road and have a nice drive. No more of your brattiness.”

  He stood up, taking her by the hand, and as his fingers curled around hers, she felt a rush of something she didn’t recognize, like a warm wave washing over her.

  Shit, this is weird? I feel like I just want him to hold me…and hold me…and…this is just weird.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It wasn’t easy to settling back into her seat, and not because she’d just been spanked. When they’d reached the van he’d circled her with his arms, hugging her warmly, and as she’d predicted, she’d found herself never wanting to leave them. As the soft fabric of his shirt had caressed her face, she had felt his strong, lean physique beneath and inhaled his divine smell; a rich, spicy aroma of pine and grass and hay and horses.

  Half of her was totally ticked off that he’d dared to put her over his knee, but it was fighting with the other half who was deeply sighing with an odd, comforting satisfaction. As she buckled her seat belt she realized the totally ticked off part was losing. She looked across as he clambered in behind the wheel and donned his glasses. McTavish whined happily, lifting his paw in welcome.

  “Do you always wear those?” she asked, and hearing her voice, she realized it was softer, missing its usual edge.

  “Mostly,” he replied, and starting the engine rolled smoothly back on the road.

  A few minutes passed in silence, and while it wasn’t an awkward silence, it wasn’t completely comfortable either; she was still embarrassed, and the ticked off part of her, though losing to the satisfied part, was still active.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “Do you do that often?”

  She saw a thin smile cross his lips, and wished he wasn’t wearing those impenetrable sunglasses.

  “When it’s necessary,” he replied.

  “How often is that?” she pressed.

  He paused, a slight crinkle creasing his brow.

  “Depends. What are you really asking me?”

  His query took her by surprise.

  “Um, honestly, I’m not really sure,” she remarked truthfully, and out of the blue, found herself yawning.

  “Why don’t you put that seat back and rest a while,” he suggested. “You must be exhausted.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you run around strung tighter than clothes line. A lot of that’s gone now. You may have a sore butt but you’re a whole lot more relaxed.”

  Shit, he’s right! I am! How weird is that?

  “Maybe I will,” she sighed, pushing the button to lower the seat back.

  Poor kid, he mused, she’s needed that spankin’ for a long time.

  But there was something besides empathy moving through his heart. She had felt delicious leaning gently against his body. It had been just a hug, a post spanking hug like any other, except it hadn’t felt that way, not at all. Risking a quick glance he studied her face at rest. The tension that had emanated from her like a dark, grey aura, had disappeared.

  You sleep well, Cassie.

  The shortened version of her name had fallen from the ether, and smiling, he focused on the road ahead.

  The hypnotizing hum of the powerful engine lulled her into an easy doze, and it wasn’t long before she was sound asleep. She saw herself stretched out on a soft, fuzzy blanket in an idyllic meadow, the buzzing of bees in harmonious accord with the singing birds, and her naked body was soaking up the warmth o
f the sun as a tepid breeze washed over her skin. In her dream she opened her eyes, and discovered the breeze wasn’t nature’s breath, but Chad’s, and he was blowing softly across her breasts.

  “Rub yourself for me,” he cooed.

  Bringing her fingers against her sex she massaged lightly, then moaned softly, feeling her pussy joyfully respond.

  Though concentrating on the road, Chad was thinking about his aspiration to start a women’s line of clothing, using the same silk-cotton blends that had made his mens-line so successful, and as he contemplated how he could make it unique, he heard his passenger groan.

  Glimpsing across he was shocked to see Cassie’s fingers between her legs, rubbing fervently. Startled, he took his eyes back to the road and gently reduced his speed. Though loathe to wake her he couldn’t allow her to continue; it would be wrong, but his cock wasn’t interested in his integrity and was happily coming alive in his jeans.

  “That spankin’ did more than teach her a lesson,” he whispered to McTavish, though keeping his focus on the highway. “Not surprised. Not the first time a bottom roastin’ sent the heat elsewhere.”

  Her moans were growing louder, and Chad shook his head, not sure what to do, then it dawned on him. It was risky, but it was worth a shot, and his curiosity egged him on.

  “Cassie, don’t you come, girl,” he said firmly. “You’d need to wait a bit. You take that hand away and think about what a bad girl you’ve been.”

  “Mmmmm,” she murmured, and he saw her hand shift away, falling limp against her thigh.

  In her dream he was leaning over her, his eyes full of warmth, but determined.

  “You need to learn your lesson,” he breathed, then flittered his palm over her nipples, caressed her stomach, and finally cupped her sex.

  “Please?” she begged.

  He shook his head, then lowered his lips on to hers, delivering a deep, warm, sweet, kiss.

  “Chad,” she groaned, “I want you so much.”

  “I told you what I expect. When you’re truly repentant and not before.”

  Though her hand was now still, Chad could hear her mumbling, and while he couldn’t make out the words he was fairly certain she’d mentioned his name. The thought of her naked between his sheets was not what he wanted on his mind while transporting what he believed, was almost half a million dollars worth of horse flesh. His cock, however, disagreed, and her constant murmuring was far too distracting. He was just about to rouse her from sleep when she appeared to settle and her muttering ceased.