“Yes,” she purrs. “Pull harder.”
She looks up at me with big blue eyes, and I nearly lose myself right then.
“Don’t push me, Maize,” I growl. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she assures me. “I want it hard and rough with you, Gavin. Don’t stop.”
I do exactly as she asks. I pull her hair as I fuck her from behind, slamming my cock so goddamn deep inside her pussy she’ll be feeling me there for days. Then I smack her ass again to make sure my red imprint stays too.
The moment she clenches around my cock and gasps for more air, I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze gently. She loses control, and seconds later, I do too.
My body aches from the best sex I’ve ever had.
I can say that with one-hundred-percent certainty, which, considering I haven’t dated a woman in over a decade, is fucking insane. One-night stands, yes, but I never get attached. And I definitely don’t think about round two the next day.
But I am. I want Maize for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then again for dessert. The taste of her pussy and sweet skin is still on my tongue, and I need more.
I half-open my eyes and see the sun blazing through the blinds. Why in the hell Colt doesn’t have curtains is beyond me, but at least this way, I’ll be able to fuck Maize and admire every perfect inch of her body.
When I roll over to find her, I’m greeted with an empty bed.
What the hell?
I feel around, but the sheets are cold.
No…she couldn’t leave. I drove us here.
Deciding to check around the apartment, I pull on my boxers and walk to the kitchen. When it’s empty, I check the bathroom. Then the living room.
Next, I notice her clothes aren’t on the floor.
She left.
I check the time, and it’s barely eight in the morning.
No note, no phone number for me to reach her, nothing.
Well, shit. There really is a first time for everything, and I can’t say I’m a fucking fan of getting bailed on the morning after.
Chapter One
MAIZE
THREE WEEKS LATER
As I get dressed for work, I can hear my parents chatting, and it makes me smile. I’ve been trying to soak in these little moments because eventually I’ll move out and get my own place. My dad wants me to live here until I’m fifty, but that’s not happening. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been thinking about starting a catering business as a side hustle.
“Oh stop,” Mom says with a giggle as I pull my hair into a tight ponytail. After all these years, they’re still madly in love, and sometimes I wonder if that’ll be in the cards for me. Not even my gourmet meals can snag me a man. I’m doomed to become a nun or be a single woman with twelve dogs and horses to keep me occupied. It’s something I’m coming to terms with.
I’m picky, and I’ve got rules–well, a rule. I don’t date men who work on my family’s ranch. I got my heart broken and won’t let it happen again. Most of the men in my small town are taken, too young, or related to me, so the pickings are really slim. Becoming a nun has been a running joke, but it could be my reality.
After I finish getting ready, I walk into the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee. I sit next to my dad, trying to wake up because I’ll need to be on my A game once I get to the bed and breakfast. As the head chef, I have four employees to manage and plan the meals for the week. My sole responsibility is to introduce all the guests to comfort food and Grandma’s favorite recipes. They deserve an authentic Southern experience for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I take it very seriously.
“What’s on the menu today?” Dad asks as he slips on his cowboy boots. He has managed the B&B since before I was born, and he takes pride in his work. Mom smiles, and I notice she’s already dressed for work in black slacks and a pink blouse. When she moved to Texas permanently, she saw a need for childcare and opened the only daycare in Eldorado. It quickly transitioned into a private school and now boasts a long waiting list due to its popularity. Once my sister, Kenzie, graduates with a degree in education, she’ll work there too.
We’re early risers here—well, except for Kenzie when she’s bartending at the Circle B Saloon until close. Right now, she’s home from college, but she’ll return in a few days. I’m not looking forward to it because I always miss her when she’s gone.
“Breakfast consists of the normal spread of grits, biscuits, gravy, sausage, bacon, waffles, muffins, blueberry pancakes, omelets, and scrambled eggs. For lunch, I planned fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. Dinner is beef tips with gravy and rice, corn bread and veggies on the side, and finally, triple chocolate cake for dessert.”
“I’m sure the ranch hands are gonna love that,” Dad says with a laugh. “I mean, the guests.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will.” I cut my eyes to him, but all he does is shrug. The ranch workers eating at the B&B is a tradition my uncles started in their twenties. Uncle Jackson’s to blame, but everyone knows he can’t be controlled. After realizing he was gonna keep eating and inviting half the ranch to join him, Grandma made it a perk for the workers. By the time I got out of culinary school, I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I took the job.
I cook quadruple servings each day because the workers eat like horses, and I still need enough for the guests. There usually aren’t any leftovers, so at least nothing’s wasted. Knowing people appreciate my cooking does make me feel good, but I still give them shit for liking it so much. Then again, so does Dad.
Once my mug is empty and I’m more awake, I stand and grab my keys. Mom tells me to have a good day, and Dad says he’s right behind me. I give them a wave and leave. Though the sun won’t be up for another hour, it doesn’t bother me. I enjoy getting up before the roosters and like the stillness of my surroundings.
When I arrive, the big farmhouse lights are dimmed, and I take my time turning them on. I walk into the kitchen to grind the coffee beans and then put them in the maker to brew. After I pull out the menu I’ve planned, I start pulling the ingredients from the cabinets. There’s no canned food or anything pre-made served here. It’s all mixed and made with love.
I’ve wanted to be a chef since I was a little girl, thanks to Grandma. As the fifth oldest grandkid but only the second girl, I spent a lot of time with her growing up. When I was five, she had me baking homemade blueberry muffins by memory. My childhood was different from my cousins because my biological mother passed away from cancer nine weeks after I was born. Dad had no idea I existed until I was left on the porch of the B&B. Raising a newborn wasn’t something he knew how to do, so he hired Mila to be my nanny and help him adjust to being a single parent. They fell madly in love, and the rest is history. She raised me as her own and is the only mother I’ve ever known. Soon after, they were married, and Mila got pregnant with Kenzie. Once my sister was born, our family was complete. While I wish I knew more about my biological mother at times, I’m thankful for the family I do have.
Jane and Sandra arrive right on time and immediately take over for me, then finish with the omelets, scrambled eggs, and the muffins. I restack the plates, refill the silverware bin, and then bring out the vat of coffee to the dining area. The three of us work together like a well-oiled machine. While I’m in charge, I never have to micromanage because they know what I expect them to do each day.