Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (23 page)

Then, slowly, he let her down.

Breathless, legs trembling, she managed to step out of the shower. She peeled off the shower cap, reached for a towel, and then—yes, she was definitely shaky—leaned against the counter.

Ty switched off the rain and stepped out, grabbing a towel of his own. “Wow. Some shower.”

She smiled. “Gotta love the rain.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist and leaned down to kiss her.

Shoving away from the counter, she came up on her toes and pressed her wet body against him, enjoying the easy sensuality of a kiss after sex. A kiss that wasn’t about need or arousal, just about sharing, giving thanks, saying “I think you’re special.”

Then she sighed. “We should dry off and get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“Mom will hold lunch.”

She separated their bodies and toweled herself vigorously. “Or come see what’s keeping us.” The afterglow of sex hadn’t even worn off, and she was starting to get nervous. With Chinese parents, she knew the proper way to behave, the polite things to say, the correct answers to give to questions. But Ty’s parents were an unknown quantity.

It didn’t really matter if she impressed them, but it was ingrained to want people, especially of the parental generation, to like her. She didn’t want to embarrass herself or Ty.

* * *

W
hen Ty dressed in shorts and a tee, Kim said, “You’re not wearing jeans. So it’s okay that I’m in capris, not jeans?”

“Jeans aren’t a uniform,” he teased. “They’re just practical for a lot of ranch work. You look great, all pretty and summery.”

“But not like I belong on a ranch.”

“You look like you. Works for me.” He studied her, saw tension crease her forehead. “What are you worried about?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go. And by the way, you have nice legs.”

“You have nice everything.”

As they went down the stairs, he asked, “You okay with walking down to their place?”

“Ty”—she rolled her eyes—“I walk four or five kilometers a day.”

Maybe it was her petite size or her artistic style, but he kept forgetting how fit she was. “Okay, good.” They went out the front door. “If my mom gets too pushy, change the subject.”

“You figure she’ll get too pushy.” She said it resignedly, not as a question.

He sighed and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’ve met her.”

“Right. She’ll get pushy. Okay”—her tone brightened—“let’s make a list of things I could say to change the subject.” She slanted a gleaming gaze at him. “I could ask to see your baby pictures.”

“Oh Lord, don’t do that.”

She swung their clasped hands as they headed down the road. “What’ll you give me if I ask about ostriches rather than baby pictures?”

He laughed. “What do you want, Kim?”

“Darn, I was hoping you’d say, ‘anything.’”

She had something in mind. He could see it in her eyes as she went on. “I’m seriously thinking I’ll have to ask about baby pictures. I bet you were the cutest baby.”

“Nope. Ugly as sin.”

“Really? Now I have to see.”

He groaned. This was blackmail. What did the woman want? Sex, hopefully. Not that she had to blackmail him to get that.

“Did you have hair or were you bald?” She slipped her slim hand free of his, thrust it into his back pocket, and squeezed his ass. “Were you a chubby baby with a cute little round butt?”

“Stop, stop, I give in. Anything. I’ll give you anything.”
Sex, please.

“I know what I want.”

“Dare I ask?”

“To paint you naked.”

“You already did.” And they’d had great sex. “Sure, we can do that again. But maybe with food, and I get to paint you too.”

“Ooh, I like that. But that’s not what I meant.” She released his ass and went back to holding his hand.

He scratched his head. Sometimes, he and Kim were in sync. Other times, he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “What, then?”

“In art school, there are life classes.”

“Life classes?” Another art term that made no sense.

They turned onto the side road to Ronan Ranch headquarters and his parents’ house. The area around the barn was clear; the ranch hands would all be on lunch break.

“Life drawing,” Kim said. “As in, drawing from life.”

“Beats drawing from death,” he joked, still not understanding. “Oh, you mean still lifes? Like, uh, pears in bowls?” Nothing against pears, but he liked outdoorsy subjects.

“Mmm
.
But life drawing’s also called figure drawing because our subjects are humans.”

“You sketched me for the last hour or two.”

“I’m talking about human still lifes. Not moving.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop so they faced each other. Staring up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes, she said. “And nude. You take your clothes off and pose for me, and I sketch you.”

His jaw dropped.

“Or,” she went on, “if you don’t want to, I’d love to see those baby pictures.”

“Ty! Kim!” It was his mother’s voice.

He turned and saw her standing by the open front door of the house, wearing a yellow tee and a denim wraparound skirt, waving.

Kim waved back and called, “Hello, Mrs. Ronan.” Then, quietly, to Ty, “Posing nude, or photos of baby butt cheeks?”

“This is blackmail.”

“It’s your choice, cowboy. But posing nude would be sexier.”

Sexy?
He’d have said embarrassing.
Hmm. Maybe it could be sexy.
Stretching out to showcase the muscles she liked to ogle, watching her sketch every line of his body. It’d be a turn-on. For him. How about for Kim? Would she be able to stay in artist mode, or could he get her all hot and bothered? Which one of them could hold out the longest? Whatever happened, it’d end in sex. That, he’d guarantee.

“Ty?” It was his mother again.

“You said the S word,” he told Kim. “Posing nude. Definitely.” Then he called, “Coming, Mom,” and, hand in hand, he and Kim walked toward the house and up the steps.

“It’s so nice of you to invite me over, Mrs. Ronan,” Kim said.

“We always love to meet Ty’s friends. And please,” his mother said as she led the way into the house, “call me Betty. I’ve got the table set on the back patio and lunch is in the fridge, all ready to go.” They were in the kitchen now and she pointed out the open back door. “You and Ty go on out and I’ll just bring everything along.”

“No, please, let me help.” Kim pulled her hand free from Ty’s. “What can I do?”

“That’s sweet of you. The two of you could take out the salad, deviled eggs, and lemonade.”

Ty opened the fridge door and began pulling things out. “Where’s Dad?”

“Changing out of his work clothes. He’ll be down in a sec.”

The aroma of fresh bread filled the kitchen as she took an Italian loaf from the oven.

“That smells delicious,” Kim said.

Ty gave Kim a big bowl of pasta salad dotted with chunks of cheese and brightly colored vegetables, hefted a platter of deviled eggs and a pitcher of lemonade, and led her to the patio.

“Oh, wow.” She put the bowl on a table laid with bright place mats and napkins, cutlery, and glasses. “This is lovely.”

The patio was a simple wooden one, like at his house, but his mom’s planters and hanging baskets overflowed with late-summer blossoms in every shade imaginable. Kim stepped to the railing and gazed out at the garden, her eyes wide. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Close to the house were more flowers, the herb garden, and some fruit trees. Past them, covering more than an acre, were rows of vegetables ranging from radishes to corn, and also strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry plants.

“You can’t possibly eat all of this,” she said. “And it must take so much work.”

“Some of our staff who don’t have gardens help with the work and take what they want in exchange. And we trade with our neighbors. One has a dairy, and from others we get pork, bacon, lamb.”

“You really are self-sufficient.”

A voice from behind them—his dad’s—said, “It’s a good feeling. You must be Kim.”

They both turned, and Kim stepped forward. “Mr. Ronan, thanks for having me over.”

His dad, a silver-haired version of Ty, was dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. “Call me Brand.” He shook her hand.

“Brand? Really? I mean, like on cattle?”

He grinned. “My parents had a sense of humor. Actually, it’s Brandon, but I’m always called Brand.” He studied Kim. “Well now, aren’t you as pretty as one of the butterflies on Betty’s flowers?”

Kim beamed. “You look like Ty, but you’re far more charming.”

Ty groaned, but his dad chuckled. “Comes with age.”

“What’s this I hear about charm?” Ty’s mother came out the kitchen door with a basket of freshly sliced bread and a butter dish. She put them on the table and slipped her arm around her husband’s waist. “You? Charming? How come I never see that side of you?”

He hugged her back. “Are you saying I take you for granted, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she said promptly, and they all laughed.

Twenty-three

T
hey sat around the table, eating with gusto as Kim complimented the food and asked about the garden, the ranch, and the community. Ty liked watching her, her pretty face animated. He tried not to remember the steamy shower they’d shared, for fear his mother would somehow read his mind.

His mom began some not-so-subtle probing, asking Kim about her background. When Kim talked about having lived in Vancouver as a child, his mother said, “It must have been hard on your family, being separated for four years when you were little.”

“Yes, but Mom and Dad are very practical and business-oriented. Mom researched the Vancouver housing market and business laws. Dad came over, and they decided on a couple of buildings in Yaletown. They brought over property managers from our company in Hong Kong and Mom trained them.”

“If they worked for your parents already, weren’t they trained?” his mom asked.

“But there are different laws, business practices, markets, customs.”

“Of course,” his father murmured. “We found that, just coming from Alberta to BC.”

“If your parents had bought property and turned it over to a Vancouver property management firm,” his mother mused, “it would have been easier. But they wouldn’t do that, would they?”

“No. They’re hands-on. No one does things as well as they do.”

His mom gave a firm nod. “I’m sure that’s true.”

It struck Ty that his parents and Kim’s might get along. They had some core values in common: family, hard work, being your own boss.

“You’re in Vancouver to study art,” his mother said, “but you already have a business degree. That’s an unusual combination. What career are you aiming at?”

Kim’s chin lifted. “I hope to start my own business.” She took a breath. “An umbrella company.”

“Umbrella company?” His dad, who hadn’t said much, broke in, scratching his head like the phrase made no sense to him.

“Yeah, Dad, umbrellas,” Ty put in. “They’re the things those city folk who don’t wear cowboy hats have to carry when it’s raining.” When he said the last word, he winked at Kim.

Color brushed her cheeks, telling him that she too was remembering their steamy rain shower.

“And someone has to make them,” his mom said. “But it’s a rather unusual business.”

“Kim’s an unusual woman,” Ty said. “She has a great concept. It combines her artistic talent and her business sense.”

Kim gave him a quick, appreciative smile. “I’m working on a business plan now, so if you have any suggestions I’d love to hear them. It’s called UmbrellaWings and . . .” She went on, quickly and effectively outlining the basic concept.

Ty loved to see her excitement when she discussed her ideas. On his parents’ faces, skepticism turned to interest and then enthusiasm. He couldn’t resist putting his arm around Kim’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze, getting a quick flash of smile in return.

“You’d base the business in Hong Kong?” his mom asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Ty had known that, so why did he feel a bit of his own pleasure fade?

“Well,” his dad said, “I think you’ve got a notion there that just might work.”

“I hope my parents agree. I’ve kind of been groomed to join the family company.”

His parents exchanged glances. “A family business is a good thing,” his mom said. “It’s meaningful.”

“I know.” Kim toyed with the last scraps of bread on her plate.

“What’s for dessert?” Ty asked. Okay, maybe it was a clumsy segue, but he didn’t want his folks pressuring Kim, siding with her parents.

“Plum cobbler,” his mother answered.

Kim moaned, then her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Sorry. That sounds so good.”

His mom rose. “With ice cream?”

“Oh yes, please.” Kim leaped to her feet too and started collecting dishes.

“No, you relax, Kim,” his mom said. “You’re our guest. Brand will help me.”

His father gave a start, then rose. “Right. Of course I will.”

When his parents had gone into the kitchen, Kim said, “They’re talking about me.”

He squeezed her shoulders again. “Kim, you’re great. Like Mom said, relax.”

“I know. I just want them to like me. I don’t want them to think you’re crazy for liking me.” She put her hands to her face and shook her head. “Can you imagine what I’d be like if I was actually someone’s girlfriend, trying to win his parents’ approval?”

He didn’t want her being someone else’s girlfriend. But of course she would be. Some Hong Kong guy’s girlfriend, then his wife. They’d have kids. Cute little black-haired kids. Would she color streak their hair? He sure hoped she married a man who was okay with that.

Whimsy.
She’d used that word, and he’d said it didn’t sound like him. No, he wasn’t the whimsical sort. But she was, and she’d shown him that whimsy brightened life up.

He reached for one of her hands, tugged it down from her face, and intertwined his large fingers with her small ones. “That lucky guy’s parents would be nuts if they didn’t like you.”

She lowered her other hand. “You’re nice. Have I mentioned that?”

“I thought I was hot,” he teased.

Her lips curved, finally. “Nice and hot. Definitely.”

His parents returned then, each carrying two bowls with plum cobbler.

As soon as Kim had taken a bite and complimented the dessert profusely, Ty’s mom asked, “How did you two meet?”

Kim’s eyes widened and met Ty’s. Then her lips twitched the tiniest bit and she said, “My book club was on a research trip. We were reading about ranching. Cattle ranching. Now, Ronan Ranch is so interesting, with the specialty stock too.”

“Yes, it’s quite a mix,” his mom said. “So this research—”

“Like ostriches,” Kim, who rarely interrupted, broke in, shooting Ty a sly look. “They’re so odd-looking and it’s hard to believe you get meat from them. I’m really curious about that.”

His mother stared at Kim.

Ty not so subtly kicked his mom’s foot under the table. If he didn’t rescue Kim, she might ask about baby pictures. “Mom, you’re the ostrich expert. Fill Kim in.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look, then complied. For the rest of the meal, they talked about Ronan Ranch, and Kim spooned up every bite of her cobbler.

He watched that spoon going into her mouth, the way her pink lips parted and she sucked every morsel in with an expression of pleasure. Watching Kim eat dessert was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. When he kissed her, she’d taste like the tartness of plums and the sweetness of ice cream. And he intended to kiss her, long and hard. “Time to go,” he said abruptly. “Thanks for lunch, Mom.”

As he rose and urged Kim to her feet, his mother said, “What do you have planned for this afternoon?”

She couldn’t really read minds. Could she? He tried not to flush. “Thought I’d work with the new rescue horse, the Paint mare.” After he and Kim got some alone time.

As he and Kim walked away from the house, he clasped her hand. There was so much more he wanted to do, but he felt his mom’s eyes on their backs. And then there were ranch hands bustling around the barnyard. Eyes everywhere. No damned privacy.

* * *

K
im had expected to relax once she got away from Ty’s parents’ scrutiny, but there were people working around the barn. Ty raised a hand to them, exchanged a few words of banter, and Kim knew they were all noting the way he clasped her hand. They were thinking “girlfriend,” assessing her, realizing that she didn’t belong here. She wanted to yell, “It’s just temporary!”

Which it was. So why did she feel depressed and disgruntled?

Ty bumped her shoulder gently with his and said quietly, so none of the workers around them could hear, “Congratulations, you survived lunch with my parents. What did you think?”

She took a breath, trying to focus on the simple pleasure of his shoulder against hers, their fingers linked together. “Delicious food, but that’s not what you’re asking.” Her sense of humor returning, she went on. “I have to admit, I was happiest when we were talking about ostriches.”

“Me too. Beats baby pictures.”

They shared a grin. “I’m not letting you off the hook on the life drawing,” she teased.

“We’ll see about that.” He broke off to answer a question from a ranch hand, then said to Kim, “I’m sorry Mom pushed so much.”

“I wish your parents wouldn’t worry. They’re scared I’m another Miranda, but you and I know we’re casual, short term.” Much as Kim might, in her secret heart, yearn for things to be different, they weren’t. Reality was reality, and she and Ty were both realists. In not much more than a month, she’d be gone. Feeling out of sorts again, she said, “Why don’t they believe us?”

“Beats me.”

“Parents always think they know better than us,” she complained. If her parents knew about Ty, they’d be even worse than his. She could hear her mom ranting that the ancestors would roll over in their graves, out there in the countryside where her parents had come from.

“Yeah, and they rarely do.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

Warmth rippled through her and her spirits lifted. Why was she feeling negative? It was a beautiful day and she was with an amazing man. “Anyhow, aside from that, I like your parents. I like how they are with each other, and how all three of you are together. People tease each other, but it’s relaxed and easy. You’re like a team.”

“We are a team.”

They were on the main road now, walking up to his part of the ranch. But they still weren’t alone. They had to move over to the shoulder to let some piece of farm equipment rattle slowly by.

“Your mom may nag you about getting married,” Kim said, “but she doesn’t treat you like a child. My parents still do.”

“Remember that I’ve been away from home, supporting myself, since I was seventeen.”

“My parents would never have let me.”

“Mine weren’t happy about it.”

He’d mentioned this before. “Because they wanted you to ranch rather than rodeo.”

“Yeah, and with my grandparents taking my side . . .” He shook his head. “Things weren’t good. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

Kim couldn’t imagine defying her parents that way. “You succeeded, though. And it was your success that let you buy Ronan Ranch number two. They have to treat you as an equal.”

They moved off the main road and walked toward Ty’s barn, where a horse whinnied as if sensing their presence.

“Once you get UmbrellaWings going,” Ty said, “your parents should do that too. Right?”

“I hope.” They didn’t want her to succeed at anything other than CPM. If she did, would she win their respect? Would they even appraise her business plan with an objective eye? All she could do was hope, prepare the best damned plan she could, and try not to worry.

“Hey,” Ty said. “Alone at last.”

His words, and the shock of dim light after bright sunshine, drew her attention back from her troubling thoughts. They now stood just inside the barn door.

“Alone if you don’t count a couple of horses,” she said, smiling as she guessed what was on his mind.

“They won’t mind.”

“Mind what?” she teased.

“Everything I’ve wanted to do for the past hour, but couldn’t. Woman, d’you realize the way you eat dessert should be illegal?”

She let out a surprised chuckle. All she’d done was spoon up delicious cobbler; it hadn’t occurred to her to try to be sexy. She’d been too nervous, too focused on his parents, particularly his mom, to even think about sex. Now, though . . .

She stretched her body, wriggled her shoulders, moved her head back and forth to ease out the tension. “Whew
.
You’re right, I survived. And we’re alone, cowboy. Tell me about all the things you wanted to do for the past hour.”

“Huh-uh.”

“No?”

“I’m not much of a one for words.” Even in the dim light of the barn, she could see the gleam in his eyes. “I’m a man of action.”

“They do say that actions speak—”

Before she could finish the phrase, his big hands cupped her shoulders, urging her upward as he bent down.

She rose up eagerly, letting everything else slide away except the pure sensuality of the moment, the sheer pleasure of being with Ty. His breath smelled of plums, his lips were warm and firm as they met hers, his tongue licked into her mouth as if he was tasting her. And then more urgently, as if that first taste was addictive.

Talk about addictive. She could never get enough of kissing this man. Or of the press of his solidly muscled chest against her soft breasts, the hard ridge of his erection calling forth a needy feminine ache.

She palmed him through the soft cotton of his shorts, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to see him, caress him, then take him inside her, to stoke that ache until it coiled tighter, higher, then finally broke in waves of satisfaction. “I want you,” she whispered against his lips.

“Hell, yeah. Me too.”

He fumbled with the fastenings of her capris as she slid down his zipper. How convenient that he wore shorts and sandals. So much easier to get out of than jeans and boots.

Reaching inside his underwear, she grasped his shaft greedily, his hot flesh almost searing her palm.

“Shit,” he breathed, “that feels good.”

A horse whinnied from a nearby stall.

“Shit!” Ty said again, this time in a completely different tone. “Someone’s coming.” He pulled away, hurriedly tucking himself back inside his shorts, zipping up, yanking his tee down so it hid the evidence of his arousal.

Meanwhile, Kim, annoyed, did up her capris. She supposed she should thank the horse for its warning, but she was too frustrated to feel grateful.

“You in the barn, Ty?” a voice called. It was his father.

“Yeah,” Ty called back, exchanging a rueful glance with Kim.

She remembered how he’d been dismayed about the way extended families in Hong Kong often lived on top of each other, and she’d commented that Ronan Ranch wasn’t all that different. His parents were proving her point.

A moment later, Brand stepped through the door. “Thought I’d come watch you work with Distant Drummer.”

“Sure, Dad.” Ty’s tone was neutral. He turned to Kim. “Want to watch, or go sketch somewhere else?”