Chapter 35 Asserting Herself
Her voice, usually modulated and precise for boardroom presentations, was ragged and sharp as she marched purposely toward him, stopping several steps away from the truck. She crossed her arms and stood waiting.
Ryder pushed open the door of the RAM truck and slipped out. He casually moved to the fender and leaned against it. He didn't answer. His silence was another act of calculated control, and it grated against her already frayed nerves.
“Don’t just stand there like a statue!” she demanded, taking a furious step toward him and gesturing with flailing arms. “I asked you a question. Why did you feel the need to follow me? Did you think I needed protecting? Did you think I couldn’t handle myself?”
Ryder crossed his arms without responding.
She waved an arm in the direction of Kingman. “That was a gross display of archaic, territorial masculinity! I am not property, Ryder! You don’t get to march in and choke someone just because they said something crass to me!”
His eyes, the color of weathered river stones, stayed locked on hers. He had made up his mind about the encounter and was entirely unrepentant.
“And what about what you said?” Sierra continued, the memory of his defense surprisingly stinging amidst her anger. She changed her tone, mocking the masculine sound of his voice. “ ‘The truth is, she’s one of the most intelligent, most successful people I know.’ You called me successful! After battling with me, rejecting every idea I've had. Mocking my attempts to save this ranch, you suddenly decide to defend my character to the sleaziest man in Kingman? What were you trying to do, fix my reputation? I don’t need you to fix anything!”
She felt the flush crawling up her neck. Her arguments were becoming circular, fueled less by logic and more by a desperate need to reclaim the agency he had stripped from her. She was the Junior Partner at a major Manhattan marketing firm; she handled hostile negotiations that would make Garrett Talbot weep. She didn’t need some cowboy to waltz in, guns blazing and fists flying, to defend her honor.
His jaw stayed set and square. He didn't give off the slightest indication that he was repentant or taken aback by her assault.
“In fact, you made things worse!” she accused, jabbing a finger toward his chest, hoping to drive some sort of reaction from him. She stopped short, the air thick between them. “He was implying a certain relationship between us, rolling in the hay, and you proved him right! You stepped in, acting like a jealous proprietor, sending a clear signal to everyone in that diner that Sierra Quinn is yours!”
She spat the word out, hateful and heavy. “I am not yours, Ryder Marsh. I never was. And I certainly don’t need some primal display of dominance to remind me that I’m a weak little ranch girl who needs some big, strong boy to fight her battles!”
Ryder finally shifted, pushing off the truck, taking a deliberate step closer. He didn’t raise his voice, but his action forced her to stop her tirade and hold her ground.
“If you're done, I've got work to do,” he announced, his voice low, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate only for her.
“No! I am not done!” she insisted, though her energy was draining rapidly against the granite wall of his calm. “I don’t need the complexity of you suddenly deciding I require a protector. I don’t need the reminder of old history or whatever this is that makes you want to lay claim to me.”
She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of his physical presence. He carried the ranch with him, the subtle musk of leather oil, the dry, clean scent of the Arizona air, and something uniquely his, robust and demanding. His quiet intensity was overwhelming. She had tried to frame the argument as a fight for her independence, but standing this close, the true source of her turmoil became impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t the rescue that outraged her; it was the sheer, overwhelming relief she had felt when his hand tightened around Garrett’s neck. It was the undeniable truth that, for that brief, terrifying moment, she was utterly safe, protected by a man who looked like he was carved out of the same stone as the mesas surrounding them.
Her anger was a desperate defense mechanism against the wave of raw, primitive desire that washed over her whenever he exerted control. The way his jaw was set, the intensity in his eyes as he absorbed her rage without flinching, the sheer, unrelenting masculinity of him.
“I heard every word you said, Sierra,” he responded in a neutral tone. “You’ve made your position perfectly clear.”
The silence that followed was charged like before a thunderstorm. Sierra found her gaze dropping from his intense eyes to the strong column of his throat, then to his mouth. Before her brain could process the catastrophic level of irrationality involved, her body moved. The surge of adrenaline from the confrontation, combined with the confusing mix of gratitude and burning resentment toward Ryder, culminated in a single, explosive impulse.
She closed the small gap separating them, stepping directly into his personal space, and planted her hands on the rugged denim covering his chest. Rising onto her tiptoes, forcing the issue, her lips met his with a sudden, forceful urgency, driven by a furious need to either destroy the tension or accept it entirely.
For a fraction of a second, Ryder was stunned by the abrupt shift from verbal assault to physical demand. Then, the shock melted away, replaced by an equally intense. He dropped his crossed arms, his massive hands clamping onto her waist and pulling her into him and slightly off the ground. Ryder kissed her with a hunger that spoke of years of restraint and unspoken attraction.
Sierra’s hands reached around his neck, raw, electric heat spreading through her body. Her argument vaporized under the weight of his kiss. She melted into him, forgetting everything that had been in her mind.
Just as her world narrowed down to the sound of their ragged breathing and the dizzying pressure of their mouths, an awkward, throat-clearing sound came from the corner of the barn. Ryder pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers, both of them gasping slightly. He didn't release her waist, keeping her anchored firmly against him.
Sierra’s eyes fluttered open. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips tingling. She turned her head slightly to find Cody standing at the corner of the barn, looking anywhere but at them.
“I don’t mean to interrupt whatever ranch business you two are discussing,” Cody drawled in a casual tone. “But Dad has been asking for Si all morning.”