Bad Boy Billionaire: F#cking Jerk 2 Read online

  F#CKING JERK 2, Cowboy Alpha Billionaire Bad Boy

  By

  TAWNY TAYLOR

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  F#cking Jerk 1

  F#cking Jerk 2

  F#cking Jerk 3

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  I hate that f#cking jerk Clay Walker! He’s been making my life a living hell since I was five. He punched my v-card when I was eighteen, and then, stupid me, I let him seduce me out of my panties again last week. If only I could say goodbye to the a**hole for good. But I can’t. You see, I inherited my aunt’s ranch. And guess who’s the ranch foreman? You got it. That f#cking jerk. And he’s out to make me even more miserable than ever.

  Did I mention he's also insanely hot--like, face of an angel and the body of a devil? And he’s learned new wicked, deliciously naughty ways of tormenting me?

  So now there’s me, the good girl, locking horns with the untamed bad boy. And if I lose, I lose everything--my self-respect, my pride. And maybe even my aunt’s estate.

  But I’m no pushover. I’m not going to take any of his shit lying down. Not again.

  Clay Walker, this is war!

  PREVIOUSLY, IN F#CKING JERK 1…

  Hate, hate, hate! I hate that f#cking jerk. So why can’t I stop thinking about him? Dreaming about him? Fantasizing about him?

  Arrogant asshole. Cocky prick. That’s Clay Walker. I’ve known him since I was five, and he’s gone out of his way to make my life a living hell since. He even tricked me into letting him punch my v-card. I thought when I graduated from high school and left BFE Nowhere for greener pastures I’d said goodbye to the a**hole for good. But I should’ve known better. I'm not that lucky. You see, I inherited my aunt’s ranch. And guess who’s been running the ranch for the past four years? You got it. That f#cking jerk is out to make me even more miserable than ever.

  Did I mention he's panty-melting hot? And since I’ve last seen him, he’s learned new ways of tormenting me…wicked, deliciously naughty ways.

  So now there’s me, the responsible, business-minded good girl locking horns with the untamed bad boy. What's the worst that can happen, right?

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  SAMPLE

  “Clay,” I whispered, my voice low and husky. It sounded more like an invitation than what I’d intended—a warning. Or maybe a plea.

  He dipped his head lower and brushed his lips across mine. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve tasted this mouth. I’ve been hoping, waiting, wishing I would have a chance to taste it again.”

  A tiny groan rumbled in my throat. Resist. I had to resist. I couldn’t fall for his charm again. Could not.

  I pressed both palms against his chest. It was so hard. And broad. Deep crevasses cut between the bulge of his muscles. My fingertips traced them, meeting in the center. His heartbeat thumped beneath my hands, fast and hard, just like mine. “Clay, we can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” He sealed his mouth to mine, and the world spun. Memories flashed in my head. Lazy summers. Kisses. Longing. Love. His tongue slipped into my mouth, exploring, claiming, conquering. He rolled, one leg resting across mine, his body leaning heavily on me. His heat seeped into my pores and thundered through my body. Blazes ignited. My nipples hardened. My center burned.

  I wanted him. His kiss. His touch.

  No, I needed it. God help me, I needed it.

  But if I let myself trust him again, would he finish what he started all those years ago? Would he take my fractured heart and crush it into a million tiny fragments?

  Chapter 1

  “You asshole!”

  I couldn’t help myself. I threw my fists at that cocky face, determined to turn it into face-burger.

  So maybe this wasn’t the time or place for a fist fight. And maybe I was making a total ass of myself. Okay, not maybe. I was making a total ass of myself. After all, it was a bright and shiny Monday morning and I was standing in the middle of the Pronghorn Holdings’ lobby. A lobby full of people.

  So what? I was furious. And why was that? Because I’d just learned from my aunt’s attorney that I was on the verge of losing everything.

  And it was all his fault.

  His. Clay Walker. The scumbag who was trying to steal my inheritance.

  He was going to pay for this. Dearly.

  Between swings at his irritating, infuriatingly gorgeous face, I yelled, “I know what you’re doing—trying to make me give up so you can get the ranch and everything else. Well, it won’t work. Because I’m on to you now.”

  “Whoa!” the asshole said, shielding himself with his arms. “Wait a minute!” He clamped his hands around my wrists to stop me from pummeling him. “I’m not trying to make you give up. I’m trying to help you.”

  That was so funny!

  He was trying to help me? Did he think I was a total moron?

  Yes, he probably did think I was stupid enough to believe his lies.

  Fatal mistake.

  I wasn’t an idiot. I had a bachelor’s degree. I even graduated with honors. And I wasn’t just book smart, either. The kid of a piss-poor single mom, I’d had to be street smart too.

  So yeah, Clay Walker wasn’t dealing with some flighty airhead. This girl had lots of gray matter between her ears.

  I yanked my wrists out of his grip and gave him a death glare. “I don’t need your brand of ‘help’, thank you very much,” I said, making air quotes around the word help.

  “Okay.” Wearing a dark suit coat and crisp white shirt, instead of his usual grimy plaid shirt and well-fitting jeans, Clay lifted his hands in surrender. But I knew it was just for show. Clay Walker never surrendered to anyone, especially me. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Fine.” He took a step back and folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

  Another lie. That was all that came out of this man’s mouth. Lies. He had no intention of doing what I wanted. Absolutely none.

  I was re
ady to call his bluff.

  “Hand over everything. Today. Now,” I demanded. “It’s mine. My aunt. My inheritance. My ranch. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Clay’s expression changed, from haughty to somewhat apologetic. He motioned with a hand. “Can we go into my office and talk about this? In private?”

  Was he worried about soiling his pristine reputation? Well, tough shit. I wanted everyone to know how this man operated. He stole from people. He was a scammer. A thief. A wolf in…fucking designer clothing.

  Of course he could afford tailored suits. He ripped people off. How else could a guy who’d been practically penniless four years ago become a millionaire?

  I’d done a little research into his company. It (he) owned thousands and thousands of acreage, not just in the Dawson area but also in Montana and the Dakotas too.

  He had so much, more than I’d ever have in a lifetime. He was crazy rich. And I owned a shitty car that didn’t run half the time…and…well, outside of my clothes, that was it.

  Why did he need my ranch too? Why?

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you. We can talk here.”

  He swung an arm toward the grouping of chairs in the room’s corner. “Then, can I at least offer you a seat?”

  I looked at the chairs then at him. I shrugged and ambled to the chairs and dropped into one. Then I cocked a brow at him. Well?

  He sat, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I can’t give you the ranch.” Hey, for once he was being honest. He didn’t make an empty promise. I had to give him credit for that much, even if I didn’t like what he was saying. “I’ve already talked to your aunt’s attorney. He said if I refuse to adhere to the conditions of the will, everything goes to a charity.”

  “Why?”

  He actually looked as bewildered as I felt. “I don’t know. Sandee never talked to me about the will. Before she died she only asked me to stay on and help you.”

  “Well, shit!” I slapped my upper thighs. This was so frustrating. I didn’t understand any of it. Why would my aunt do this to me? “Why did she make this so damn complicated?”

  “I wondered the same thing,” he said to his clasped hands.

  Why wasn’t he looking me in the eye?

  Lies. More lies.

  “You know more than you’re telling,” I challenged, feeling tears starting to gather. Dammit, I didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not in front of Clay Walker. In his stupid fancy Victorian building, with the stupid fancy chairs, and him wearing his stupid fancy suit. I just wanted what was rightfully mine. Why was that such a big deal?

  If I lost this ranch…I didn’t even want to think about it.

  Ironic. When I’d first come to Dawson, Wyoming, I’d been really bummed. I’d left behind all my friends, my school, my life…everything …to live in Nowheresville, USA. But since then I’d come to realize this ranch was everything to me. It was my family’s past.

  And it was my future.

  “No, I swear I don’t know any more than I’ve told you.”

  “Whatever.” I sighed hard. What could I do? How would I salvage this? I needed to get control. Of the costs. Of my head…and heart. Of everything. “There’s nothing in the will that says I can’t fire you, right?”

  “Right. But you don’t want to do that, Morgan.”

  Of course he’d say that. “Because then you won’t be able to fuck me up?” I asked, laughing. God, he was so transparent.

  “No. I haven’t tried to fuck you up.”

  Really? Was he serious? Since I’d come back to Dawson all he’d done was fuck with my head. At first he was just crude and disrespectful. And then, when I (being a total sucker) started to have some doubts about him being a total jackass, I’d accepted an invitation to dinner and the snake sweet-talked me right out of my panties. And then he’d thrown me aside for some slut. “You haven’t gone out of your way to mess with my head since I’ve come back? Are you suggesting you’ve been treating me like shit just because you’re an asshole?”

  “Maybe it looks that way to you, that I’ve been treating you like shit. And I get why you would think that. But it isn’t true. I haven’t. Not intentionally.”

  I let my jaw drop. “Do you really think I’m going to believe that?” I asked, absolutely flabbergasted. I didn’t even understand how this man’s brain worked.

  “I hoped you would.”

  “Nope.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder. “You’re out. Done. You don’t need the money I’m paying you. And I don’t need you.”

  “All right.” He hesitated for a moment but said nothing before standing. “Good luck, Morgan. Really. I mean it.”

  “Good riddance!” I stood, looped my handbag over my shoulder, and tromped out of Clay’s building and his life.

  I had no idea what my aunt was thinking when she wrote her will. I always believed she loved me. But after everything I’d dealt with since coming back to Dawson, I wasn’t sure how she felt anymore.

  Was her real wish that the money and property go to charity? Was that what she ultimately wanted?

  If only I could ask her!

  As I plunked down in my rusty beater, I decided there was no reason to sit around, wishing for the impossible. Aunt Sandee sure wasn’t going to be resurrected from the dead and tell me what the hell she’d been thinking. And I couldn’t change the situation.

  So I was going to have to make the best of it.

  That, I could do, I decided as I drove back home. I could play the game. Play it fair. And win the prize.

  I’d already made one giant leap in the right direction. I’d fired Clay. Now it wouldn’t be so easy for him to undermine me.

  I turned down the ranch’s long driveway, gravel crackling and crunching under the tires. I parked.

  Uh…Where was the crew?

  No trucks were packed into the dirt parking area in front of the barn like they had been when I left.

  No beautiful cowboys were saddling up the horses or repairing the fences or tinkering with the broken equipment.

  Where the hell was everyone?

  I checked my watch. It was almost eight-thirty. They’d all been here before I’d talked to Clay. I hadn’t been gone that long. Why did they all leave?

  The steer were making a racket, probably pissed off about their empty food and water troughs.

  Strange.

  But there was no time to think about the hows and whys. I had hungry animals to feed and water. After dashing inside to change into work clothes, I ran to the barn to start my chores.

  Ten hours later, I practically crawled across the lawn to the house. I was dirty, sweaty, and exhausted. I hadn’t eaten at all. Not since breakfast—before I’d driven into town. But I didn’t care. I was too tired to feel hungry. I stumbled into the bathroom, scrubbed off the grime, and then fell into bed.

  Tomorrow my help would be back. Right? None of them had come back today because of some kind of mixed signals. They’d thought they had the rest of the day off. Maybe it was some holiday I’d never heard about. National Cowboy Day or something.

  Yeah.

  I blinked.

  My body was heavy.

  The room was a fucking oven, the air hot and stale. But I didn’t care.

  My head was on a pillow, and my body was horizontal.

  And…

  Fucking rooster!

  That was it. Elvis was going in the pot!

  I jerked upright and slapped my hands over my bleary eyes. The sun! Shit! It was scorching my retinas.

  Tears turning the world into a watercolor, I stumbled into the bathroom. By the time I exited, my vision was clearer, my stomach was rumbling, and I was ready to get to work. Outside, the sound of hungry steer made me rush to stuff a couple of pieces of toast into my mouth. I threw on a pair of shorts, a worn out t-shirt and Aunt Sandee’s boots then clomped out to the barn, checking the parking lot for signs of life on the way.

  One t
ruck was parked in the lot.

  One.

  And I knew who it belonged to.

  What the hell was going on? Where were all my pretty, strong cowboys?

  I stomped into the barn, determined to find out.

  Clay was working on Rocket’s stall door, which was about to fall off its hinges. I gave him some serious get-lost mean eyes but he didn’t see them because his back was to me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, sounding exasperated. “And where’s the rest of the crew?”

  “I came here to talk to you,” he said as he stroked Rocket’s velvety muzzle.

  “Talk about what?” I strolled around to his side to glare at his profile. His was the last face I imagined I would see this morning. “I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about…unless you want to explain why my parking lot is empty.” I jabbed my index finger in the general direction of the parking area.

  He finally turned to face me. “Sorry to tell you this, but if you don’t hire me back, you’ll be working the ranch on your own.”

  “Bastard!” I screamed. Everything went red. And fury raced through my body, burning like acid. “What did you do? Call them all and tell them not to come?”

  “Well, yes. They work for me, after all. That’s the arrangement I made with Sandee. It has to be that way. I go; they go.”

  “What?”

  “I. Go. They. Go.”

  What the hell? I was so furious I wanted to punch him in that smug face. “What kind of asinine arrangement is that? Why don’t they work directly for the ranch? I never heard of such thing.”

  “It’s an arrangement the boys need and have to keep. So if you want them, you gotta hire me back.”

  “Over my dead body,” I raged. There was no way I was going to allow Clay Walker to blackmail me into letting him come back. No way!

  “Suit yourself.” Clay waved a hand, scratching Rocket’s neck with the other. He gave the horse one last pat and brushed past me toward the door. A tiny electric arc buzzed between us.

  I ignored it and jerked up my head.

  So be it. If that was the way it had to be, I’d find another way to get the help I needed. “I’m sure I can find some other men to hire. They can’t be the only men in this godforsaken town who need jobs.” Even as I said those rash, brave words, I started having doubts. Dawson was not the booming metropolis from which I’d come. It was a dusty town with a shrinking population. There was a decent chance that those men were the only ones in need of a job.