Diary of a Bad Boy(59)

Mission Tempt Roark is in full motion as the car comes to a stop. I hold my breath as we step forward. The door to the car opens, and my dad and I stop in our pursuit as Roark falls out the back, small bottles tumbling to the concrete with him as he clutches the biggest bottle of Jameson I’ve ever seen.

Oh, Roark.

I glance at my dad, who has a very disappointed look on his face. He places his hand on my shoulder, silently telling me to stay where I am as he makes his way toward the drunk man in our driveway.

Roark looks up, pushing his black Ray-Bans off his eyes, and gives my dad a crooked smile. “Fosterrrr,” he draws out, “I made it.”

He struggles to get up, but when he does, he leans against the car and holds his bottle of whiskey like a baby. For once, Roark’s signature hot combination of skinny jeans and a snug-fitting Henley look out of place, as if he was plucked straight from a nightclub in New York City and transplanted here. Which he probably was. His beard is thicker, untrimmed, and from where his glasses have lifted up, I can see dark circles under his eyes, heavy and bold.

Looks like Maddie was right. He’s hurting worse than I am, which is good to know. Or he simply resorted to what he likes best.

“Have you been drinking all day?” my dad asks, his voice booming.

Not even caring, Roark nods. “Yup.” He holds up his hand. “But don’t worry”—he sways to the side—“I didn’t get into one fight.”

Stepping forward, my dad’s powerful shoulders flex as he reaches out and snatches the bottle of alcohol from Roark. “You can’t have this here.”

Roark leans backward. “The kids aren’t here, yet. Consider it a welcoming gift.”

“I don’t mean on the ranch. I mean in this county.”

Roark’s brow pinches tougher. “What?”

Roark is in for a very rude awakening. I’m almost giddy as I try to hide my smile.

“It’s a dry county. There are very few in Texas, but the ranch falls within one of those county’s lines, which means no alcohol.”

Roark’s eyes widen. “No alcohol?”

“No.” My dad holds out his hand and says, “And no smoking either. Hand them over.”

“What? No smoking here either?” Roark looks around, the bright sun causing him to pull his sunglasses back up. “What kind of straight-laced county is this?”

“The no smoking is my rule. Now hand them over.”

Reaching into his back pocket, Roark pulls out a packet of cigarettes and places them in my dad’s hand. What is Roark going to do without his “accessories”?

Maybe actually clean up a little.

Nodding toward the car, my dad says, “Grab your luggage. Sutton will show you to your room while I dispose of this crap. You are to take a shower, sober up, and get ready for some hard work. We need an extra pair of hands to get the chores done before dinner.”

“Chores?”

My dad nods. “Did you think this was a vacation? Far from it.” He leans forward and gets into Roark’s face. “You just entered hell, and you’re about to get yourself cleaned up, whether you like it or not. You’re a good guy, Roark. It’s about time you start reaching your full potential.”

Muttering something under his breath, Roark takes his suitcase from the driver and starts walking toward the house, and that’s when his eyes focus on me for the first time. His step stutters and his eyes rake me up and down from under his sunglasses, his lips parting open ever so slightly. Just the sort of reaction I was looking for.

Putting on a cheery smile, I say, “This way, Roark.”

I spin on my boots and give him a good sway as I make my way in the house. I hold the door open for him and guide him up the stairs. I glance back a few times and find him struggling to keep a straight line as his eyes are fixed directly on my butt.

Maddie was so freaking right.

This is going to be fun.

When we reach his room, I open the door and gesture inside. “This is where you’ll be staying.” I point to the door across from his, and even though he’s staring at my breasts, I keep talking. “My room is right across from yours. We’re sharing the bathroom right there. Make sure you knock before coming in.”

“Knock, sure, got it.”

He leans against the wall, looking absolutely exhausted. Did he get any sleep last night? From the looks of it, he didn’t.

“I suggest you take a shower like Dad said and get some coffee in you. It’s going to be a long afternoon if you don’t. Everything you need is on your bed. Welcome to the ranch.”

I start to walk away when he grabs my arm to stop me.

Just to drive him crazy, I whip my head around and smile brightly at him. “Yes, is there something else?”

“Sutton,” he grumbles. “I’m . . . I’m.”

I reach up and pat him on the cheek. “Don’t sweat it, Roark. Let me know if you need anything.”

I pull away and walk down the stairs, leaving him with a confused look on his face and an untapped desire in his eyes.





Do not snort!

You’re only going to make it worse.

Oh man, it’s so hard not to though. I’ve never seen a man struggle so hard in my life. Barely sober, looking wrecked, Roark lifts another hay bale over and attempts to chuck it onto the truck bed, missing once again.