A/N: So yeah, I'm a tease, cutting off the chapter that way. Plus, Puck, right? Whatever will I do with Puck, now that he's made an appearance on the scene? Well, if nothing else, Mr. Puckerman is good for adding a little hotness to the story.

For those of you who have taken the time to review, or to pick this story as a favorite, or alert for updates, I want to thank you. It is nice to get this stuff out of my head, but it is even nicer to know that others appreciate it. If you like the story, please review. If you have a suggestion, please review. If you want for Finn to dance naked on Schue's bar, please review. Well, I can't promise the last one, but you get the idea. LOL.

Oh, and I'm apologizing for making you wait so long for an update – real life got in the way again. Hopefully the next chapter will come sooner.

You know the drill – Glee isn't mine. Boo.

Rated T, until further notice.

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Finn watched her nervously wringing her hands in front of her hips, and she blew his world apart when she quietly asked him, "Why did you stop?"

Of all the things she could have said or done in that moment, quite possibly nothing could have surprised him more.

He expected consequences for his ungentlemanly behavior. A slap, perhaps, or maybe a well-deserved insult slung his way. But to see her standing there, looking equal parts innocence and luscious sensuality, asking him why he stopped mauling her…it was just too much for him.

"What the hell do you mean," he growled, "why did I stop?"

"Was it," she paused, and slowly her gaze rose to meet his, "Was I not good? At the kissing, I mean? Or the…um," her blush was sudden and fierce, "the other part, was it not enjoyable?"

He felt his jaw drop; he felt himself standing there looking like a trout out of water and yet was still too shocked to form a coherent response. The blood still pounded through his veins, the urge to throw her over his shoulder and haul her to his bedroom was charging through his mind, and she was asking him whether she was a good kisser.

"You," she began hesitantly, "you seemed to enjoy my attentions," Finn felt like a low-down snake when he noticed tears glittering in her eyes. "I see," she nodded resolutely when he failed to respond, and reached for the package he had abandoned on the entryway table, "it wasn't a good idea for me to come here. I apologize for the…"

Her voice faded out as Finn slowly approached her. If he had seen himself, the rolling, loose-limbed gait he employed as he circled her, he would have recognized himself from years of hunting predators on the plains.

He was stalking her.

"Why did you come here Rachel?" was that his voice? It sounded deeper than usual.

"I told you," she turned in circles to follow him as he paced around her, "I came to say thank you."

"Hmmm," he hummed ambiguously, "did you intend to kiss me?"

A crimson blush stole high across her cheekbones and he almost smiled as fire lit her gaze, "Do I need to remind you, Mr. Hudson," he hid another smile at her emphasis on his formal name, "that it was you who kissed me? After you rubbed up against me in a most inappropriate manner outside?"

It was Finn's turn to blush, but he continued with his interrogation, "I didn't hear you protest then," he murmured silkily, "and I didn't hear you protest just now. In fact, since you just asked me why I stopped, am I to assume that you enjoyed my attentions?"

He had stopped behind her, and brushed the silky tendrils of her hair that had escaped the confining updo away from the soft skin of her neck. Her shudder sent an answering thrill down his spine.

"I…" her voice trailed off when he placed a soft kiss at the nape of her neck.

"I stopped," he whispered into the shell of her ear, "because this isn't the way a gentleman treats a lady," he dropped another kiss on the soft skin of her cheek, inhaling her scent subtly, "I stopped because I wanted nothing more than to drag you into my room and help you shed that innocence that you carry around so enticingly. And we haven't spoken of our intentions. We are not a married couple. Would you have given away yourself so easily to a man you barely know, against the door of his home?"

"What makes you think I'm an innocent?" her voice trembled, but she covered it admirably, "What makes you think I don't travel the countryside, seducing innocent ranchers in their homes?"

He smirked, though she couldn't see it, and relished her gasp as he simultaneously nipped her earlobe and bent to grind his hips against hers from behind, "I can tell by the way you respond to me that you're not like Miss Emma's girls," his hips continued a slow assault against her body but he purposely didn't touch her with his hands, "Everything about you is so soft and fresh. I…"

Finn jumped back from Rachel suddenly as the front door swung open. Bright sunlight flooded the entryway, and Finn found himself equal parts furious and thankful for the interruption.

"Finn, Rachel's horse is…" Puck took one look at Rachel's ragged breathing and flushed skin and jumped to, what Finn realized with a grimace, was the correct conclusion.

"You son of a bitch," Puck snarled, not noticing Rachel's flinch at his use of vulgar language.

Finn noticed. He noticed everything about Rachel, it seemed.

"She's a lady," Puck's voice was a low snarl, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Noah," Rachel's voice was low and sultry, and she cleared her throat a few times, "Noah, its fine."

Finn found himself having to stem his visceral reaction to the calming hand she laid on Puck's arm. He wanted to rip the lucky appendage off and beat the foreman to death with it.

"Noah," Finn stood motionless, his own breathing harsh as he watched Rachel try to soothe the shorter man, "it is fine. Mr. Hudson and I were coming to an understanding," she said diplomatically.

Puck wasn't buying it, Finn knew. The two men were locked in a contest of wills, staring into each others' eyes; each man daring the other to give up first. Neither looked to be a likely candidate.

"Would you please help me Noah?" the change in her voice was subtle, but Finn noticed it. She had gone from soothing to almost pouting. Pleading.

And in that moment, Finn realized that maybe Rachel Berry wasn't quite as innocent as he thought her to be. She had sure pegged, and manipulated, Puck's knight-in-shining-armor complex from word one.

She was physically innocent, of that much Finn was sure. Her guileless reactions to his unwitting seduction had told him as much. But something in those eyes was wiser than her nineteen years, and Finn found himself wondering what kind of life she had endured that she instinctively knew how to play on the emotions of a womanizing cowhand like Noah Puckerman.

"Ma'am?" Noah tipped his hat in a completely uncharacteristic display of chivalry, "I'd be absolutely delighted to assist you in any way you might need."

Finn barely suppressed a growl at the obvious double entendre Puck had just thrown her way. If that runt thought for one minute he could touch Rachel…

She simply ignored the double meaning of the foreman's words, and Finn watched as she handed her heavy saddlebag to Puck, "I would appreciate it if you could help me locate the kitchen, Noah."

"The kitchen?" Puck's voice reflected the confusion Finn felt. What could she possibly want with the kitchen? Was she going to burn down his house? She didn't appear insane.

Her gaze swung briefly to his and Finn felt it like a punch to the gut. Her once warm brown gaze had gone frigid. "Mr. Hudson, I will call you when I have completed my thank you gift. Then I'll be out of your hair. Permanently."

As she looped her arm through Puck's Finn felt a jolt of jealousy. Watching the arrogant cowboy swagger towards the kitchen with Rachel on his arm, Finn felt a part of his heart breaking. Why was he always such an idiot around women? He knew how to handle a woman physically, but emotionally he was at a loss. How did he always seem to mess up anything good that life threw at him? He had only been trying to protect her, ironically enough, from himself.

Instead he'd driven her into the arms of the most notorious Romeo in the territory.

Snatching his hat off the floor where it had fallen, he forcefully replaced it on his head and slammed out the front door. If she gave in to Puck's advances, she deserved whatever fate brought her way.

Keep telling yourself that, a little voice inside his head mocked. Finn sighed, squinting into the bright sunlight.

There was work to be done, and since he was out the labor of one pissed off foreman, he figured he should get started.

He very resolutely kept his gaze off the kitchen window, and his mind off whatever the two of them might be up to.

Rachel allowed Puck to lead her into a large, open kitchen area with a great view of the outdoor pen, where a once-again-shirtless-Finn was furiously pounding a fencepost into the ground.

Gulping against the sudden dryness in her throat, she turned to meet Noah's bemused gaze.

"So," he drawled knowingly, "you wanted him to treat you like one of Miss Emma's girls."

Hearing a scandalized gasp, Rachel turned and met the shocked gaze of an older, plump, white-haired woman.

"Noah!" she groaned, and shoved him hard in the ribs.

"Hello!" she turned her most charming smile on the woman who was still looking quite close to swooning, "I'm Rachel Berry. I'm a…um…friend of Mr. Hudson's."

The woman nodded, shaking Rachel's hand half-heartedly.

"He asked me to give you the rest of the day off," the older woman's eyes perked up at the news, "with pay."

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Berry," the woman said, her demeanor suddenly welcoming, "I'm Miss Smith, the cook and housekeeper. I've done the cleaning for the day, only the cooking left for the night."

Rachel nodded, "enjoy your time off, Miss Smith."

She and Noah watched as the rounded figure practically ran from the house. Rachel watched as Finn gave the woman a confused look and a farewell wave. She ducked out of sight when he turned towards the window.

"Why the hell did you send her away, Rachel?" Noah's voice was almost whiny, "We've got fifteen hungry ranch hands to feed, including the boss and myself."

"I'll take care of it Noah," Rachel patted his arm gently, trying to ignore the steely strength she felt beneath his shirtsleeve. She wondered idly if there was some biological reason for her sudden fascination with the male form.

He nodded tersely and she noticed his pointed glance at where her hand was unknowingly stroking his arm; she jerked her hand back like she was burned.

He laughed, and the sound warmed her. She didn't feel the same fiery burning in her gut she felt around Finn, but Noah was very attractive and seemed to be a nice enough man.

"You don't spend much time around men, do you sugar?" she frowned momentarily at the term of endearment, but dismissed it as something he must do with all women.

Rachel considered his question as she began unloading ingredients from her saddlebag onto the large counters.

"Only every night of the week when I sing for them," she kept her tone as sarcasm-free as possible.

His laugh again filled the room, "I don't mean performing, sugar," he leaned in closer, and she could see the flecks of gold dancing in his hazel eyes, "I mean up close and personal."

Rachel adeptly sidestepped his advance, and began mixing ingredients in a large ceramic bowl. She felt his eyes on her as she quickly created dough and began pounding her fist into the mixture.

Pausing in her task, she met his gaze steadily, "I sell a fantasy, Noah," she said with a sigh and a punch to the bowl, "I get up there every night, and to those men, I'm that woman they can't have. I'm the girl who got away, or the one they always wanted but could never approach. And I'm singing to them. Just to them, of course," she smirked, "like they're the only one in the crowd."

She shrugged.

"I'm not all that different from Santana, or Brittany, or Tina. It's only what I sell that's different. I'm still selling me, you know?" She grumbled then, "I'm not the lady that everyone supposes me to be."

"Bullshit," he spat and she gasped again at his language.

"You see that?" he muttered, "Brittany giggles when I curse. San and Tina don't even notice. You're a lady. You deserve to be treated like one. The last thing I expected to find when I walked through that door was Finn with his hands all over you."

"Maybe I wanted his hands on me," she said quietly, extracting some vegetables and a knife from her bag and handing them to him.

"Maybe," he conceded, chopping at the vegetables expertly, "but he's man enough to know better. And after what went down with the Ice Princess, I'm kind of surprised he had the guts to try it."

"Ice Princess?" she paused in her violent kneading and turned to face him, "tell me about her."

"Ah yes," Puck growled, "The lovely, gold-digging, queen of chastity that was one Miss Quinn Fabray."

And Rachel listened to his husky baritone weave a story of lies and betrayal, as she continued preparing her thank you gift for Mr. Hudson.

Finn frowned when he heard the dinner bell ring at 4:00 as usual. He knew Miss Smith had left earlier in the day and he hadn't seen her return.

Not that he was complaining, he thought, wiping the sweat from his brow and slinging his workshirt over his shoulders, not bothering to button the front. He could eat a whole steer by himself at this point.

It was unusually hot for the autumn in Montana territory. Finn wasn't fooled by the Indian summer. He knew the first snow was just around the corner. That's why completing the work around the ranch was so vital – soon enough no one would be able to do much of anything outdoors.

He saw the other hands filing into the bunkhouse to wash up for supper. Finn alone slept in the large ranch home. He had hoped that by this time it would be filled with a wife and children eagerly awaiting his return. But it seemed, like most things he planned, that goal would remain out of reach.

He really had believed he could have fallen in love with Miss Fabray. He hadn't loved her, to be sure, but he liked her. They held common interests, or so he had thought. They made a great match and he had hoped that love would blossom in time, as happened with most marriages.

But then…that Yankee had showed up out of nowhere and stolen Miss Fabray's heart as well as dangled immense sums of money in front of her aptly green eyes.

Finn should have known that a deeper pocket book was all that was really needed to turn her attentions away. And it stung, honestly, quite a bit. It is one thing to know that you're not the man of a woman's dreams, but to have it spelled out for you in such detail was humiliating.

"Mr. Hudson, you're such a nice man," she had sneered, her emphasis on the word 'nice' leading him to believe she meant 'simple,' "but I need more than what you can give. Your offer of marriage would be more attractive if you were more attractive to me. I honestly can't stand even one more night of your company. You're too…large and ungainly. Your hands are too rough from work. And you are not nearly as wealthy as the man my father has found for me."

A New Yorker. Finn snorted as he splashed cool water on his face and used a washrag to clean the sweat from his body. He just bet her new fiancé had lily-white skin, hands as soft as a baby's bottom and had never put in an honest day's work in his life.

And now…now he found that the sting of her rejection had lessened somewhat. He had no illusions about the cause of this welcome development. It was Rachel. The beautiful woman who had come to thank him for helping her and received an all-out assault for her trouble.

Shaking his head as he put on clean clothes, Finn sadly admitted to himself that he had likely chased away the one woman who had ever made him feel…anything…beyond lust. Not that there wasn't lust. His body tingled and tightened as he recalled the feel of her body in his arms and her lips against his.

Oh, yeah. There was lust.

But he felt a deep need to honor and protect her as well. And that was new for him. It was probably for the best then that he had messed things up so early on. That way he couldn't be disappointed when she left him for some rich guy later.

Walking down the hall towards the dining room, he heard the raucous clapping and singing of his men. And overlaid on top of the din, he heard that sweet angelic voice he so loved from Schue's…singing the dirtiest song that he could imagine.

Stomping into the room, he felt all the eyes of his men settle upon his face.

They must have read the fury in his eyes because they all stopped whatever they were doing and just stared.

All except for Puck, who was currently two-stepping around his dining room with Rachel, twirling her as they both grinned widely and Rachel sang on about some man's large endowments.

Finn cleared his throat loudly and they whirled to a halt.

"Finn," Puck greeted cheerfully, keeping a noticeably proprietary hand on Rachel's waist.

"Mr. Hudson," Rachel was much more subdued than the foreman, refusing to meet his gaze.

"That was an…interesting song you were singing Rachel," Finn walked over to the pair and with a pointed glare at Puck, took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, leading her to the table.

"Santana taught it to me," she murmured, staring at him.

"No doubt," he heard Puck snicker.

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" Finn ignored Puck and his men for the time being. It wouldn't be a good thing to lose his temper in front of Rachel.

"Sort of," she withdrew her hand and smiled at him, gesturing widely to the dining room, "this is my thank you."

"Staying for dinner is your thank you?" he furrowed his brow, "Then you might not have wanted to chase Miss Smith out of the kitchen…"

Finn trailed off at Puck's snort behind his back.

"She cooked us all dinner, Finn," Puck's voice was exasperated, and Finn made a mental note to kick his ass for it later, "that's the thank you."

"You can cook?" he was pleasantly surprised. Most ladies he knew were used to servants.

"I told you, Mr. Hudson, that you have no idea of the life I've led. I can do many things that I'm sure might surprise you."

Her gaze lifted to his then and he almost gasped at the sensual mischief he saw lurking there.

"I'm beginning to understand your meaning, Rachel," he murmured with a crooked half-grin, "I do appreciate your efforts, although they weren't necessary."

"Shut the hell up, Finn," Puck growled at him, "I've been smelling her cooking all damn day and I'm going to eat it."

"Puckerman," Finn sneered, "you're going to do whatever the hell I tell you to do, and if that means you don't get to eat dinner, then tough sh…garbage for you," Finn halted the curse word at the very last second, sorry that his temper made an appearance.

Puck, of course, had no response. The men were friends, but Finn was also his employer and they had indulged in a few discussions regarding what lines not to cross. It seemed like the other man had just realized he was standing a foot over the line and was back peddling quickly.

"I'll just go get everything for you, Rachel," Puck smiled charmingly at the petite brunette, but Finn noted with amusement that Puck wouldn't meet his gaze, "you already worked so hard putting it all together, you just rest here."

"Thank you, Noah," she murmured, and allowed Finn to lead her to a seat next to his own.

So, I apologize (yet again) for the long wait on this chapter. I hope it was worth it. I'm still open to suggestions (I love to get them, mull them over, incorporate them where possible). Reviews of any type are very appreciated. Thank you all for reading, and I hope to get the next chapter up much more quickly!