Spun Out

by Lorelei James

  “Yes. You can feel it. Give me your hand.” She took his fingers and pressed them on the inside of her right arm, above the crease of her elbow.

  He felt a bump. “Whoa. That’s kinda freaky. Does it hurt?”

  “Not really. I’ve had it in for almost two years and it’s effective for five years.”

  “Ain’t gonna hurt my feelin’s to skip the condoms.”

  “Good.” She snuggled her ass back into his groin. “Wake me up if you have a dirty dream and we’ll act out all the good parts.”

  Apparently they’d talked and fucked themselves into exhaustion. After that they fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Been a long time since Bailey had dealt with a morning-after situation.

  She’d expected Streeter to get up at the crack of nothing, but he was still sawing logs at seven a.m. She couldn’t lie there any longer so she slipped out of bed, found her clothes and escaped to the bathroom.

  A glance at herself in the mirror had her blushing and feeling a bit cocky. She looked well and truly fucked. But her hair . . . damn. A bit of water tamed it and she borrowed mouthwash rather than using Streeter’s toothbrush.

  Needing coffee, she headed into the kitchen and started a pot, impressed that he had decent taste in dark roast.

  Then she pawed through his cupboards, finding Pop-Tarts, sugary cereal and oatmeal.

  Oatmeal it is.

  She poured water in the pan and pulled out the toaster. Found fruit and nuts and chopped them together.

  Streeter wandered into the kitchen in just his boxers—lucky her—and sent her a shy smile. “Mornin’, hot stuff.”

  “Mornin’, cutie.”

  “Got a cup of coffee yet?”

  “Nope. It just finished brewing.”

  He poured two mugs and handed one to her. “Need cream or sugar?”

  “Black is fine, thanks.”

  He leaned against the counter, watching her. “Am I supposed to be doin’ that?”

  Bailey looked at him. “Doing what? Cooking?”

  “Yeah. I’m not exactly up on morning-after behavior. And you cooked for us last night too.”

  As she poured the oats into the boiling water, she said, “Maybe I should’ve asked if you minded if I cooked breakfast.”

  He moved in behind her and pressed his lips to the back of her head. “I’m grateful. Usually I just have coffee. And I don’t usually sleep in this late.” Another soft kiss. “Not used to that much physical activity.”

  “You don’t look any worse for wear.”

  “I feel amazing.”

  Bailey stirred the oats. She sensed something was on his mind. “Cat got your tongue, cowboy?”

  He made a growling noise. “Your pussy liked my tongue well enough last night that maybe I’m havin’ a hard time usin’ it to talk today.”

  “You won’t hear me complain about your oral skills.”

  “I guess maybe that’s my question. How was I—”

  “In comparison to the last guy I was with?”

  He sighed. “Sounds stupid, me askin’ you that, doesn’t it?”

  “No, I asked you about Danica; it makes sense you’d want to know about my last sexual relationship too.” She scraped the oatmeal down the edges of the pan. “Logan was great in bed, or lousy—depending on his mood. Notice I said his mood, not mine. Sex was a cure-all for him. I didn’t realize that until after he broke up with me.”

  “What attracted you to him?”

  She shrugged. “We were deployed together. We went from being friends to being lovers. The sneaking-around aspect appealed to both of us, but we stayed together for a while after we returned stateside.”

  “The loneliness is the hardest part after they’re gone, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

  “For me? No. I’ve been alone most of my life, so the fact he moved on wasn’t a huge shocker to me, because I’ve gotten used to it.” In desperate need of a subject change, she said, “What do you do on Sundays?”

  “Work, since I miss hours during the week to be with Olivia. I only check cattle once on Sunday unless it’s calving season, and we’re past that.”

  “Is Olivia with her grandparents every weekend?”

  “Most of ’em. That didn’t become a regular thing until about six months ago. She could only be with one or the other for a few hours and then she’d had enough. Neither her grandma nor her grandpa can handle her when she’s like that. Hell, I have a hard time dealin’ with her.”

  She glopped a spoonful of oatmeal into both bowls, then sprinkled on the fruit-and-nut mixture. “Shoot. I forgot to drop the toast.”

  “This is plenty. Thank you.”

  “What time will Olivia be back today?”

  “Around suppertime.”

  “She’s gone from Friday night until Sunday night?”

  “Usually she’s back by noon on Sunday, but Deenie had some family thing to take her to. She spent yesterday with her grandpa.”

  “They have separate visitation with her?”

  He nodded and swallowed a bite. “About a year after Danica died, her parents got divorced. They split time with Olivia for now. But I never know how long anything is gonna stick with her. But if I didn’t set up the time with them, she’d never see them because she wouldn’t ask.”

  Bailey sat across from him at the small table. “One of the more awkward things to deal with in a morning-after situation is whether there’ll be more.”

  Streeter set down his spoon. “Honesty between us, right?”

  She nodded, wondering if he was about to send her packing.

  “I’d like more than just morning-afters with you. I’d like to spend time with you during the week, if you’re not busy in the evenings.”

  That was a happy surprise, but she needed clarification. “Meaning I show up after Olivia has gone to bed?”

  He frowned. “I guess if that works better for you. But I was thinkin’ more that you could hang out with both of us some nights.”

  “So you’re okay with Olivia knowing we’re seeing each other?”

  “Yeah. Aren’t you?”

  “I’m good with that as long as you understand if we’re alone together, I can’t promise to keep my hands off you.”

  He lifted a brow. “Why would you think I’d want you to keep those greedy hands of yours off me?”

  “Because of your young daughter.”

  “You worried she’ll interrupt us when we’re getting down and dirty?”

  “Maybe. I’m also worried she’ll wonder why I’m here.”

  “Not to be blunt, but Olivia won’t care. She won’t get attached to you, Bailey.”

  But will you get attached to me?

  The unspoken question lingered between them.

  He curled his hand over her forearm. “We’ve admitted we like each other. You’ve reminded me you’re not sticking around. I wanna spend time with you. Naked. Clothed. In the evenings, afternoons, weekends . . . whenever it fits our schedules, for as long as you’re here, for as long as we both want that.”

  Her conscience was screaming at her to buck up and walk away—for Streeter’s good.

  It was easy to ignore everything when she looked into his gorgeous eyes and realized she’d already gotten attached to him. “Okay.”

  He stood up and kissed her. Lazy, teasing kisses that were sweet and needy enough to cause an aching feeling in her chest.

  “What are your plans for today?”

  “I have to open WWC at nine. Then close down at three. That’s the only compromise Harper was willing to make with Janie and Renner when they asked her to be open on Sundays during the summer.”

  “That’s right, WWC isn’t open on Sundays during the rest of the year. How much business is there on a Sunday?”

 
“I sold two packages of candy and a magnet last week.”

  “Not enough to pay your wages, I reckon.”

  Harper wasn’t paying her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t offered. But Bailey felt she was finally able to pay back the debt she owed to her sister from years ago.

  “After that I’ll probably work out.”

  “I work out on Sundays too. Weird that we haven’t run into each other before.” He smirked. “Maybe we oughta work out together. You could give me a demonstration of your self-defense moves.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t mind me throwing you on your ass?”

  “Nope, because I like that you’re strong and confident. It’s a huge turn-on. Hell, I’d probably be sporting wood the entire time you were in beatdown mode.”

  Laughing, she returned the coffeepot to the warmer and put away the breakfast supplies. Without a word Streeter got up and scraped and rinsed the dishes.

  Bailey had a moment of déjà vu. As if they’d done this together before. Or maybe it was a premonition of wishful thinking; she hoped this would be the first of many times they’d do it together.

  She turned to tell him good-bye, and Streeter was right there, pulling her into his arms, holding her tight and kissing her deeply. Whatever hesitancy he’d had about his make-out skills had disappeared. And he already seemed to know when she needed mind-scrambling passion or sweetness.

  Or something like this—the perfect mixture of both.

  You are in over your head with this man after one night together.

  Streeter not-so-casually asked, “I will see you later, right?”

  Rather than playing it cool, she nuzzled his neck and kissed the hollow of his throat. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  Bailey showered at her trailer, touching the tender spots on her body, reassuring herself the soreness was from the sexual acrobatics she hadn’t had in a long damn time.

  After fixing a “superfood” smoothie for later, she walked up to the Split Rock.

  Not a single customer came through the door the first hour, which allowed her to get her boot camp planned out for Friday.

  Harper had sent a text to make sure Bailey was opening the store, which annoyed her. She’d not missed a day or even been late one time—more than she could say for the store’s owner. Things weren’t getting worse between her and Harper, but they couldn’t stay the same either. And if Bailey had to make the first move to smooth everything over, she would.

  The day dragged on. At two thirty, half an hour before the store closed, five women strolled in. These customers were an interesting bunch—they all appeared to be over seventy and given their outlandish clothes, maybe they were headed to a costume party.

  She greeted them with a smile. “Ladies. How may I help you today?”

  “Got any of them concealed-carry purses?” a stout woman dressed head to toe in camo asked. Literally head to toe—both her hat and her combat boots were jungle-print camouflage.

  “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one in stock. But I’m sure we could order one for you.”

  “You don’t need one of those, Pearl, since your concealed-carry permit expired,” a gray-haired woman wearing a garish orange-and-fuchsia muumuu pointed out.

  “Shut it, Maybelle,” the lady in camo retorted. “Maybe I wanted to gift it to someone.”

  “You two are drivin’ me bonkers,” a slender woman decked out in an electric blue catsuit and matching disco headband complained. “We’re supposed to be checking out Harper’s little sister.”

  Bailey froze. “Excuse me?”

  A redhead, stylishly dressed in pin-striped capris and a black lace top with a white scarf tied jauntily around her neck, stepped forward. “Hello . . . Bailey, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “You probably don’t remember us, but we were at Harper and Bran’s wedding. We’re friends of your sister.”

  “She used to do our nails,” interjected a tiny sprite with a cloud of cotton candy pink hair sporting a lime green sequined shirt and silver lamé leggings. “And give us advice.”

  “Who are you?” Bailey asked, even when she suspected she knew the answer.

  “Around these parts, we’re known as the Mud Lilies,” Camo Lady said. “I’m Pearl.”

  They introduced themselves one by one—and her brain assigned descriptive words so she could remember their names.

  Postulating Pearl.

  Muumuu Maybelle.

  Tiny Tilda.

  Garish Garnet.

  Va-va-voom Vivien.

  “So you’re here to see Harper?” Bailey finally asked, cutting through arguments between Garnet and Maybelle.

  “No, we’re here to see if you’d help us host a surprise party for your sister.”

  “What’s the occasion?” Her birthday wasn’t for a few months.

  “We don’t wanna make it specific,” Garnet said. “That girl has thrown baby showers, and bridal showers, and birthday parties for tons of people in the community. She’s hosted luncheons and run raffles and bake sales. It’s time we show her our appreciation for all she’s done.”

  And Bailey wondered if these ladies, who’d known her sister for years, had figured out that Harper had been struggling since Angel’s birth.

  “Don’t you think that’s a great idea?” Tilda said, adding an excited handclap.

  No. “When are you planning to do this?”

  “Oh, it’ll take a couple of weeks to get everything in place. Invites sent out. Party favors and decorations ordered, and games chosen.”

  “Where is this taking place?”

  “Right here. At the Split Rock,” Garnet said.

  Vivien shook her finger in Garnet’s face. “Don’t assume Renner and Janie will be on board after that time you fired a gun in the lodge.”

  “That was years ago,” she scoffed.

  “Plus, we’re shareholders,” Pearl said indignantly. “They have to give us fair use of the facility whenever we want.”

  Bailey’s brain had gotten stuck on the phrase fired a gun. “Was there a reason for discharging a weapon?”

  “Me’n Vivien had a duel over a man,” Miss Maybelle inserted.

  “And as Pearl says, Vivien brought a sword to a gunfight,” Tilda confided.

  “Ancient history,” Miss Maybelle and Vivien said simultaneously.

  Hoo boy.

  “We wondered if since you’ve been in the army and are familiar with matters of stealth, you could take care of the subterfuge aspect.” Pearl leaned on the counter. “I’ve got military ties. My dad was in WWII. He swore he joined up to fight so his children wouldn’t have to. He nipped my military career in the bud before it ever began. Which is why I consider myself to be an amateur military strategist.”

  How was she supposed to respond to that? “Ah, it’s good to have hobbies.”

  “They’ve come in useful. Mind if I call you by your rank?”

  “My boot camp recruits call me Sergeant B.”

  “Excellent. So Sergeant B, we were hoping you’d have some ideas on how to get Harper to the party without her knowing it’s a bash for her. See, we’re thinking that we could have a fake robbery and you could ‘save’ her and sneak her out of the store and into the dining hall. That’d be a helluva surprise.”

  Especially if Harper started screaming and peed her pants with fear; her sister would never forgive her.

  “No one thinks that cockamamie idea is good except for you,” Garnet retorted.

  “It’s not like any of you have come up with something better.”

  And then it was on.

  Bailey suspected they wouldn’t notice if she snuck out.

  Just as she was about to remind them that the store closed at three, Streeter strolled in.

  “What in the
world is goin’ on in here? I heard you bickerin’ clear down at the end of the hallway.”

  All the Mud Lilies turned to him and followed his progress as he moved from the doorway to behind the counter.

  He loomed over Bailey. “You all right?”

  She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “These ladies come on strong.”

  “If I can handle a two-star general screaming in my face about a missing supply order, I can handle”—Don’t say cranky busybodies—“a few loud suggestions.”

  “Streeter Hale,” Maybelle said. “What are you doing in here?”

  Maybe it hadn’t occurred to him how it might seem odd, barreling in to rescue her. He sent the woman a look. “Well, Miz Maybelle, bein’ as I work at the Split Rock and I heard a commotion, I decided to check it out.”

  “It is nice to see you out and about,” Vivien said.

  “Yeah, Tobin told me that you actually went out to the Buckeye with him the other night. Sorry I missed that. We’re always lookin’ for new drinkin’ buddies.” Garnet gave Bailey the side-eye.

  Streeter grinned at Bailey and she nearly melted. “Fair warning, Sergeant. Rumor is no one makes it past these ladies’ initiation shot.”

  “Oh pooh.” Tilda flapped her hand. “Buncha lightweights.”

  “Remember when we used to be surrounded by all them ranching cowboys? Hank and Abe. Kyle. Renner. Fletch. Eli. Ike. Hugh. Tobin. Holt. Devin, if he was in town.” Pearl sighed heavily. “No new possible recruits have moved here—except for you—which ain’t a surprise, but it ain’t fun for us, neither.”

  “You lookin’ for a new man friend, Pearl?” he asked with a straight face.

  “Negative, Hale.”

  “How about you, Streeter?” Maybelle asked.

  Please don’t ask if he’s looking for a new female friend because the man will surely blush.

  “I ain’t lookin’ for a new man friend either,” he said with a wink. “But the next time Tobin and I grab a beer, we’ll give the Mud Lilies a call.”

  Five happy faces beamed at him.

  And Streeter claimed he wasn’t a charmer.