by Reece Butler
“Good dog,” she murmured. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, but these troglodytes had you first. Time to go.” She tried to push him again but Buster refused to move. She raised her face to Riley, meeting his eyes and curling her lip. “Move. Once you are out of the way, your dog will not feel the need to protect me.” She waved her hand, brushing them away. “I will leave you to your dinner.”
Riley continued his staring contest. She leaned forward slightly. Her angry expression faded. Her posture changed, going from stiff to relaxed, as if he was a servant who didn’t understand his simple job.
“You wish to have your dog back?” she asked almost sweetly. Riley jerked his head in a nod. “Then I suggest you back off!”
She hurled the last two words. Riley flinched before getting even more furious. There was a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that Riley would stay in control, but Trav was ready just in case. The woman wasn’t Zarah, but she was close enough in looks, accent, and superior attitude to make Riley explode.
Her fingers were white where she clutched the strap of her backpack, but she projected a sense of boredom and irritation. She was either a chameleon or a damn good actor. She also had guts. Few women stood up to them when they had a mad on, even the girls who’d known them all their lives. The only one who pushed back just as hard was Lila Frost, a fellow rancher who stood six feet tall in her boots.
This woman was a lot shorter but projected the same “up yours” attitude. Which of the women she’d shown him tonight was the real one? The ice bitch made him want to put her over his lap and show her who was boss. He wanted to cuddle the vulnerable little girl on his lap and tell her he’d take care of her. He also wanted to grab the sexy siren and do exactly what she’d suggested with her “come hither” jiggle, pounding into her until they both exploded.
He shoved Riley out of the way. He got a snarl, but his brother didn’t attack. She inhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath.
“It’s supper,” he said calmly. “Dinner’s at noon.”
She blinked, but quickly caught the dropped conversation thread. She nodded her head regally. “Ah, supper is the evening meal. I stand corrected. Thank you, Mr. Adams.”
“Let’s eat,” snarled Riley. “I want her out of the truck so I can have my dog back.”
Riley strolled over to the table, pretending nonchalance. He whistled to Buster, who cocked his head, but didn’t move. Riley shoved his thumbs in his front pockets and kicked at weeds as he walked. Once his food settled in his gut, Rye might smarten up.
Travis turned his attention back to the issue at hand. He figured Jane would want to get out of the truck on her own, but too bad. The way she was trembling she would likely fall, making any injuries worse. He held out his hand. She looked at it, then away. Buster jumped out and waited by the door, tongue lolling and tail wagging.
She sighed dramatically like his little sister used to do when she was a teenager. She stepped down, but her legs gave way. He caught her arm to steady her. She got her balance and tugged herself free.
Ignoring him, she picked up her pack and, making a big detour around Riley, began walking toward the highway. She held her head high but moved stiffly after crouching for so long. He liked the way the back slit in her skirt stretched open with every step, teasing him with the chance to see if she wore panties. Not too many women in Climax wore skirts, or walked with their hips swinging like that. Her jacket came to just above the curve of her ass. He watched, imagining the flex of her cheeks if she’d been wearing pants. Or even better, nothing but skin.
Riley sat on the picnic table with his soda, refusing to acknowledge her. Buster, muscles eagerly bunched, waited at Trav’s feet. There was no traffic, so the clop of her boots was easy to follow. Travis watched closely. Sure enough, after about fifteen steps she brought her fingers to her eyes and wiped.
“Damn,” he muttered.
She was no plain Jane. She was a looker, and was too proud to ask for help even though she was hurt and in trouble. She might have bruises. He could kiss them better for her.
Oh, yeah. There were a whole lot of things he wanted to kiss on her hide, starting with that stubborn mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled as if he was squinting into the sun. His mouth turned up in a grin. He should be pissed as all get-out with this intrusion, but instead he felt great.
How did she get to this god-awful place? Where was she going? Why did she show that “up yours” attitude while walking into the Texas night alone, when he knew she was terrified? What had she survived that she could do this, now? Who had hurt her, and how could he get his hands on the bastards so they’d never harm another woman?
As her protector, he could keep her safe until those questions were answered to his satisfaction.
Texas was beginning to look even better. They’d been promised no snow, cattle, or nosy relatives. They had a place to stay, expenses, and the promise of a heap of cash money at the end of March. Riley couldn’t wait to party hearty. Travis looked forward to walking a beach and swimming in the ocean for the first time. He’d planned to do it alone, but this gal suggested there might be another option.
He looked at Buster and gave the hand signal.
“Round her up and bring her home.”
Chapter 4
Riley watched Buster take off after the woman. Why had his dog protected Jane from him when Buster’d all but attacked Zarah?
Godammit, he hadn’t thought of that bitch in years.
When Blondie came out of the dark, spouting that snotty accent, he saw Zarah, and blew up. Now that he’d had another look at her, and he wasn’t so damn hungry that his belt buckle rubbed against his spine, she didn’t look that much like the bitch. Blondie sported his favorite hairstyle, mussed as if she’d just got out of his bed. Her jacket was good for nothing but Aunt Marci’s basket of quilt squares. Her skirt was dirty, but it still looked pretty damn good for Montana.
What the hell was an East Coast high-society blonde doing here? He grinned. Getting herded by a well-trained cattle dog, that’s what.
Buster had stopped a few feet in front of her, front legs braced and tail high so he could dash left or right to cut her off. He gave a short bark to tell her who was in charge of the situation. Being female, she ignored the order and tried to walk around him.
The dog was an expert with four-leggers, so easily blocked her. At first she spoke sweetly, but he kept repeating the movement. She got testy, dumping her backpack and jamming her fists on her hips. She leaned over to tell the dog off. She didn’t talk loud enough for Riley to hear, unfortunately. He knew the outcome even if she didn’t. It looked funny as hell, and he snorted.
“You over thinking she’s Zarah?” demanded Travis. He unwrapped his burrito and dug in.
“Yep. Caught me by surprise, is all.” He burped, courtesy of the greasy food he’d scarfed down in three bites. “I know what Mom would do if we left her stranded.”
“You were an SOB, Rye. She asked if we wanted company. That meant sitting in the truck while we drove, talking to help keep us awake.”
He hated knowing he was wrong, and had acted like a rank bastard. The best defense was a great offense, so he hit out with both barrels.
“Yeah? She waved those tits in our faces and wiggled her ass like a bitch in heat.”
“Jane was scared to death and you were a first-class bastard to her. I let it go because she looks a bit like Zarah, but I wasn’t leaving her there. Since she hid out in my truck, I don’t have to backtrack to get her.”
Riley shrugged off Trav’s words. She was holding her own against Buster. The dog had one of her backpack straps in his mouth. He tugged it, feet braced, as she lectured him. She bent over as he towed her in circles. He saw flashes of white thighs, a hint of breast, then more thighs. Very nice. Riley shifted on the picnic table.
Blondie was a looker, but not the marrying kind. At least, not for someone like him. Her clothes, accent, hair, and everything else screame
d money. That was something he didn’t have. A ranch wife worked hard, cooking and cleaning, and often managing the finances. He bet Blondie couldn’t even boil water. As for cleaning, she’d have had servants for that. High maintenance, all the way.
She finally growled in frustration, straightened, and turned to them with a glower. When she pushed her hair off her face, her jacket gaped. Riley’s mouth went dry.
“Will you please call off your dog!”
Noting her distraction, Buster yanked her backpack away. He backed up a few steps, watching her closely. His tail wagged once, then stopped. She could have lunged for it, but instead she crossed her arms, enhancing her cleavage, and glared at them.
His cock twitched into first gear. Blondie was a feisty one. She’d need a few spankings to get her attention. More to keep her in line. Oh, yeah.
He’d been so damn mad at her a while back, and now couldn’t wait to lay her on the picnic table, lift her skirt, and make her scream a few orgasms before he entered her and they came together. She’d fight him tooth and nail until he subdued her. All with her permission, of course.
Wrestling her into submission would go a long way toward clearing Zarah from his brain.
Was Blondie the type to want rough sex? If her eyes could throw flames, they’d both be burning like a bonfire. She showed more passion than anyone he’d run into in years. If she got riled up like that in bed, she’d be wild enough to keep both he and Travis busy all night. He held back a groan at the heat in his groin. She stuck out her bottom lip along with her jaw. He could see nibbling that lip for a while, before moving to her ears. And then he’d head south…
“Did you hear me?” she called out even more loudly. “Call off your dog!”
Travis took his time answering, which made her even madder. Riley snickered to himself. The impatient ones were the most fun to tease. He’d tie her up so she couldn’t move, then take his time arousing her. Make her so hot she’d scream at him to let her come. Then he’d put his tongue on her clit and—
“Sorry, ma’am,” said Travis. “Can’t rightly do that.”
“And why, pray tell, can you not?” she asked. Her sugar-sweet voice didn’t match the glare she gave them. “Should I say ‘mother, may I,’ or something equally ridiculous?”
* * * *
Travis dropped his hand, hooking his thumb over his steer-wrestling championship buckle. He didn’t want Jane to see the evidence of what he wanted to do with her.
Riley liked to wind a woman up to see what she was made of. His brother figured the way she acted when she was so spitting mad she couldn’t think, showed her true self. Travis preferred to see them when they were relaxed, and could speak of what they usually tried to hide. This woman was intelligent, opinionated, and strong-willed. She hid her vulnerability behind a protective shell. He could help her crack that shell, but she’d have to relax to do it.
Jane wanted a ride? Well, then, he’d take her on a journey she’d never forget. Driving in tight jeans meant his cock was going to be constrained, which meant pain was in his future for some time. He could deal with it. The reward at the end would be even sweeter.
Travis straightened, putting an extra sense of power, purpose, and determination into his movements. She noticed, and straightened her back to confront him. But she also licked her lips and ducked her head, both unconsciously submissive gestures.
Her lower lip was fuller than the top. He’d enjoy nibbling them. Maybe in time she’d open those lips so his cock could slide between them. Oh, yeah! He dropped his hands to his sides. Her eyes dropped to his belt, then widened. Would she run, or fight?
Her nostrils flared, she licked her lips again, and then she bit her lip like a little kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He grinned, making her glare. The naughty-little-girl face was replaced by the haughty rich woman.
He strolled closer, letting his hands swing naturally with his long legs. Her head tilted back, her eyes locked on his, as he approached. He was six foot five in bare feet and she was maybe five eight. Not bad for a woman, but still nine inches shorter.
He wanted to take this woman, put her over his lap, and spank her for ending up in such a dangerous situation. He also wanted to cuddle her and tell her she was safe with him. He’d never met a woman he wanted to protect that way. Not until now.
He needed a wife who attracted him intellectually, emotionally, and physically. She had to be comfortable with hard work and isolation. Such a woman would have a natural spark, resist his demands, and challenge him every step of the way. Most of all, she had to be strong enough to submit to being cared for by two even stronger men.
Jane had an educated brain in her lovely head. The little pearl earrings and gold necklace that draped between her breasts and her attitude screamed wealth and privilege, but tonight she was a mess. It made her far more real, and therefore attractive to a rancher with deep roots and empty pockets.
Zarah had always looked perfect. Riley said he wasn’t allowed to kiss her lips in public in case he smeared her lipstick. He’d thought it was love, but he was only her rodeo boy toy. Once she no longer needed him, she’d tossed him away as easily as she did the dead batteries in her dildo.
He doubted the gal fuming at him carried a dildo in that backpack. She had the aroused but unsure expression of an inexperienced woman.
He stopped a couple of feet away. Her thick hair, which tumbled below her shoulders, looked like she’d been rolling on the ground. He counted at least three leaves in it. She was a mess, yet she had a fire that drew him like a moth.
He wanted to fold her into his arms, tell her everything would be all right, and that no one would hurt her again. He also wanted to flip her around, lean her over the picnic table, lift her skirt, and sink his cock deep inside. Neither could happen until she trusted him enough to release her fears. She was likely bruised, but the injuries most difficult to heal were invisible. His first step was to help her relax enough to put her head on his shoulder and release her tears.
She looked so exhausted and scared that he figured anger was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. If he offered her comfort, if he let her believe she was safe and could trust him, she might fall apart. She had pride, determination, and whole load of stubborn.
So he glared down at her, waiting for a reaction. She stared at his chest for a moment, then slowly raised her head. The lamp beside them shone bright enough to show her eyes were a light color. Green? Blue? Gray? He couldn’t tell. What he did see, was that they flashed at him in fury. She knew she was caught, but was not giving in without a fight. Since she was braced for one, he’d take the wind out of her sails a bit.
“Supper’s getting cold,” he said brusquely.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Got a three-hour drive ahead. Don’t want to hear your stomach growling. You’ll eat before we leave.”
She set her jaw. Her pulse, easily seen at the side of her lovely neck, raced.
“Thank you for your kind offer, but I am not hungry.”
They both heard her stomach disagree. She pressed her fist against her belly to silence it, but it grumbled again. He fought a smile when her glare didn’t fade. Time to poke the tiger. Or in this case, the kitten pretending to be a tiger.
“Sweetie,” he said quietly as he leaned into her space, “that wouldn’t be a lie you told me, would it?”
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Sweetie? Listen, you big—”
“Because where I come from, women who lie get punished.”
Her mouth snapped shut. A flush rose from her cleavage, all the way past her ears to her forehead. Her scornful laugh was forced.
“What, you’d send me to bed without my supper? Since you’re complaining about me not eating, that would be counterproductive, cowboy.”
She was quick, and her words made him want to grin. Instead, he gave her the look his father used on his mother when she sassed him. The situation called for gentle firmness, using a to
ne of voice that said the outcome was inevitable, and that he would be the victor.
He moved even closer, crowding and towering above her. Her scent swirled around him. He hadn’t eaten in hours but this hunger wouldn’t be helped by a couple of burritos. He needed to taste her kiss for twenty minutes or so, followed by an hour of his tongue on the lips he bet were throbbing and wet under her tight, short skirt.
“If you choose not to follow my order, I will spank you for disobedience,” he said slowly in his deepest, most controlling voice. “Then I’ll set your naked, sore ass on my lap and feed you.”
Her chest rose and fell as she panted. If her jacket wasn’t in the way, he might see how big her breasts were. The vein in her neck throbbed. She opened her mouth to take in more air. He leaned even closer, until his shirt brushed against hers. An aroma of peaches swirled around him, straight to his cock.
“And then I will take you to bed.”
Chapter 5
Travis’s words shot straight to Jane’s swollen pussy. Though her chest was tight in anger, her nipples peaked and her breasts swelled. She inhaled the scent of a man who didn’t give a damn about aftershave. He smelled delicious, a mixture of soap, spice, and something that made her want to press her lips against his naked chest. And other parts.
Heat raced up her chest to flood her face. She was used to hiding the fear from a man near enough to harm her. But this sudden need to touch and be touched was new, and unsettling. She clenched her pelvic muscles to halt the strange tingling. It didn’t work, so she pressed her thighs together. Her pussy purred, as if anticipating a reward.
She’d thought she’d never want a man to touch her.
She was wrong.
When this man’s ribs brushed against her breasts, she’d almost returned the gesture. Even now, looking up into his brown eyes, she had to stop herself from rasping her nipples against him. Warning bells clanged through her mind, screaming of danger. Her body sent a different message, one of eager acceptance. She did what she’d learned from past experience, and listened to her brain. She curled her lip in sarcasm, while clenching her fists to stop herself from reaching for him.
