Spurred On

by Sabrina York

  Aside from that, taking a passel of greenhorn city slickers on trail rides was hardly work. It was more like entertainment. Some people would pay good money for this kind of sideshow.

  Though it was difficult keeping a straight face, watching some of them struggle to mount a horse. When Randy—one of the real ranch hands—planted his palm on one of the lady’s bare ass cheeks to push her into the saddle, it was all Sidney could do not to howl with laughter. Why she was wearing Daisy Dukes on a trail ride was a mystery. But there was one thing Sidney knew for sure—that woman’s ass would be chafing something fierce before the ride was over.

  Randy rode at the front of the pony string and Sidney took up the rear. The dancers were intermingled with the guests here and there, pretending to be cowpokes, which was amusing as well. The only one who really seemed to know his way around a horse was Brandon, the hottie who’d been so nice to her last night when one of the guests had lit into her because she hadn’t liked her Lemon Drop. He rode just ahead of her with two tittering blondes on either side.

  Judging from the way they wobbled and squealed with every docile step, they’d never been on horses before. Perhaps they’d never seen a real one before either.

  It was gratifying that she could provide them a taste of such adventure in their dull, boring lives that—according to what she overheard—was filled with busy days lounging by the pool, taking shopping trips to Milan, and debauching pool boys.

  Fortunately, the chatter was easy to tune out. She focused on the beauty of the day, the buzz of the cicadas in the brush, the occasional moo from the pasture, the way the sun filtered down in lazy fingers through the trees. There was a gentle breeze and the sky was a cerulean blue and spotted with cotton candy clouds.

  So lovely.

  Her thoughts of Cody were lovely too. In fact—

  “Yoo-hoo.”

  A warble interrupted her rather pleasant reflection.

  “Yoo-hoo. Girl.”

  Sidney ignored the screeching trill. She was not a girl.

  “Girly. You there. Hello?”

  She finally glanced up at the blonde who was waving madly at her; she was perched on Dancer wearing a low-cut blouse, white leggings, and heels. Oh, and more makeup than a circus clown. Her lashes were like flapper fans.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  Cody had warned her these women would be difficult. Whatever did she want out here on the trail? A bottle of water? A martini? Her sunglasses?

  “Come here, would you?”

  Sidney tried not to roll her eyes. She was hardly a super-sensitive type, but this bitch was grating on her last nerve. She urged Waffle forward and forced a smile. “What’s up?”

  The woman waggled her boobs in Sidney’s direction. “I need you to reach in there and get it out.”

  Sidney glanced at that cavernous cleavage and boggled. “I, ah, beg your pardon?”

  “A bug flew in there, and I need you to get it out.”

  “What?” Sidney shot a befuddled look at Brandon; he shrugged and tried to hide his grin.

  Apparently the customer was not amused. She narrowed her eyes. “Come on, servant girl. Just do it. We paid a lot for this party. Certainly enough to get decent service.”

  “Really,” her friend gushed.

  Heat crept up Sidney’s nape. This shit felt a lot like high school, with Tibby and her friends bullying everyone who wasn’t in their circle. It was enough to ignite the rebel in her, to make the old Sidney rear her head.

  She was not—repeat, not—reaching into that woman’s sweaty crack and pulling out a sadly misguided bug. No way. No how. She was about to verbally bitch-slap one of Cody’s customers when Brandon eased his mount closer and chuckled. “Wouldn’t you rather . . . have a man do that?” he asked in a sexy tone.

  To Sidney’s utter relief, the virago focused her attention on him and simpered, “Well, howdy there, mister.” She wagged her boobs again. “Time to go fishing.”

  Brandon offered something that was probably meant to be a smile and gingerly eased his fingers between the woman’s gargantuan breast-like silicone globs, and rooted around for some time. He glanced up, a flare of panic in his eyes. “I can’t seem to . . .”

  The woman yanked her top down farther, until almost nothing was covered, and then she pulled her breasts apart.

  “I. There. I see it.” He went in again, bless him, looking diligent and sincere, and finally, pulled out a fairly mashed beetle.

  It was probably a beetle.

  Kind of hard to tell.

  Brandon shook his fingers in an attempt to flick poor-crushed-creature-guts from them.

  Sidney leaned in and watched as bits of beetle tumbled to the grass. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a bee,” she remarked.

  It was a totally logical observation and probably didn’t deserve an outraged snarl of absolute revulsion.

  Then again, Sidney didn’t care. The woman’s glare meant nothing to her. Literally nothing.

  Once the creature was disposed of and the pony trail started up again, Sidney rode up to Brandon and said, beneath her breath, “My hero.”

  He waggled his brows. “Yeah, you owe me one for that.” And she had to grin.

  But her grin faded when, as they rode into the yard chatting amiably, Porsche caught a glimpse of the two of them together and shot her a flaming scowl.

  ***

  There was little time to relax after the rides. Sidney grabbed a quick shower and then reported to the kitchen to help Lisa create the centerpiece for Diane’s birthday lunch. Lisa had planned an elaborate display featuring a cake that seemed to be floating on clouds of spun sugar.

  It seemed fairly straightforward from Lisa’s sketch; it was anything but. For one thing, Sidney had never worked with spun sugar and while it was fun to create, the hardened threads were extremely fragile. More than once they created exactly the effect they were trying for, only to have some slight movement make it crack.

  They finally got what they wanted and then carried the confection gingerly into the dining room. Once that was done, Sidney set the tables, prepared the buffet display, and helped Lisa carry in the food. While the guests were eating, Sidney headed upstairs to make up their beds and clean up a spill in one of the rooms.

  And here’s the weird thing. She enjoyed every minute. Even cleaning the hair extensions out of the bathtub drain in room five. Even changing the sheets in room nine, because the linen was impossibly rumpled and spattered with oil and body glitter. Even cleaning the toilet in four that had been brutally violated the night before.

  Even when Claire followed her around with a white glove.

  She enjoyed every minute.

  The thought stunned her, because she’d never before thought of herself as a servant girl—as Bitchula had called her. She’d never been the type to suffer orders well.

  But that was the thing. She didn’t feel as though she was being ordered about. She wanted to be here. She wanted to help. She wanted this place for herself.

  She knew it had a lot to do with Cody and being with him and spending time with him . . . but it also had to do with the sense of satisfaction she got from knowing she was really helping out.

  Funny, but true.

  Beyond that, her job did have definite perks.

  In late afternoon, she and Claire headed to the lake to set up the dinner picnic. Once that was done, Sidney was off duty until it was time to clean up, so she sat with her sister and friends and enjoyed the entertainment. Which was: Dismal Karaoke.

  It was probably wrong of her, snarking on the guests as they mangled well-known songs, but they were horrible.

  That was until Hanna’s friend Amy popped onstage and began singing “Survivor,” by Destiny’s Child. Sidney’s jaw dropped because—seriously?—Amy had pipes. And then—to everyone’s astonishment—Brandon joined her
up there and launched into a dance by her side. The crowd went wild when he began executing astounding moves that defied gravity. In addition to being a damn nice guy, he could really dance.

  During his routine, Sidney glanced at Porsche. The expression on her face was one of rapturous adoration. And the way he looked at her . . . damn. It was obvious there was something between them.

  Sidney’s heart swelled in her chest. She adored Porsche, even though the two of them had been at odds for years. She’d suffered a lot of guilt because of her flings with Cody—though she’d always convinced herself she wasn’t betraying her friend because what she and Cody had was hardly permanent, but a part of her never really bought that justification.

  Seeing Porsche so happy filled Sidney with joy. Joy that her friend had found a man, a real man, a nice man—a man who was obviously as besotted with her as she was with him. There was relief in there too, twined with her delight. Because there was no lame excuse left to keep Sidney from exploring what she and Cody had.

  A trill of delight wafted through her. Its intensity surprised her.

  Surely she hadn’t lied to herself about her feelings all along. Had she?

  She saw Cody standing with his brother just offstage and her pulse kicked up at the sight of him. Tonight, she’d make sure she wasn’t too tired. Tonight, she would not fall asleep on him. Tonight it would be rapturous. She’d make sure of it.

  She bit back a wicked grin as the last verse of the song swelled, and she glanced back at the stage—just as Brandon yanked off his rip-away pants.

  This was hardly something shocking or unexpected at the Stud Ranch, but when Brandon did so, he revealed a secret he’d kept from everyone. He wore a prosthetic on his leg, just above the knee. There was a moment of crushing silence as the crowd took in this revelation and then, a roar arose as he once again launched into action.

  Sidney looked at Porsche again and saw the pride, the love, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  That was what it was, she realized.

  That was love.

  Her gaze flicked to Cody again, standing in the wings, watching his friend perform with a wide grin on his face. He was so handsome. So perfect. So wonderful.

  Something warm burned in her chest.

  She’d had this feeling before, this strange and alien emotion rising inside her, and it had petrified her, made her want to run.

  She didn’t want to run now.

  She wanted to face it. Embrace it. She wanted to be as happy as Hanna and Lisa and Claire and Porsche.

  She was ready for love.

  And it didn’t even scare her.

  Not one bit.

  ***

  After the dinner party, it took a while to break down and schlep everything to the ranch house. Fortunately, Claire had gone on ahead and set up the cocktail bar, so it was easy to shoo the lingering guests from the lake back to the house.

  Sidney lost track of Cody—no doubt he and Cade had taken one of the trucks with the sound equipment back—but she had plenty of help because Claire had scheduled some of Cody’s actual ranch hands to help with the cleanup.

  Still, it was close to midnight by the time they were done.

  As she plodded back into the house, a cacophony rose from the front room, where the cocktail party was taking place.

  Sidney peeked in as she made her way to her next duty. Claire was there, tending bar, and Cade and Cody were mingling with the guests while she—well, she still had a list of things to do to get ready for the farewell brunch in the morning.

  It was silly to feel like Cinderella. This was her job. She was working.

  She laughed at the sudden, maudlin, and inappropriate sulk and got back to work.

  She was elbow deep in suds, hand-washing the crystal champagne stems for the mimosas when Claire poked her head in the door. “Oh thank God, Sidney,” she gusted. “You’re still up. Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.” She grabbed a towel and dried her hands—or the yellow gloves she wore. They were tight and tough to get on, so she didn’t pull them off.

  “Cody snuck out of the cocktail party and I need him to come back and deal with a customer question. I’m pretty sure he skulked off to his room. Can you find him for me?”

  Sidney rolled her eyes. “He snuck out?” What she wouldn’t give to trade duties with him.

  “Complained that these women were too . . . grabby. But he also said he was coming right back. He didn’t.”

  “No worries. I’ll go get him.”

  Poor Cody. Having to prance around looking all adorable while cougars pawed him. Such a life.

  Sidney grinned to herself as she took the back stairs up to the third floor and then made her way to Cody’s room, humming beneath her breath. She wouldn’t mind a moment with him herself if she could swing it. As tired as she was, she could probably find the energy for a tryst. Or two.

  She knocked once on his door, but didn’t wait before opening it. Even if he was changing, it wouldn’t be anything she hadn’t seen before.

  She was wrong.

  She’d never seen two buck naked twins kneeling together, tits to tits on his bed. It didn’t help that one of them was the woman who captured beetles with her boobs.

  “There you are,” Beetle Babe cooed.

  “What took you so long?” the other trilled.

  When they narrowed their eyes against the gloom and realized she wasn’t Cody, they both deflated, in a manner of speaking.

  “It’s not him,” one said.

  “It’s just the maid,” the other responded. She frowned at Sidney and wriggled her fingers. “Run along and find Cody.”

  “Tell him we’re waiting.”

  She didn’t move. Couldn’t. She was frozen, body and soul. Something scalded her inside and out. Her skin went hot, then cold. Her vision dimmed. Her mouth went dry.

  That soft, squishy center she’d been fostering suddenly and painfully contracted into a hard, icy ball.

  “Well?” The blonde screeched. “Go!”

  She did. Not because the boobsy bitch told her to, but because she couldn’t take another moment of this agonizing sight, the one she’d probably been dreading and expecting all along.

  The reason she resisted as long as she did.

  This was a bold, blatant reminder that Cody was what he was, what he’d always been.

  And so was she.

  There was no changing people.

  There was no magical conclusion.

  There was no happily ever after.

  Especially not for someone like her.

  Of course, as she whirled around, she plowed right into him as he turned the corner, heading for his room.

  He looked gorgeous with his shirt undone and a bucket of champagne on ice in the crook of his arm. He grinned, that easygoing, lovable, heinous lying grin. “Hey, Sid,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Your time.” All she could manage, other than a nod into his room.

  He peeked inside and paled. “Shit.”

  Yeah, shit. You’ve been busted, buster.

  He whirled on her. “No. No, Sidney. This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “It looks like twins.” She forced a smile. “Congratulations.”

  A chorus of yoo-hoos rose from his room. His ears went pink. He had the temerity to shake his finger at her. She hated when people shook their fingers at her. “No. No. This is not my fault.”

  “Of course it’s not. Women just throw themselves at you, don’t they?”

  “Yes!” He raked his hair; relief threaded his tone. “Exactly.”

  “Well, enjoy yourself,” she said, and she turned on her heel. She was done. Done Done. Done.

  Done hoping. Done fantasizing. Done expecting anything to ever work out the way she wanted it to.

  “
Wait!” he called after her.

  She did not.

  She heard him coming, running after her, but she kept going until he grabbed her arm and whipped her around. “Sidney, they mean nothing to me.”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s you I love.”

  She gaped at him. Her throat worked. “Wow.” All she could manage. She wasn’t sure what his game was, but she was not going to play.

  “‘Wow’? Is that all you have to say?” There was a hint of disbelief and anger in his eyes. She chose to focus on that rather than the wraith of whispering agony in his tone.

  But then, he deserved agony, didn’t he?

  He’d certainly caused enough for her.

  She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Look, I don’t mind a booty call now and again, and I’ve enjoyed our . . . playtime—”

  “Playtime?” He reared back.

  “But we both know we have no future together. We are not the marrying kind.”

  His throat worked. “I am.”

  She waved her hand in the general direction of the Skank Twins. “You are not. And that proves it.”

  “That proves nothing.”

  “Doesn’t it? There will always be other women with you.”

  He set his jaw. “No. There won’t. That was nothing.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Sidney, listen to me—”

  “No.” She knew she was probably overreacting, but she’d started down the slippery slope and just couldn’t seem to stop herself. Ten years of fear and anger and supposition rose up in her soul and blinded her.

  She couldn’t bear it. She absolutely could not. She couldn’t dare give herself to a man like him. He would break her heart. He would. And he wouldn’t even have to try very hard.

  “Sidney, I swear. You are the only woman for me.”

  She snorted.

  “I want you to be my wife.”

  Oh, she could just imagine it. Waiting all night long for him to come home, wondering who he was screwing now. It was . . . it was too dismal to contemplate.