The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  “If he’s the type to beat up his mother, he’d go after Lila no problem,” said Houston. He leaned a shoulder against the post to rest a moment. “Or will he? Lila has guts, muscles, and a good sense of herself. She wouldn’t hesitate to punch him out.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time she did it,” said Tom. “How many times did she knock Tank out, Josh? Was it three or four?”

  “Three that I know of,” replied the sheriff.

  “Atta girl,” said Houston. “I like a woman with spirit.”

  “Tank’s bigger and meaner now, so we don’t want Lila anywhere near him. You two better keep a close eye on her. You staying, Tom?” asked the sheriff. “Or would you like a ride back to town?”

  “I’ll take that ride.” Tom touched a finger to his head in a silent salute.

  Houston waited, MacDougal at his side, until they left. The fewer people watching him struggle up two steps, the better. Some days were better than others. Today was not one of them.

  “I’ve got that cream to stop the itching. It’ll make your face heal faster, too,” said MacDougal. “I also offer my help to heal your leg.”

  “What, you’ve got a miracle cure or something?” demanded Houston, pissed off at Lance’s calm.

  “Or something,” replied Lance mildly. “Marci sent a basket of food,” he said to Jet.

  Houston straightened as best he could. He had a job and a place to live in while he healed, and a woman who was getting more intriguing every hour. He should be grateful, but having to rely on others pissed him off. So did being in pain.

  “Thanks, but we’ll eat what Lila cooks for us,” he replied stiffly.

  “My woman shows her love by feeding people. I can’t bring it home, so you might as well enjoy it.”

  The sound of a window opening grabbed their attention. Houston sniffed.

  “What’s burning?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lila furiously jabbed the ten minute reset button on the fire alarm before it went off. She opened the side door, marched down the steps and tossed what was left of her blueberry muffins, pan included, on the ground. She wasn’t sure even the pigs would eat the nasty remains. Winter was over, so she couldn’t even freeze them and use them for ball hockey.

  She pulled off an oven mitt to wipe her eyes. From the smoke, of course.

  “Dammit! This was supposed to work perfectly!”

  One of Lance’s ravens swooped over to investigate the food. It suddenly veered up and away, landing on the roof, upwind. It tilted its head at her accusingly.

  “Yes, I know they stink,” she told it. “And yes, I know Aunt Marci is a fabulous cook. She probably makes you special bird cookies. Well, I’m not a wonderful homemaker like my aunt.” She slumped, retracing her steps. “I’m also not a doctor like my mom, or an engineer like Daddy. Papa can read the land and the animals without even thinking. I’m not ever going to be as good as him.”

  Was there anything she could do right? She’d learned she was great at having, and providing, orgasms, but that wasn’t going to last past the end of the month.

  The first morning she was in charge she’d forgotten it was up to her to cook breakfast. A brand new hand had to remind her of the long-standing Tanner’s Ford tradition. Aunt Marci told Jet and Houston that she could cook, and now they’d think it was a lie. She’d put the muffins in the oven just before Uncle Keith, who never lost his temper, had roared and pounded on her door. She’d rushed to open it, ready to yell at him like a teenager, until Jet took over and backed him down. That made her so mad she’d totally forgotten to set the timer.

  Burning muffins was just another example of her trying to do something right and screwing up when she got side-tracked. Why did she do that all the time? Why couldn’t she be like her brothers, always knowing the right thing to do? The rare times they didn’t, they waited and thought things out before making a decision. She, on the other hand, would leap into action trying to prove she was helpful and knew what she was doing.

  All it did was make her look like a loser. Again.

  Her feet dragged as she walked inside. She’d wanted to impress Houston and Jet, and she’d blown it. She slammed her oven mitts on the counter. No matter what she did, she couldn’t make this go away. She’d made herself look like a fool and now they’d treat her like one.

  She wearily cranked open the front window. Wind blew in the open back door and out the window. She glanced around.

  “Good. Everyone else is gone but Uncle Lance, and he won’t tell anyone.”

  The front door was next. She hated to face Jet and Houston, but she needed to air the place out. Her frustration and humiliation at ruining what was supposed to be a wonderful breakfast made her furious. She put her hand on the bolt she’d thrown after Jet had told her to get inside. Remembering how he’d ordered her around in front of Josh and her uncles made her even hotter. She slammed the bolt back and hauled the door open. She side-stepped Jet, clutching her elbows.

  “Don’t you dare say a thing!” she said before anyone could comment. “Uncle Keith got me so mad that I didn’t set the timer on the muffins. They’re all burned and it’s his fault!”

  “Why don’t I hear the fire alarm?” demanded Jet.

  “I pushed the delay button,” she admitted, confused at his fury. “Otherwise it would be shrieking.” She tossed one shoulder at him. “It happens all the time with Mom.”

  “Matt made Nikki a special dowel rod poker to reach the reset button,” explained Lance. Was his smirk for her, or her mother?

  “Is this is a family tradition?” asked Houston.

  She shot him a look. He returned it with a wink. At least Houston was on her side.

  “Don’t blame your uncle,” said Jet. “You chose to get angry, and careless, and therefore made mistakes.”

  Her jaw dropped. Jet was accusing her of being the problem? After he’d said he was her guardian? Wasn’t he supposed to protect her, defend her, and stand up for her? His reaction added fuel to the fire. She turned on her target and advanced.

  “I chose to get angry?” she demanded. He stood his ground, looking at her as if she was a bug he was considering squashing.

  “This oughta be good,” said Houston.

  “Looking forward to it myself,” replied Lance.

  Their comments, just at the edge of her hearing, increased her fury.

  “In case you didn’t notice, Mr. Quartermain, I went to a lot of trouble this morning. I put on a dress, just like you wanted. I made a nice breakfast. I even set the damn table with matching dishes! And now you attack me?”

  She threw her hands in the air.

  “You wanted to drive into Dillon last night, out of the blue. We got home late, spent a lot of time playing, and I missed sleep. This morning you demanded I make breakfast for you, and when something happened, it’s all my fault?”

  “It’s Sunday,” said Jet, face blank. “And we let you sleep in.”

  “Sleep in? That’s right, you did.” She nodded, mocking him. “A whole hour. Whoop-de-do!” She jammed her chin out. “And who kept me awake when we got home late last night?”

  Houston gasped in mock surprise. “Did you forget me already, darlin’?”

  She turned on him. “Don’t try to be funny!”

  “If you’d wanted to sleep,” said Houston, “all you had to do was climb off me. You were making a lot of noise, and I thought you enjoyed it, grinding like that, and—”

  Lance coughed, and then covered his mouth, but she could see his eyes laughing.

  “Houston!” she shrieked, “My uncle is listening!”

  He glanced at Lance, then back, all innocent. “If you didn’t want him to know what we were doing last night, why’d you bring it up?”

  “Why did I…?”

  First it was Uncle Keith, then Jet, and now Houston was jumping on her?

  “Lila,” said Jet.

  She whirled on him. “What!”

  “It’s up to you whethe
r you are calm or not,” he said, as if lecturing a child. “You can let life push you around, or you can take control. Blaming your uncle for your choices is wrong. You thought Keith came here to check up on you.”

  “Because it’s true!”

  Jet raised one black eyebrow. He looked disappointed. She felt like she was fourteen years old and being lectured for punching someone out when he was the one that started it. She didn’t like the feeling. Having Jet cause it made it far worse.

  “Perhaps you have no idea how lucky you are to have people who love you,” Jet continued quietly. “Keith is just one of them. He needed to make sure you were okay before he joined your parents on their trip. Is that wrong of him?”

  She jammed her teeth together to stop herself from saying something she’d regret. Jet was right. Dammit. She’d reacted like a hormonal teenager, not a rational adult. And of course, she did it in front of the ones she most wanted to impress. A lump of shame formed in her throat.

  “I did what you said,” she told him, forcing the words out. “I went back in the kitchen, letting a man win my battle, again. And once more, Uncle Keith will think I’m not good enough.” She rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips. “He’s going to tell my parents that you and Houston are in charge. He’ll say things will be done just as if my fathers were here, with me following orders.”

  Her throat swelled even more, yet she managed to choke the words out.

  “They’ll be very happy, knowing two strong men are in charge instead of their flaky, impulsive, silly daughter. And I hate that!”

  She slumped, forehead against the wall. The wood prickled her skin. She scratched at it with her finger. Anything to not look at them.

  Did she really choose to let her emotions take over? Something would happen, something she blamed herself for. She’d think about how everyone would say she couldn’t do anything right, and that would made her mad at herself, which made her angry at them, which…

  “I was trying so hard,” she whispered. She chanced a look at Jet. He seemed so strong, so confident.

  “I know,” he replied softly.

  He held out his arms. She fell into his embrace, clutching him tightly. It felt so good to be held by someone stronger, to let go.

  “You’ve got a lot on your shoulders,” he murmured into her ear. “I see how you try to be such a good daughter, and niece, and friend. While doing all that, you haven’t been able to find yourself. You’re worried about your parents being away, and whether you can do the job. You couldn’t find a hired hand for weeks, and couldn’t sleep.” He squeezed her tighter. “But that’s all over now. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m here, and so is Houston. We’ll take care of you.”

  She pulled back to look up at him. His strong features and serious expression made her feel safe, and at the same time frustrated her. He seemed so calm, so sure of himself. It made her feel like a blithering idiot.

  “I don’t want to be taken care of,” she said, her voice rising again. “I want to do a good job. My job.”

  “Not everything has to be your job, Lila.” He rubbed his knuckles along her jaw. “A good leader sets out what needs to be done, and decides who will do it. The leader has the brains to plan and organize. The workers have the muscle and skills to follow through. There’s three of us here. You know the ranch, and what needs to be done. I know how to do most of the work. You probably want Houston working in the machine shed, since that’s his training. But wherever you want us, that’s where we’ll be.”

  “I never had anyone work for me before. I’ve always been the one doing, not planning.”

  “Planning and logistics was my job in the army. Any time you want help, ask.” Jet kissed her forehead. Gently, like Lance would have. Only, her reaction to his touch was far different. “Your family knows you can do the job. So do we. You’re the one doubting yourself.”

  She brushed that thought away. It was not something she wanted to think about. If she did well, they’d expect even more of her.

  “But why did Keith have to make a big fuss? He never loses his temper, yet he roared and pounded on my door.”

  “Keith’s a man,” said Jet. “A man takes care of those under his protection. With your parents already gone, he figured it was his job to make sure you were okay.” He tilted her chin up with a finger. He waited, but she didn’t look up. “Lila,” he warned. She pouted, but finally met his dark eyes. “He left happy, knowing Houston and I will keep you safe.”

  She might not have been in charge of the ranch before, but she’d been in charge of herself all her life. She’d wrestled with the boys until she was about fourteen. Uncle Tommy had also taught her a few things that came in handy at college.

  “I can protect myself,” she said, bristling. “I heard what you said about Tank beating up his mom. He used to hit his sister, too. But he won’t dare touch me because I hit back!”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Jet, “but we want you thinking about the ranch, not some bully. Let’s go inside and see what we can dig up for breakfast. And I heard that second swear word. We’ll discuss what to do about it later.”

  A twinge hit her pussy. She had an idea she wouldn’t be having much say in that “discussion.” Would he put her over his lap and use his hands, or take something from his toy bag? She should look inside it as soon as possible. Maybe something needed to be hidden before it was used on her…

  “I’ve got a basket of food in the truck,” said Lance. “Marci thought your men might like cinnamon buns.”

  “Homemade?” Houston’s voice was an octave higher than usual. He groaned when Lance nodded. “One of our cooks used to make those when Mother was away.”

  “You can have some if you let me work on that leg,” replied Lance.

  “Dang, you’re determined to get your paws on me, aren’t you?”

  “Will you get the basket please, Lila?” asked Lance. “It’s in the back seat.”

  “I’ll just stay here and supervise the operation,” said Houston.

  She knew his eyes were on her chest as she approached, and then on her back end as she passed him. She added an extra wiggle to her walk, just for him.

  “My, you look fine in that dress,” said Houston when she returned carrying the basket. “Especially with the sun behind you. And nothing underneath,” he added, with a wink. “Not sure which buns I want more. Cinnamon, or yours.”

  He pretended to snap his teeth at her as she passed. She rolled her eyes, but her pussy clenched at the thought.

  God, was she going to be wet the whole time they were here?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sable had gotten increasingly restless over the last hour, pacing and shifting in her big corner box stall. Houston had slept most of the day after Lance had used his magic or whatever to speed the healing in his leg, side, and face. He’d sent Jet and Lila to bed, insisting on taking the first shift. It was getting close to show time, and Jet knew a lot more about horses than he did. Luckily, Jet was sleeping on the door side of the bed. He got as close as was safe for an ex-military man and whispered.

  “Jet!” Jet’s body stiffened, though he didn’t move. “I think you’d better come out. Sable’s getting close.”

  Jet eased himself from Lila’s arms and sat up. He scrubbed his face with his palms. “What time is it?” he whispered.

  “About two.”

  “You should have woken me to take a shift.”

  “You left me to sleep most of the day. I feel great after whatever Lance did. If he could bottle that, he’d make a killing.”

  Jet stood, lost his balance, and sat again, hard.

  Lila opened her eyes. “Oh, my God! Is it time?” She struggled to sit up, which caused the sheet to fall to her waist. Houston’s eyes automatically went to her breasts. Her nipples hardened, as did his cock. She groaned at his grin and crawled out the far side of the bed. Houston enjoyed the view of her ass just as much. Jet’s snicker agreed with him.

  “Is that
all you two think about?” demanded Lila in feminine annoyance.

  “When there’s a gorgeous naked woman around, yes,” said Houston without any trace of shame.

  She threw on her shirt. Did her fingers fumble with the buttons because of her worry over her horse, or because she had a good idea what they wanted to do with her, and agreed?

  The night air was cold as they hurried across the yard. They stepped in quietly, not wanting to disturb the pregnant mare. Houston walked over to the large birthing stall and rested both arms on the edge. Rascal, who hadn’t bothered to follow him into the house, lifted his head, flopped his tail once in welcome, and went back to sleep.

  “Yes, I know it’s not fun,” he said to the mare in a soothing tone. “Not personally, mind you. I saw barn kittens being born once, but that’s about it. Soon you’ll have a new colt or filly, and you’ll feel much better.”

  “I didn’t know you knew anything about horses,” whispered Lila as she joined him.

  “Just enough to feed and clean up after them. I can ride, if I have to, but I prefer an engine under me. They don’t shy at snakes and plastic bags caught in bushes.” They also had armor, though not always enough of it.

  “How’s my beautiful mama?” she crooned, stepping into the stall. “You ready to have your baby?”

  The horse perked up at the sound of her voice. Jet leaned his elbows beside Houston.

  “That is a fine-looking mare,” he said to Houston.

  “The filly talking to her is pretty damn good, too.”

  Lila reached out to the huge black horse, which shuddered. A loud gush of liquid hit the floor.

  “That’s a good girl,” said Lila, beaming. The horse went down, then lay on her side, ribs heaving. “Good timing with waking us, Houston. This may take some time. You might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  “I’ll stand,” said Jet.

  Houston went back to his hay bale. Lila looked expectantly at Jet, then Houston.

  “Since we have nothing to do but wait, tell me about yourselves,” she said. “You already know lots about me and my family. The more I know about you, the better I’ll be able to put you to work.” She turned to Houston with a bright smile. “Where did you learn about horses?”