Educating Ansley - a RED hot menage with cowboys

by Johnson, Cat

  Message sent, she flew up the stairs, quickly setting her phone to silent mode along the way before Tiffany texted back and her blaring ring tone got her caught. Once she got to safety, she would start the arduous process of searching her phone’s tiny web browser for information on this place. She had to know how bad her sentence was going be.

  When the phone lit up with Tiffany’s response, she knew from the sheer amount of exclamation points alone, it was going to be bad. Very, very bad.

  OMG! Pop. 800! Avg annual income $40K! No shopping! Moose viewing capital of CO!

  Moose? Oh, God. Bad wasn’t even the word for this place. Hell perhaps. Hell on a ranch in the Rockies with no shopping. Her grandmother truly had outdone herself this time.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jeremy crossed his arms. His grandmother had managed to avoid him for days after her arrest, not a small feat considering they lived on the same ranch. “You’ve been avoiding me. I told you when I picked you up from jail we are going to talk about this and I mean it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m right here, aren’t I?” She sent him an angelic smile. His grandmother was the queen of looking innocent.

  He shook his head, not swayed one bit. “You can’t be doing stuff like this, Grams. Parties. Drinking. Strippers.”

  This was the kind of lecture he expected to be giving to his little brother or maybe one day a son of his own, not his grandmother.

  “Why not? So what if I want to live a little before I die?”

  “Unless you know something I don’t, you’re not dying anytime soon.” Though Jeremy may die if he continued to picture his grandmother ripping off a male stripper’s G-string.

  “We never know how much time we have, darlin’. None of us. Remember that when you’re so serious you forget to have any fun. Let yourself live a little.”

  Maybe he’d have time to live a little if his free time wasn’t spent babysitting his adult family members. If he didn’t get laid soon, he’d explode. “Grams, this isn’t about me. You were arrested.”

  She let out a derogatory sound. “I was arrested by Pete Mason. His parents used to hire me to babysit him. I changed his diapers for goodness sake.”

  When that image flew into Jeremy’s brain he had to control his smile, wishing he’d known this particular information all the times the sheriff had laid into him and Ryan during their younger years for doing one thing or another.

  His grandmother continued. “He was just being silly bringing all of us in for enjoying ourselves. Besides, he let us go, didn’t he?”

  “He let you go this time. Next time you might not be so lucky.” Jeremy raised one brow and lowered his voice in warning, but the woman seated in front of him didn’t look impressed.

  “You know I love you, but you’re such a stick in the mud. I really don’t know where you came from because I don’t see one ounce of me in you. Must be from your mother’s side.” She shook her head and turned back to her computer.

  As she started clicking away on the keyboard, Jeremy couldn’t resist. Almost fearing what he’d find, he inched closer and caught a glimpse of the screen over her shoulder.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, he was looking at a high stakes poker game. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m in a Texas Hold ’Em tournament online. Have to practice because the girls and I are getting together a weekly game.”

  Uh, oh. “Not for money, I hope.”

  “Of course for money. What do you think, we’re going to play for pretzel sticks like you and your brother used to when you were little?”

  Great. Ramona Kane, descendant of one of the founders of this town, was organizing a poker game. He should be getting a call from the sheriff again any day now telling him his grandmother and her buddies had been brought in for an illegal gambling ring. And what the hell could he do about it? Not much.

  Defeated, he sighed. “I gotta help Ryan fix the tractor, then get to the bar. Hank needs me to fill in for him this afternoon.”

  For some reason that was important enough to grab her attention. She broke away from staring at the computer and glanced at him. “You’ll be home tonight for dinner though, right?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. Hank only said the afternoon shift, not tonight’s too. Why?”

  She shot him a sideways glance then went back to moving virtual poker chips around on the screen. “Um, no reason. See you for dinner.”

  Now what was she up to? Whatever it was, he didn’t have time to worry about it too on top of everything else. “All right. See you later.”

  Eyes never leaving the screen, she waved a goodbye in his general direction.

  “Another drink, miss?”

  Ansley handed over her empty glass. “Yes, please.”

  The impeccably dressed flight attendant soon returned and delivered a split of champagne and a fresh flute-shaped glass. Ansley reclined a bit farther in her wide, comfy seat, stretched her legs and sighed.

  This was the life. To think her grandmother had booked her a seat in coach. Luckily, a few thousand frequent flier miles and a helpful gate employee had gotten her bumped up to first class. She’d never flown coach in her life and she wasn’t about to start now, particularly since these precious few hours might be her last indulgence for months. Spending the summer on a ranch in Bumfuck, Colorado didn’t promise much in the way of luxury.

  “When will we land?” she asked a passing attendant.

  “In about thirty minutes. We made good time so we’ll be landing early.”

  Of all the times Ansley’s flights had been delayed, canceled even, wasn’t it just her luck this flight would arrive early?

  Thirty minutes, then she’d be dumped in Yambo… Yamapo… Yampa... Whatever the hell it was called. There, a car was supposed to pick her up and deliver her to exile in Walden. Population eight hundred. Moose viewing capital of Colorado.

  Wonderful.

  She took another swallow of champagne and hoped it would dull the reality.

  Far too soon the attendant had taken back the glass and asked them to all bring their seat backs into the full, upright position for landing.

  Ansley peered out the window and saw a laughably small excuse for an airport. Glancing past the one and only runway she saw it was surrounded by basically nothingness, all the way to the mountains in the distance.

  They landed and then had to deplane down a flight of stairs and walk across the tarmac to get to the terminal where there was exactly one luggage carousel. Ansley glanced around her, looking for the driver, but there was no man dressed in a black suit and holding a sign with her name on it anywhere.

  In a huff, she struggled to get her two large suitcases off the carousel and, one in each hand, was forced to roll them out to the curb herself. Parked there she saw a white van with Alpine Taxi written on the door.

  A van? She was hoping for a limo. Then again, this was Yampa Valley. Here this probably was considered a limo. A man clad in denim leaned against the vehicle, arms nonchalantly crossed as he watched her struggle out of the door with the suitcases in tow.

  “Um, are you here to pick up Ansley Craig?”

  He looked less like a driver and more like a farmer, but he confirmed with a nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been waiting on you.”

  Ma’am? Did she look like a ma’am to him? And if he was in such a rush, he should have come inside and helped with her luggage. At least he took care of it now. Taking them from her one at a time, he flung the suitcases in the back and opened the sliding side door for her.

  She eyed the three rows of four seats across. He waited for her to finish her perusal. She felt she needed to say something, anything besides this was the worst transportation she’d ever taken. “Uh, this is awfully big just for me.”

  “We usually have more than one passenger. We service all the Steamboat Springs ski resorts. During the season I’m busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.”

  Ansley raised one brow and climbe
d in. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Too bad her grandmother hadn’t chosen to banish her here during ski season. That wouldn’t have been too horrible actually, though when given a choice she preferred skiing in Jackson Hole. Not that she’d been given a choice now.

  Her grandmother’s exact wording had been, “You decide. You can spend the summer at Kane Ranch where you’ll learn the value of a good day’s work, or you can hand over your credit cards, move out, find an apartment and get a job because you’ll be all on your own supporting yourself.”

  “Do I get to keep my credit cards if I go to the ranch?” Ansley had asked, not trusting her grandmother one bit.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. I’ll go to the ranch.”

  Her grandmother hadn’t even offered the other option she’d been hoping for, the previous plan for a summer in Italy. Italy with her parents had apparently been totally taken off the table. Her grandmother had assumed full control of all the decisions for the entire family. Since the money was all hers pretty much, who could fight her?

  So now Ansley was working on a ranch for a summer.

  Honestly, what work could they make her do? It’s not as if she could plow a field or anything. She’d probably be like a maid or something and have to sweep the cow shit off the front porch every morning. Ugh, gross. She seriously hoped they didn’t expect her to cook since she didn’t know how. Though if they did, after one disastrous meal they’d never ask her to cook again.

  The scenery passed, but it all looked the same so she didn’t pay much attention. She would have thought there’d be something decent—a shopping mall, anything—this close to skiing. Though she supposed all the good stuff was clustered around the resorts and they were obviously, to her great chagrin, driving in the opposite direction.

  When they passed a sign that read Walden she caught her first glimpse of a town and began to pay attention. Her home for the summer. A few buildings that had seen better days, a statue of a moose and a church.

  She scowled, reminding herself this was punishment and she shouldn’t expect it to be fun.

  Then amid the other nondescript buildings she saw a neon beer light in a window and a sign that read simply Hank’s.

  Leaning forward, she called up to the driver, “Can you stop here?”

  He slowed the van to a stop and turned in his seat to look back at her. “Here? I was told to bring you to,” he consulted the paper on the dashboard, “Kane Ranch. That’s supposed to be a few miles outside of the town.”

  “Yeah, I know, but this is fine.”

  “Just in the middle of Main Street? What’re you gonna do? Walk to the ranch?”

  “No, don’t be silly. I’m friends with Hank. He’ll drive me over later.” She pointed to the sign across the street not knowing or caring if Hank really existed or not.

  The driver peered out the window and then turned off the ignition. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll get your luggage.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned and waited for him to slide open the heavy door.

  These hicks out here would probably believe anything she said. Of course she’d have to worry about getting to the ranch later, but at least now she could get herself a few drinks to drown her sorrow. She was in no rush to get to the ranch and start her farm chores.

  She had Ramona Kane’s phone number. Maybe if she called her later needing a ride, she’d prove herself such a pain in the ass the woman would turn her right around and send her back to her grandmother in Connecticut—the lesser of two evils.

  The driver had the suitcases out of the van in no time.

  “What do I owe you?”

  He waved her off. “It was taken care of when you booked.”

  “Okay, great.” Ansley slid a folded ten-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to him. “Thank you very much.”

  He tipped his head with a smile. “Thank you very much. Have a nice vacation.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” She scowled. Vacation. Ha!

  The van drove away and left her standing along the dusty road in a strange town with two suitcases as the sun beat down on her. Perhaps she hadn’t thought this out too well. With one handle in each hand, she wheeled the bags across the street. At least there wasn’t any traffic to dodge.

  Breathless, she yanked them both over the curb and onto the sidewalk in front of Hank’s. Up close the place looked even cheesier than from a distance. She liked it. The worse, the better. It would only prove to her grandmother she could get in trouble just as well in Bumfuck as she could in Greenwich. Then she’d be able to go home.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she called Tiffany. Being bad wasn’t as fun without a sidekick. Her friend answered on the second ring.

  “Tiff, you will never believe where I am.”

  “Um, Colorado.”

  “Well, yeah, but I had the taxi from the airport let me off in front of the most hick bar you could ever imagine. I’m going inside for a drink.”

  “Alone? You’re crazy. What if there are some weirdo townies inside?”

  “Good. I hope there are.” That would teach her grandmother.

  “Ansley Craig, you listen to me. Keep your cell phone in your hand. If anything happens to scare you, call me. Okay?”

  She laughed. “What are you going to do from Connecticut?”

  “I could call nine-one-one or something.”

  Her friend’s concern touched Ansley. “Aw. Thanks, Tiff. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Call me later and let me know everything. The bar. The ranch. That old college friend of your grandmother’s. I want a report on all of it.”

  Tiffany was acting as if this was some exciting adventure instead of the worst thing that had ever happened to Ansley. Meanwhile, Tiffany was most likely at that very moment packing her car to leave for a perfect summer in the Hamptons. Her friend could be really warped sometimes.

  “I’ll call. I promise.”

  “K. Gotta go. Bobby’s calling. Talk to you later.”

  “Later.” Feeling incredibly left out, Ansley sighed and disconnected the call.

  Bobby’s family had a house in the Hamptons too. She and Tiffany and Bobby could have had a really, really good time out there together. Her pussy throbbed at the thought of all they could do at night in the privacy of Tiffany’s guesthouse. Instead she was here.

  Now she really needed a drink. A nice strong one. She muscled the front door open as best she could with two bags in her hands. The bar was dark and cool compared to outside, and though it had been a struggle to fit her body and both bags through the door, it was worth the effort in the end to get out of the heat.

  Her eyes took a minute to get adjusted, but eventually the interior became clear to her. Dark wood walls. A few small cocktail tables. Television. Juke box. A decent selection of liquor and hello, one hot as hell bartender leaning against the bar and looking right at her.

  Tired of toting the bags she abandoned them where they stood just inside the door and headed for the two things she had set her sights on. Cold vodka and the hot bartender. “Hi. Any chance I could get a Kettle One Cosmopolitan made with fresh lime juice?”

  The cutie straightened. “Can I see some ID first?”

  Ansley’s brows shot up. “Sure.”

  Her passport was right in her purse from the flight, so she grabbed it rather than dig her driver’s license out of her wallet. She handed it to him. After a brief look of surprise when the passport appeared out of her bag, he inspected it and handed it back to her.

  He reached into the cooler behind him. Coming up with limes in one hand and cranberry juice in the other, he tipped his head at a bar stool. “You might as well take a seat. This could take a while with all the lime squeezing and all.”

  “Thanks.” He was so gorgeous she’d forgotten to sit.

  Grabbing a mixing cup, he filled it with ice. “We don’t often get passports in here as ID, Miss Craig.”

  “I guess not.” She bet they didn’t get anyone here who wasn
’t born here, but she didn’t mention that. Instead, she noticed how the bulb above showed the highlights on the top of his light brown hair.

  She’d pretty much expected him to mess the drink up, but as she watched he made the perfect Cosmo, pouring the drink through a strainer directly into the chilled stemmed glass he’d placed on a cocktail napkin in front of her. He emptied the mixing cup just as the pink liquid came right to the rim.

  Impressed by his technique, she sipped carefully and let the cold sweetness fill her mouth, thinking chances were good he harbored other skills she’d like to experience. “Mm. This is perfect.”

  He laughed. “Are you surprised?”

  She sure as hell was, but if she wanted to see his technique with women, she better not say it. “Not at all. I know a capable man when I meet one.”

  A gorgeous bartender who could pour a kick ass Cosmo—Bumfuck was proving better than expected. “What’s your name?”

  “Jeremy.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Jeremy. You can call me Ansley instead of Miss Craig.”

  Leaning his forearms on the bar so he was even closer to her, he smirked. “Okay. Will I be seeing you around here now you and your passport have come to town, Ansley?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I believe you will.”

  His smile broadened. “Good to hear.”

  “Of course, that depends upon me being able to get around. I don’t have a car. I flew.”

  He nodded. “Hence the passport.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, I’m going to be stuck here for the summer.”

  “Well, stuck isn’t really a very nice word. Spending the summer here might just be fun.” The tenor of Jeremy’s voice dropped low. She watched as his gaze dropped low as well, taking her in from head to toe.

  He was into her. That thought had her insides heating.

  She raised a brow. “Perhaps. If only I had someone local to show me some fun.”

  His brow rose to mirror hers. “I might happen to know just the person to do that.”

  Ansley smiled, the flirting washing away the remnants of her bad mood. She glanced around. There was no one there but her. She’d always wanted to fool around on top of a bar.