by Sam Crescent
She smiled a little, looking at him as though she wasn’t sure whether to trust. “I might do.”
The teasing little— “You might do? So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?”
“How what’s going to be?”
She was trying hard to keep laughter out of her voice, he knew it.
“You keeping me on a string until you decide to let me know where I stand. Where we stand.”
“Something like that.”
“Like I said.” He pecked her on the tip of her nose. “All your own way. But, hey, I’ve waited twelve months already, and I’ll wait another twelve, and twelve more if that’s what it takes.”
“Are you serious?” She cocked her head, her hair bowing with the movement.
“Deadly.”
She stared at him, sizing him up if he wasn’t mistaken.
“All right!” She straightened her back and shoulders, a proud stance if ever he saw one. “I’m ready to delegate.”
“You are?” Well, this was a turn-up for the books. He widened his eyes and suppressed a smile at having won his first victory with her. She might just be seeing shades of grey after all.
“Yes, but if you overstep the mark, you can bet your ass I’ll let you know about it.”
He laughed again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
“I’m going to lie on the sofa.”
“And?”
She pushed away from him and walked to the kitchen doorway. Leaning on the door frame like that, she looked all kinds of sexy and then some.
“And you need to go tell the men to take the rest of the day off. Get one of them to fill in the worksheets for the day before they go.”
“Me?” He raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his shock.
“Yes, you. I just changed your job description. Get to it, foreman.”
* * * *
Travis walked across the grass towards Clark, thankful that his toe wasn’t giving him any trouble. Another shift would see it healed completely. How he’d explain that to Sarah he didn’t know, but if he guessed right they’d be taking things slowly, so she wouldn’t be seeing him naked any time soon.
The black-haired bastard was giving a mare some exercise in the paddock, a beautiful chestnut with the longest mane Travis had seen in quite a while. Unless he counted Sarah’s. The mare’s tail swished as she trotted, glinting in the soft rays of the dying sun. The day had been fresh and bright after the storm, the ground drying up like it hadn’t taken a beating from the pelting rain the night before.
He watched Clark closely, looking for signs of unease, but found none. Clever bastard knew how to hide his emotions. Despite hating the man, he had to admit Clark had a way with the horses.
He approached the fence, and Clark glanced over, murmuring to the horse and bringing her to a stop. He tied her reins to a post, his arms rigid and bronzed from the hot summer they’d just had. Clark spun to face Travis, and stalked over to lean on the fence.
“What the fuck do you want?” Clark asked.
“Fill this out,” Travis said, holding the clipboard up with the worksheet attached.
“Fuck you.” Clark presented his back and took a step away.
“I wouldn’t walk away from me if you value your job.”
Clark halted, spine stiff. Sweat gleamed on his neck, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Like you’ve got a say in whether I work here or not, asshole.”
“I do when I’m your foreman.”
Clark flew around, eyes narrowed to slits, mouth a grimace. “You’re fucking what?”
“You heard me right. So fill this in. Then go home. Early day today.” He held the clipboard higher.
Clark hesitated then took it, taking down the pencil he had wedged above his ear. “So that’s how it is. New guy gets to be foreman over those of us who’ve been here longer. What did you do, fuck her into agreeing?”
Travis gritted his teeth.
Clark looked up from writing. “You did, didn’t you?”
Was that hatred Travis saw in his eyes?
“No, I didn’t. Not all men have to fuck their way through life to get somewhere.”
“You taking a pop at me?” Clark sniffed then hawked onto the ground. “Because if you are, you’d better fucking think again. There’s people around these parts. People with guns.”
“That a threat?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, fucker.” Clark thrust the clipboard at Travis.
Travis took it and looked down at his writing. As he knew it would, it matched the note left on Sarah’s fridge. “Nice hand you got there. Sheriff Laurie is investigating a note found at Sarah’s this morning after a break-in. Very similar. Funny, that.”
“Fuck off. You can’t prove nothing.”
“Not me, no.” He left it there, continuing with, “Now go home. I don’t want to see you back here until you start work Monday.”
Clark opened his mouth to say more but refrained. He pulled open the gate, stalking past Travis, close enough for their jeans to touch. Travis waited a few beats then turned to watch the son of a bitch’s retreat…
Then smiled. He’d have that motherfucker’s face meeting his fist if it was the last thing he did.
Chapter Six
The old threadbare couch was still comfortable, and its position within the sitting room meant Sarah could lay and watch the developing sunset. The sky was alight with passionate reds and yellows as the sun descended for the day. She was tormented by her thoughts and couldn’t resist checking the clock every few minutes.
Sarah was a woman of action. Her father had always taught her to be in their face and show your opponent you weren’t scared. That was why she could break and train some of the fiercest horses.
As much as Travis didn’t want her facing Clark alone, she would, even surrounded by the asshole’s cronies. All she needed was the time and the patience to get out to Macy Jo’s bar before Travis got back from touring the ranch. Clark had left in a huff, but not before he’d looked back to the house with a sneer. Sarah had seen the threat on his face and now she was ready to act.
Travis had made it clear he felt something for her and wanted their relationship to be so much more, and deep down she was relieved to have a man around the house—one who’d admitted to caring. But, as much as she liked the revelation and how her body reacted, she must remain a realist.
Why couldn’t she tell him she was pleased he’d taken some of the weight off her shoulders? Why couldn’t she explain that it was because she wasn’t male that she acted the way she did? Oh, she knew it sounded ridiculous now she was a grown woman, to still think of how she’d felt as a young girl, but some things stayed with you no matter how hard you tried to get rid of them. Telling yourself things didn’t bother you sometimes didn’t work.
When Travis finally decided he’d had enough of banging the boss, he’d leave—move on to the next town and the next bunch of girls. She’d seen it happen to women several times over the years and was determined not to let it happen to her. The town would still be here in his absence and so would she, except her reputation would be ruined. It may be the twenty-first century and all that bollocks, but in a small town, a reputation was the only thing you had going for you. Daddy’s was as firm as steel even after his death, and she was determined that hers would be the same.
So she’d keep the change in their relationship quiet for now.
Until it became clear Travis was around to stay.
If that ever happens…
After the last disaster with a boyfriend—which had seen her father threatening the guy with a shotgun—Sarah had taken no more chances. His words stuck with her even today.
“Sarah, I know you want to understand what goes on between a man and a woman, and for some folks it’s all right to do it with everyone they meet. But I want you to remember something. When you give yourself to a person, you’re with them for life. They will always hold a part of you.
If that man turns out to be a man you don’t love, you’ll have to live knowing he still holds a part of you. Be sensible, Sarah, and don’t settle for second best. I didn’t and I’ll love your mama until the day I die.”
He’d rarely spoken so many words at one time in all of her life, especially words about sex and boys, but those had struck a chord. From that day on, Sarah had stopped running with the pack of girls and didn’t make out in the backs of trucks. She’d left school with her virginity intact, while her friends had been pregnant or thinking about settling down and getting married.
The man she would spend the rest of her life with would have every part of her. Old-fashioned views for a modern-day woman, but it was how she would live her life. Travis was the first man she’d ever got so close to wanting. She had urges like every other woman—she’d just learnt to push those urges into her work. Some would say her daddy didn’t mean for her to stay a virgin forever, just for a while, but she wasn’t old. Twenty-five wasn’t old at all.
Was Travis the one? Men had come and tried, but she wouldn’t allow just anyone past the wall of ice she’d erected. Her heart was her own, as was her body. Her parents had had a love that lasted a lifetime and she wanted the same.
Which was why she had to go to Macy Jo’s tonight, to show the town that she was afraid of nothing and that she was still the same Sarah French who had turned them all down in high school, and would turn them all down now.
The clock struck six, and Sarah moved to the window. Darkness was swallowing up most of the ranch, and she knew how hectic and long the foreman’s job was. Travis would be lucky to get back before nine at least. He was nowhere in sight—her plan to be rid of him had worked.
“I’m sorry, Travis, but a woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do.”
* * * *
An hour later, Sarah went back downstairs dressed in a denim skirt and a tight, white shirt. Using the mirror in the hallway, she painted her lips and puffed out her hair to give it some lift, even though it fell straight back down. Her eyes, already smoky, were now highlighted by black mascara and a small amount of brown eyeshadow—minimal makeup to enhance the beauty, not detract from it. From her working out in the sun all day, her skin shone with a lovely golden tan.
She wrote a short note to Travis, and left a casserole in the oven and some beers chilling in the fridge. Deep down she knew he would follow her, but fingers crossed she’d be back in time before he even knew she’d left. If Clark hadn’t broken in, if Travis had gone home at the end of the day as usual, she might have visited Macy Jo’s alone anyway.
Ten minutes later, purse in hand, she climbed into her old beat-up truck and took one last look over the fields, wondering if she’d see Travis. The darkness was too thick. The start of winter was fighting back. She smiled at that.
Just like me. Damn straight I’m fighting back.
She started up the truck, the engine growling—another job on her endless list, to get the goddamn truck fixed—and paused, hands on the steering wheel.
Why was she hesitating? She glanced back out at the fields and then to the house. She took a deep breath and went to open the door, the engine still running, thinking she ought to do as Travis said and wait for him.
“What the hell am I doing?” she muttered. “Fuck it!” She slammed the door and revved the engine. “My life, my rules.” This was her fight, and she was going to have it sorted once and for all.
She buckled her seatbelt, put the truck in gear, and was on her way.
She refused to look at her rear-view mirror.
This was her life, and she would fuck it up as much or as little as she wanted.
The drive into town was uneventful, the roads quiet at this time of evening. Sarah waved at a few people she recognised while stopping off at the mini-mart to pick up another pack of beer as an apology to Travis. She met a few friendly faces and a couple not so nice, but unfortunately every town had a mix and theirs was no different. Within no time at all she was back in her truck and on the road to Macy Jo’s. The popular bar was situated on the outskirts, so not only local folk visited but a few from other towns, and some travellers stopped by for beer and entertainment.
Macy, one of the owners, tried to keep things up and running, hosting events such as birthday parties and novelty events. Sarah was sure Macy had even hosted some rodeo shows.
By seven-thirty it was already busy, and she struggled to find a parking space. She decided to park along the upper bank on the main strip of road, figuring she’d be able to walk the short distance and leave quickly after her mission was complete.
Mission? Was she starting to think she was in some kind of action flick?
She passed men who whistled and did the usual bids for attention. She showed them her precious middle finger and walked into the bar. Beer, sweat and smoke were the smells that invaded her senses. Any other time she would have walked out but instead she took a seat at the bar. Country music blared, and she scanned the room to see if Clark was already here. He wasn’t. At least she had time to get herself settled.
Within seconds of her getting comfortable, a guy hit on her.
“Hey, beautiful…”
“Fuck off.” Sarah knew how to talk to unwanted suitors.
The man sloped off, not even giving her a second chance to reject. Some men were harder to be rid off and she was in the mood for a fight tonight.
“Well, Sarah French!” Macy squealed as she ran along behind the bar, leaning over and embracing Sarah in a bear hug. “My God, girl, it’s been a millennium.”
“How are you doing?” Sarah asked once she’d managed to breathe again.
“I’m pregnant again, but me and John are happy.”
Macy Jo and John Baines had been high school sweethearts. She knew John was on the same level of cruelty as Clark at times, but with Macy he was like a little teddy bear. Even scary, evil men had their weaknesses.
“Where is John tonight?” Sarah asked.
“At home with the kids. He wanted to be here but the babysitter called in sick. Something to do with the change in the seasons. Anyway, what can I get you to drink?”
“Just a bottle of still water for me, Macy.”
Macy’s smile dropped.
“What’s the matter?” Sarah asked.
“Please… Water? Shit, Sarah, I should have known you’d be here to cause trouble. Whenever you come here and drink water I know you’re cruising for a fight. Shit.” Macy cursed again, closing her eyes, her lips moving as if in prayer. “I’m calling John.” She moved to leave and make the phone call.
“Don’t, Macy. I just want some water and some company tonight. I’m not looking for trouble.” Under the bar, Sarah crossed her fingers. It was only a small lie. Not really a lie—she wasn’t looking for trouble, more like giving out a warning to a creep. Sarah had no intention of ruining everyone’s evening or causing any damage to the bar.
She could see Macy didn’t believe her so tried her best I’m-a-good-girl-and-all, innocent smile.
It didn’t work.
Macy frowned. “I can’t afford you messing up my bar. Like I said, you drinking water tells me you’re here for trouble. Did you think I’d forget that? With this recession and shit, there really is no money. I’m tied to fuck with this place, and with a baby on the way and all the medical bills…”
“I own a ranch, Macy, and the last I checked I wasn’t raking in money. Fuck, I can’t even afford to fix my house. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
How she hated lying, but it would be up to Clark to decide how things went down.
Macy left to fetch her a bottle of water, giving Sarah time to pace herself. It had been over a year since she’d been here. In fact, the last time had been when her daddy was alive. She understood Macy’s concerns. She and Daddy had once caused a little trouble with an outsider who hadn’t understood the word no.
“So, now I know you’re not causing trouble and are here on a purely chill basis, tell me abou
t that hot little stud Travis Williams. Been a while since I’ve seen his face in my bar.” Macy handed her the water and stayed put.
Sarah was sure she was only staying to keep an eye on her, to watch as she finished her water and left.
“He’s good. A good worker.” He’s fucking gorgeous, and every time I’m around him I want to forget all my good intentions, drop my panties and fuck his brains out.
“Yeah, a good worker. All you see in those hard, thick muscles and tempting ass is he’s a good worker? Shit, girl, jump on and ride that man. If you don’t, other women will be lining up to take him.”
Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle. It had been some time since she’d felt comfortable enough to laugh. “You’re a married woman, Macy Jo. You should be quaint and at home with your husband.”
“Why? John admires all the ass in this place. I just know who he keeps coming home to. Looking is not the problem—it’s when they start touching that you scream and chop their balls off.”
Sarah coughed her water out on the counter, apologising to the people closest. Macy, laughing, handed her some napkins to clean up her mess.
A guy approached Macy and whispered in her ear.
“Oh, shit,” Macy said.
“What? What’s the matter?” Sarah asked, concerned.
“My life is about to turn to fucking shit,” Macy said. “Clark James and some of his group just walked in with a minor.” She pointed to the back corner.
Squinting through the layers of smoke, Sarah spotted him. She also spotted Sheriff Laurie. “Why is the sheriff with them?”
“I don’t know but I’m getting John here. His mother will have to watch the kids. I have a feeling in my gut things are about to get ugly and I’m not talking about the baby moving, either.”
Sarah left the woman to make the phone call and sat watching the group of repulsive men. They all talked amongst themselves, the sheriff looking all goofy as if he belonged with the group. Shit, she’d known not to tell him anything about whom she suspected had broken in to her place. Her instincts had been spot on.
