by Anya Summers
Emily shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’ve got you covered. And I meant what I said about feeding you. Just call the reservation desk each day and let me know what you want off the menu or the special and consider it done.”
“Thank you, truly. Both of you have been wonderful.” Mia stood and was surprised when Emily hugged her.
“Don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime,” Emily said.
“I’ll walk you to your cabin,” Mason said.
“That’s not necessary,” Mia replied, not wanting to put them out further.
“This time of night there could be cougars, and I would prefer to make sure you make it back in one piece,” Mason replied, pulling his jacket out from a nearby closet.
At the mention of cougars, Mia reneged. “In that case, I would appreciate the company.”
Mason escorted her out, but only after Emily had wrapped up some extra pot roast, rolls, and pie for her.
On their short trek to her cabin, Mason said, “Thank you for humoring her. Cole told me you don’t like talking about your work. And I appreciate it.”
“It’s not that I don’t like talking about it, but the limelight thing, being a public figure and the celebrity of it, is a part of what I do that I don’t care for. I love what I do and am thankful I get to do it, that it’s found an audience. But it’s a little terrifying when people think your life belongs to them or that they know you.”
“It sounds a little lonely, actually,” Mason murmured.
“It can be. The lodge is really beautiful. I’m amazed at what you and Cole have built here.”
“Appreciate it. Definitely not like your Chicago. But you’ll be leaving in, what, a week or so?” he asked pensively.
“No. Not at all. And yes, I leave in eight days,” she replied. The thought of going back to her apartment depressed her.
“Sounds like you’re not too happy about it,” he said as they climbed the few steps up her porch.
“I don’t know what I am. Shouldn’t the thought of home make you excited or bring a sense of calm?” she asked.
“Well, I’ll tell you, I used to think home was a place. All this,” he gestured his arm in an arc to include the land beyond her cabin, “is just dirt, grass, and wood if you don’t have people in your life who matter. If your home in Chicago doesn’t make you happy, maybe it’s time to ask yourself why, and what it is you want.”
“And what if what I want doesn’t want me back?”
“Mia, you’re the first woman I’ve seen my brother take a real interest in in quite some time. Decide what you want and talk to Cole. And if you decide you want to stay on longer, extend your time here, let me know and I’d be happy to work out a deal with you,” Mason said.
“Why are you being so nice? I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
Instead of getting angry, which was what she expected, Mason exuded warmth and compassion. “Because my brother has been happier since you’ve been here than I’ve seen him in a long time. It has nothing to do with what you do professionally but the change you’ve wrought in Cole. Besides, if I get you to stay longer that will win me brownie points with Emily.”
She relaxed and said, “Thank you. And I’ll think about it.”
He replied with a half grin, “Have a good night. We’ll see you at the club tomorrow.”
“You too,” Mia said and entered her cabin, shutting the door behind her.
She’d had a better time tonight with Emily and Mason than she’d thought she would. And Mason had given her some food for thought.
Her return to Chicago loomed over her, like the Grim Reaper eagerly anticipating the death toll from a natural disaster. Maybe she should consider staying on longer, giving whatever this thing was between her and Cole a chance. She had options, and the money aspect wasn’t a problem. She’d already been well off with the inheritance her parents had left her, and that was before she’d gotten published and had her work optioned for television. Not to mention, the tidy sum she’d inherited from her aunt.
She wondered what Cole would say if she decided to stay another month. Would he be happy?
Instead of getting back to work, she got into her pajamas, curled up on the sofa with a hearty fire going, and journaled.
Day Twenty in the Wild West
I may not go back home to Chicago. And, even as I write this, it seems odd but Chicago doesn’t feel like home anymore.
She wrote, hoping that she could make sense of the burgeoning and altogether new quagmire of her feelings: for Wyoming, the way the land called to her, and for Cole, since she wasn’t ready to admit to him that she was in love with him.
Chapter 24
Cole was exhausted by the end of the day. The overnight fishing excursion with Ted Masterson and his son Theo had been rather uneventful. Both Ted and Theo were skilled anglers and pretty much all Cole had needed to do was command the boat.
Other than that, the father and son duo had been easy money.
It had also made memories surface of taking Mia out on the lake. The father and son team hadn’t been half as pretty to look at, that was for damn certain. But Cole had thought about her. A lot. More than he was comfortable with.
He had feelings for Mia. It was a two-ton bear he’d wrestled with the entire trip and he was no closer to an answer on how to proceed. Cole didn’t get involved, didn’t let himself get serious about a woman or entertain emotional entanglements. He had experienced the love of his life. The problem was, any time he tried to recall Lana’s face from memory, it was Mia’s vivid beauty that appeared in his mind. The way Mia sighed when she cuddled up against him after sex. And the way she moaned when he was buried so deep inside her that he was almost a part of her.
Which begged the question, if he wasn’t getting serious about Mia then why in the hell was he taking her to the club tonight?
He didn’t have a fucking clue. And it bugged the everlasting shit out of him. He’d spent his time on the water, with his line cast, pondering what it was he did want from Mia. And he was still no closer to an answer.
He strode into the main lodge. He’d stored all the extra tackle and hosed off the boat. They’d taken the bigger of the two, with sleeping quarters and a mini kitchen on board. He’d do more with it tomorrow.
He had to make a quick stop at the office and then he wanted food and a shower, in that order, before he headed over to pick Mia up at her cabin.
He knocked on his brother’s office door. His own office was further down the hall and he was rarely, if ever, there, so they tended to keep any meetings they had to Mason’s office. Which was fine by Cole, he wasn’t a pencil pusher by any means.
“Come in,” Mason said.
Cole opened the door, relieved that he wasn’t interrupting any clandestine meetings with his brother and Emily.
“Cole. I was just beginning to wonder if you were going to make it back today. Problems?” Mason said as Cole took his seat across from him and sat back, grateful to be off his feet for a minute.
“No. They made a big catch just before we were set to head in so our return took a little longer than I would have liked.”
“Good. Then the Masterson crew was happy with their trip, I take it?” Mason questioned.
“More than. They’ve already booked another one for this fall,” Cole said. He enjoyed having repeat customers. Especially repeat customers who knew the ropes.
“I love hearing that. It makes our accounts very happy,” Mason said.
“Dude, does Emily realize you get a hard-on from doing the books?” Cole derided.
Mason gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s come up a time or two when we’ve discussed merging accounts.”
“And?”
Mason shrugged. “Emily has a sharp mind and is even more cut throat when it comes to pinching pennies—if anything, she’s taught me a thing or two.”
“She’s good for you. By the way, we might need to get the motor on the twenty-footer looked at. Engine’s floo
ding again. I’ll see what I can do to patch it up tomorrow, but if it goes beyond my skills, we’ll need to get a repairman in.”
“Shit. All right,” Mason replied.
“It’s better than having to buy a new boat. We keep the maintenance up on it as much as we can, but it’s a machine, it breaks, and as much as I wish I was skilled at engines, I’m not. Well, not as much as our cousin, Brody. That man knows his way around any engine.”
“Well, if you can patch it up and keep it running until my wedding, perhaps we can enlist Brody and hire him to do the repairs,” Mason said.
“It’s less than three months, so I’ll see what I can do. I’m running to grab some grub from the restaurant before I head home and get ready for the club tonight.”
“I hear that you’re bringing Mia Evans with you tonight.”
Cole swore under his breath. “And?”
“No ands about it. I like her, by the way. She had dinner with Emily and me last night, at Emily’s insistence.”
“Really?” Cole said, his gaze narrowed, wondering what his brother was up to.
“Um hmm. I think she fits you. And is making you happy. It’s a good look on you, Cole. Are you claiming her at the club tonight?” Mason asked.
“It’s not like that between us. Mia is here temporarily. She leaves to head back home to the big city in like a week. That means there is no possibility of a lasting relationship.”
“But you want one with her,” Mason said as a statement, as if it was already a done deal.
“I didn’t say that. You know I don’t do relationships and commitment.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cole, you didn’t die. When are you going to stop treating your life like you did?” Mason asked, exasperated.
“You have no right to go there, Mase, so I suggest you back the hell off.”
“Why? So you can fuck up the best thing that has happened to you since Lana died? Cole, I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t love you and wasn’t concerned that you were turning into a grumpy old loner.”
Cole shot up from his seat, seething, and growled, “That’s enough. I don’t want to talk about Lana—or Mia, for that matter. Back the hell off or you can find yourself a new partner.”
Mason stood and glared at him across his desk. His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s real funny how not too long ago you told me to get over myself and stop crying over what Claire did. Don’t you think it’s time you did the same?”
The barb hit way too close to home. Because Cole hadn’t moved on. He knew that, deep down. But he chose anger instead and glowered. “I’m out. I won’t talk about Lana with you—or anyone else, for that matter.”
He stormed out of Mason’s office and, instead of heading to the restaurant, marched home. He wasn’t presently fit for company and didn’t want to take his fury out on some unsuspecting tourist.
Besides, there were always leftovers from the meals Emily made for them in addition to her job at the Elkhorn.
He stormed inside the house and knew he couldn’t get his own place built soon enough. This one no longer fit him. He needed peace. He needed solitude. He needed Mia.
He yanked a beer out of the fridge and swore at the last errant thought.
Was Mason right?
Ignoring the turmoil inside, which had taken on the appearance of a super volcano ready to blow at a moment’s notice, he rifled through the fridge and came up with gold. Pot roast. More than enough for at least one meal, if not more. Thank goodness for Emily.
Cole heated some up on a plate in the microwave and even found some fresh rolls. He ate, stuffing himself, and tried to get a handle on his anger. If he didn’t, he would have to cancel taking Mia to the club.
Perhaps that was best. It would be better to avoid potentially harming her when he was so livid—both at Mason and at himself for allowing his brother to needle him that way.
When there wasn’t a crumb left on his plate, he rinsed it in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. He took his beer with him upstairs and showered, debating the entire time whether tonight should happen or not.
The strange thing was, he didn’t want to disappoint Mia.
It wasn’t just about him—and he wanted to be the one to introduce her to attending a lifestyle club.
Screw it, a good hard fuck was what he needed. As for everything else, he’d figure it out, eventually.
Chapter 25
Mia clutched Cole’s hand as they walked through the front door of the Teton Cowboy. She was charmed by the small city of Jackson Hole. What she’d seen of it, anyhow. She had to come back here during the day. But at night the streets were illuminated by storefront signs and the lights of clubs like this one. With its wooden flooring and tables, it looked like your everyday average bar and grill—if you subtracted the horse saddle barstools and stuffed dead animals.
But she didn’t see anything that resembled a kinky sex club. “Cole, I’m a little confused, I thought we were going—”
He tugged her over to an interior door marked private. Standing sentinel was a hunky cowboy, with inky black hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“Derrick, good to see you,” Cole said and held out his hand for the man to shake.
“It’s been a while, Cole. And who is the tasty morsel you have with you tonight?” Derrick asked, giving her a friendly smile and a wink.
“This is Mia. Mia, this is Derrick, he guards the gates for us most nights,” Cole explained.
“Welcome, Mia. Be sure to see Spencer once you get down there. She’ll have to sign an NDA since she’s not a club member. And she will be solely your responsibility,” Derrick instructed.
“Understood,” Cole said with a nod.
“Have a good time,” Derrick said and winked at her again.
Mia blushed as they entered and descended a long, well-lit stairwell. Music spilled up the stairs from below.
“I have to sign something just to come here?” she whispered, wondering what she’d gotten herself into by coming here.
“It’s just a non-disclosure agreement that you won’t talk about the club, its members, or what goes on here with anyone outside the club. It protects the members—and you, as well. I doubt you would want the television execs to know your bedroom habits.”
She’d told him about the whole television thing with her books on the drive in. He didn’t seem to care about it one way or the other, which was a very Cole reaction and why she’d told him in the first place. But he was right, the last thing she would want the Hollywood people to know about were her bedroom habits. She swallowed. “No. I wouldn’t.”
Mia worried that she had bitten off far more than she could chew as they entered. There was a serious amount of flesh on display. Cole tugged her to the right and said, “Go hang your coat and purse in one of the lockers. It will be safe there. And I’ll meet you right back here.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, trying to remember all the instructions he’d given her in the truck.
The dress that he’d procured for her was a black Lycra spandex number that revealed every curve and dip in her body. The sides were cut out in little half-moons from beneath the swell of her breasts to her hip bones, exposing a swath of skin. It was a halter style number, thank goodness, because that meant she didn’t have to worry about it falling down. Then again, it barely covered her ass, and she was wearing such a skimpy thong she might as well have gone commando. She would have if she hadn’t been so worried that everyone would catch a glimpse of her pussy.
Although, considering the scene Cole had planned, she could have gone without. She was going to be naked anyhow, in front of strangers.
Mia emerged from the locker room, her stomach performing acrobatic feats, and rejoined Cole. The man had lost his shirt like the rest of the cowboys in the club. She did love his chest, with the dark fur covering his ripcord, sinewy muscles.
With his arm possessively around her waist, he towed her over to a group of cowboys. S
he recognized Mason with his arm around Emily, and Alex Hunt, who had helped them leave the cabin.
“Mia, you look lovely,” Mason said.
“Thank you. It’s nice to see you both.”
“Miss Evans, I must say you are breathtaking,” Alex said. His gaze practically undressed her and she stepped closer to Cole.
“Thank you, Sir,” she replied.
“Don’t mind Alex. He’s just being a fanboy,” Cole said, giving Alex a glare.
“It’s all right, truly,” Mia replied.
“And this here is Garrett, another member of our motley crew. And Jackson, who’s one of Jackson Hole’s finest police officers.”
Garrett had a bit more polish on him, like Mason in a way, with short-cropped dark hair which sported dark hints of auburn, and a pleasing smile.
“Ma’am,” Jackson said, tipping his hat, his hazel eyes warm.
“And this here is Spencer. He runs the place for us while the rest of us work for a living,” Cole said, gesturing to another handsome guy, who stood out because he didn’t have a cowboy hat on his inky black hair. He had a full tribal tattoo over his left pectoral that bled into a full sleeve tat.
“And yet, without me, none of this would be possible,” Spencer said like a generous benefactor before directing his dark gaze her way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia. If you’ll come with me for just a moment, I have a bit of paperwork for you to sign.”
“Yes, Sir. Cole told me.” On the way down the stairs. Although it did make her feel marginally better to know that no one could mention her being there without getting sued.
“Great.” He held out his arm, all debonair and suave, which was a juxtaposition to the fact that he wore a pair of blue jeans that rode low on his muscular hips, and his chest, which sported a few scars, but was perfectly hewn and ripped. Mia nearly had to fan herself. Cole was gorgeous and athletically built, but this man, Spencer, was the guy all parents warned their daughters about. He was handsome and when he looked at you, you knew he liked his sex dirty and that he knew how to fuck a woman senseless.
