Lustful Intentions [Climax, Montana 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  Stella’s injury would affect the entire valley. Since Sam was chosen to organize the haying, the Rocking E was responsible for the food. Stella had reluctantly agreed, for Sam’s sake. They all knew she hadn’t returned to the Rocking E ranch since she walked away from it so many years ago. She saw her sons often, but refused to go back to the place that had once been her home.

  The solution to everything might be the woman in front of him. Katie was young and had the energy Stella lacked. He’d watched her harmless flirting with the old men, letting them feel young and handsome again. She spoke as if well educated, which was explained by the business degree. Even more importantly, she saw things that needed doing and did them without asking. Though she’d been more than hungry, she’d taken dainty bites of her egg and toast. She’d flashed angry eyes and a quick fist at Sam, and damn if the man hadn’t responded.

  It was about time Sam woke up. He’d shown more life this morning than during the last decade. That in itself was a reason to keep the young woman around. He thought back, realizing no one had spoken Sam’s last name. Katie had no idea the Rocking E ranch belonged to Sam and Trey Elliott. No wonder Dorothy was in favor of Katie helping out. His wife had paired off Sam and Katie within ten minutes of seeing the two of them go head-to-head. Once Trey saw Katie he’d be sunk as well.

  Katie didn’t act like she knew she was pretty, so maybe she hadn’t been appreciated before. She certainly would be here. The lack of eligible females within a hundred miles was part of the reason there were five pairs of ranchers looking for wives, and more bachelors in town. Katie was a hardworking, intelligent, lovely young woman with a wide smile and a hearty laugh. She also stood up for herself, which meant she’d get along well with Lila Frost and the other women.

  “Talk or walk,” he said.

  “My full name is Katherine Hildegard Winterbourne. I prefer Katie.”

  Her voice shook, along with her body. She hid it well, but he knew what to watch for. Any trace of the wild fireball was gone. Katie had depth, which intrigued him.

  “My grandmother is the CEO of the Winterbourne Fine Furniture company in Salem, Oregon. She took over at twenty-five, when my grandfather died. Pretty much everyone in my family works there. My grandmother sent me on a six-month assignment. I was to see what life was like for the rest of America, as in the people who can’t afford our company’s furniture. I’m to come up with a business plan for a product that could be made between orders, to better balance the production schedule. Something that wasn’t so expensive.”

  “Are you close to your grandmother?”

  Katie faltered. “Yes,” she admitted. “Though we try to hide it since I’m nobody and shouldn’t have access to the person in charge. The others would get jealous and…it would not be good.” She whispered the last few words.

  A woman who’d been in charge of a male-dominated business had his admiration. It was a good idea to send her granddaughter to discover what life was really like. It made him want to meet the old woman.

  He typed the information into his computer. He had access to databases beyond most police departments, though would only check the basics for now. Her Oregon drivers’ license, as Katie Winter, had given her date of birth and an address. He discovered she not only had an MBA, she’d graduated with top marks. She’d also received commendations for volunteer work. Lots of people helped in animal shelters, but not too many worked with disabled veterans, helping them find a way through the tangle of forms required to get the benefits they needed. That alone would have moved her to the top of his hiring list. She would fit in their town, all right.

  “Why the false name?”

  “I was to do this totally on my own, not using the family name or resources.” She grimaced. “It also meant if I did something embarrassing it would not reflect back on the company. Uncle Walter insisted on that.”

  “Was it likely that you’d embarrass them?”

  Her blush was quick and bright. “I don’t fit in with my family. This red hair”—she twirled her finger in the curls at her neck—“had me labeled a rebel at birth. You tend to behave the way you are treated.”

  She said it bitterly. There was a story here, far more than a simple, though very unusual, internship. Katie had a touch of stubbornness, which, when properly applied, he called having a backbone. Weak managers saw it as a threat.

  He pulled up the Winterbourne Furniture Company webpage. Front and center was a family photo. The tiny, white-haired female CEO sat on a grand chair, surrounded by five men, their wives, and grown children. Katie’s grandmother had the look of someone who had battled for years and had come out on top. She wore her purple dress proudly, as well as a scarf with swirls of bright yellow, green, and pink. He’d have to get something like that for Dorothy.

  Her sons, dressed in near-identical dark business suits, had various bland expressions, none of them welcoming. The daughters-in-law looked like well-groomed sharks. As for the grown children, they looked like clones of their parents. He had to read the names to find Katie. She was stuck in the back, off to one side. Her hair was long, straight, and brown. She looked bored and out of place, her flame extinguished. He would never have connected the snarling or flirting girl he saw this morning with this pale imitation.

  “Did you live up to your hair?” he asked.

  Dorothy had dyed her hair mouse-brown for years, hiding her head of flames until he insisted otherwise. She’d gone gray early, though their time in London proved she was still wild. There was certainly a fire in the furnace even though the snow on the roof was thick.

  “I tried, but I was never like them.” Katie lifted her chin, showing a touch of the spirit he’d seen earlier. “Having been free for six months, I’m not sure I wish to fit in anymore.”

  He couldn’t see Katie embarrassing anyone unless they were stuck up and narrow-minded. However, children were judged by their family. No matter how good a child was at something, if the family didn’t think it had value, it didn’t count.

  “Tell me about it,” he said, leaning back.

  She puffed up her cheeks then blew out the air.

  “My family think well of themselves and look down on anyone different. My uncles and older male cousins are pompous and arrogant. The oldest, my Uncle Walter, wants to bring the company back to the way it was when Grandpa died. Uncle Walter was twelve at the time. From a psychological point of view that’s when his world crashed, and he thinks he can reinvent that life. So he stops my grandmother from making many changes.”

  Tom nodded, encouraging her to keep going.

  “The men think because I’m younger, smaller, and female, that I’m a lesser being. My aunts, none of whom work for the company, constantly fight with each other in a passive-aggressive way that I hate. I’ve never been one to play those games. I rarely say anything.” A pink tinge appeared on her cheeks and ears. “When I do get mad enough to speak up, I’m not good at filtering my words.”

  Anyone he respected would go crazy living in that type of atmosphere.

  “In other words, you’re honest. It must have felt good to tell Sam off.” Her blush deepened, though she didn’t reply. “We prefer honesty, though a bit of tact is appreciated. We care about each other, though we have our moments like any family.”

  She screwed up her face. “I suppose I owe Sam an apology for insulting him.”

  She had remorse, which was good, though not necessary in this circumstance. He liked what he saw of her. Even more, he liked what happened to Sam when she was around. He couldn’t wait to see the young woman’s face when she realized she’d be living with Sam and his younger brother. Trey had recently put his wild, playboy days behind him, though Tom doubted the young man could resist Katie’s appeal.

  “Sam insulted you, and got what was coming to him. No apology required. Welcome to Climax, Katie Winterbourne. Have fun on the ranch and most of all, enjoy being yourself.”

  Now her chin really started quivering. Her eyes glistened. “
You’re not throwing me out?”

  “Why would I? When I asked for the truth, you gave it straight up. Before you go, is there any information you can give me about the guy who stole your pack, or the one who attacked you?”

  To his surprise, she gave a clear description of the cowboy who’d taken her pack from the bus. She not only had a physical description of the driver, she described the truck, where it had been parked in Lima, and added the license plate. If he was an operative dropped into a new area he would want to have her on his side.

  “Don’t expect anything to come from the theft,” he said to her, “but Sheriff Gibson should be able to track down your attacker.”

  She fidgeted, frowning. “I could write a statement.”

  He took that to mean she would not be willing to hang around and participate in a trial. “That would be helpful. Best get back to work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  She quietly shut the door behind her. Tom added a few notes to the file he’d started on her. He’d give Josh Gibson the info on the thief and would-be rapist. The sheriff might know of something under the radar that could be triggered by Katie’s info. Tom would ask one of his agents to do a more exhaustive search, both on Katie and on the two men who’d affected her journey home. His men were experts at finding links between seemingly unconnected items. He’d include a few photos of Katie. Many of his men had physical and emotional side-effects from age and war that affected their having the type of active relationship he shared with Dorothy. Knowing they were helping a young woman with flashing eyes and a pert smile would brighten their day.

  Everything happened for a reason, though it was rare to know why. Katie was safe, though shaken up. And thanks to her, Sam was shaken up as well.

  Tom had seen the gleam in his wife’s eye when she saw the two of them together. Dorothy already had Katie hitched to the Elliott brothers. His wife was a born romantic, and an optimist.

  Tom shut down the screen and signed out. Maybe Dorothy would get another wedding this summer.

  Chapter 4

  Trey pulled nose first into a spot near the entrance of the Roadhouse and jammed on the anchors. The truck stopped inches from the boardwalk. He hopped out, slammed the door, and strode into the restaurant. A short redhead with a magnificent rack grabbed his attention. His day suddenly got far better. He grinned, hoping she thought he admired her face rather than what was under the stretched pink T-shirt. From the way she glared back, she was pissed. It was not the type of reaction he was used to. Instead of turning him off, it revved him up. He hadn’t had a female challenge him in too long. He winked at the furious pixie as he walked forward, sweeping his eyes over her again.

  “Now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  She smiled sweetly up at him, though her expression suggested he was something she wanted to scrape off the bottom of her boot. “Keep those eyes to yourself or I’ll poke my fingers in them.”

  She spoke quietly, continuing to smile though there was no welcome in those perfect white teeth. Her full lips were ready for kisses. His ability to charm women into his bed was legendary. He never coerced, finding seduction worked far better. It had been a few years since he’d used his skills. Maybe he was rusty. He suddenly noticed his mother sitting in the booth. His eager reaction wilted. He cleared his throat.

  “How are you feeling, Mom? You want to go home now?”

  “I’ve had better days,” she replied dryly. “I’ll be staying with Louise Jefferson. We’ve been planning to get together, anyway.”

  Tom’s face was serious, though Trey could see the sparkle in his eyes. “Trey,” said Tom, “this is Miss Katie Winterbourne. She was taking the bus home and had her pack stolen. She managed to make it to Climax early this morning. Katie, this is Trey Elliott.”

  She was not impressed. He dropped his eyes. Thumb-sized nipples poked out of her T-shirt. She growled something and crossed her arms to cover them. He snickered to himself. He’d trust body language over words any day.

  “Where’s my big brother?” asked Trey. “I thought he was in town.”

  “He’s picking up a prescription for me,” replied his mother. “He’s hired Katie to clean the kitchen to get ready for the haying. You don’t mind having her around?”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” he said. Katie looked toward the door, which had opened behind him. Her eyes widened and a scowl appeared.

  “What are you doing back?” she demanded.

  Trey turned to find his brother eying Katie as if she was a rattler. She wasn’t impressed with his brother, either.

  “Seems we’re stuck with each other for a few days,” said Sam coldly. “You stay in the house and we’ll get along fine.”

  Katie gasped. She looked at Tom, Dorothy, and then Trey’s mom. She pointed at Sam. “He’s your other son?”

  “Yes, that’s my middle boy, Sam.” His mom nodded oh so innocently.

  Trey rubbed his lip to hide a smile. Mom was up to something, all the way from her size-six toes to her baby blues. If it pissed Sam off, he was all for it.

  “I’m Stella Elliott, dear. My sons are Ben, Sam, and Trey.”

  It was easy to see that Sam was pissed off at Katie, and the feeling was completely mutual. What made it better was that Trey was known as a grade-A shit disturber. He’d support anyone giving Sam a crank. He also wanted to see more of this woman, both her personality and her curvaceous body. Was she a real redhead?

  “You two know each other?” he asked, pretending innocence.

  “We met this morning,” said Katie politely, though her eyes homed in on Sam like a heat-seeking missile.

  “When she ran her fist into my nose,” said Sam.

  “Well, well, Miss Katie! Did you knock my big brother on his ass?”

  She lifted her chin. It came to his middle shirt button.

  “Yes, I did. He startled me.”

  Trey burst into a laugh. “I knew I’d like you. You gotta tell me all about it.”

  Katie’s face turned pink. “Shouldn’t we be taking care of your mother?”

  “I’ll take care of Mom,” insisted Trey. “Sam’ll take you home.”

  “Marci will be over later with some clothes,” said Dorothy to Katie.

  The woman had a body made for sex, but something had her knickers twisted so tight he’d need his eight-inch crash scissors to cut her loose. While she and Sam glared at each other, invisible sparks shot between them. This was going to be fun!

  There was more to his eagerness than the possibility of sex. If Katie pissed off Sam enough to make him get this mad, she might be the one to crack the wall holding in his grief. The counselor said Sam wouldn’t have much chance of a happy future unless he could let go of the past. Sam had bottled his grief deep inside, stoically trying to take the place of both fathers. Trey had a reputation of playing the fool and pushing limits, but at least he enjoyed his life. Sam wouldn’t even swing off the frayed rope and fall into the swimming hole any more. He was sure he’d break something and the Rocking E would fall to rack and ruin.

  He bet Katie would be swinging on that rope if she was here long enough. Trey would do everything possible to help her stay, and to turn his brother around.

  If he could sample some of her charms along the way, so much the better.

  * * * *

  “You are one cranky woman.”

  Katie tried to ignore Sam’s comment as she stared out the truck’s passenger window. She’d been spoiled these last six months, able to say what she really thought. Telling off a stranger while standing up for herself that morning was appropriate. Poking a tiger was not, especially when she had to share his home for a few days. Should she cave in, preparing herself to return home as a meek creature? Her gut clenched at the thought. No. She’d enjoy her freedom until the last moment. That meant getting along with this grumpy man and his playboy brother. Getting along did not mean giving in.

  “Listen up, cowboy,” she said, snarling at him. “
I’ve been surviving on little sleep or food while working my ass off for six months. Last night everything I had with me was stolen, and then some creep attacked me. And now you accuse me of acting like a two-year-old who needs a nap?”

  His expression, tolerant amusement, did not change. Her fury rose. That expression, and attitude, was just like her Uncle Walter. No matter what she did, it was wrong. She couldn’t do anything to her uncle because he’d be CEO when her grandmother passed. But before she left this valley she was going to wipe that smirk off Sam Elliott’s face!

  “I can see all that making you a bit tetchy,” he said finally, nodding at the windshield. “And you’re wrong about your ass. It looks fine to me.”

  Stunned, she gaped at him for a moment before snapping her mouth shut. “Are you serious?” she demanded. It was a rhetorical question, yet his brows almost joined as he thought.

  “Always. And the view from the front isn’t too bad either.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” She sputtered for a moment, unable to get the words out. “It’s guys like you who define and objectify women by our breasts and posteriors!”

  “Objectify?” He frowned.

  “Treating as an object, as having little other value.”

  “I know what the word means. But you’re wearing a T-shirt so tight I can tell when you’re cold.” One side of his mouth turned up, but not in a smile. He purposefully turned his head to drill his eyes into hers. “Or hot. Are you advertising something you have no intention of selling?”

  He was calling her a tease? Her fury went up a thousand degrees then froze. Two could play at this game. She flicked her eyes over him.

  “You’re wearing a tight shirt designed to show off your muscles, one with snaps easily opened with one tug. Below that you have snug jeans which hug your muscular thighs and cowboy butt. And in front you’ve got a huge, shiny belt buckle. What’s the reason for wearing that, other than to draw attention to a certain part of your anatomy?” She snorted like a disgusted teenager. “I’m wearing the only clothes I have. You, Mr. Elliott are the one advertising.”