by Jane Jamison
A two-story house lay ahead with a barn not too far from it. The house was older, as were most she’d seen dotted around the countryside, but she could see that it had been well maintained. Painted a green color she didn’t particularly like, she did like the white shutters that hung on either side of every window. They hadn’t done much landscaping as there were no flowers in either the flower bed or hanging on hooks from the rooftop, but then, what had she expected from men? Men often thought more about functionality than beauty.
The red barn shone under the mid-day sun. Its shutters on the second story, no doubt the hayloft area, were painted black. Now, why hadn’t they matched the shutters of the house to the shutters of the barn? Obviously, it was another man thing.
As she grew closer, she could see figures moving around in a corral. They were, no doubt, the men, and they were working with a horse. She slowed down even more, pulling her car close to the other side of the house so that it was partially hidden from the corral.
Deep, masculine voices lifted on the air as their hands slid over the large animal in long, loving strokes. There was no yelling. No yanking on the bridle, nothing that was anything but gentle with the horse. And if they were gentle with a horse, didn’t that mean they’d be gentle with her?
At least some of the time. But as for the rest of the time? Make it rough.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, but stayed where she was. She had no right thinking about other men while Bill was at home in Houston, trusting her. Granted, they hadn’t had a great relationship lately, but more and more, she kept thinking that her time with Bill was over. The only thing left was to put a nail in its coffin.
I should turn around and leave. I should go back and break it off with Bill first. Before…
Before what? Yet she knew the answer to her unspoken question.
But leaving was the last thing she wanted to do. Strangely, she thought leaving might tear her apart. The odd sensation she’d felt first with Darrold, and then with Mike and Byton, struck her again, confusing her all the more. Why did she only get the odd, wonderfully hot feeling whenever she was near these men? Were they causing this sensation? But why? How?
She continued to watch them, studying the way their bodies moved with a gracefulness most men didn’t possess. They were powerful-looking men, not the kind of men she’d find strolling down the middle of Houston, cell phones stuck to their ears. They wore cotton shirts rolled up to their elbows and jeans that fit their bodies perfectly. No drooping drawers here. No, they weren’t the type to get into fads, and fashion was a foreign word. They dressed for work and not for the whims of style.
And, damn, if they didn’t look hot as hell doing it.
Their backs were wide, their waists lean, and she began undressing them with her eyes. A woman would have a hard time coming up with a fantasy that was better than the real thing. She could easily see them, their bronze skin covered with sweat, their long, strong legs eating up the distance as they hurried toward her. When they put their backs to her, their butts were like round, firm apples, their shoulders and arms full of muscles, telling of barely contained strength. She imagined them turning toward her, wicked smiles on their faces and their dicks fully loaded. She licked her lips, already tasting the muskiness of their cum.
Fairly soon, they had the horse literally eating out of their hands. When Darrold swung his body on top of the horse, the animal reacted and started prancing. But with gentle encouragement and easy strokes, Darrold soon calmed the nervous horse.
I wish he’d stroke me that way.
She tried telling herself that the only reason she’d come out to the ranch was to apologize to Mike. Hopefully, she’d receive an apology of her own. Once they got past the episode at the bar, then they could start fresh.
But fresh for what? She had no plans to stay, so who cared if they got a fresh start?
She moaned, knowing the apology was only an excuse. She wanted something from them, but it had nothing to do with an apology. She wanted so much more than words.
Her phone rang, startling her.
Bill.
Should she answer? Yet she had to. She’d already declined two of his previous calls. Why was he calling now? Did he finally miss her? Yet even if he did, wasn’t it too little, too late?
Answer. He deserves to know it’s over.
Slumping down in the seat, she swiped the green circle. “Hey, how are you doing?” Did her voice sound light enough? Did she sound carefree, as though she weren’t sitting and watching three sexy cowboys and thinking nasty thoughts?
“I haven’t heard from you, so I decided to check in.”
Her gaze dropped to her phone. Why did he sound funny? “I’m fine. How are you doing?” She refrained from asking why he sounded odd. The fact that he’d paused before answering sent warning bells ringing in her head.
“Yeah, sure. I’m fine. Same as always.” His answer seemed rushed, as though he were hurrying to get the lie out.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m absolutely fine.”
She frowned. No he wasn’t. He was trying to hide something. Bill had a tendency to repeat things when he was nervous. “I know you, Bill. I know you need to tell me something. Just spit it out.” Another silence came, and she stared at the phone as though she could will him to speak.
“Seriously, nothing’s going on. Nothing.” Another pause. “Um, well, there is one thing.”
I knew it.
“I ran into an old friend yesterday.”
“Yeah? What old friend?
“Do you remember Miriam?”
“I remember you telling me about Miriam. She’s your old girlfriend, right? The one you had a hard time getting over?” Bill had mentioned Miriam more than a few times. He’d fallen in love with Miriam during college, and it had taken him years to get over her. Sometimes, Malia wasn’t sure he really had gotten over her. Yet, strangely, she didn’t feel any jealousy. In fact, she was eager to hear what else he’d say.
“That’s right. Anyway, she’s back in town for a few days. For work, that is.”
“Okay. When did she get to town?”
Another hesitation. “While you were in Oklahoma.”
“Really? Why didn’t you mention it then?” She was irritated that he hadn’t told her sooner, but she wasn’t jealous. Instead, she wished he’d just get it over with and tell her what was going on. “And she looked you up?”
“Exactly. Anyway, I kind of agreed to show her around. You know, swing by the old hangouts and talk about old times and mutual friends. I just wanted to let you know.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t want you getting jealous.”
He didn’t tell me earlier. But am I jealous? Nope.
“Okay.” What was she supposed to say? Forbid him to see his old girlfriend? Maybe she should have, but that wasn’t how she felt. The truth was, she didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it took away some of the guilt she’d been feeling. “I think that’s a great idea. You two can catch up while I’m out of town. She’ll keep you company so you won’t miss me.”
Not that you are missing me. And now you can do whatever else you want to do. Whoever else you want to do.
Had she said that out loud? Did she mean it? Was she giving Bill permission to cheat because she wanted to cheat? Yet was it really cheating when their relationship was over? Had it, in reality, been over for a long time now? All that was left was to say the words to make it official.
It was only right that she break up with him. “Look, Bill, there’s something we need to talk about. It’s about us. It—we’re—not working any longer. It’s over, Bill.”
“What?”
He covered the phone, the muffled sounds of him doing so making it obvious. Was he talking to someone else?
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time right now. I’m supposed to meet Miriam in a few minutes. Can we talk about it later?”
Relief flooded her. She’d never been very good about breaking it off with guys
. Yet had he heard her? Or did he simply not care? “Uh, sure. I’ll talk to you later. Call me, okay?” Was she putting the burden of ending the relationship back on him? Maybe. No doubt he’d realize what she’d said later and call her back.
Suddenly, Mike looked her way then caught the attention of the other men. All three of them looked at her, but it was Darrold who raised his hand in welcome.
She couldn’t decipher Mike’s expression from that far away, but the fact that he hadn’t greeted her with a wave said volumes. Never mind that Byton hadn’t, either. Still, she drew in a breath then opened the door and got out of the car. Byton finally lifted his hand in greeting then took hold of the horse’s bridle and began leading it into the barn. Darrold and Mike headed her way.
“Hey, Malia, how you doing?” said Darrold as they approached.
Her gaze slipped to Mike, saw his irritated expression, then jumped back to the safety of Darrold’s warm smile. “I came to have a word with you guys.” Inwardly, she cringed, knowing her tone and her words had come out harsher than she’d wanted. She decided to take a leap of faith. “I came to apologize to Mike.”
They were close to her now, and she could feel the sensation warping into high gear. What was the strange feeling? It was almost as though she’d been struck by lightning or had been enveloped in an electric current from a wall socket. Yet it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt wonderful. Really amazing.
“What are you apologizing for?” asked Mike. He stuck his thumbs in his jeans pockets and planted his feet apart as though ready to fight.
So he was going to be that way? As though she hadn’t hurt him at all? She wouldn’t let it get to her.
“I shouldn’t have kneed you in the balls.”
Mike’s irritation sent his eyebrows toward his nose while Byton coughed back a laugh.
“I wouldn’t have figured you for one of those girls who kicks and then apologizes.” Mike tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying you didn’t mean it? Are you saying I didn’t deserve it?” His smile was both sexy and wicked. “Or are you saying I can tell you what to do now?”
Was he only a pain in the ass to her? Or was he an ass to everyone? “No. You can’t.”
He shrugged. “Then I guess you don’t really mean your apology.”
She played it safe, taking the high road. “Oh, no, I meant it. And, yes, you sure as hell deserved it.”
“Then, again, why the hell are you apologizing?”
The truth was, she wasn’t sure. Why was she apologizing? Now that she was with him again, she could understand why she’d ended up kicking. The man could be a Grade-A jerk. “I’m apologizing because it’s the polite thing to do. And because Darrold is a new friend of mine.”
“Darrold isn’t the one you kicked.”
Darrold stepped between them, putting a hand out to each person. “Now, now. Let’s not get into it again. How about we let bygones be bygones, call it a truce, and start over?”
She arched one eyebrow. “I’m willing if he’s willing.” The pull toward them grew hotter, needier. Forget apologizing. She wanted to touch them, to skim her fingers down their flat stomachs. And then drop even lower.
Darrold didn’t wait for Mike to respond. “Great. I’m sure Mike is willing, too. Trust me. Byton and I are more than happy to see you guys make up.”
She chuckled. “We’re not making up. That makes it sound as though we had a relationship. As long as we understand each other…” She gave Mike a hard once-over. “Then we’ll get along just fine. We do understand each other now, don’t we, Mike?”
His sexy, evil smile crooked to the side, stirring heat between her legs. “At least you remember my name.”
“Oh, I remember you. In fact, thanks to Milly, I know a lot about you.” She blushed, having said more than she should have.
“Is that right? So you’ve been pumping Milly for information?” teased Mike.
Shit.
In an effort to change the subject, she added, “So tell me, guys, why do you call this the Dirty Dawg Ranch?”
Byton came strolling out of the barn. “Hey, girl, you found us. Did you come around to give Mike another lesson?” He stuck out his hand. “In all the excitement, I can’t remember if I told you my name. I’m Byton.” He tipped his head toward Mike. “I’m Mike’s younger and better-looking brother. But don’t go blaming me for his being all kinds of stupid. I know better than to tell you what to do.”
Mike crossed his arms, reminding her of how he’d looked last night. “She wants to know why we call the ranch the Dirty Dawg Ranch. Want to tell her, Byton?”
“Sure thing. We named it that because there used to be a dog that hung out around the place. He was a mangy, pitiful-looking thing, all skin and bones and mean as hell. He used to bite the heels of the horses and steal our meat whenever we cooked out. We got to saying ‘you damn, dirty dog’ so much that the name kind of stuck. Considering everything, he was a brave son of a bitch. So when we found him torn up and left for dead by the side of the barn, we kind of figured we should rename the place from Twisted Creek Ranch to Dirty Dawg Ranch in his honor.” He shrugged. “I know it’s not much of a story, but it’s the truth.”
“Actually, I think it’s a great story. I wish I could’ve met him. Tell me. Did he think much of Mike? Dogs are really good judges of character.”
“He didn’t like anyone much.” Yet the sparkle in Mike’s eyes told her he was kidding. “I wish you could’ve met him, too.”
Why, Mike? So he could bite me? Yet she took his words in the manner they were given—with humor.
She decided to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that I’ve come all the way out here, how about giving me a tour? Show a city girl around, will ya? Are there any werewolves hanging around?”
She didn’t miss Mike’s glare at Darrold and hurried to help Darrold out. “Just kidding, of course. Although I’m still up for hearing the myths.”
“Darrold should learn when to keep his mouth shut,” said Mike.
“Why?” It didn’t make any sense. If werewolves weren’t real, why was Mike getting so bent out of shape? She studied them, certain Mike was making the subject of werewolves more important than it was.
Mike doesn’t believe they’re real, does he? Does Darrold and Byton? Surely, they don’t.
She was about to ask again when Byton took her hand. Immediately, the strange sensation whipped through her, almost rocking her on her feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It took a moment before she could answer. Putting on a meek smile, she looked into his deep brown eyes and felt as though she’d known him all her life. At that moment in time, she would’ve done anything for him. For them. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He led her into the barn, where she found stalls lining each side. A horse was in each stall, and they nickered when they saw the men enter. The smell of hay, dirt, and manure assaulted her nostrils, but she found the mixtures enticing. “Do you have other animals on the ranch?”
Byton nodded then led her over to the first stall. “We run a little cattle, and there are more horses scattered over the pastures, but these are our favorites. These are the ones we ride the most. Do you ride?”
She shook her head. “No. I never have.”
“Would you like to go sometime?” Darrold came up behind her and slid his hand along her back.
“Sure. As long as you give me a gentle horse.” She couldn’t resist another jab at Mike. “And as long as Mike doesn’t pick the horse I ride. He’d probably put me on a wild bronc.” She smiled, letting him know she was only joking. Sort of.
“Nah. We’ve buried the hatchet.” His gaze, like a beacon of desire, sought out hers. “Besides, I’d never hurt any woman, much less you.”
A craving stronger than anything she’d ever experienced swept over her. She could picture them surrounding her in the hayloft above them. Naked and at their mercy, she’d enjoy every touch, every bite they’d give her.
Oh, wow.
If she didn’t pull herself together, there was no telling what might happen. She smothered a smile.
They showed her around the barn, each man taking turns telling her about a different area, how every horse got its name, and the purpose for each piece of equipment. Even Mike joined in, explaining about the tack room at the rear the barn.
Daring to tempt her fantasy into reality, she was about to ask them about the hayloft when Darrold took her hand and led her out of the barn and toward the house. “How about we get something to drink? We kicked up a thirst working with Windstorm.”
“Windstorm?” she asked before remembering that they’d taken her by his stall, too. How was she expected to keep the horses’ names straight with the men so close? She grew woozy every time they touched her hand or glided a palm along her arm.
“That’s the horse we were working with in the corral. You met him, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Duh.” She didn’t like appearing stupid, but what else could she say? “You drive me so crazy, I can’t think straight?” No way.
She followed him inside the house and gave the place a good look around. There was nothing fancy as far as the furniture was concerned, but the place had a certain coziness she’d always longed for. She’d even tried to come up with the same feeling at her own place, using tips from the Internet and browsing in magazines, but she’d never been able to replicate it. Did it really have anything to do with the furnishings? Or was it more about a sense of belonging? Of sharing your life and your home with someone you love?
“Do you like what you see?”
She turned toward Mike and told the truth. “I do. I really do.”
“So it’s not too masculine?” Byton leaned on the leather couch. “You can always change it if you want. You can do whatever you want. As long as you’re here, we don’t care if you paint the place pink and put lace everywhere.”
