by Reece Butler
“Is Anne using the men’s room?”
“Not quite,” replied Ginny. “There’s a paper taped to the door that says ‘and pregnant women.’ If the women’s side is full, someone like Ginny can’t wait. Since so few men use the restroom compared to the women, it makes sense for them to share it now and then.”
“Are there that many pregnant women in town?”
“The saloon bar uses the same facilities,” said Brenda. “It gets crowded on a Friday or Saturday night.”
Ginny had just sat down when Dot brought the food. Marci sank her teeth into the burger laden with all sorts of things Ted did not want her eating.
“Oh, this is so good,” she said, groaning in delight.
“If you eat all your lunch, I’ll let you have a sundae for dessert.” Brenda laughed when Marci, mouth full, just rolled her eyes.
Once the first round of hunger was appeased, talk began once more.
“Do you quilt?” asked Anne. “Shortly after she moved here Doc Nikki donated a beautiful crib quilt for a raffle to raise money for the clinic. The name Marci was embroidered in the bottom corner. Was that you?”
Marci winced. “I can’t believe she donated my first attempt. It was horrid. The stitches were all uneven.”
“I won it,” said Anne. “I hate to say this, but Marsha loves it so much she’d take it everywhere if she could. I can’t get the stains out, so it isn’t very beautiful anymore.”
Marci got a sudden image of the sweet little girl holding tight to her quilt as she slept. Tears pricked her eyes. She rolled her lips together, fighting to keep from bawling. Marsha blinked at her with big brown eyes, making her gut tighten even more in want.
“Oh, honey, I shouldn’t have told you about it getting ruined,” said Anne, patting Marci’s hand. “You must’ve put so much work into it.”
“That’s not it,” she replied. “It’s not ruined, it’s being loved. I’m just so happy your little girl has it. I wanted children, but…” She couldn’t go on.
“But that horrid husband of yours didn’t?”
She accepted a tissue from Brenda. All three women waited patiently. She felt acceptance and caring flow between them.
“A few months after we married I found out my husband had a vasectomy.” She dropped her head. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“Honey, you can say anything to us,” said Ginny quietly.
“How long were you married to that creep?” asked Anne.
“Twelve years.”
Anne looked at Ginny. They both looked at Brenda and all three burst into laughter.
“Then you should be able to stand living with Simon for a few weeks,” said Anne. She laughed again and Marci found herself joining them.
“Meet us here for lunch on the first Tuesday next month,” said Anne after they’d calmed down. “We’ll take you to the Tuesday Afternoon Ladies’ Quilting Bee.”
“That sounds pretty formal,” said Marci, hesitantly. “Will the other women want a new member?”
“The men call it the Stitch-and-Bitch Club. Having survived your husband only to work for Simon MacDougal, you’ll fit right in.”
“We’re making a double ring wedding quilt,” said Ginny.
“I love that pattern! Who’s getting married?”
“No one that we know of,” said Brenda, “but one of these days we’ll have a bride in town and she’ll get our quilt. We’ve almost finished it, so when we’re done, we’ll put it away with the one we did last year.”
“We don’t get too many weddings these days,” added Anne. “We’re hoping Doctor Meshevski will find herself a cowboy or two and decide to stay. We women really appreciate having a female doctor for a change.”
“My husbands still drive fifty miles to Dillon,” said Ginny. “I think they’re afraid of showing themselves to an unmarried woman. Maybe if the Doc marries a local guy, they won’t feel so shy.”
“There’s always hope,” said Brenda with a sly smile. “I’ve got someone in mind.”
“You do?” asked Marci.
“Guess who should be arriving back in town, ladies?” Brenda leaned forward, dropping her voice. “He’s tall, he’s gorgeous, he’s sexy, and he’s eager for a statuesque woman.”
“Eric Frost?” blurted Anne.
Brenda lifted her glass of ice tea. Her smile reminded Marci of a documentary on barracudas. “Got it in one.”
Chapter Sixteen
The ringing of the telephone woke Simon from an erotic dream about Marci. He had two good legs and was using them both. She had her legs wrapped around him as he held her ass in his hands and plunged deep. The shower had somehow grown to the size of a mini car wash, so there was lots of room. Where that had come from, he had no idea.
He cursed and struggled, trying to get to his feet. The room was dim, which surprised the heck out of him. He’d only closed his eyes for a moment. The ringing stopped when he was balanced on one foot, just reaching for his crutches. Did he keep going, or collapse? The clock caught his eye. He’d slept for over four hours? Dang it, he was forty, not an old geezer snoozing the afternoon away! He grabbed the crutches and set them under his armpits.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a brisk female voice. Marci was back, leaning in the doorway. Suddenly everything was a bit less grim. “Your brother’s on the phone.”
“Lance?”
She nodded. “If he’s as sexy as his voice suggests, I want to meet him.”
A twinge of annoyance struck Simon at her predatory smile but it faded quickly. Depending on the circumstance, such as what he wanted and how badly, Lance could use both charm and his very commanding presence to get things done. Most people did what he wanted, as he was usually reasonable in his demands. If not, he got physical with the men. If the issue was over a chore he’d strong-arm them into doing what was needed. If they were threatening others and refused to back off, he’d wade in with his fists, pulling out a knife or three if necessary.
Lance could get physical with obstinate women, but in a quite different way. If Marci tried to out-stubborn Lance she might end up across his lap with her panties down. Simon chuckled to himself at the thought. He wasn’t the type to discipline his woman like that but he’d sure enjoy watching Lance doing it to Marci. She’d fight like a wildcat but he bet she’d enjoy it. And he’d enjoy soothing her afterwards.
Still smiling, he got his crutches started and headed for the kitchen. His brother never phoned unless there was something important. He hadn’t felt anything from Lance to make him worried. Just—oh, hell. Of course. Lance was the one who would’ve felt something. But was it the pain of the broken leg that had him calling, or what he and Marci had been doing?
He went to stand by the phone as usual, but Marci had arranged a chair with a cushion for him to sit on and another for his leg. He wouldn’t be on the phone long, but he appreciated her thoughtfulness. He would never admit it to that grouchy doctor, but he didn’t know how he’d get along without Marci until he got his cast off.
“Yeah?” he asked, putting a fair bit of grunt into it. Lance’s dry chuckle filled his ear.
“Felt you get a boo-boo yesterday,” said Lance. “But you sure made up for it. Got a tingle that said you had a few happy times. That have anything to do with the sweet lady who answered the phone? And what were you doing in bed in the middle of the afternoon, alone?”
Simon looked at Marci. She had her back to him and was stirring something in a bowl. Her hand was going fast which made that sweet ass of hers jiggle enticingly.
“Did something to my leg and the damn doctor put a cast on the whole thing. Said I couldn’t be home alone.”
Marci’s back stiffened. Likely the Doc was a friend. How else would she know about Marci needing a place?
“You busted your whole leg? It didn’t feel like it from this end.” Lance both asked the question and scoffed that Simon would be that stupid.
“Nah, I did something, but when I got to t
he clinic, Brenda Gibson, I mean Anderson, was on duty. She cut off my best boot and made them put a cast on me from my toes to my balls!”
Simon held the phone away from his ear so Lance’s bellow of laughter wouldn’t make him go deaf.
“Did she give you a shot in the ass, too? That woman’s been waiting a long time to get you back.”
Brenda wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, but Lance was a whole ’nother thing. He’d have a good laugh getting back at Simon for past transgressions.
“Wasn’t my back she got at,” said Simon, griping to make it more of a joke. “I told her to kiss it while she was at it. I think she used one of those big horse needles on me.” He got the laugh he expected. Lance seemed quiet and shy with most folks unless he got a bee in his bonnet, but at home with family he was different. Too bad they were the only MacDougals left to make that family. “That the only reason you called, to rub my nose in it?”
“I’ll be back next week.”
“Next week?”
Marci half turned, stopped herself, and went back to whatever she was baking. She had a square pan out, so maybe it was more of those brownies.
“Yep. This gal the type to share?”
Lance had told him, too many times, that when the time was right, the perfect woman would walk into their lives. Simon was getting the idea Marci was the one, especially after that comment about Lance’s voice. But he wasn’t going to let Lance know it yet. Not when he could bug the hell out of him.
“Those brownies you making, Marci?” he asked, raising his voice. Of course, he didn’t cover the phone. She turned, holding the bowl and a spoon. She didn’t say anything, just stuck out her tongue and licked the spoon. Slowly, with her eyes aimed below his belt. He groaned.
“You’re not in pain, unless it’s your cock.”
“Oh, I’m in pain all right,” Simon replied. He stared at Marci’s erect nipples. “Marci’s licking the batter spoon just like she does my cock.”
“Simon!” She glared at him, eyes and mouth open. She looked so outraged that he laughed. She stomped forward, fury in all sixty-two inches of her.
“Now she’s mad I told you,” he added. “At least, I think she’s mad. Maybe it’s something else ’cause those big nipples of hers are standing out of that thin T-shirt like—”
Marci grabbed the phone from his hand and stomped away. Because the cord was so long to make it easy to walk around the kitchen while they talked, she easily moved out of his reach.
“Good afternoon,” she said, cool as a cucumber. “I assume I am speaking to Mr. Lance MacDougal?”
Her glare faded as she listened to whatever Lance said. His damn brother kept his voice too low for Simon to hear. Her eyes zeroed in on him.
“Oh, yes, Mr. MacDougal. Thank you for informing me of that. I’ll be sure to remember about feeding him liver and boiled cabbage. And you will be home soon? Because once you’re here I won’t be need—”
She turned her back on Simon and twirled the cord with her free hand. He didn’t know much about women, but that was a sign an agitated woman was thinking too much. She kept making those female noises. They sounded like the woman was agreeing with him when all the time she was thinking “no way in Hell” and would do whatever she damned well wanted.
“All right. But just for one week. Simon will be able to take care of himself by then, especially as you’ll be here to help.” Marci looked at him again. “Yes, he gets a walking cast on Monday.” Suddenly her face lit up and she laughed. “You’re right, he can’t do stairs. If I take his crutches, he’s stuck.” More silence as she listened. “Yes, and Donny’s teaching me how to do the easier chores. He’s so nice, and his children are such little angels that I told him we’d take them for a sleepover tonight.”
“You did what!” demanded Simon. “I’ve got plans for you—”
She waved at him to shush. He loved his niece and nephews, but they loved to get up early and invade his bed. That meant sleeping alone and nothing going on during the day. No wonder Donny had laughed when he drove away. He and Keith would have a whole night together with their wife and then a sleep-in, except for morning chores.
The penny dropped. Today was Sophie’s six-week checkup, which meant Aggie was cleared to have sex. Six weeks after Travis was born, Lance had brought Florrie and Riley, then four and two, for a sleepover in front of the fireplace. They’d cooked hot dogs and potatoes in the fire, then roasted marshmallows. When they brought the kids to church Sunday morning, all three of their parents were beaming. Looked like they’d be the same in the morning.
“Here he is.” Marci shoved the phone at Simon and stomped back to the sink.
“Twelve-pack?” asked Simon. It was their code for what they’d give up to dance with a certain woman. The more beers, the better.
“Couple cases of twenty-four, after what she did with that spatula,” replied Lance. “If she tried that with me I’d use it on her ass. I think she’d enjoy it as much as the chocolate being licked off.”
Simon heard appreciation in Lance’s voice. His cock, already interested from memories of Marci’s agile tongue, hardened.
“Anyone who thinks those three hellions are little angels is either family, insane, or loves kids,” continued Lance.
Simon understood what he was asking. “Yes to the last, maybe the middle one, and I hope the first becomes a yes.” He waited while Lance digested everything.
“If she hasn’t killed you or taped your mouth shut by the time I get home, there’s hope we might find us a wife.”
“I started reading Great-Granny Beth’s diaries,” said Simon. He snickered. “You know what they say about her being wild about sex?”
Marci whipped around.
“She wrote about it in her journal?” asked Lance.
“She wrote about it in detail,” replied Simon, watching Marci’s reaction. “You wouldn’t believe what she and Great-Grandpa Trace did on their kitchen table. I’m surprised it lasted this long.”
“Anything and everything three men and a woman could do, as often as they could,” said Lance. “That about answer it?”
“Haven’t read much yet, but I’d say you’re right,” replied Simon. “I think I’ll be reading it out to Marci as she works. Might give her a few ideas. Don’t want her to get bored staying out on a ranch after living in the city.”
Marci looked eager to know what was in the book, horrified that he might say something about what they’d been doing that morning and, from the state of her nipples, wanting to try something new.
“What’s the lady up to now?” asked Lance.
“You want to know what Marci’s doing?”
Simon took his time looking over her as he wondered what to invent to get Lance all hepped up. Marci got this be-damned-with-it determined expression, hauled her shirt over her head, and tossed it away.
“Holy shi—” He choked. A pair of lovely breasts bobbed as her arms moved.
“What?” demanded Lance.
“She just took her shirt off. No bra. And—oh, man,” he groaned.
“What!!”
“She scooped up some chocolate frosting and spread it on her nipples. They’re big, Lance. And her breasts fit right in my hands.”
“You’re making this up,” said Lance with a growl.
“Marci, Lance says I’m making this up. You want to tell him what you’re doing?” he held out the phone, daring her. She stuck out her jaw, sauntered over, and took the phone in the hand that didn’t have chocolate on it. This time she didn’t walk away. Instead, she stayed near, tantalizing him with those sticky brown nipples.
“I’m keeping your annoying brother company,” she said. “He gets bored easily and there’s no television.”
Simon reached out, hauled her close, and sucked on her nipple. She squeaked. He smacked his lips loudly as she inhaled a gasp.
“Not chocolate, mocha,” he said, loud enough for Lance to hear. “Let me see if the other nipple tastes as g
ood.” He suckled her and also rubbed his hand between her legs, using his thumb right over her clit. She moaned. “Got her pussy in the other hand. Say good-bye, Marci,” he ordered.
He heard Lance laugh, cursing him, before she slammed down the phone and pushed her breast into his face.
“Lick me clean or you won’t get any supper,” she demanded.
“What’s for supper?” he asked.
“Since the children will be here, wieners and cowboy beans.”
His hard cock began to droop. “Damn, I forgot about them.”
With a time deadline approaching he applied himself most thoroughly to her breasts. He managed to spread the icing over her face and most of her chest before she backed away. She tossed him a cold, wet, facecloth and then went to clean up.
“Gad,” he mumbled as he wiped the cloth over his face. The cold didn’t last long. “She’s been here less than twenty-four hours.” He balled up the facecloth and tossed it like a basketball into the sink. “Three points!”
He looked around the suddenly quiet kitchen. Small changes were everywhere. No, not changes, improvements. Clean counters, less dust, and everywhere the aroma of chocolate. He’d laughed, and so had Lance. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
Marci had begun transforming their home, and their lives. How much farther would she go?
Chapter Seventeen
Simon had to admire Riley’s determination. As soon as Donny dropped the kids off, smirking at Marci’s blush and wet hair, the four-year-old started pestering Marci. He wanted her to convince his mother that a boy his age was big enough for his own horse. Marci avoided it by telling him she was a city girl and knew little about horses.
The words city girl got Florrie’s interest. She wanted to know everything about Marci because she was the first woman “from the city” that the girl had met. Her mother didn’t count, of course, especially as Mama wasn’t interested in clothes, makeup, or elegant homes. Unlike Riley at age two, Travis solemnly watched his older siblings, taking everything in.
