“Of course not.” Travis made a quick right. “From her. She’s an employee. Actually, my employee. We treat her no different than we did Greg.”
“No shit? You and I got drunk with him. We all screwed around with women. Raised all sorts of hell.” Dutch turned in his seat. “That kind of treat–”
“You know what I mean. No matter what Mercy thinks she wants, no way am I seeing her hurt. At. All. Not now, tomorrow, during the next week, month, day, whatever. Got it?”
Dutch grunted in answer and shoved more chips into his mouth rather than debate this. It was Sunday for Chrissake, his only time off. No way did he want a discussion or fight to fuck that up.
What was with Travis, anyway? It wasn’t like him to issue orders, especially when it came to who they screwed with. Over the past year they’d shared women many times and got out of each of those encounters without a kick to the balls or having to witness a female meltdown.
That hadn’t happened because of dumb luck, but pure common sense. Dutch wasn’t a rutting fool. Well, not any longer. He’d changed. He’d grown. Hell, he hadn’t had much choice. He’d been run over by the marriage train early, having wed his high school sweetheart the day after they’d graduated.
Damn, had he ever really been eighteen and that dumb?
His needy cock, not his heart, had driven him to hook up with Sara. Their wedding cake was still fresh when they’d started fighting about money, chores, sex, what to watch on TV, when to watch it, what to eat. Shit, they hadn’t been able to agree on anything, not even what to scream about.
In spite of those early warning signs they’d hung on, trying to make a go of it, for another four years. Finally, neither of them could stomach the thought of a future together. They’d never been friends. Sex was the only thing that had held them together before and during the marriage, with even the bed play petering out. Thank god there hadn’t been any kids.
Uh–uh, no way was he making a mistake like that with any other woman. Besides, when it came to Mercy, she hadn’t even been in his thoughts…until today.
Right away, he’d noticed how different she’d acted, playful and flirty, rather than tongue–tied like she’d usually been. When she wiped the frosting from the side of his mouth, Dutch had considered licking it off her finger, running his tongue over her palm, wrist, and any other part of her that she would have allowed.
He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes north of her chest. Jesus, her boobs. Firm. Weighty. Pure female. The memory made his balls crawl toward his body. His boys were so heavy they hurt.
The pain only got worse as he remembered her smile. Tender yet seductive. How in the fuck was that possible? What had changed her so suddenly?
He supposed she might have poured on the charm because she really needed a place to stay, and figured some womanly wiles would cause him and Travis to go for it.
They’d caved like a sand castle in a hurricane–force wind. Still, Dutch had kept his wits about him, saying nothing lasted forever. He’d given her a warning. That’s all he could do. If she came onto him, them, him…
He leaned against his door. “Once she sees the place, she’ll probably run in the opposite direction.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Travis asked. “If she wants to stay. If she wants more?”
No way was Dutch going to ponder that. He’d cautioned her, so his conscience was clear. Besides, Mercy had said she’d be able to manage anything. Even the two of them.
Separately? Together?
Dutch’s jaw sagged as he imagined her stripped bare while she cooked in the saloon, her skin rosy and dewy from the heat, hair clinging to her throat and the swells of her breasts, the curls between her legs springy, her cunt damp.
Her smile on him, then Travis. Her hands sliding from their cocks to their nuts. All of them sweating like mad, screaming in delight, then gorging on her cupcakes afterwards.
He stifled a smile and sighed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Chapter Two
Jill started her boyfriend’s pickup. Carl, who was as skinny as Jill, had been kind enough to help with this move. Mercy’s entire life–clothes, mattress, and a few pieces of furniture–was in the vehicle’s bed. Her heart was in her throat.
Carl waved bye as he drove past in Jill’s car, taking it back to her place.
“See you in a bit,” Jill shouted to her guy. “Relax,” she said, patting Mercy’s knee. “You look great.”
Mercy grimaced at her reflection in the visor’s mirror. “Seriously?”
Jill pulled away from the apartment complex. “Would I lie to you?”
Maybe. For the last hour, Jill had worked on Mercy’s hair and face. Never had she worn so much eye shadow, blush or lipstick before, except on Halloween. This stuff might have looked good on the girl from Twilight. On her, not so much. “Don’t you think I look like a raccoon or someone on meth? Maybe even a vampire?”
“I hate to keep repeating myself, but has Travis or Dutch ever seen you in real makeup before? Have they noticed you without it?”
“They didn’t have trouble staring at my boobs this afternoon.”
“You want them to focus on your chest, or do you want them to look into your eyes so you can reach their souls?”
Mercy figured none of Maybelline’s products had the power to do that. She chewed her lip, then stopped and rubbed the reddish lipstick stains off her teeth. “I don’t want to come on too strong. That’ll scare them.” She pulled a Kleenex from her purse. “I should tone it down.”
“Don’t take all of it off.”
Mercy stopped when she looked more like a hooker from a Midwestern farming community than something from a fright film. She wondered if the ladies who frequented the saloon dolled up like this. Regarding herself in the visor’s mirror again, she turned her head from side to side. “You’re sure about the hat?”
Made of straw, it was pure cowgirl, right down to the buckle on its band.
Jill swung her attention from the road to Mercy and grinned hard enough to show her gums. “Oh yeah. It looks way cuter on you than it ever did on me.”
Mercy doubted that. She willed her pulse to slow and studied her outfit. Cowgirl boots, cut–off shorts, and a white blouse. It had little cap sleeves and tied in front, baring her midriff. A costume, if you will, since she never dressed like this. The moment she and Jill had finished their shift at Fast Fill, Jill had dragged Mercy to town, whizzing through store after store.
The more stuff Mercy had tried on, the bolder she’d got, cheered on by Jill and the clerks. Now, though, her shopping hangover hit with full force. If Dutch or Travis laughed when they saw her, she’d die.
“Be completely honest with me.” Mercy turned in her seat. “Do I look idiotic? You won’t hurt my feelings.”
Jill sighed loudly. “Remember the popular girls in high school?”
How could she forget? They got all the guys Mercy had longed for. “What about them?”
“They flaunted what they had. They wore makeup, just like I’ve been telling you to do. They did their hair, put on short skirts or tight jeans, and low–cut tees. You really should undo the first two buttons of your blouse.”
Mercy’s hand trembled as she did. “This is what Travis and Dutch want?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Jill took a right, heading in the direction of the saloon. “But I know it worked for the girls we graduated with. They went to the prom, while you and I went to work flipping burgers.”
What a horrible night that had been. Talk about feeling like the ultimate loser. Never again.
Mercy fluffed her hair. Jill had styled it to look like Jessica Simpson’s when she’d played Daisy Duke. Too bad the rest of Mercy didn’t look like gorgeous Jess.
Her palms grew damp and her stomach rolled with apprehension as the town disappeared behind them. Buildings grew more infrequent, the vegetation taking over. Towering firs, maples, and spruce crowded one side of the road, along with plants and wildflowers M
ercy couldn’t identify. They sweetened the air, cooling it despite the brilliant sun. Its rays shimmered off the Pacific, the water and sky so blue they didn’t seem real. Sort of like what Mercy had set into motion.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and held it as the greenery opened up, showing the southern end of the old motel’s property.
“Ready?” Jill breathed, sounding excited.
Mercy wanted to throw up. The only time she’d seen this place was at night, when she’d had the courage to drive by quickly and unnoticed. Afraid if Travis or Dutch saw her, they might think she was stalking them.
“Mercy?”
She nodded. “Let’s do it.”
The pickup rounded a bend. Nestled within the monstrous trees were a series of rustic cabins, their construction simple, square footage modest. They stood on either side of the largest structure, surely four times their size. It had a bold sign over the door, marking it as Smooth Rider Saloon. To its right was the motorcycle repair shop, its sign less impressive.
The guys’ pickups were parked in front of cabins Mercy guessed belonged to them. She didn’t see either man on the grounds.
Jill pulled onto the expansive front lot. Gravel crunched beneath the pickup’s tires and pinged against its undercarriage. She elbowed Mercy. “Look.”
Her heart leapt. “What?” She pushed up in her seat, expecting to see Dutch and Travis striding toward them.
The only thing that moved was the thick foliage, stirred by the gentle breeze.
“That cabin. Way over there.” Jill pointed.
It was snuggled in trees and shadows, no signs of life around. “What about it?”
“Do you think they have their orgies there?”
Mercy barked a nervous laugh. “Only if they don’t invite more than one other person besides themselves. Look at how small it is.” She recalled how big Travis and Dutch were. Sweat prickled the back of her neck.
“Maybe they do it outside,” Jill said.
Or in the saloon after hours. Before Mercy lost her nerve, she left the cab and headed for the building, her cowgirl boots stirring up small whorls of dust. Shading her eyes against the lowered sun, she regarded the saloon’s windows, half–expecting to see Dutch and Travis watching her.
They weren’t.
Disappointment and uncertainty knotted her stomach. She motioned Jill over and whispered, “Are we early?”
“Nope,” she hushed. “Right on time.”
“Do you think they forgot?” Already? Barely six hours had passed since she’d propositioned them.
“They wouldn’t do that to you,” Jill assured, rubbing Mercy’s back. “Why are we whispering?”
Mercy felt like an unwelcomed intruder. As though she’d stumbled onto the guys while they crawled all over another woman.
Aw crud, they couldn’t be with someone now, could they? That would be too awful. She’d never recover from that humilia–
Her thoughts halted at the sound of footfalls. Not on gravel. On wood.
Like a well–rehearsed dance team, Mercy and Jill turned to the left. Beyond the saloon was a cabin Mercy hadn’t noticed. Travis and Dutch crossed its brief porch, filled trash bags in each hand, their chests tantalizingly bare.
“God,” Jill whispered.
Mercy leaned into her friend for support, dizzy at the sight of all those male muscles. Travis’s chest was deliciously broad, his hard pecs lightly dusted with dark hair. It trickled in a line down his firm torso to beneath the waistband of his low–slung jeans. His bulge seemed larger than it had earlier. The tat on his bicep was pure male. Bold and wild.
Mercy whimpered then studied Dutch. She whimpered again.
His chest was nothing but smooth, golden skin, his tiny nipples the color of milk chocolate. At the top of the stairs, he stopped and turned, facing the cabin’s front door.
Mercy sucked in a breath. A stunning tat covered his entire back from shoulders to waist, even spilling onto his biceps. Most of it was of a soaring eagle. The rest, lines and whorls.
Jill moaned. “You are so lucky.”
Mercy’s cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. She moved closer, unable to help herself.
Travis reached the bottom step. Finally seeing her, he stopped so abruptly Dutch ran into him.
“Hey,” Dutch complained, his voice carrying across the front lot. “Move.”
Travis didn’t budge. In rapid succession, he regarded Mercy’s face, her boobs, bared midriff, shorts, thighs, boots. From there, his attention jumped to her hat before settling on her boobs once more, lingering there.
So much for the power of makeup.
Never had Mercy felt as exposed, not even when she’d been naked with her few and fleeting boyfriends. Oddly enough, pleasure mingled with her disquiet. Travis hadn’t laughed.
Neither had Dutch. Noticing her, he also stared, his jaw hanging.
By god, she’d stunned them to silence with desire.
Coarse lust flooded their faces. Their luscious shoulders bunched, as though they were trying to control themselves.
Mercy hoped they wouldn’t.
Travis moved first. He dropped the bags and stalked toward her, his body oiled, loose, similar to a panther’s.
Jill stepped back.
Mercy remained frozen to the spot, unable and unwilling to retreat. Travis stopped directly in front, towering over her, his skin scented with a heady mixture of lime and musk. Lightheaded, she lifted her face, overwhelmed by his beauty and size, the thought of his naked body pressed to hers. “Hey.”
Travis didn’t seem to notice how rusty her voice sounded. He studied her mouth and searched her gaze, lingering there, as though he couldn’t help himself.
She didn’t want him to. Could eyes really be that color? A deeper blue than the sky. Mercy became so lost in them and the moment she didn’t notice Dutch’s approach until he came up beside her. His heat and clean, woodsy scent demanded she notice his presence. He’d stuck his thumbs in his front pockets, long fingers pointing to the prize between his legs.
Mercy’s toes curled as well as they could in her boots. She forced herself to stop admiring that part of him, dragging her focus back to his face.
He gave her a welcoming smile.
Her body softened even more. She leaned toward him, drawn irresistibly closer. “Hey.”
Travis spoke before Dutch could. “So it is you. I wasn’t sure.”
Mercy blushed at his abrupt greeting, catching his disapproval. She’d been so worried he’d laugh, she’d never considered he’d object to how she looked.
It was obvious in his arched eyebrow. He’d crossed his arms over his chest.
Clearly, Dutch didn’t feel the same. Delight played over his features as he took in her full length.
Confidence replaced Mercy’s misgiving. Rather than show Travis how he’d hurt her, she decided to kill him with kindness and gave him one of her sweetest smiles. “Sorry, you didn’t recognize me. It’s probably because you’ve never seen me away from Fast Fill. If you had, you’d know this is how I really look. Right, Jill?”
“What?”
She was checking out both men’s chest. Mercy repeated, “I usually look like this away from work, right?”
“Oh hey, yeah. You should see her other outfits. They’re even hotter than this one.”
Mercy’s smile wobbled. Now, she’d have to shop for more. Before Dutch asked to see any of them or Travis got even grimmer, she pulled a check from her front pocket and offered it to him. “My first and last months’ rent. I didn’t include a security deposit, figuring my cleaning and cooking the first month would cover it.”
Travis tightened his arms. Prominent veins bulged on his biceps.
Mercy would have given a year of her life for the pleasure of licking them.
“Keep it,” he said.
Her belly cramped. She blurted. “You’re changing your mind? You can’t. I’ve already moved out. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’d have to l
ive in my car.”
“It leaks oil,” Jill said.
Travis ignored her. “I haven’t changed my mind. Keep it. You can stay here for free. Save your money for the first and last months’ rent on another place after your two months here are up.”
That’s all he was giving her was two months? “You said several.”
He stepped closer, crowding her. Mercy didn’t back away.
“I said a couple,” Travis corrected. “That’s two. With what I’ll pay you to clean and cook, you should be able to save enough in that time for another place.”
“You agree with this?” she asked Dutch.
“I own the cabin you’ll be using,” Travis said. “My call.”
“And it’s my money,” she countered. “Or rather yours.” Mercy stuffed the folded check beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear, not caring how deep her fingers sank. Touching his hot skin, the silky hair that dipped toward his groin, was fucking worth it.
Color rose to Travis’s face. He looked down.
Mercy finally pulled out her hand and steadied her voice. “I don’t stay anywhere for free. Come on,” she said to Jill, gesturing her toward the pickup. “Let’s unpack my stuff.”
“Whoa.” Travis grabbed Mercy’s upper arm.
Tingles shot down it, curling in her stomach, dipping to her pussy. God help her, she longed to weaken against him, drown in his heat, the scent of his body. She stiffened instead. “Change your mind again?”
“We’ll bring your stuff inside.” He inclined his head to Dutch.
Mercy kept her attention on Travis. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my–”
“Yeah, I know.” He eased her closer and bent his head, his lips close to her ear. “But you don’t know where to put it.”
Wrong. Mercy knew exactly where she wanted his cock and tongue. Deep inside her. Trouble was, Travis seemed determined to fight that despite his hunger. Mercy sensed his desire in the way he leaned into her, his thumb rubbing her arm, his mouth still close to her ear.
She turned her face to his, their lips a breath away, the world dipping and swaying around her. “If you say so.”
A long moment passed, his expression becoming blurry. From need? Indecision? Whatever it was, Travis stopped stroking her arm and stepped back. “I do. You and your friend stay out here.”
Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love Page 85
