To Love Her Cowboys

by Laura Sutton

  “You’re gonna have to pick one.” He bumped her shoulder with his and then placed a kiss on the side of her head tenderly, and she could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes at his sweet gesture.

  “I know, Jason, but they’re all so boring, and I want to look nice for you two.” She almost whined. It was so unlike her, but it was true. She wanted them to be proud to be seen with her.

  Jason turned her by her shoulders to face him and cupped her face between his large warm palms.

  “Oh, beautiful, you could wear a potato sack, and Dean and I would both think you are still the prettiest woman in the world,” he whispered against her lips, and she felt like he meant the words, like both he and Dean really felt lucky and happy to be with her.

  “Okay,” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I seem to be short on potato sacks, so which shirt should I wear? Because I am at a loss here,” she said honestly, snuggling her body into his.

  “Hmmm.” He looked thoughtfully at the pile of clothes while holding her close. She would never get over how good it felt to just be held by either Jason or Dean, or how they both held her in bed when they fell asleep after making love. It was nothing short of amazing.

  “What about that blue blouse?” he asked, pointing. “I think the color would bring out your eyes.” He grabbed the blouse from the bed. It was one of her favorites, but hardly what she would consider sexy.

  “You don’t think it’s too plain? Too boring?” she asked, unable to hide her insecurities from his openly caring gaze.

  “Not at all,” he said, looking at her like she had grown a second head for even suggesting such a thing.

  “There is something to be said for understated sexiness. I mean, I won't complain if you wear a low-cut, tight little black dress, but only if you want to. I like you, Gwynn. As does Dean. We don’t want you to be someone you’re not based on a misguided attempt to please us. You already please us, beautiful,” he told her earnestly.

  She leaned up and kissed him deeply, pouring her love into the kiss, trying to say with her lips and tongue what she wasn’t sure she was ready to say.

  She took the shirt from his hands and slipped it on, and Jason eyed her appreciatively and then smiled, that wide happy smile of his that practically made him too handsome for words.

  “I was right. You look beautiful in blue, Gwynn,” he said, his voice deep and rumbly, and his words made her blush.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, looking down at his feet, shy again under his appreciative gaze.

  She felt his finger under her chin, and he gently raised her head.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes shining and smiling, and he kissed her again. All Gwynn could think as his lips caressed hers was that she was the luckiest girl in the world.

  Dean

  Dean had just pulled the truck around when Jason and Gwynn came down the front steps of the big house.

  She looked beautiful, her long dark blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a few wisps of hair flying around her face in the late afternoon breeze. She was wearing a dark blue shirt that made her eyes look like the spring sky right before it storms. And her jeans looked like someone had painted them on her. All her luscious curves were outlined in dark denim. He wanted to drag her back inside and have her ride his cock while her pretty lips sucked Jason’s dry, but they had to get her some boots.

  Jason opened the front passenger door for Gwynn, and she climbed inside. Never had Dean wished he had an old truck with a bench seat so much, so she could sit between them and he could put his hand on her thigh for the whole trip into town. Damn modern trucks and the center console that separated them.

  Jason hopped in the back seat behind Gwynn. “We all ready?” Dean asked the two of them.

  “Yup!” Gwynn replied, a warm smile on her face.

  Dean grabbed her hand, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed the back of it.

  “You look beautiful,” he told her. He wasn’t good at flowery words, even if she deserved to have poems written about her beauty.

  She blushed and looked at Jason quickly, and Dean wondered what that was about, but she squeezed his hand and smiled at him again, throwing his thoughts off track for a moment.

  “Thank you. Jason helped me pick the shirt out. The bedroom might’ve been hit by a small tornado while I tried to decide what to wear,” she said sheepishly.

  Dean tossed his head back and laughed as he eased the truck off the ranch and onto the bumpy road that would take them into Andrews.

  “Well, he did a good job. Though I hate to praise him for anything, or else we won't have any room in the truck with Jason and his ego!” Dean got a round of laughs, and Jason punched him playfully on the shoulder.

  “Hey! I resent that remark!” Jason said around his own laughter.

  Gwynn was also snickering at their banter, and a feeling of peace and happiness descended upon Dean like he had never felt before. This moment in time, with Gwynn and Jason laughing at his stupid jokes while the three of them drove into town, felt right.

  Dean never really thought he was the type of man who deserved happiness. He had made mistakes, a few notable ones while serving in the Army that led to the death or injury of a few who served under him. While the mistakes probably couldn’t be avoided, and he had come to terms with the loss of his soldiers, he always thought happiness and contentment were out of his grasp—his punishment for not being a better, more competent leader.

  But here he was, with his best friend and the woman they both loved and shared, and everything just felt so right. He never wanted the feeling to end.

  The hour-long ride into town continued in the same vein—stories, jokes, and laughter between the three of them. Dean did not want to think about the day in three short months when she would leave them. The ranch would be lonely without her presence, and the sunshine would be dimmer without her smile.

  Dean shook his pensive thoughts away and pulled into Boot Barn and parked the truck.

  “Okay, beautiful, time to make you an official cowgirl!” he said. He kissed her cheek, and all three of them climbed out of the truck and headed into the store.

  The store sold blue jeans, work shirts, going-out style shirts, and boots. It was what one might consider a “country store” if one did not grow up or work on a ranch. To those who did, however, it was just a store.

  “Remember, beautiful, the boots and anything in here that might strike your fancy is our treat,” Jason told her, opening the door for her so she could enter the store first.

  “Oh, I—I don’t know,” she began, but both Jason and Dean agreed beforehand that they would not let her pay for anything tonight. They wanted to spoil their girl. It was their first date, after all.

  “Nope,” Dean interrupted, not letting her argue. “Nope, our treat. Anything you want. They sell clothes in here too in case you see something you like.” he told her, and she beamed. She had the prettiest smile.

  “Okay, your treat, but I’ll buy dinner.” Jason was already shaking his head, and Dean just laughed.

  “No you won’t, beautiful. You’re ours, and we want to spoil you on our first date. Now be a good girl and let us.”

  She blushed at his words.

  “Date?” Gwynn asked, breathless, but he was learning her facial expressions, and he could tell she was happy by the way her eyes danced.

  “Yes, beautiful… date. Is that okay with you?” Dean asked. He never wanted to assume or do anything she didn’t want to do. His grandparents had raised a gentleman, after all.

  “Oh, yes! I—I wanted it to be a date, but I wasn’t sure…” She trailed off nervously, pulling at the hem of her shirt, something Dean was learning she did when she was shy or nervous. It was endearing, but he wished she wouldn’t be so nervous around them.

  “Good,” he told her, pulling her hand from her shirt and entwining her fingers with his. He then pulled her toward the back of the store where they sold boots, Jason following
on her other side.

  “Now let’s find you some good boots. That way I don’t have to worry about where you step when you ride Brinny,” Dean said with a wink.

  One pair of brown and turquoise Tony Lama boots later, as well as a few shirts Jason talked her into getting, and they were headed to Andrews’ only “nice” restaurant.

  It was a steak house, of course, but it was locally owned and not a chain. It served a halfway decent steak and alcohol, which is something the Golden Corral definitely didn’t do, and Dean wanted tonight to be special. Both he and Jason wanted Gwynn to enjoy herself.

  “I know it’s not Houston fancy,” Jason told her as he held her chair out for her, “but they do serve a decent steak here.” He then sat in his chair, Gwynn already perusing the menu.

  “As good as your steaks?” she asked with a beautiful smile lighting up her whole face.

  Dean chuckled a bit because her words made Jason blush. Jason considered himself a suave ladies’ man, but one compliment from Gwynn had him blushing like a schoolboy.

  “Well, no, but it’s still a good steak,” he mumbled, scanning his own menu.

  Gwynn turned her smile to Dean as if to say, “Look, I made him shy,” and Dean smiled back.

  “I will get the rib-eye and the twice-baked potato,” Dean declared, changing the conversation a bit so his best friend could recover from Gwynn’s words. It pleased Dean to no end seeing Gwynn come out of her shell and embrace the intelligent, passionate woman he knew she was.

  “I’m getting the roasted chicken,” Gwynn announced, and both Jason and Dean turned to her in horror. Chicken in a steakhouse?! It was wrong. It was sacrilegious.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you two! I have had more beef this week than I’ve had in the last three months! Some chicken won’t kill me—or you, in fact. It probably wouldn’t hurt the two of you, either!” She closed her menu and crossed her arms.

  Jason threw his head back and laughed loudly, and Gwynn blushed at his reaction.

  “You’re right, beautiful. Completely right,” he said and kissed her cheek. “I will get chicken as well—the chicken-fried steak!”

  Dean had to laugh when Gwynn smacked Jason on the arm with her menu.

  “That doesn’t count, Jason!” she cried, and he laughed as she hit him with the menu again, obviously feeling he deserved more punishment.

  “That’s as close as you’ll get any self-respecting rancher to eating chicken at a steakhouse, darlin’.” Dean said, exaggerating his normal Texas drawl, and he reached over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

  Dean wasn’t much for public displays of affection. He was a naturally private man, but he had to touch her, and tonight there would be lots of touching when they got home. Maybe tonight would be the night she let both Dean and Jason love her body and the same time.

  The thought of her completely overwhelmed and filled with both of them—watching her come apart because of them—it was a thought that instantly made his pants uncomfortably tight.

  “Hey y’all, how are you doing tonight? Can I take your order?”

  Their waitress thankfully interrupted Dean’s thoughts, and Jason was in more of his right mind to answer because Dean’s mind was still on Gwynn and what would happen when they got home.

  Gwynn

  Dinner was the usual for them: full of conversation and laughs. Even if the food wasn’t as good as when Jason cooked, it was decent, and the company was amazing as always.

  It struck Gwynn as she sipped her wine that she thought she would feel uncomfortable or dirty on a date with two men. She expected stares and maybe even a glare or two, as if there was a scarlet letter sewed on her chest, but no one paid them any attention.

  One older gentleman came up to the table to tell Dean and Jason hello—a local who had been a good friend of Dean’s grandfather from what Gwynn gathered from the conversation, but even after introductions, all he did was tip his hat and say, “Pleased to meet you,” and then he was on his way.

  “So, you guys want to go to the Luau for a drink or two? Maybe dance?” Dean asked as they exited the restaurant and headed for his truck.

  They both looked expectantly at Gwynn when they got in the truck as if it was up to her, and while on one hand, she was having a good time out and about with them, a part of her also wanted to go home and take her handsome cowboys to bed and really enjoy the night.

  That was the introvert in her speaking, though, and she had promised herself this would be a new chapter in her life, and that meant being open to new things. So what if she had never had fun at any bar she had ever gone to in her life? This would be different; she was going with Jason and Dean—her men.

  “Sure, I could go for a margarita. I haven’t had one in a long time.” She smiled at both of them, and Jason whooped in excitement.

  “And dancing!” Jason said from the back seat, his hands rubbing her shoulders.

  “You will dance with me, won’t you, beautiful?” he asked, his voice sweet and inviting.

  She bit her lip. She had never been much of a dancer and had never danced with a guy on a dancefloor in public ever in her life. She quit going to dances by her junior year of high school. She never really had anyone to enjoy the dance with, so why go? Even in college, the friends she had weren’t the bar type. They went to bars a few times, and she enjoyed the pubs in London, but no one ever asked her to dance.

  “Ummm, I’ve never actually, you know… danced with anyone before,” she admitted, her eyes on her lap, unable to meet either Jason’s or Dean’s gaze. It was a hard habit to break—fearing letting someone down who you care for, and if Gwynn was honest, she was afraid they would realize just how lame she was and decide they didn’t want her anymore.

  “Well, that’s not a bad thing,” Jason whispered from behind her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. His touch made her skin tingle, but even better, it made her feel warm and comforted. She heard him lean forward in the backseat, then she felt his lips brush her cheek sweetly and then he murmured into her ear, “It just means I get to teach you, Gwynn. We get to be your first for something else.”

  His breath caressed her ear as he spoke the words, which by themselves weren’t sensual, but the images they stirred in her were. Just his words made her think about the first time she fucked them, how Dean felt inside her that night, and then how good it felt to slowly ride Jason in the morning.

  Gwynn felt her nipples tighten under her thin shirt, and her panties became damp with her desire for them.

  “Well, I know how good of a teacher you both are, so I guess… yeah, I will dance with you.” She turned her head to kiss his lips quickly, and when Jason smiled and sat back, she leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek. She really was head over heels for both of them.

  “Well, Jason can teach you, and then once you have the basics down and a really slow song comes on, I can sway with you on the dancefloor,” Dean told her, smiling as he watched the road and then steered them into a half-full parking lot.

  “Unlike Mr. Fancy Pants back there, I am not a good dancer, but the thought of swaying with you to some sappy country song has its advantages.” He put the truck in park and kissed her quickly on the mouth.

  The “Luau,” as Jason had called it, turned out to be the Country Luau and looked like what one might expect a small town country bar to look like—one long bar at the back of the building, a good-size dancefloor to the right, and four pool tables to the left, with a few tables and circular booths along each wall.

  They headed for a circular booth, and Gwynn sat nestled between them, Dean’s long arm resting behind her head on the booth, with Jason’s hand on her thigh.

  “Hey, boys! Long time no see!” came the flirty words from a beautiful waitress who had come up to their table.

  She was everything a man might want, Gwynn thought—long, shiny brown hair falling in perfect curls down her back, big boobs barely covered in a tight black crop, and her perfect waist on display above t
he waist of the tiniest denim shorts Gwynn had ever seen.

  She looked like the kind of girl who should be on Dean’s or Jason’s arm, and suddenly the wind was out of Gwynn’s sails.

  “Hey, Sara,” Jason said politely, but not flirtatious. “How have you been? How’s your brother doing?”

  Sara set her tray down and propped her foot up on the riser the booth sat upon, obviously getting ready to launch into a story. Gwynn tried not to feel jealous, but it was hard. This Sara was so beautiful, and Gwynn knew she wasn’t. It didn’t matter what Jason or Dean said or what they did. She knew deep inside that Sara was the type of woman men like Jason and Dean ended up with. Not frumpy, fat nerds like her.