Saving Stakes
Page 1
SAVING STAKES
Tasty Treats
Tonya Ramagos
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
SAVING STAKES
Copyright © 2010 by Tonya Ramagos
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-695-4
First E-book Publication: February 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter from Tonya Ramagos
Regarding Ebook Piracy
Dear Readers,
Not everyone can say they love their job, but I am among the lucky few who can. I love my job beyond measure. I find enjoyment, fulfillment, and satisfaction in exploring the characters and stories I create. I am also honored to be able to entertain you with my stories. My greatest joy comes from knowing that you have found happiness though one of my books.
It pains me to know that there are people out there who are downloading my work illegally. Pirating ebooks is a crime. When an ebook is shared or put up as a free download for anyone to take, it is stealing. I write for my readers and for myself, but I cannot afford to work for free. Pirated ebooks do not support my family.
Please do not pirate my books. Encourage people instead to respect the ebook industry and buy their own copies rather than downloading any ebook illegally.
With deep gratitude,
Tonya Ramagos
DEDICATION
To Korlin, because being who you are is never a curse.
SAVING STAKES
Tasty Treats
TONYA RAMAGOS
Copyright © 2010
Chapter One
Jay Masters stepped to the window between the two sets of bunk beds and stared at the view beneath the darkening sky. He saw the wide open expanse of rolling land, the horse barn to the right, the corral to the left, the fence in the distance that surrounded it all, and the main house with its imposing presence smack dab in the middle.
He'd own a third of it one day. He'd made sure of that.
By putting yourself at the whims and mercy of a man who would rather gamble you away than give a hill of beans about you, he thought in disgust. Yeah, he'd certainly done that all right. Signed away a decade of his life, no questions asked, to the services of the man who sired him, Guy Masters.
"You should run." Rusty Eubanks' quietly spoken suggestion twisted in Jay's gut.
"Is that what you'd do?" Jay didn't turn to face the other man. He bowed his head, resting his eyebrows on the cool glass of the window, and looked up beneath his lashes at the house. A light flicked on through an upstairs window, Bo's window.
It took awhile for Rusty to respond, but when he did, his answer came as no surprise. "No, it's not what I'd do."
Of course he wouldn't run. A cowboy didn't haul ass at the first sign trouble. He stuck it out, found a way to make it work to his advantage.
"I won't, either." He'd bear it. Whatever they did to him tomorrow night, he'd take it like a man. Fear snaked through him at the ideas that flittered through his mind, the possibilities of what could be in store for him. At twenty-two, he'd seen a lot more than many men his age, and the things he'd done… He still recoiled when he thought of some of things he'd endured to survive. Tomorrow night would be no different.
"Why does it have to be you this time? Bo and Jesse get off on that shit. Guy's got to know you don't."
"Exactly." Silhouettes appeared in the window of the main house, both large bodies and decidedly male. Bo and Jesse, no doubt. Jay pulled away and turned to find Rusty sitting on the edge of his bed with his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees. The twenty-seven years Rusty put into life had been easier years than Jay's twenty-two, but only marginally. He understood abandonment, pain, a man's bone-deep need to prove himself and take hold of what belonged to him. He understood wanting with every ounce of his soul the one thing not meant for him, the one man not meant for either of them.
The urge to step between Rusty's legs, to feel his wide hands splay on Jay's flesh, hit Jay with an almost unbearable force. It wasn't an alien feeling to Jay, this wanting to be in Rusty's embrace. He'd lived with the secret nearly as long as he'd known the man. Each day, it grew until it became an ache in his chest, a fire in his loins. Only one other cowboy ignited the desires in him the way Rusty Eubanks did and damned if Jay hadn't been denied his affection, too. He never figured out if it had something to do with him or his friendship with Rusty.
"So he's what, testing you, trying to turn you into your brothers, or just being an ass?" Even bent at the waist, Rusty had to be careful not to hit his head on the frame of the top bunk. Jay's bunk. Jay could've taken a room in the main house. By all rights, the third room down from his brothers' bedrooms belonged to him. He wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink in that room. He'd known that the moment he'd looked into both his brother's eyes. Bo and Jesse Masters might possess the same deep river blue eyes that Jay saw when he looked into the mirror, but their river flowed over a pit of pure molten evil. He cringed every time he thought about looking into their eyes.
"Ass would be my guess. Guy knows going with Longhorn tomorrow night is the last thing I want." Not that what he wanted tended to matter. Or so it seemed. He barely got a wink of sleep most nights because of things he wanted, desires he couldn't fill. Sleeping above Rusty rather than with Rusty topped his list of unsatisfied needs, right beneath finding a way to get out of the events sure to unfold tomorrow night. "It's just another of his ways to make me pay for something that doesn't even belong to me yet."
"Your share in this ranch belonged to you at birth," Rusty argued. "That's not something you should have to pay for. Not with money, blood or body. That damned contract is bullshit, Jay. No way is that fucking thing binding in any court."
"Probably not," Jay admitted. "But a man's honor isn't binding in a court of law, either. I lost the bet, Rusty. I signed the contract."
"Without full disclosure," Rusty pointed out.
"When did
you become a lawyer?" Jay kept his lower body facing the wall, not wanting Rusty to see the hard-on developing behind Jay's zipper. Not that his dick hadn't gotten hard for Rusty before. The man had to know the effect he had on Jay, how easily Jay became aroused by the simple sound of Rusty's voice, his touch, the mere thought of sharing more with the man. Still, Rusty never made a move to touch him.
"Hell, I don't know." Rusty stood, paced toward the closed door of the matchbox sized room and turned to pace back. The vehemence in his expression meant more to Jay than he could say. Jay knew how quickly Rusty always jumped to his defense, whether Jay needed it or not. He saw Rusty's fury over the coming events and it filled Jay's heart with a hope and love he didn't need to feel.
Rusty crossed his arms as he paced. How many times, Jay wondered, had he fantasized about feeling Rusty's arms corded around his waist? Jay knew he'd find the comfort he longed to feel in those arms if only he could find the courage to make the first move. Instead, he shrugged.
"I didn't read the fine print." Rusty shot him a withering look that almost made Jay chuckle. "I'm not being flip about this, Rusty. I'm being honest. I have no one to blame for the shit I'm in but myself. I'm the dumbass who went along with the bet. I put my name on the dotted line. No, it's not a legally binding contract, but the morality of it, the fact that I gave my word, is binding enough for me. I won't walk away. Not because of the ranch or my share tied in it, though yeah, I do want what's mine, but because a man's only as good as his word. For most of my life my word's all I've had, and I've always made good on it. I won't stop now. Therefore, whatever happens is my fault."
"And that bastard father of yours and a mother who wouldn't fight for her own rights, much less her son's," Rusty added. "I hear what you're saying, babe, but they made sure you didn't have many options in life."
Jay winced. He didn't like to think ill of his mother or father. All accounts put Guy Masters as a fair, decent, and hard working cowboy who loved his sons. Jay learned all of that to be true. He also learned it applied to everyone but the bastard son he'd sent away.
"I'm sorry." Rusty raked his long fingers through his ebony hair. Jay's own fingers burned to do the same. How many times did he fantasize about feeling that simplest part of Rusty Eubank? How many nights had he lain in the bunk above Rusty dreaming of lying beside the man instead, his hand idly gliding through Rusty's long hair as they talked about anything and nothing? "No matter what I believe, casting blame isn't going to get you out of this. There's got to be some other way, something that will save face and your hide."
"I'm open for suggestions." Jay turned fully around, lifting a booted foot to prop on the frame of Rusty's bed, his forearm resting on the frame of the top bunk. "In less than twenty-four hours, Guy is going to settle down with Longhorn and a handful of others at the main house and I'll be fucked. No pun intended."
"Only if he wins." Rusty started pacing again, though there wasn't much space for movement in the tiny room. He walked to the door, pivoted right, crossed the width of the room at the foot of both sets of bunk beds, and then pivoted again to pace between them.
Despite the severity of the situation, Jay's attention got caught up in watching the other man move. Each step pulled the pant legs of Rusty's jeans tighter around his strong thighs and a truly delectable ass. Each breath caused the white cotton t-shirt he wore to cling to his tense muscles and broad shoulders.
Jay dipped his head, clamping his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. He needed to focus on tomorrow night, on how to save his own ass, figuratively and literally, instead of letting his brain fall to his cock and its soul focus of wanting to fill Rusty's tight ass.
"Of course he's going to win." Jay dropped his hand and opened his eyes. "The bastard always wins. There isn't a soul in this county that can beat Brody Longhorn. And still they come from miles around for the opportunity to try."
Rusty stopped pacing and turned slowly to face Jay. His expression, so devoid of emotion, took Jay by surprise. Until Rusty spoke. "There's one man that can beat him. All I have to do is convince him to play."
Jay clinched his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping as he stared at Rusty. Surely he didn't mean what Jay thought he did. But, as Jay continued to gaze into Rusty's chocolate eyes, Jay knew that was precisely what Rusty meant.
"Don't." Jay said the word so quietly he doubted Rusty heard him. "I can take care of this myself. I don't need a man coming to my rescue." He certainly didn't need one who'd hurt Rusty as badly as Cole Duvall. Especially not one that Jay wanted as badly as he did Cole, despite his attempts to hate the man.
Would he be forever haunted by the one night he spent with the man, by a few close dances and a shared bottle of liquor? It sure as hell seemed that way. He might lay awake at night wishing he could be in the lower bunk next to Rusty, but when he closed his eyes Rusty wasn't the only man to fill he dreams. He saw Cole, too. The image usually came to Jay in the most erotic of forms. Cole, his broad chest covered by a muscle-hugging t-shirt, his lower body clad in tight jeans and cowboy boots, his blond hair mussed with a crease around the skull where his cowboy hat always sat. The masculine curve of his jaw would slide with the widening of the come-hither smile that had drawn Jay onto the dance floor, and he'd be lost for as long as the dream realm held him captive.
"He'll do it." Rusty's voice rang with conviction. "If he knows it's for you."
"He doesn't want me any more than he wanted you." Rusty flinched and Jay wished he could take the words back, but the damage had already been done.
Rusty grabbed his cowboy hat off the hook by the door and slapped it on his head as he reached for the knob. "You're wrong about that. I'm not sure what happened that night at the bar, but I've seen the way he looks at you. You're wrong. He wants you, and I'm going now to see that tomorrow night he proves it."
* * * *
Rusty didn't know what he'd expected. Finding Cole's bedroom empty at well past eleven at night surely wasn't it. At least he hadn't found Cole in bed with another man. The idea of that twisted a knife in Rusty's heart.
Get used to it, champ, he thought as he eased the window closed, careful not to make a sound. He heard a quiet bark followed by a series of louder ones as Mare-woof, an unknown mixed breed belonging to Cole's sister Denise, came barreling around the side of the house. Some watch dog. Stupid mutt's always been slow as molasses.
Rusty stood in the shadows of the darkened bedroom and watched the dog turn circles on the ground below. If anyone saw Mare-woof, they'd likely believe he'd merely found amusement by chasing his own tail. After a peace-disturbing minute or two, Mare-woof gave up the racket and pranced off.
Rusty shoved his fingers in his pockets and rocked back on the heel of his boots. He wondered how long he'd have to wait here in the silence of Cole's bedroom before Cole came in, being tortured with the dick-teasing scent of the man's spicy cologne and—Rusty sniffed. That can't be rose scented soap.
He supposed he could've used the front door, rang the doorbell like any normal visitor. He hadn't wanted to answer the mountain of questions Denise likely would've thrown at him if she'd been the one to come to the door. Instead, he'd climbed the tree outside Cole's bedroom, shimmied over the closest branch, and worked his way inside through the partially open window. Better to confront the man here in the privacy of his bedroom.
Rusty glanced over his shoulder, not needing much light to remember how the bedroom looked. It hadn't changed much in the year since he'd last been in here, the only time he'd ever stepped foot though the door before tonight. Like that time, his breath caught in his throat and his groin stiffened to the point of pain at the mere sight of the extra-large unmade bed in the center of the room. That bed had made him stop short the day he'd followed Cole into this room, steaming mad and looking to pounce.
Yeah, he'd wanted to pounce all right. He'd wanted to toss the man on that bed, rip off his clothes, ram his cock in Cole's amazingly sexy ass and show Co
le how great they could be together. Instead, Rusty told the man he quit. He gave up on more than his job at the Double D that day. He gave up his pursuit of Cole Duvall. He finally admitted to himself that Cole would never be his no matter how badly Rusty wanted him. Rusty went to work at Masters High and met Jay.
Rusty closed his eyes as Jay's boyishly handsome face swam into his memory. The way Jay looked tonight with his river blue eyes so full of the fear he refused to admit, needs he refused to voice, desires Rusty wanted so desperately to ease. Rusty noted the way Jay's shoulders had slumped when he stared out the window of the room they shared with two other ranch hands, the way the other man's sandy blond curls flirted with the collar of the denim work shirt he wore. He'd wanted so much to walk behind Jay, to pull the man against his body and whisper to him that everything would be okay.
But it won't be okay. Not for you.
That didn't matter. It only mattered that he made everything okay for Jay.
It'll be Jay in that bed with Cole, Cole in that bed with Jay. Where will that leave you?
Happy. He would be happy because the two men he cared for, the men who cared for each other would be together. But for how long? Cole Duvall had the “fuck 'em and leave 'em” reputation. Would he be that way with Jay, too? Did that explain why he steered clear of Jay since the night they met? Or did Cole's distance have something to do with Rusty, with the fact that he, no doubt, thought Rusty had already hooked up with Jay?
Rusty heard the unmistakable sound of cowboy boots striking a hardwood floor and turned back to the window, his back to the door. He'd need a moment when Cole got in the room, a chance to steady himself in the power of the other man's presence. Only then would he be able to face Cole, to tell him why he'd come here tonight.