by Scott, Tarah
“One week. I bet you can’t last one week without sleeping with me, and no, I don’t actually mean sleeping.”
“What is my prize?”
“I think that should be obvious. I’m your prize.”
Train squeezed her thigh. “It seems I’d win even if I lost.”
“Exactly,” she said happily.
“If, despite all your efforts, I resist for one week, you agree to stay with me…permanently.”
Marion was quiet while she considered the magnitude of a potential loss. No efforts thus far had changed Train’s mind. He was determination to wait.
“Before I agree, I need more information. Since you live in the shack, where am I sleeping? I can’t very well plan an assault if we’re not living together.”
“Already willing to admit defeat? No confidence in your abilities, I see.”
She knew he was provoking her, but she wanted the challenge. “If I win, not only do I get your impressive trophy, but you forget about this marriage nonsense.” Before he had a chance to argue, she continued. “If you win, Train, I’ll marry you and get my trophy.”
“Sweetheart, you just made a deal with the devil.” He removed his hand from her thigh and yanked her dress down.
“Believe me,” she said. “I know you have a wicked streak as wide as the devil’s. I aim to use it to my full advantage.” She rested her forehead against his back. What had she done? Her competitive nature wouldn’t let her intentionally lose, but deep down she acknowledged she’d like to see him win.
Marion was glad TJ gave them privacy at the onset of their journey by riding several yards ahead. But as lunchtime approached, she was ready to get off the horse, stretch her legs, and eat.
Train spurred their horse ahead to ride side by side with TJ.
“Anytime you’re ready to give the horses a break,” he said.
“Forget the horses. What about me?” Marion itched from the sweat dripping down her back. Sticky and wet, her dress clung to her torso, making her even more uncomfortable, not to mention having her legs spread against the man haunting her thoughts since they’d met. No, the situation couldn’t get any more difficult.
They tethered the horses close to the river, allowing them to quench their thirst. Train removed the saddles and spread a blanket on the ground. When Marion returned from the trees, she plopped down and pulled her boots off. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she wiggled life back into her toes.
Train sat next to her and pulled one of her feet into his lap. With his thumb, he made circular motions along her instep.
“Hell, you two don’t need me chaperoning this trip,” TJ said, brushing the dirt from his denim. Within moments, TJ had his horse saddled and ready.
Giving Marion a wink, he said, “I’ll put your belongings in the same room you used when you were out for the wedding.” He glanced at Train. “How outspoken should I be? I don’t want to get in your business.”
“Say what you want,” Marion said. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t require discretion.” It was true. In most instances, her language was too rough for some men.
He asked Train, “Where do you want me to put your bag, in the shack, or the house?”
“The shack. The House.” Marion and Train spoke in unison.
“You’ll find your stuff on the porch,” TJ said, pulling the horse’s reins. “Tell me tomorrow who wins this one.” He shot off in a cloud of dust.
Train looked at Marion’s wide smirk. TJ was mistaken. They did need a chaperone. Now that there was a wager between them, he could see Marion was going to be ruthless, cunningly clever. He wondered if making a bet with her was a wise idea.
“How am I going to win the bet if you don’t sleep in the same bed with me?”
“Exactly, I aim to win even if it means I don’t see you for the next week.”
“That’s cheating!”
“You would know.”
“Are you really going to stay away from me for the whole week?” She sounded worried.
He shook his head ruefully. “No, and I’m already regretting the bet.” He put one stocking back on her foot and then the other. He looked up to see her watching his hands as he retied the laces of her boots. “I sleep in the shack, but you’ll have the days to tempt me with your wiles.”
“I suppose that’s fair. It’ll give me time to play a little poker and check out the men.”
Scalding fury blazed up his spine, and into his face. His nostrils flared. He leapt from the blanket. With his jaw clenched, he couldn’t move his mouth to speak.
“Train,” she nervously laughed. “It was a joke.”
He stalked to the horse trying to calm down. He knew she had spoken with levity, but it was crude even for her.
He heard her approach. She stopped directly behind him.
“I don’t want anyone to know you’re a whore at the homestead.”
She clasped her hands together. “I’m sure they already know. I’ve been with some of the hands. Not Jack, but it isn’t as if he doesn’t know. He came to see me. It doesn’t matter, at least not to me. What about you?”
When he turned around his temper softened. “Not to me either, but I can’t speak for anyone else at the ranch.”
“You, Allison, and TJ, are the only people I concern myself with. Everyone else can go to hell.” She stepped into his outstretched arms.
He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want anyone getting the idea you’re available.”
She looked up into his face. “I guess you forgot you paid in advance. I’ll be committed for a week.”
He ran his hand over her hair. “You’re not committed yet, but you will be.”
“Confidence, one more thing I like about you.”
He smiled. “You’ve made it very clear what part of me you like.” He crushed his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue along hers then slowly releasing her. “I’m looking at this wager all wrong.”
She hummed in the back of her throat as he kissed her again.
“Better to look at this week as foreplay.”
Chapter Six
The house was dark when Train walked Marion up the front porch steps. His bag sat as a reminder that he wouldn’t be staying with her. She stopped walking. A chill in the night air caused her to shiver. A clear indicator fall was around the corner. “Cold?”
“Couldn’t you stay with me tonight?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
He hesitated before opening the door for her. He put his finger in front of his lips to signal quiet. Adjusting the lamp always left by the front door, he allowed only enough of a flame to find their way.
Marion laced her fingers with Train’s, leading him to the bedroom where she would be staying. Neither spoke until the door closed.
“I’ll get water.” Train took the pitcher and went to the kitchen. Allison had fresh bread under a towel on the cutting board. Taking the knife, Train sliced off several thick pieces and wrapped them in a separate towel. With the pitcher in one hand and the bread in the other, he went back upstairs. Using his hip, he pushed open the door.
“Let me help.” Marion took the towel from his hand and peered inside. “Mmm, looks good.” She greedily took a bite, then held the bread up for him.
“I’m starving,” he said, setting the water on the dresser. He turned around and held her fingers while taking another bite. “I saw some apples on the counter.”
“I’ll get them.”
“No,” he said with a mouthful of bread. After he swallowed he said, “Wash up and change. I’m sure you’re eager to get in bed and smell the pillows.”
Her eyes narrowed, but a smile played on her lips.
Back in the kitchen, Train took an apple in each hand. Remembering TJ kept his whiskey in the cupboard, he grabbed a bottle and a cup and tucked them under his arm. When he returned to the room, Marion was only partially dressed.
The smile fell from his face when he saw her reflection in the mirror. She wore only b
loomers and a sheer chemise. Train could see the dusky centers of her breasts through the thin, wet material. He set the apples on the bed, never wavering his gaze.
Water dripped from the cloth as she finished washing her neck and chest. “I saved you the last piece of bread.”
He opened the bottle. “I thought you might like a drink.” He poured for himself and downed the amber liquid. The whiskey burned as it traveled to his stomach. He wasn’t sure if drinking would fortify him against Marion’s assault on his desires—damn, but her wanted her—or if it would make him foolish and lower his defenses.
“You’d be right.” Marion tried to shrug off the intense feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Being with Train now was different from before. The underlying tension between them built, knowing they’d be together for an extended period. Marion ran her fingers through her hair. Her scalp tingled from remaining in a braid for too long.
“Would you like the glass?”
She took the bottle and tipped it to her lips. “Nope.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Isn’t necessary.”
Train sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his boots, and pulled off his stockings.
Marion took the wet washcloth and rinsed it in the bowl. Twisting it tightly, she wrung the water out. “Train.” She stepped between his thighs.
When he looked up, she put the cloth on his neck and began washing the day’s ride from his body with slow, firm strokes. She worked her way up the side of his face, combing his sideburns with her fingernails after she scrubbed them. Dimples at the sides of his mouth caused her to smile as she wiped his mustache and beard. Unable to resist, she bent over and placed her lips against his.
Train rested his hands on her hips. Tenderly, his mouth glided under hers. Nothing about the kiss was rushed or bruising. “Sweetheart,” he said when they parted.
His endearing word gave secret pleasure. Never had a man shown her the satisfaction a kiss could give. Her stomach flipped as she thought about intimate activities with him, of having him over and in her. If he could derive that much pleasure from a kiss, she staggered at the amount of time and patience he’d show her when they finally made love.
“My stomach is too unsettled to go to bed,” she said, placing the washcloth next to the pitcher.
“Once you lay down, you’ll feel how tired you are.” He pulled back the blanket for her to slide beneath the covers. Train blew out the lamp and let his trousers fall to the floor. Climbing into bed beside her, he didn’t protest when she snuggled up against him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her close. Finally, the fatigue of the day overcame their reckless thoughts and they slept.
* * * * *
Train stretched and reached across the bed without opening his eyes. Forcing himself to recognize that is was indeed morning, and Marion was already awake and out of bed, was easier said than done. Now he’d have to face TJ and Allison, where as he’d hoped he could slip out the front door without notice.
Marion sat at the table when he joined the trio a few minutes later. TJ straddled a chair turned backwards watching Michael attempt to shovel oatmeal into his mouth with a large spoon.
“Hungry?” Allison asked, setting a cup of coffee in front of an empty chair. “Sit,” she instructed.
Train sat down across from Marion. He gave TJ a chastising look, knowing he was struggling to keep from laughing.
“Have you lost the bet?” He snorted as a peal of laughter rang through the room.
“Stop it, TJ.” Allison pressed her lips together tightly.
“You told them?” he questioned Marion. “Is nothing sacred to you, woman?”
She shrugged. “I felt I owed an explanation for our sharing a room.”
“We won’t be tonight!” Train’s chair grated across the floor. “I’ve got work to do.” He put his cowboy hat on and stomped out the back door.
“You two are mean,” Allison said, wiping Michael’s hands. “Train has a soft heart and you stomp all over it.”
Marion grunted. “Nothing about Train is soft with me.”
TJ choked on his coffee. “That is my cue to leave.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. After kissing Michael on the forehead, he pulled Allison into an intimate embrace. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
Marion asked, “Where will Train be today?”
He stopped and grinned. “Around.” With that, he went out the door.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked Allison.
“That the lines of battle have been drawn.” Allison shook her head. “I don’t know who to support. If you win, Train loses again.” She got a far away look in her eyes.
“What happened between you and Train? I know you were close. The day after your marriage, down at the stables, I could tell by the way he looked at you.”
Allison sat across from her. “TJ made me crazy. When I thought he didn’t want me, I took advantage of Train. I used him to make TJ jealous.” She reached across the table.
Marion stared at their linked hands. Unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions roiled in her stomach. Why should it bother her that Train had once fancied Allison? By the end of the week, she’d be back at the Dusty Rose and Train would be a cherished memory. That thought too, troubled her.
Marion squeezed Allison’s hand, then stood. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I don’t know who to root for either.” She let Allison pull her into a hug. “He makes me want to believe.”
“Give it a little more time and he’ll prove it to you.”
* * * * *
Marion nearly cried from boredom as she wandered around the house watching Allison move from one project to another never giving herself time to relax. Michael demanded much of her time, but Sissy seemed to come and go at will. “Do you ever sit?”
Allison knelt next to Sissy’s bed tucking the sheet under the mattress. “If you go down and make a pot of coffee, I’ll take a break and have a cup with you.” While still on her knees, she sat back on her heels. “I wish I could spend the day riding horses, or walking the property, but I can’t.” She tossed her hands wide. “It isn’t easy taking care of a house, kids, and a husband, but if I stick to my routine everything gets done. Today I change sheets and do the wash.”
“I’d rather work on my back,” Marion said, disgusted. “If Train wants a wife to cook and clean, he’s going to be disappointed.”
Allison’s mouth puckered. “Obviously you’re considering marrying him. What if you win the bet?”
To her annoyance, Marion felt the beginnings of a blush. She didn’t like the transparency of her feelings. She could only hope Train wasn’t as observant as Allison. “Whether I win the bet or not, I don’t want to be without him. I’m happy when we’re together.”
Allison stood and faced her friend. “I’d say that calls for a little break in my routine.”
Allison made coffee while Marion folded and unfolded a linen napkin lying on the table. “Do you know where he is?”
“I do,” she said, sitting across from her. “He told TJ not to tell you. I don’t think he wants you distracting him from his work.”
Marion rolled her eyes as if to say she wouldn’t be a distraction, but they both knew the truth. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I told Train I’d stay out of the shack, but I need some company.” She looked at the clock. “What time does TJ come home for lunch?”
Allison glanced over her shoulder. “Where’d the morning go?” She vaulted out of the chair and quickly sliced some of the bread Marion had eaten last night with Train. Allison moved around the kitchen assembling some type of meat into a sandwich. With a knife as long as a machete, Allison sliced a watermelon in half. “I’ll give you an excuse to go to the shack.” Allison winked as she quartered the halves. “We won’t eat all of this. I grew it in the garden,” she said with pride. “We had a big fire here early in the summer. I thought I’d lost everything I’d planted, but wouldn’t you know it, two watermelon plant
s, a couple of carrots, and lots of weeds still managed to grow.” She took a wide strip of burlap and put the watermelon in the center. After gathering up the sides, she handed it to Marion. “Do you remember who Cake is?”
Marion’s mouth twitched. “I don’t think I made a good first impression.”
“You didn’t.” Allison shrugged. “Who cares? He didn’t like me either in the beginning, now we’re friends.”
Marion’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re married to the boss.” She took the burlap from Allison. “However, I do need something to make me feel useful.”
Marion passed TJ on the path leading from the house to the shack. “I can take that,” he said, reaching for the burlap.
“Don’t you dare!” She laughed and spun out of his reach. “This is the first useful thing I’ve done all day and I’ll not let you take it from me.” She lifted her chin a little higher and continued down the path.
“Marion--” He started to say something, but changed his mind.
“Allison has your lunch ready. You shouldn’t keep her waiting,” she hollered, then lumbered on with the heavy watermelon.
The shack was a bustle of activity. Tables ran down the center of the room. In the rear of the building, rows of bunk beds offered places to rest with absolutely no privacy. Along one wall, Cake had the set up of a restaurant with a large stove, two deep sinks with water pumps, and shelves of pots, pans, and mixing bowls. Too numerable to count, metal plates, soup bowls, and cups filled another.
“Allison wanted you to have this.” She handed the burlap bundle to Cake. His round belly, round face, and pink cheeks from standing too long in the heat of a kitchen, reminded her of Santa Claus. “Smells good,” she said, sniffing deeply of the delicious aromas.
Evidently, the way to win Cake’s friendship was to compliment his cooking. “Get a bowl.” He had a large wooden spoon in a pot of simmering chowder. “Here you go, little lady.” He filled her bowl.
Marion froze as she let his words wash over her. Glancing down at her dress, she supposed she did look like a lady today. “Thank you.” She took the bowl and held it to her nose. “Mmm.” She grabbed a biscuit and sat at the table closest to Cake. She might want to be in a room full of people, but Train’s words still rang in her ears. The last thing she wanted was for him to be uncomfortable with the people he worked with.