Trouble in Cowboy Boots

by Desiree Holt

  Then Wyatt was back, sitting beside her, massaging her stiff arms and rubbing cream into them. Turning her over and slipping the plug from her ass. Wiping her gently with a warm cloth.

  He turned her onto her back again and stroked her cheek with his fingers. “Tomorrow night we’ll put the plug in and leave it there all night. Did you like it, sugar?”

  She nodded.

  “Words, Emily,” he prompted. “Remember? I have to hear the words.”

  “Yes,” she told him in a weak voice. “I liked it.”

  “Good. We’re gonna work on getting that sweet ass in shape for my cock.”

  He climbed into bed next to her, pulled the covers over them both and tucked her body up against his. In moments he heard the even rhythm of her breathing that signaled she’d fallen asleep.

  “You have definite possibilities, sugar,” he murmured, his lips against her hair. “I might even be able to overlook your flaws in the kitchen.” He kissed the top of her head. “Better go to sleep. Long day tomorrow and maybe even a longer night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wyatt urged his horse into a slow trot as he moved from one section of pasture to another, his mind on other things than checking fences. But that was why he’d come out here with the men today, hoping to distract himself. He was spending way too much time thinking about Miss Emily Proctor.

  Settling down had never been high on his to-do list. He’d always figured it was something he’d do when he got too old to run around. After watching the disintegration of his parents’ marriage—and subsequent multiple remarriages—he’d made a vow not to put himself in a jackpot like that.

  He’d wanted Emily from the first minute he’d laid on eyes on her dragging into the Blue Belle with her friends, looking like the end of the world was at her doorstep. Hiring her as a cook had been an impulse and had worked out just the way he’d expected—she had no idea what a kitchen was used for. But she’d been a trooper about digging in and learning and the food she was turning out now was way more than edible.

  Taking her to bed had been a risk, introducing her to the kind of sex he liked even riskier. She could have run screaming into town and told Sam Campbell she’d been hired by a sex maniac. But instead she’d accepted everything. She hadn’t been just willing. She’d been enthusiastic, too. She’d gone from mild trepidation to eager anticipation, and now the sex was so hot they almost went up in flames.

  But in the course of teaching her the pleasures of erotic sex flavored with BDSM, something had happened to him. Those things called emotions he made a habit of keeping under tight lock and key were giving him fits. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d be asking Emily to stay forever at the Lazy Aces. And that would be a big mistake. The minute he let his emotional guard down, made a commitment, she’d either be whining about something the way his mother had, or he’d be bitching the way his father had, or the two of them would be spending nights in other people’s beds.

  One of the reasons Wyatt had bought this place was to get as far away from his parents as he could and, if he was honest with himself, hide from civilization as he knew it. He’d taken all his rodeo winnings and invested them in this place and it had paid off. Now he had to make sure he didn’t lose control of things.

  As he thought about what he planned to send the right message to Emily—at least what he thought was the right message—a sour taste rose from his stomach to his mouth. This just wasn’t his style. But a man had to protect himself, right? Even if in the end it meant giving up the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

  * * * *

  Emily moved at her own pace around the kitchen, doing her prep work for supper, setting the table—something she’d learned to do ahead of time—and checking on the meat. She was slow-cooking a roast in the oven the way Amelia had told her to do and it smelled like heaven. Whoever would have thought I’d be able to cook anything that smelled so good? She laughed to herself.

  It seemed almost impossible that she’d been at the Lazy Aces for almost three weeks. Her cooking had improved to the point where she could prepare a meal herself and almost not burn or overcook anything. Hardy had stopped tossing her biscuits around at breakfast, the message from the others loud and clear that he was destroying very good edible food. Amelia only showed up every other day now, the lessons leaving her with containers of food to mix and heat, stir and heat or just dump into the microwave and heat. And while breakfast had a long way to go before being pronounced a gourmet feast, she could handle it by herself and get everything to the table on time. Even the double-seatings didn’t scare her so much anymore.

  As she worked, she thought about her conversation the day before with Lola and Roxie. Wyatt had started letting her take one of the ranch trucks into town Sunday afternoons to spend time with her friends. Lola’s boss at the Blue Belle encouraged her to pack picnic lunches for them—one of the benefits of small town life—and they’d drive to a place by Rockbottom Creek where the county had set out picnic tables, and spend the afternoon eating and gabbing.

  Just yesterday, they had discussed their current situation and tried to figure out what the immediate future held for them. Money was still in scarce supply even when they pooled everything they had.

  “I know we should go,” Lola said, nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie, “and god knows this town could bore you to death after five minutes. But…”

  “But?” Roxie prompted.

  “But I don’t know if I’m ready to move on yet.” She brushed crumbs from her fingers. “Besides, we still have to figure out our transportation. And secondly…”

  “Secondly?” Emily said.

  Lola sighed. “Call me crazy, but I kind of feel as if we have a time-out from life here. You know, all the craziness we’ve lived with for so long. Vegas glitz.”

  “Your reluctance to examine our options wouldn’t have anything to do with the wickedly sexy Sheriff Campbell, would it?” Emily wanted to know.

  Lola blushed, something unusual for her. “Let’s just say Sam and I are finding new ways to pass the time.” She looked at Roxie. “And how many times now have I seen you and Cliff in the Blue Belle having a meal and looking like you were the only two people in the world?”

  Roxie grinned. “We’re just feeding the inner man, girls. After all, he is my boss.”

  Lola flapped a hand at her. “Big deal. Did you see anyone looking over your shoulder and waving a red flag? Besides, it’s not as if we’ll be here forever.” She glanced over at Emily. “And what about you, missy? The last time I saw you and Mr. Cowboy Boots in Chaps, you were dancing so close I wasn’t sure one could breathe without the other.”

  Now it was Emily’s turn to feel heat on her cheeks. No way would she give up the details of what was becoming a more and more kinky form of sex with Wyatt Cavanaugh. Some nights she barely had time to shower and dab on some cologne after she straightened the kitchen before he was at her bedroom door, a predatory grin on his face, hot desire in his eyes and an erection barely restrained by his jeans. Sometimes during the day, it took all her effort to concentrate on what she was doing as thoughts of what they did at night roamed through her mind.

  The one thing the three women had agreed on was for the moment they were stuck where they were. The car wasn’t salvageable and it was taking forever to save up enough money for some kind of new wheels.

  “Besides,” Emily had pointed out, “it’s not as if we even know where we’re going.”

  And where am I going? she wondered as she gave the counter a last swipe.

  If anything bothered her, it was the emotional feelings she was developing for Wyatt. In the end, that might be what in the end drove her away. He’d been very clear that he was only looking for a playmate, that she was the perfect candidate because she was temporary and that they could enjoy themselves for whatever time she was at the Lazy Aces. She’d had her eyes on bigger and better things and the sex was beyond anything she’d ever enjoyed so it seemed like a good deal. And he
was very diligent about making sure nothing happened to cause the men to lose respect for her. For that she was grateful.

  He’d taken her to Chaps a few more times, not caring about who saw them dancing as if they were welded together, or who questioned his taking his cook out for the evening. On the dance floor, they moved with slow steps to the music, having found a rhythm that fit them both, and the dancing always became a teasing prelude to afterward, when the sex would be hotter and wilder than ever. He turned her inside out, his dominant nature in the bedroom a bigger turn-on than she’d ever thought it could be. No problems there.

  What happens when Wyatt gets tired of me? Will he decide Diana Landry is a better, less complicated companion? Someone more suited to his unfettered lifestyle? The woman had been all over him like white on rice whenever Emily and Wyatt were in Chaps. It seemed the last few times, he hadn’t been quite as determined to fend her off. How could Emily go on working there if this thing between them—whatever it was—fell apart?

  In disgust, she hung up the dishtowel and her apron, poured a glass of iced tea and took it out onto the back porch with her. She had finally adapted to the hours at the ranch, and now the aches in her body were from more pleasant exercise than cleaning the kitchen or standing at the stove.

  But, over the past few days, she’d been battling with feelings that were giving her fits. As she rocked and sipped, she tried to figure out what to do. She was about to head back inside for another cold drink when she heard the whine of a big truck engine coming down the drive, the spray of gravel as it stopped and the slam of a truck door. She stood and walked to the end of the porch, curious as to who it was. Wyatt was out riding fences with his men and hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone.

  Her eyes popped when she saw Diana Landry striding toward the back porch. It wasn’t so much the woman herself, although that was a shocker, as the outfit she was wearing. The shorts rode so high on her thighs they were just shy of indecent. A sleeveless blouse hung open over a strapless halter that struggled to contain her breasts. Wild curls danced on her shoulders as she walked and her lip gloss glinted in the sun.

  “Wyatt’s not here,” Emily said, clutching her empty glass. “He’s out riding fences.”

  Diana gave her a knowing smile. “He’ll be back. He’s expecting me.” She raked Emily with her gaze from head to toe and back again. “I can’t imagine how he stands having a mousy little thing like you in the house, but I guess if you stay in the kitchen, it doesn’t matter.”

  Emily stared at her, searching for just the right retort, but the sound of hoofbeats distracted her. She looked up to see Wyatt riding into the yard and pulling to a stop in front of the barn.

  “Here he is now.” Diana smiled and headed toward the barn.

  Wyatt had barely dismounted before she threw her arms around him and kissed him, pressing every inch of her body against his, rubbing against him like a sleek cat. Emily waited for Wyatt to push her away, but instead he kissed her back with just as much enthusiasm, hands reaching down to cup her ass.

  Emily closed her eyes, wondering if she was going to throw up. What is he doing? What is going on here? He hadn’t said a word to her about expecting Diana or having plans with her.

  You’re not his social secretary. Or his wife. He can do whatever he wants, remember?

  She turned back into the house, unwilling to watch the unpleasant scene. In the kitchen, she rinsed her glass and stuck it in the dishwasher, wishing she had the nerve to raid Wyatt’s liquor cabinet. Instead, she sat at the table to look over her list for supper, hoping to distract herself.

  Hoping Wyatt would come in and tell her Diana Landry had dropped dead in the yard.

  Instead, he poked his head in the back door and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  Emily’s head snapped up. “You won’t be here for…for dinner?” She wanted to say ‘for tonight’ but her courage failed her.

  Diana pushed him to the side and wedged herself into the doorway. “He’ll be eating something much better.” She gave Emily a bawdy wink. “I told him I’d come pick him up because I didn’t plan for him to have the strength to drive home tomorrow.” She pulled on Wyatt’s belt. “Come on, cowboy. We’re wasting time.”

  Emily sat at the table, staring at the paper in her hand, until she heard the truck engine turn over and the big vehicle pull out of the yard. It was blatantly obvious what he and Diana the Slut would be doing tonight. They couldn’t have made it more obvious. Her eyes burned and she felt sick to her stomach. She’d always thought, when Wyatt wanted to end this, he’d at least be straight about it. Honest. That seemed like the kind of person he was. Not one who would humiliate her like this.

  She would not cry over this. No man was worth it. She’d learned that painful lesson the hard way. But she certainly couldn’t stay here. She’d make dinner, then get one of the hands to take her into town afterward.

  God, what a mess.

  She knew Roxie was at work, but Lola would be in her place behind the Blue Belle, resting her feet after working the breakfast and lunch shifts. She’d just have to confess the whole thing and ask if she could share a room. She had no idea what she’d do for a job, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.

  Pulling herself together, she called Lola on the cell phone she’d held onto.

  “Hey, Emily.” Lola’s voice was filled with curiosity. And anxiety. “You okay? Why are you calling?”

  “Don’t say anything,” Emily begged. “Just listen, please.” Digging her nails into her fingers to keep herself from falling apart, she explained her situation in terse, short sentences. “Don’t ask me any questions right now, okay? Just tell me if I can bunk in with you.”

  “Oh, honey, of course, you can. But—”

  “No buts. We’ll talk about the problems when I get there. I’ll see you after supper.”

  Disconnecting the call and thinking what the hell, she grabbed a water glass and headed for the bar in Wyatt’s den. It wasn’t locked. The hands knew to respect the invisible off-limits sign. Deciding that bourbon would be her medicine of choice, she poured a generous amount into the glass, carried it back into the kitchen and added a handful of ice cubes. Then, sipping slowly at the drink, she finished putting dinner together.

  “Auntie Em, are you okay?” Hardy’s young eyes held concern as she put the last bowl of vegetables out. “You seem kind of…funny.”

  “I’m fine, Hardy. Just fine. Eat before your food gets cold.”

  Evan Trippy, an older hand, stared at the glass she picked up from the counter. “That’s a little dark for iced tea, Auntie Em. You haven’t gotten into the boss’s bourbon, have you?”

  “Of course not.” She hoped the expression on her face was indignant enough. It was ruined, however, when she tripped over her feet walking back to the counter. “I’m fine,” she insisted as four of the hands leapt up to help her. “Sit down and eat.”

  She stood at the sink, taking small sips of her drink, while the men finished dinner in an unusual silence. Emily couldn’t look at them and it seemed no one could figure out what to say to her. By the time the glass was empty, her head was swimming and she wished for nothing more than a gun to blow a hole through both Wyatt and Diana the Slut. She rinsed the glass and refilled it, draining it in the hope the water would dilute the alcohol, but all it did was make her dizzier.

  When the scraping of chairs on the floor signaled the men were finished eating, she turned to clear the table, but they were already handling it.

  “You should go sit down, Auntie Em,” Hardy said, concern etched on his face. “You don’t look like you feel too good.”

  “I’m fine, Hardy. And I can clean up the kitchen.”

  But when she took the plate from Hardy’s hands, it slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor. Her immediate urge was to cry, but she was determined not to shed tears in front of the hands.

  “Come on, Auntie Em.” Evan’s voice was gentle, as was his touch on her elbow. “Sit down a
t the table and I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Since she didn’t seem any too steady on her feet, she allowed herself to be led to a chair. One of the other hands brought her a mug filled with hot liquid and she wrapped her fingers around it.

  “Thank you,” she told him. “Evan? Do you think one of you could run me into town after dinner? My friend Lola is staying in that little apartment behind the Blue Belle.”

  The men doing the cleanup exchanged looks. Then Evan nodded.

  “Sure thing. You going to visit your friends?”

  “Yes. I need a night out.” She concentrated on not spilling the hot coffee as she took small swallows.

  But when she came out of her bedroom lugging her suitcases, both Evan and Hardy raised their eyebrows.

  “You going somewhere, Auntie Em? I mean besides to visit Lola?”

  “Yes.” She set the suitcases on the floor. “Could you help me with these?”

  Hardy looked at Evan then back to her. “Does the boss know about this?”

  “The boss is otherwise occupied,” she spat. “And it’s none of his business.”

  Evan took her hands in his. “Em, if something’s wrong, just tell us. We’ll fix it.”

  Emily ground her teeth together, trying to keep the room from swimming before her eyes. “I. Just. Want. To. Go. To. Town.”

  The cowboy shrugged. “All right, then. Hardy, put these suitcases in one of the trucks. I’ll help Auntie Em outside.”

  “I don’t need help,” she protested then proceeded to trip over her feet again.

  The ride into town was thick with silence. Neither of the men seemed to know what to say and didn’t want to upset her by saying the wrong thing. Emily was just as glad. Her head was still swimming, although not as bad since the coffee, and she didn’t want to fall asleep.

  The moment they pulled up behind the Blue Belle, Lola opened the door to her apartment. Evan and Hardy set down the suitcases and stood looking at Emily.