“Stacy, this is Eric Cantrell. Eric, this is Stacy Porter. She’s staying at Marie’s place.” The pounding in her heart and her body’s instant attraction to the man blocked her hearing.
“Are you okay, Stacy?” Ron asked, and she immediately cleared her throat.
“I’m fine. I think the jet leg is kicking in,” she responded, thinking quickly.
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Marie’s farm land borders the Triple C Ranch,” he replied with pride, and Stacy smiled at his deep voice and thick Texas accent. Trepidation filled her body as she realized she was attracted to the handsome stranger. That didn’t sit right with her at all. Someone was stalking her back in New York. She had become a near victim of a sexual attack. Being flirtatious with some sexy-looking cowboy was definitely on the top ten stupidest things she could do. She swallowed hard and ignored the tingling, schoolgirl attraction.
“What’s the Triple C?” she asked, not even knowing how she was forming a complete sentence in front of the cowboy. She felt her body temperature rise as she caught his gaze upon her lips, and immediately she reminded herself about why she didn’t trust men. Even ones who sported a pair of blue jeans better than any New York male model she’d ever seen. She could see the definition in his thigh as it remained in place against the sleek coat of the black stallion. Even the horse had muscles. Stacy brought her attention back to the cowboy’s face as he explained about what and where the Triple C ranch was. So the letter “C” stood for Cantrell, and his name was Eric Cantrell. Grateful to have retained that much information, she forced herself to look away from the delicacy of a man and out toward the open pasture. Eric had come from out of nowhere. It was intriguing and intimidating. She was a city girl, used to city life, and anything that popped out in front of her unexpectedly usually meant trouble. She wasn’t expecting this. Her focus was to get away from her stalker and start anew.
“Well we’d better get going. I’m sure Marie is getting worried. I’m sure Stacy’s ready to get settled in.”
“You staying with Marie Lemorte?” Eric asked as he looked her over through the driver side window of the truck.
She nodded her head and straightened her shoulders. The way the man looked at her was hot and intense. She didn’t want that type of attention and especially not now. She needed to stay focused on herself and her new life. And there was this feeling inside of her that she never had before.
“Well then, I’ll be seeing you around,” Eric added, and she gave a small noncommittal smile, being sure not to look him directly in the eyes. Ron immediately began to drive, and only a few minutes later, they arrived at Marie’s farm.
The place was stunning. From the long dirt driveway all the way to the old house, it was picturesque. There was a tall woman with short blonde hair descending the stairs as the truck pulled up in front of the house. Stacy swallowed hard as she took in the woman’s features.
“Are you okay, Stacy?” Ron asked as he placed the truck in a parked position. Stacy turned toward him and spoke her mind. “She doesn’t look sick at all.”
“That’s ’cause I ain’t sick, darlin’,” Marie stated as she opened the passenger-side door so Stacy could get out. Immediately the large woman pulled her into an embrace. Stacy was shocked as she absorbed the strength and the abrasiveness of Marie. Pulling back, Marie smiled.
“You are absolutely gorgeous! Let’s get your things to your house, and then I can show you around and explain a few things.”
The woman was definitely bossy and very energetic, and Stacy wondered why Millie lied to her about her aunt being sick. Wasn’t that the reason for Stacy to move out to Texas so that she could help Millie’s aunt?
“What do you mean, my house? I thought I was staying in your house to help you.”
“No need, darling. Millie said you were startin’ over. That means y’all will need space and some alone time.”
“But—”
“Now don’t be frettin’ over nonsense. You will be helping me out, and I will be paying you. Being a city gal, you’ve got a lot to learn about country life and farm life. But let’s not talk about that now. Follow me,” she stated, and Stacy had no choice but to follow as she clenched her teeth closed. She didn’t want to argue, but she also didn’t feel comfortable now that she was led here under false pretenses. Stacy wondered exactly how much Millie had told her aunt about Stacy’s situation in New York.
“Excuse me, Miss Lemorte.”
The vibrant older woman waved a hand in the air as Stacy nearly jogged to keep up with the woman’s long strides.
“Call me Marie. You can even call me Aunt Marie.”
“Aunt Marie?” Stacy questioned then nearly plowed into the older woman as she halted about a half a yard in front of a small, beat-up cottage.
“Yes?”
“No, I mean, how can I call you Aunt Marie?”
Marie placed her hands on Stacy’s shoulders and looked down to hold Stacy’s gaze. She felt the woman’s strength through the strong hold on her own shoulders. Marie reeked of superiority and toughness.
“You earned that right when you risked your life to save my Millie. She’d be in a hospital or six feet under if it weren’t for your bravery and friendship. Call me Aunt Marie and I’ll call you ‘New York.’”
She released her shoulders, and Stacy watched as the woman pulled something out of her jean pocket and headed up the porch steps.
“Now I know it ain’t no fancy New York apartment, but I understand that you spent some time doing handiwork and painting. Millie mentioned that your best friend Anna suggested working to fix up your new place would be a kind of therapy. That’s a real nice friend you got there, too. I hope to meet Anna some day. Anyway, here is the key. I had two extra made up for you so that you can place a spare in a safe location.”
Stacy was trying to keep up with Aunt Marie, but it was nearly impossible. It seemed even Anna knew what was really going on and wanted to try and help. She loved her best friend. All thoughts were lost as Aunt Marie pushed the front door open.
The small little cottage was not as tiny as it appeared. Although the decorating was ancient and the walls a pale yellow, there was a lot of sunlight illuminating the room. There was even a set of double doors that led out to a small deck which needed some work. She would definitely have her work cut out for her, but as she toured the small cottage, her spirits rose.
“I take it that this old place will be suitable for you, Stacy?”
Stacy turned to smile at Marie.
“It’s great,” she replied then took a step forward. “But are you sure you are well? I mean, Millie insisted that your health was failing and that you really did need help around here.”
“I am very well. Strong as any man around these parts. I’ve been working the farm life since I could walk. No need to worry about me and no need to think I won’t be putting you to work to earn your keep. I expect you to be ready by sunup to share a breakfast with me and sometimes Ron. I get some guests, and sometimes I’ll need my privacy, but I’ll tell ya when. Why don’t you get settled in and washed up? I stocked the place with some things Millie said you liked. When you’re all finished, come on over to the main house and we’ll do supper at five o’clock sharp. Don’t be late. Oh, and the main house is the big white one at the end of this driveway and around the large tree we just came from.” Aunt Marie smiled and went straight faced in a half a second then quickly headed back in that direction as Stacy stood in shock.
* * * *
Stacy took the first thirty minutes trying to reach Millie and Anna to give them a piece of her mind. They set her up. Here she was, thinking that she was fooling them about the intensity of the situation with her boss stalking her, and they went right along with it. Her new home was in Texas, living on a farm and helping a woman who, despite her tanned, wrinkled skin and what would be considered senior age, had more gall, attitude, and strength than Stacy herself could ever have. Stacy didn’t thin
k that she handled the situation with her boss poorly. She just wondered if she didn’t break his nose if he would have given up on pursuing her. It was as if by her fighting back, he was more determined to break her and conquer her. She felt the chills run through her body. There was a definite fear there. A fear of not just men in general, but ones that could be perceived as intimidating and superior in nature. It was crazy, but she instantly thought about the cowboy she met with Ron. He appeared large and rugged. The fact that he appeared out of nowhere on open land filled with miles of grass and pasture as far as her eyes could see made her think of danger.
She suddenly felt afraid of the wildness about the farmland and a sense of vulnerability. The tears stung her eyes. This move was supposed to be empowering and a beginning established on a foundation of new inner strength. It wasn’t supposed to reveal more of her inner weakness and reservations about being alone and handling life on her own. But in actuality, that was precisely what she accomplished by moving out here. The isolation from the norm and unknown dangers were a complete reversal of city life to country life in a flash. How am I going to do this? She inhaled the scent of the house and the old-home smell and the hint of wild flowers passing through the ugly, faded beige curtains. The fear of the unknown was not going to bring her down. A day at a time and keep to yourself, Stacy, and you’ll get through this and find the answers you’re looking for. She looked around the house, noting the time and realizing that she needed to get to the main house in fifteen minutes. She absorbed all the work the little cottage needed. That her little cottage needed, and she mentally noted the supplies she should get and where to start. She was going to make this work, and she was going to survive. New York was behind her, and it was nothing but a memory.
* * * *
“What do you mean you have no idea where she is? All I asked was that you watch her, and you can’t even do that,” Barry Weiner yelled into the cell phone. He was sitting on a lounge chair on a beach in the Bahamas. It was something his pain-in-the-ass wife suggested to help him deal with the accusations going through the office about his sexual flings. Plus his broken nose would take time to heal, and it was easier to go away and not deal with all the questions than to stick around work and make excuses. She insisted that he come along with her and act like the husband he was supposed to be. The stupid bitch should have known by now that all he wanted was a stake in her father’s company. That’s why he had courted her in college and landed this job straight out of Harvard. Why else would he put up with her annoying, unintelligent banter and skinny, scrawny body?
“I tried sir, but it was difficult with the cops hanging around her place. I planted that gift you wanted me to plant, but her friend intercepted it,” Curtis replied, and Barry could hear the fear in Curty’s voice.
“Fuck! You were supposed to handle this. It’s your ass on the line as well. I am not going to let her get away with what she did to me. I’ve got cops asking questions, and I don’t want them snooping around. I have something else I want you to deliver to her once my sources locate her. I will be in touch.”
“Why can’t we just forget about her? She’s not important. She doesn’t matter when you can replace her with a dozen others. Even Teressa and Michelle are interested in you.”
“I don’t want them. I waited a year for this. My mind is made up, and remember who you are talking to. I’ve gotta go. Don’t screw this up because if I have to hire someone else to do it, I will, and you can forget about your promotion.”
Barry hung up the phone just as his wife approached carrying two piña coladas. He despised her, but he had to keep her. If he divorced her, then her father would fire him. Not that her old man was a saint, but he kept his affairs well hidden. All Barry wanted was Stacy. Everything about her from her long, thick red hair to her sparkling green eyes turned him on. Her body was a work of art from what he could tell, considering she wore such nonrevealing clothing. Even that was a turn-on. When he finally got a hold of her body, he wanted every inch of her. He wanted her all to himself, and the fact that his father-in-law had noticed Stacy as well…Well, that just pissed Barry off. Stacy belonged to him, and he was going to have her.
* * * *
Eric Cantrell walked out of the stables feeling hot, dirty, and tired. He had spent the day out in the fields mending fences. He was pissed off that one of their hands, Gutry, had obviously been slacking in his duties. As soon as he found the guy, he was going to give him a final warning. This wasn’t the first time Gutry screwed up. Eric, his brother Max, and their cousins could have lost livestock.
As he dusted the dirt off his jeans while he was walking, he thought about the damage that still needed mending and how a trip to the hardware store tomorrow for more materials was a must. Now that he was back on Cantrell land, he also found himself thinking about the gorgeous young woman in Ron Thorton’s truck. She was a beauty. She looked a little timid, but knowing how big Eric was, he assumed his height and size had intimidated her. She was a petite little thing with amazing green eyes. Damn, she was a sight to remember. He couldn’t recall the last time when just looking at a woman made his dick hard. Just thinking about her now stirred his cock’s attention. Fuck! He shifted as he walked, trying to ease the tightness in his crotch.
“Hey, where ya been?”
Eric looked up in time to see his cousin, Charlie, walking toward him. They met just a few feet before the gardens.
“That asshole Gutry screwed up big time, damn it! I’ve been out doing his fucking job all day, and it ain’t even done yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“The damn fences haven’t been fixed in God knows how long. I thought you and Ben were going to keep an eye on him?”
“Well, I thought Ben was, but I guess not. He’s been too busy lately,” Charlie responded, looking annoyed now as well.
“Busy with what? The ladies? Damn, I’m going to have to make him come along with me tomorrow to fix the rest.”
“Well, in the meantime, what about Gutry? I think we’re going to have to toss his ass.”
“I never cared for that guy anyway. He’s always causing fights whether he’s kicked back a few too many at Francine’s place or over in Turbank. We’ve got to talk to the others and confirm what we want to do. I’ve had it.”
“Well, why don’t you go take a shower and get cleaned up. Supper’s nearly done. That’s another soon-to-be problem, you know, too,” Charlie added, looking grim.
“What? The cook? What the hell is going on with Tex?”
“He’s been missing his daughter really badly. Now that the third grandchild’s been born, he wants to leave to go see her. He’s been thinking about moving out to Wyoming to be closer to her and help her out.”
“Ah, damn! When it rains, it pours, don’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“All right, we’ll have to have a family meeting tonight to discuss all this. Tell the others to meet here at the main house by eight o’clock. I know Wyatt and Max won’t be here until then anyway. There’s that meeting about the fair and barbecue in three weeks.”
“Okay. See you for supper.”
Chapter 2
Stacy was washing the lettuce for the salad as she helped Marie in the kitchen. Her home was stunning and very neat. There were antique furnishings and old black-and-white portraits of the Lemorte ancestors. Marie made some sort of chicken dish that didn’t smell quite appealing at all. She didn’t want to insult the woman after all it seemed she had done for Stacy. Maybe it just smelled bad but would taste better.
“Okay, New York, you ready with that salad?” Marie asked as Stacy brought the bowl over to the table. Stacy had the feeling that Marie didn’t cook often. It was just a feeling that was confirmed when Stacy took her first bite of the chicken.
She tried her hardest not to react too impolitely to the fact that the chicken was raw inside. As she added dressing to her salad, the one bite of raw chicken still lingered on her tongue. She just couldn’t
fake eating that.
Marie made a disgusted sound then dropped her fork causing a loud clank against the dish. “Aw, hell, I screwed up! This tastes like shit and it isn’t even cooked,” Marie exclaimed then rose from her chair.
“Come on, New York, we’re going into town.”
Stacy placed her napkin on the table. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really that hungry.”
“Nonsense! Rise, child, and let’s get going. Francine is the best cook around. That’s our little restaurant in Pearl.”
“I can cook. Maybe I can salvage this chicken,” Stacy offered, and Marie gave her one of those looks that told Stacy she’d better not argue. Immediately she rose from her seat and cleaned her plate into the garbage. Marie did the same as they quickly cleaned up the kitchen then headed out to Marie’s blue pickup truck.
* * * *
Deputy Max Cantrell stood next to Dr. Jones talking about the sheriff’s part and security detail for this summer’s upcoming events. The annual Fourth of July town barbecue kicked off the festivities with chili and pie contests. It was very popular and brought in a lot of people from surrounding counties in Texas. One woman in Turbank, the town over from Pearl, would take home the winnings every year. There were numerous women and men trying to beat Betsy Whinston. A lot of the women wanted to beat Betsy because she was a troublemaker with the men. She flirted shamelessly and even with married men. Max chuckled at the way even Dr. Jones hoped Betsy would lose. Max and his brother Eric avoided Betsy the best they could over the years. The woman had her eyes set on marrying them, but they weren’t interested. Max and Eric wanted to share a woman like their fathers had and their cousins hoped to one day. There were plenty of ménage relationships in town, and it was accepted. The town of Pearl had grown immensely over the last five years, and it was because of the acceptance of different relationships and the enforcement of the laws. As a deputy, he and his cousin Wyatt, the sheriff, upheld the law and eliminated any potential threats.
Dwyer, Dixie Lynn - Stacy's Destiny [The Town of Pearl 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 3