by Jane Jamison
She scanned the street, a habit she’d picked up in her line of work, noting the people strolling along the sidewalk. Several couples held hands as they passed by her truck, giving her a good once-over. She didn’t take offense, figuring that most folks living in a small town would be curious about the arrival of a stranger. Lifting her hand in a greeting, she turned her head and took in the rest of the street.
At least they had a movie theater. Even though the movie the marquee proudly displayed was several years old. She wondered if their popcorn was hot and buttery.
Next to the theater was a grocery store called John’s Food Mart. Judging from the age of the building, John Senior had run the place back in the fifties, then turned it over to his son. The place boasted a sale on apples and bananas. She wasn’t big on fruit, but her stomach grumbled anyway.
The Yummy Crumb Café looked like it had received a fresh coat of paint recently. In fact, most of the town looked well-kept with lots of flowerpots nestled by the shop doors and small trees lining the sidewalks. Although all the buildings were older, they didn’t show their age in disrepair. Pleasure, Texas might not have a lot of commerce going on, but the town was doing well enough to pay for repairs and maintenance.
A sandwich-style display board rested against the large picture window of the café and boasted the day’s specials. Once again, her stomach rumbled, urging her to get something to eat.
But first things first. She needed to find the best spot to get information. The sooner she did that, the sooner she’d set her plan into motion.
Normally, the small town’s café would’ve been the place to go. But Myrtle’s Salon appeared to be the hot spot with several ladies inside getting their hair styled along with a couple more women standing outside and shooting the breeze.
Did women shoot the breeze? If they did, she doubted they called it that.
She reached up to finger her own hair, then glanced in the mirror. When was the last time she’d had it professionally styled? Too long if her memory served.
Sliding out of the car, she let the warmth of a Texas summer breeze flow over her. Her stomach growled again, but she was determined not to give into the hunger yet. Glancing both ways for traffic that didn’t exist, she hurried across the street.
“Hello, ladies.”
The two women outside Myrtle’s gave her smiles that extended to their eyes. One of them clutched her purse to her large bosom while the younger woman slid her gaze down to Georgia’s feet, openly appraising her.
The one thing she remembered her mother saying was to always wear good shoes. Underwear was important, but more people saw a person’s shoes than their underwear. Unless, of course, a person was struck by a bus and wound up in the hospital. But how often did that happen?
“Hello.” The first woman increased the brightness of her smile. “Can I help you?”
Georgia wasn’t great at making pleasantries. Her job didn’t require much of that. Still, she made a valiant effort. “Hi, I’m Georgia. Would you mind giving me a little information? I’d really appreciate it.”
“We’d be happy to help out.” The older woman stuck out her free hand. “I’m Sue Nelson and this is my daughter-in-law, Mikki.”
“It’s nice to meet both of you.” Georgia leaned closer and dropped her honeyed voice to a whisper. “Tell me the truth, ladies. Who’s the best hair stylist in Myrtle’s?”
Both women glanced into the salon before taking a step closer to Georgia. They put their backs to the window and hunched their shoulders as though trying to hide what they were doing.
Ms. Nelson whispered back. “Well, now, don’t go telling anyone I said so.” She eyed Mikki who lifted her hand as though to swear she’d never squeal. “But if I had to make a choice, I’d say it’s Brenda. She knows how to use a pair of scissors and she can color hair pretty good, too.”
“And she goes to Dallas for a hair stylist training workshop once a year,” added Mikki. “That’s what a true professional does, if you ask me.”
“Wow. Is that right?” Georgia glanced over the women’s shoulders, then hunkered down, giving them the impression that she was conspiring with them. “But what about Myrtle? I mean, if she’s the owner, wouldn’t she be the best stylist?”
Ms. Nelson let out a scornful puff. “She’d tell you she is, but don’t you believe it. Myrtle talks way too much to concentrate on what she’s doing. No. You’d best ask for Brenda.”
Georgia gave her a wide smile. “That’s good to know. Okay, then, I guess I’d better get inside.” She swatted at her hair and made a disgusted face. “This mess isn’t going to fix itself.”
She left Ms. Nelson and Mikki deep in conversation as she entered the salon. All four women, along with three stylists, turned to stare at her.
A redheaded woman who had her hair teased so high that God could’ve patted her on the head started her way. “Hi, there. I’m Brenda. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if I could get an appointment with Myrtle.”
“Oh? Myrtle, huh? Sure thing.” Brenda’s warm demeanor dimmed a little as her gaze swept behind Georgia to Mikki and Ms. Nelson. “Are you sure they didn’t recommend me?”
Georgia pretended ignorance. “Did who recommend you?”
“Never mind.” She spun around and headed back to her customer, calling out in a loud voice. “Myrtle, you have a client.”
If she’d seen the woman first before she’d stepped out from behind the curtain separating the front of the place from the rear, she would’ve known she was Myrtle. The middle-aged woman was as round as she was tall. The loud, brightly colored flowery dress she wore matched the overpowering wallpaper that filled the small room with pastel blossoms. Blue eye shadow was caked on her eyelids while red lipstick made her full, collagen-injected lips look like they were taking over her face.
“Hi. I’m Myrtle. How can I help you, honey?”
Georgia hoped she wouldn’t regret her next words. “I’d like a cut and style, please. If you have time.”
“I sure do.” Myrtle waved for her to follow. “Come on to the sink and we’ll get you washed up.”
Georgia took her time getting into the chair placed in front of the sink and wondered if she’d made a huge mistake. She’d almost decided to run for her life when Myrtle hogtied a couple of towels and a cape around her neck, then pushed her head under the water.
Ten minutes later and she had Georgia sitting in her chair. “Oh, honey, I’m sure glad you came in. You need some shaping up big-time. But don’t worry. I’ll have you done up in a hurry.”
“Great.” She hoped Myrtle didn’t hear the doubt in her voice. “So have you had your shop for long?”
Myrtle went to business, combing Georgia’s hair and making way too many cuts. If she didn’t end up bald, she’d thank her lucky stars.
“I took over the shop from my mamma. Her name was Myrtle, too.”
“That’s amazing.” She’d planned to take her time with her questions, but her anxiety over her hair grew with each snip. “I love small towns, but what do you do for fun around here?”
“Fun? Oh, we’ve got lots of things to do. There’s the movie theater and every once in a while, we hold a dance. Of course, the young folks like to take off for Dallas as much as they can, but most folks would rather spend their free time in front of the boob tube.”
“Like most of America, I guess.” She cleared her throat and watched a clump of her dark hair fall to the floor. “But what about other places? Like maybe a bar? Or a club?”
Myrtle’s hands stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she met Georgia’s gaze in the mirror. “Club? What kind of club are you talking about?”
It was now or never. She lowered her voice. The fewer people who knew what she wanted, the better. “Well, I heard that there’s a club at a place called Pleasure Ranch.” She paused, waiting for a reaction, got none, then added, “It’s a special kind of club.”
Myrtle’s hands started working again. She
snatched up the dryer, but didn’t turn it on. “Honey, if you wanted to know about that club, why didn’t you just come out and ask?”
“I wasn’t sure I should.” How often did people talk about a sex club in the open?
“I guess that makes sense. But around here, most people live and let live. As far as we’re concerned, Pleasure Ranch and its club have done a lot for the town. They contribute money and time, not to mention workers to help everyone keep their places up.” She shrugged, making the flowers on her dress bob up and down. “Besides, what people want to do on their own time is fine with me. I don’t judge.”
Georgia hadn’t expected such a liberal reaction. Weren’t most small towns conservative, especially about sex? “So…do you know Paul and Destin Casing?”
“Sure I do. Everyone does.” Myrtle started drying her hair, the noise cutting off their conversation. Once Georgia’s hair was dry, she switched it off and gave her a curious look. “You’re sweet on those boys, aren’t you?”
“What? No. I mean, I’d heard that they’re in charge, so I was wondering what they were like.” She did her best to maintain eye contact with Myrtle.
“Uh-huh. Then let me tell you something. They may run a different kind of place out on that ranch of theirs, but they’re two of the best men you’ll ever meet. Some snooty folks who don’t know any better might get on their high horses about what goes on at the club, but here in Pleasure, we figure a body has the right to decide how they want to live their life. As for the men, they’re solid and trustworthy with hearts as big as their—”
“Myrtle!” cried Brenda.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, relax. I was going to say hands. They’ve got hearts as big as their hands. Get your mind out of the gutter, girl.”
Georgia smothered a laugh and checked her new hairstyle in her mirror. Myrtle had done a good job of making her black hair shine and bounce around her face. “Myrtle, I have one more question for you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Can you tell me how to get to Pleasure Ranch?”
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, Georgia was sure Myrtle had played a prank on her. She’d checked the directions several times and knew she’d gone down the same back road at least twice. Pulling to the side of the country road, she studied the route Myrtle had drawn again, but couldn’t figure out where she’d gone wrong.
“Damn it. Where the hell is this place?”
“Georgia Fox, is that you?”
She jerked her head up, then put her hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun. The silhouette of a man on top of a horse sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t see his face, but the voice lit a fire inside her.
It has to be.
The man swung his leg over the horse, gave it a pat on the neck, then strode over to her side of the car.
It’s him.
She pushed the button to open her window and tried to tone down her smile. If she didn’t, she’d look like a looney person with her big, sappy grin.
“It is you.” His smile rivaled her. “Girl, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“It’s good to see you again, Destin.” Good wasn’t the right word. Seeing him was downright exciting…and stimulating in all the right places.
He pulled the door open, reached in, and tugged her to her feet. She let out a yelp but didn’t fight him. Instead, she eased her body against his, then looked up into the light green eyes that had taunted her every time she’d thought about the Casing brothers. In the past six months, she’d thought about those eyes a lot.
He skimmed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Her body came alive, pulsing under his touch, aching for more.
“You came.”
The way he’d said it made it sound as though he’d expected her to show up. “I’m sorry? Did someone in town let you know I was here?” As much as Myrtle talked, she wouldn’t have doubted that the woman had phoned the ranch to let them know she was coming.
“No. But who cares? You’re here now.” He picked her up off her feet and twirled her around twice.
“Put me down.”
He did, setting her down roughly. “Tell me you didn’t come all the way from Atlanta to see us.”
She couldn’t deny it. Although she’d left town to get away, she could’ve gone anywhere. They were the reason she’d chosen to come to Texas. “So Paul’s here, too?”
“Where else would he be? This is still our home.” He cocked his head to the side. “But you already know that, don’t you? Otherwise, why would you be out here driving around looking for our ranch?”
She ignored his dig, not wanting to admit she’d done exactly that. “So you still own Pleasure Ranch?” She scanned the area around them, making it clear that she didn’t see anything of a ranch. Hopefully, she didn’t sound as lame as she thought she did.
“Sure do. Let me guess. You got lost trying to find it. Naw, don’t try and say you didn’t.”
He was right. There wasn’t any use trying to fool him. “I didn’t see any signs to the ranch and Myrtle’s directions didn’t help much.”
His laughter both warmed her and irritated her. Was he laughing at her predicament or at her? “Shit, sugar, that old girl couldn’t explain how to lead you to her own house, much less ours. You’re lucky you didn’t wind up in Oklahoma.”
Apparently, Myrtle was a wealth of information, but a lousy one at giving directions. “I wouldn’t have made it that far. I’m about out of gas after driving around so long.”
“Don’t worry. You can either hitch a ride with me and we’ll fetch your car later or you can follow me back to the ranch.”
“I’m not leaving my rental car or my things out here.”
“Suit yourself. At least if you follow me, I’ll be there when you run out of gas.”
She nodded, then turned to get back into the car. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. The compulsion to grab him and kiss him so hard his teeth rattled had her own teeth chattering. When she’d left Atlanta, she’d wondered if she’d feel the same overwhelming attraction to them that she’d had that night in the cab. If not, she would’ve headed somewhere else. Relief mixed with pent-up lust.
Oh, yeah. It’s still there all right.
Destin grabbed her, then pulled her around to face him again. “I know why you came, sugar. You loved what we did in the cab and you want more.”
“No.” She swallowed and tried to keep from thinking how his lips would feel on her.
“Don’t ever lie to me.” He cupped her under the chin. “But you need to answer a question before we go any further.”
Was he testing her? Would her answer to his one question decide her future? “Ask me.”
“When we dropped you off, we saw a man in the window.” His face darkened, his internal struggle showing in his gritted teeth. “Who was he? Was he your husband?”
“My husband? No.” She had to think a moment before she remembered. “That was my father.”
“Your father?” The struggle vanished, replaced by unrestrained hope.
“I lied to you that night. I took us to my father’s home, not mine.” She wasn’t sure why, but she had the overwhelming impulse to apologize. She never wanted to lie to him or to Paul ever again. “I’m sorry.”
He paused, studying her so hard it made her squirm. He skimmed his tongue along the seam of his mouth, catching her undivided attention. She copied his gesture and saw his focus shift to her mouth.
“I’m sorry what?”
Without thinking, she added, “Sir.”
His eyes glinted with glee that swept away any concern she’d had in making the trip. She’d made the right decision, if only to see that steamy glimmer in his eyes.
“I’m glad you remembered. You’re going to need to remember everything we told you.” Reaching past her, he turned the ignition key, shutting off the truck.
“I thought I was going to follow you?” Again, she couldn’t help but give him
the respect he deserved. Just as it had that night in the cab, his charisma, his magnetism coming from an air of complete confidence proved that he deserved it. “Sir.”
“I’m glad to see you’re still willing to do as I say.”
Was she? With any other man, she would’ve balked, would’ve claimed that he was crossing the line, but with him, it felt right. The same would be true with Paul.
“I–I’m not sure.” Being confident, sure of herself and her place in the world, had never been a problem for her. Even as a small child, she’d stood her ground with other kids much older. And yet, inside, she’d felt empty, aching for something more. Waiting for someone she could let stand tall for her. Would the Casing men do that? Could she let them?
“I know what you’re thinking, sugar.”
She’d missed hearing him call her by that endearment. Yet her defiance rose to the surface. Giving him the respect he commanded was one thing, but letting him act like he knew what she was thinking? Could she handle that? “Really? Okay. What am I thinking?”
He laid his hands on the car, trapping her between them. “You’re wondering if my brother and I are the men you’ve waited for.” His expression bore into her as though he could see into her very soul. “You’re wondering if we have what it takes to make you ours.”
He’d aimed his words like arrows shot from a bow and had hit the bull’s-eye. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Naw. I just know what I know.”
“And you think you know me? After one night?”
He pushed away and she almost reached out to force him back.
“Do you want to know what you are?”
“Sure. Go ahead.” She put her hands behind her back, leaning against the car and keeping him from seeing how nervous she was to hear his answer.
“You’re a natural sub.”
“A sub? As in submissive? Like those women who like to get tied up?” She shook her head and let out a shaky chuckle. “Wow. You are beyond wrong. I’m a cop. I don’t submit to anyone.”