by Jane Jamison
“Damn it, Grant, put her down.” Pop slapped his battered old cowboy hat against him. “Sometimes I wonder who the hell raised you boys.”
Grant lowered her, skimming her body along his. When her feet hit the ground, she should’ve pushed away but didn’t. Instead, she flattened her hands against his broad chest and felt his muscles flex under her fingertips.
He leaned back and sent her a smile that could’ve stolen any woman’s heart. “Hey, darlin’, welcome to our home.”
Hank grabbed Grant’s arm and pulled him back. “Let her breathe.”
“I’m just making sure she knows she’s welcome here.” Grant winked at her, giving her a thrill.
“Mildred, do you think you could get Cinda situated in one of the rooms?” asked Hank.
Cinda stared at Hank. “You mean to stay the night? I can’t do that. Besides, I don’t live very far from here. There’s no need for me to stay.”
“Haven’t we gone through all this? We want you close by. Just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” To make sure she wasn’t really injured? Or in case they wanted more from her? More that she would gladly give.
“Humor us, okay? We’ll take you home tomorrow morning if you want.”
“But I don’t have any extra clothes. Or even a toothbrush.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Mildred can fix you up.”
A hardness came over Mildred, frosting the smile she’d fixed on her face. “Of course I can. Let’s get you settled for the night.” She started toward the other house.
“Hang on. Cinda can stay in one of the guest rooms in our home.”
She was almost as thrown as Mildred was. Almost. “Oh, no. I’ll be fine where all the other guests stay.”
Hank’s unsettling gaze settled on Mildred in an unmistakable challenge. But was it a challenge to her or to Mildred? She didn’t want to find out.
“We can’t have you that far from us.” The challenge went to Mildred. “Take her into our home.”
“Whatever you say, Hank.”
Cinda started to object but stayed silent. The last thing she wanted to do was to cause any more trouble. If she said something, she might make it worse. Instead, she followed Mildred into the house.
“Hey, Cinda.”
She turned around at Grant’s call. “Yeah?”
“Are you still married?”
She stalled, at first not understanding the question. “No.”
“No? Then you’re divorced?”
“No. I’ve never been married.”
She’d surprised them. That much was certain from their expressions.
“Are you coming?” asked Mildred.
How many times had she wished that she’d never said she was married? Not that it had mattered. She’d never seen Hank again.
“Cinda?”
She would’ve liked to have stayed, but she didn’t want to keep Mildred waiting any longer. When she glanced back once, the three men were huddled together, watching her, their stark appraisal stunning her.
It had been a very long time since any man had looked at her with such lust-filled hunger. Yet, there were three men giving her a good I-want-you inspection.
Well, how about that?
She smothered an excited smile and hurried to catch up with Mildred.
* * * *
“Hi, Cinda.” Pop Mulkins stood outside her bedroom door along with Bertram. “The guys sent us to tell you dinner’s at six. They had a few chores that needed tending to, but they’ll meet you at the dinner table.”
“Oh.” She’d thought about it long and hard since Mildred had shown her to her room. The house was comfortable with older furniture, giving it a homey feel most men’s houses lacked. She’d been impressed with both the ranch and their work, and now their home.
But what was the use in getting to know Hank further? And had she caught Grant and Walken giving her the once-over, too? She had no future to give them. Even if she was tempted to take things further, she couldn’t treat them with such a cavalier attitude.
“Can you please tell them I’m going to skip dinner?”
Bertram scowled at her. “You’ve got to eat.”
“Mildred made me a sandwich a little while ago so I’m good. Besides, I’m very tired. It’s been a really long, hard day.”
She wasn’t telling the whole truth, but then why should she? She really was tired. Why get into the rest of it when she didn’t have to? Instead of meeting them for dinner, she’d lie down, get some much-needed rest, and not put herself, or them, in a situation that might lead to more. Besides, she needed time alone. Time to think about everything she’d gone through and what she had yet to face. Her appointment with the doctor still didn’t seem real, yet tomorrow she’d start her first day with her new medications—and begin living her new reality.
“Are you sure?” asked a worried Pop. “They’re going to be disappointed if you don’t show.”
“I’m sure.” She pushed the door to close it, but Pop stopped her.
“They also wanted to know if there’s anything we can get for you. I’m going to make a quick run into town and pick up a few things.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Nothing I can get you at the drug store? Maybe the pharmacy?”
What was he getting at? Did he know? But how would he?
“Nope. Nothing for me. Mildred already came by with a sleep shirt and a change of clothes she borrowed from another woman who works here. Along with some toiletries, too.” She had no intention of wearing the clothes other than the oversized sleep shirt. In the morning, she’d put on the clothes she was wearing and catch a ride home. “I don’t suppose you could drive me home in the morning?”
Bertram was already shaking his head by the time Pop answered. “If the men say it’s okay, then sure. No problem. But I’ll bet they’d rather be the ones to take you home.” His contagious smile widened. “Even better, everyone would like you to hang around. I know they’d get a kick showing you around the place.”
“And I’m sure I’d like to see it, but I need to get back to work. Plus, I need to line up a rental car until my car is repaired.”
“Don’t worry about your ride. Bertram here has already taken care of everything. When you leave for home—whenever that may be—he’ll have a rental car waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Bertram. I appreciate all your help.” Had she told them where she lived? She couldn’t remember. Maybe they’d overheard her giving her details to the nurse at the ER.
Bertram made a sound. She wasn’t sure whether it was an actual word or just a grunt. Was he hinting for them to end the conversation? “If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down now.”
“Oh, sure. No problem. We won’t bug you again.” Pop took her hand and squeezed it. “Just so you know, those boys are good guys. A woman couldn’t do any better than them. They’d never steer you wrong. And trust me, they’d stick by you through thick and thin.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond. Whether they were good men or not didn’t matter. Or maybe it did. If they were as good as Pop said, it was even more of a reason not to involve them in her problems. Instead of saying anything more, she closed the door.
* * * *
Cinda couldn’t stand it any longer. After telling Pop and Bertram that she didn’t need dinner only a few hours earlier, she was now hungry enough to risk sneaking out. Slipping out of her bedroom, she took a moment to remember the layout of the house then hurried down the hallway. If her memory was correct, down the stairs and a few more turns later would bring her to the large, chef-quality kitchen.
Her stomach rumbled, complaining about the lack of food, as she pushed the door open. Instantly, she froze. Bertram and Pop were in the kitchen, but they weren’t eating. Instead, they stood close together with Pop’s arms resting on Bertram’s shoulders.
“But, sweetheart, why not head to Vegas? It’s legal now. We’re legal.”
She half
expected the irascible man to shove Pop away. Instead, in a gesture that could only be described as tender, he played with Pop’s white beard then pressed a sweet kiss on his lips.
“Maybe so, but I don’t trust it. Just because the courts said it was legal doesn’t mean everyone’s going to accept it.”
“I don’t give a fuck what everyone else thinks.” Pop took Bertram’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I only care what you and I think. I’m tired of hiding our love. We deserve to have a life together. You know the boys support us.”
She almost groaned when Bertram finally did shove his lover away.
“I know they do, but there are still a lot of people out there who’d like to string us up. Laws don’t change the minds of prejudiced, ignorant folks. Hell, some of the ranch’s clients might up and leave if they find out that two of the hired men are pansies.”
“Damn it. Stop using terms like pansies. Bertie, we have to live our lives the way we want. I’m tired of not kissing you whenever I want to. I’m tired of starting to reach out to hug you then having to hold back.”
“Don’t you think I feel the same way?” Bertram slapped his palms down on the counter. “I fucking hate hiding what we are.”
“Are you sure it isn’t more about what you are? The countdown already started when you accepted me as your mate. Getting married won’t speed up the aging process.”
Their conversation had taken a hard left turn somewhere. A turn she hadn’t been able to follow. What did aging have to do with getting married? And how would it speed up the aging process?
“You know I’m not giving up, don’t you?”
Bertram stunned her by responding with a big smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ll never stop loving you, you old fart.”
“Same here, you old shithead.” Pop placed a sweet kiss on Bertram’s cheek. “Come on. We’ve got to go over the schedule for tomorrow.”
“Damn. Why didn’t you already do that?” Bertram returned to his usual grumbling nature.
Pop, however, didn’t act as though he minded as he wrapped his arm around Bertram’s shoulder and led him out of the kitchen through another door. She waited until she was sure they were gone before entering.
So Bertram and Pop were gay men. She never would’ve put them together as a couple, but she would’ve been wrong. Their display of love and affection had brought tears to her eyes.
Why were some people so dead set to keep others under their control? Why couldn’t everyone see that no one had the right to judge, much less determine, who someone could love? As far as she was concerned, love was love whatever form it came in. Although she’d never been sexually drawn to a woman, she could never tell someone else who to love. Privately, she’d cheer Pop on and hope he convinced Bertram to make their union legal.
She searched the pantry and found a loaf of bread. After scouring the refrigerator, she was able to make a sizeable ham sandwich. Knowing she shouldn’t, yet unable to resist, she grabbed a bag of chips and a soft drink. As hungry as she was, she couldn’t keep from wolfing down the sandwich. In a short time, the sandwich was devoured. She let out a small burp then decided to take her time enjoying the chips and drink. Where better to do that than on the screened-in porch connected to the far side of the kitchen?
She heard them just as she was about to push through the door into the porch area. Why was everyone still up and about? She eased back when she realized what they were saying.
“She’s got some booty on her.” Walken’s voice rang out true and clear.
She sucked in a hard breath and dumped the chips and drink onto a nearby counter.
Are they talking about me?
A rush of embarrassment swamped her.
Don’t be stupid. Of course, they’re talking about me.
She swallowed hard. People, especially men, talking about her was rarely a good thing. She’d thought she’d developed a thick skin, suffering through rude comments and even polite ones that hinted at the old “she has such a pretty face” remark, but she’d been wrong. Even with her mental armor securely in place, there was always a chink, always an Achilles heel.
“And she’s the one you met last year? The one you keep talking about?” The sound of someone shifting in their seat followed Grant’s questions.
“Yeah. She’s the one. But she’s not married. At least not any longer.”
She knew Hank liked her. At least enough not to make fun of her big butt. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
“Although it looks like she’s gotten bigger since then.” Hank chuckled.
She froze, pain hitting her.
“Maybe she’s been through a lot,” added Walken.
So they assumed she was an emotional eater. The thing was, they were right. Her gaze jumped to the bag of chips and soft drink. She’d known she shouldn’t eat them, yet she’d ignored the familiar warnings.
“Nice and round,” described Grant.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a small cry. It was like hearing Todd tell her how fat she was all over again. Too fat to be his girlfriend, much less his wife.
Stepping backward, she kept her attention on the back door. Sticking around hadn’t been an option before, but it was even less of one now. Once she’d gone several feet away, she whirled and dashed for her room.
I’m getting out of here first thing in the morning before they get up.
* * * *
“Yep. She’s nice and round in all the right places.” Grant leaned back and let the warm night air cocoon him. He loved sitting in the screened porch with his two best friends. After a long day, sharing a few beers and talking was the perfect way to wind down.
“Just the way we like ’em.”
Grant definitely agreed with Walken. They’d always like full-figured girls, but the roundness of Cinda’s body was more than they could’ve hope for.
“Yeah. She looks even better than she did last year.”
Grant nodded, knowing Hank was on cloud nine. He’d finally found his dream girl again, the one who’d gotten away. The one who had already been snatched up by some unknown lucky guy. But she was free now, leaving the door open for them to pursue and claim her.
He hadn’t wanted to hope, even when Hank had kept talking about her. She’d been married, so what had been the point? If she was the one meant for them, she’d show up again. And sure enough, she had. Not in the easiest way imaginable, but he would’ve gone through hell and back as long as she was waiting on the other side. A car going up in flames was well worth finding her again.
“We don’t know much about her, yet here we are, planning a future with her.”
It was strange to hear Walken, the one who had always believed in a pre-destined future, taking that position. Walken was a black Dradian dragon, the dragon clan known for their ruthlessness and practicality. They’d do whatever it took to get what they wanted. But Walken was different than the rest of his clan. Although it was both in his nature as well as conditioned into him from birth to be like the rest of the Dradian dragons, he’d made a conscious decision to shirk off the evil ways of his clan. He’d wanted a better life, a life not filled with strife and fighting. Yet, even as far as he’d come, he still had moments where the Dradian side of him came through where he only saw the negative and bad in life.
“I thought you were the one who believed in fate,” said Grant.
“Yeah, I am and I still do.” Walken frowned, showing his inner turmoil. “Although I’ve got to admit I’d about given up on her being real. Are you skeptical?”
“I am. Or at least I was. Hell, I don’t know. There are too many things in this world that don’t make a lot of sense.” Grant peered into his empty beer bottle. “Like dragons being real. Most people would say we’re only in fairy tales. But now that she’s shown up again, I’m rethinking the whole destined-to-be thing. Until Cinda, I was sure it was just something movies liked to throw in for the ladies. What about you, Hank? Has her showing up again finally made yo
u a believer?”
Grant waited for Hank’s answer. Although his friend had always said he wasn’t the type to believe in anything he couldn’t see, much less love at first sight, he had to have changed over the course of the year. Cinda ramming her car into theirs couldn’t be a coincidence. As much as Grant had wavered over the truth of it all, even he had to realize it was real.
“It’s not me you’ve got to convince. It’s her.”
Grant knew Hank was right. In more ways than one. “I’m not the shrink or the therapist here, but I’m willing to bet she’s got some self-esteem issues. Probably due to her weight.”
“You’d win that bet.” Walken retrieved another beer for himself then handed Grant one. “I understand why and how she’s feeling. The world puts a huge emphasis on how a woman looks and relates her weight to her overall value. As a man, however, I find women like Cinda, women who have a real body, are a lot more attractive.”
“In other words, you don’t want to make love to a stick figure with boobs,” joked Grant.
“Exactly.” Hank lifted his bottle into the air. “Here’s to real women. Here’s to Cinda.”
Chapter Five
Cinda had overslept. Even the alarm on her phone hadn’t awakened her. Instead, worn out both emotionally and physically from the previous day, she’d fallen into bed and hadn’t opened her eyes until the sun pouring through the window had forced her to do so.
After a quick and refreshing shower, she’d decided to go ahead and wear the clothes Mildred had found for her. As soon as she returned home, she’d change and wash them then courier the clothes back to the ranch.
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the bottle of pills the doctor had given her. At least the doctor giving her a few samples until she could make it to the pharmacy helped make things easier. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to face filling her first prescription of medication. Not yet. Still, she’d have to face it soon enough. Fear and sadness enveloped her as she tapped two pills into the palm of her hand.
Her gaze lifted to the bathroom mirror. Dark circles had formed under her eyes but it was the feeling of utter despair that caught her by surprise. Forcing a smile, she promised herself to not let anyone see her pain.