Cowboy Cravings

by Morgan Ashbury

  “Alright.”

  She nudged Razzamatazz forward, and when her men maneuvered their horses to make room for her between them, that’s where she planted herself.

  “This is the line where our ranches join,” Jesse said, leaning forward on the saddle horn. He met her gaze, then looked again at the land. “In this area, we took down the fence when we decided to merge our operations. This spot right here was where we were when we made the decision to form a single company. This also used to be our favorite camp-out area.”

  Annie didn’t know much about camping out, but she thought she understood why the area would have appealed to them. Before her lay what appeared to be an open meadow, fairly flat, with lots of nice long grass. Ringing the meadow were trees. A couple of evergreens, of course, but closer to the stream she recognized RockyMountain maple, and her newly favorite tree, peachleaf willow. For the camper, there’d be water, shade, and relatively soft ground to sleep on.

  “Since we were old enough to ride off on our own, whenever one of us was pissed, or needed space, this was where we’d come,” Grant took over. Annie heard pleasant memories in his tone. “And on those few occasions we snuck out late at night, here was where we’d meet up.”

  “Your lands have many pretty spots,” Annie said. “I like this one. Not just its appearance, but what it stands for. Thank you for showing it to me.”

  There must be something more they wanted to say, because they looked at each other and seemed to come to some sort of unspoken agreement.

  “It may not seem like it, because of the back and forth path we’ve been riding for the last hour, but the county road is due west of this spot, about a quarter of a mile. In fact, if we ride to the crest of that little hill over there, you can see it.”

  Puzzled by a strange, almost hopeful note in Jesse’s voice, Annie cocked her head.

  “So it wouldn’t be very expensive to have materials trucked in. Jesse and I are both really good with our hands.”

  “I noticed.”

  The men laughed, and it seemed the laughter cut through their nerves. Annie had no idea what they’d become uptight about. She gave them an encouraging smile.

  “What Grant meant was that we’re both good at building things. We also know people who could come in and lend us a hand. It’ll take us most of the fall and probably into the spring to finish it, of course. But by this time next year, it should be ready.”

  They were both smiling at her, waiting for her reaction. Excitement hovered between them. She hated to disappoint them by not sharing that excitement. She must have missed something, because she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.

  “What should be ready by this time next year?”

  “Your new house. Well, our house, actually. A place where the three of us can live together,” Jesse said.

  “You want to build me a house?”

  “Yes, we do,” Grant confirmed.

  “But…why?”

  The men looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Jesse turned his horse around so that he faced her.

  “Because we love you. We want to live with you. Not just for an overnight here and there, but for every night. What you said about us eventually falling in love, getting married? We’ve both already fallen in love. With you.”

  “You’re it for us,” Grant said. “We want to live here with you and build a life with you. Out here, right here, in this spot that means so much to us both.”

  Annie shook her head, not certain she heard them correctly. Their smiles told her she had. Shock roiled within her and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “The three of us can’t live together!”

  “Sure we can if we want to. Besides, Wyoming is a very progressive state,” Jesse said.

  “Not progressive enough to turn its back on three people in a ménage relationship openly living together!” Annie had never heard of anything so preposterous in her life. It was one thing for them to carry on this affair in private. Yeah, one woman, two men, that was a bit out there. But she figured what the three of them did in private behind closed doors was no one’s business but their own.

  “We Wyomingites are a forward-thinking people,” Jesse replied calmly.

  “We are,” Grant agreed. “Forward-thinking is in our history. Why, when the Wyoming territory was organized in 1869, Wyoming women were the first in the entire nation to vote.”

  “Wyoming elected the first female governor in the nation, too, in 1925,” Jesse said.

  “And the only place in these United States that has a statue erected to a prostitute is right here in Wyoming.”

  Annie’s laugher exploded from her. “You made that last one up!”

  Jesse laughed and Grant blushed. Then he shook his head. “No, honey, I didn’t. But maybe I could have chosen a better example.”

  “The thing is,” Jesse said, his laughter gone, “we want you and we want to live with you. Make a family with you.”

  Annie shook her head slowly. Her throat stung, the backs of her eyes itched, and the sight of her men blurred before her.

  All she’d ever wanted, all she’d ever dreamed of, was what Jesse and Grant were offering her right here, right now. She would give three decades off her life to go back, undo the mistakes she had made, then come forward. They offered her that dream, but it was too late for her. Making a family with the men she loved was the one thing she could never do.

  “No.” She swallowed hard, vowing not to cry. “I can’t. I can’t make a family with you. I can’t make a family with anyone.”

  Chapter 17

  One appetite fed, one to go.

  Rick Rutherford rubbed his belly as he exited the restaurant just down the street from his motel. Maybe going back for a fourth plate of food had been a mistake, but hell, the all-you-can-eat Sunday brunch buffet was too good to pass up. A couple of years of eating nothing but prison food with puny portions made a man eager to just stuff himself when the opportunity arose.

  Now that one craving had been satisfied, it was time to do something about the other. It wouldn’t take long to drive to that pissant little town Annie had run off to. Only two things he needed to decide, and that was what time he should go there and whether he would fuck her before he collected his stuff, or after.

  Decisions, decisions.

  He snickered as he walked across the restaurant parking lot. He’d go back to the room, shove his stuff back into that single duffel bag he’d brought. That would take maybe a minute. He’d find himself a mall, pick up some cologne. He was going courting—that image made him snicker again— the least he could do was smell good. Then he’d put this town behind him. He figured he and Annie could spend a nice Sunday evening having their reunion. Yeah, it would probably be best to wait until sundown to announce his presence. Her store wasn’t open on Sunday anyway, but still, it would be a good idea to wait for the sun to set. Most folks would be at home then, less chance of anyone stopping by, interrupting them.

  One thing he had decided. He wouldn’t take Annie with him when he left for Mexico. She’d just be a drag on his time and his resources. He wanted the gems and he wanted his freedom. Besides, he really didn’t need more than one taste of his sweet little sister-in-law. Thinking about her got him hot and hard, but he figured that was mostly because he’d been without pussy for so long. He didn’t really want her, he just wanted one little sample of what used to belong to his dear older brother.

  He passed a couple of old farts bent together, talking low as they shuffled toward the restaurant. The wife seemed to be supporting her husband even though the old boy leaned on a wooden cane. He hoped he never got that feeble that he needed some broad to help him get around.

  A younger man lounged against the back of a Ford Taurus parked just down from his rented wheels. The guy had one of those weird doo-hickeys stuck in his ear, his head bouncing to the music as he stood there, eyes closed, probably zoned out on weed or crack, or both.

  Rick shook his hea
d as he passed the guy. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be nominated as citizen of the year, but at least he’d never wasted his brains or his body on drugs and music.

  Packing was a matter of tossing his gear into that duffel bag. He considered for a moment, then decided he needed to use the john.

  Fifteen minutes later, he unlocked his car and got behind the wheel. Wonder boy was gone and so was the Taurus. It was none of his never-mind if the asshole wanted to drive, stoned. He just hoped the pot-head wasn’t going to be driving anywhere near him.

  He drove as far as the Conoco. It would probably be smart to fill up. Then he wouldn’t have to stop once he got the loot. Not for a good long time. He figured he’d drive the rental until the middle of Colorado. Then he’d boost a car, change the plates.

  There were only two states between Wyoming and Mexico. He’d looked it up on the map. Didn’t look like the trip would be very difficult. He’d be home-free in no time at all.

  * * * *

  “That went well,” Jesse said, his words at odds with his tone.

  Grant grunted, the sound the only possible response he could make at the moment. Annie had lit out as if a band of terrorists had been after her. The sun wasn’t even kissing the horizon yet and they hadn’t even eaten dinner.

  “Maybe we moved too quickly,” he said. He pulled his Stetson off, allowing the breeze to ruffle his hair. He banged the hat a couple of times against his leg. Not enough. Spinning on his heel, he kicked the porch step, hard. Then he turned to look in the direction of the county road, the direction Annie’s car had gone.

  “Fuck.”

  That helped some. He rubbed at the tightness in his chest, a sensation that felt very much like fear. Turning to look at Jesse, who stood uncharacteristically still and quiet, he asked, “What the hell are we going to do now?”

  “Give her just a tiny bit of space. And I mean tiny.”

  Since not even the dust raised by Annie’s car was visible any longer, he turned his back on the road again. The look of determination on his best friend’s face helped. Clearly, Jessie felt as he did. They weren’t going to let Annie go. At least not without a fight.

  He headed up the porch steps, Jesse beside him.

  Once inside the house, Jesse set about making a pot of coffee.

  Grant sat down to think. “She’s scared,” Grant reasoned aloud. Annie hadn’t rejected them. She’d turned tail and fled because she was scared to reach out for what she wanted.

  He could understand how a life of being knocked down would make her afraid to trust.

  “That’s what I figured,” Jesse agreed. “And maybe she doesn’t yet believe that we could love her as much as we do.”

  “Maybe we ought to phone Aunt Bev and ask her advice,” Grant said.

  Jesse laughed. “I know her erotic romance novels kind of got us thinking outside the box. Neither of us had ever considered that we both could have Annie until we read your aunt’s books. But I’m not altogether certain she could help us out of this pickle.”

  Grant chuckled. He’d been kidding, of course. No one else in the family except him and Jesse—and everyone in the Douglas clan considered Jesse one of theirs—knew about Aunt Bev’s books. Her pen name was Buffy La Fleur, and according to one review site Grant had visited, she was the “First Goddess of American Erotica”. Grant had gotten a kick out of that, as Aunt Bev was sixty-three and had been single since Uncle Harry had died suddenly some twenty-five years before. To Jesse, he said, “Seeing as the woman’s lived like a nun these past many years, you have a point. So, what are you figuring? Give Annie until just after dinner time?”

  “Yeah. Just enough time for her to relax, for her to believe she’s gotten away clean. Sooner or later, she’ll figure out we’re not going to change our minds about her.”

  “That’s going to take time. It was dumb to think we could rush her. We knew better.” Grant for sure wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “No, that wasn’t our brightest moment, Homer.”

  Grant liked the idea that they weren’t going to give Annie much wiggle room. Of course they would if she ever indicated that she was tired of them—Grant gulped silently and prayed that never happened. Or if she just plain flat out didn’t love them.

  He knew she did love them. In fact, he was willing to bet that one of the reasons she’d turned tail and run was because she loved them both very much. Damn fool woman probably thought she was being noble.

  Fuck noble. Grant nodded once, an affirmation that all would soon be as it should be.

  * * * *

  Annie used both hands to scrub at her face, as if that action alone could stem her tears and wipe the memory of them away. She figured it would take her men—God, I have to stop thinking of them that way—about a week to figure out that this afternoon, when she left them, she’d really been saying goodbye.

  Ending it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t allow them to tie themselves to her. They’d said they loved her and she believed them. But their relationship was just beginning. Leaving them before they got in any deeper was the best thing for all of them. Maybe they believed it when they said they didn’t care that she couldn’t have children. But maybe they were just caught up in the newness of their passion. If she stayed with them, and they decided down the road that she’d been right, wouldn’t it hurt so much more to lose them then? No, better to end it before it really got started.

  Jesse and Grant deserved the chance to find women of their own to love and to cherish. Ones they could marry, ones they could make babies with, raise a family with.

  She couldn’t give them that.

  Why now? Why did I have to find the perfect men for me when I can’t even give them what they deserve?

  When she’d awakened in that intensive care unit and been given the news that she not only lost her baby, but undergone a hysterectomy, her heart broke. But never once had she wondered ‘Why me?’

  But here she was now, healed, whole, and that was the only thing she could think. No one had to tell her life wasn’t fair. That was something she’d always known. And something she’d never spent much time questioning or thinking about. Until now.

  Her apartment echoed with the loneliness that already was filling her heart. Where just a few weeks ago these cozy rooms above her store had been her sanctuary, tonight they felt foreign.

  Annie stopped in the middle of her kitchen. Her utensil drawer was open about half an inch.

  “Huh.” Usually nearly compulsive when it came to keeping drawers and cabinets closed, she figured she must have been more anxious than she realized last night.

  Last night.

  Last night had been so perfect. Snuggled in that bed between Jesse and Grant, the heat of their bodies warming hers, the scent of their lovemaking a subtle perfume that kept her fires banked, had been the most wonderful thing she’d ever experienced. With no effort at all, she could conjure the feel of Jesse’s hand stroking her back, Grant’s fingers tracing a pattern on her bottom as they dozed in the afterglow.

  A shiver wracked her and Annie hugged herself. She felt cold, alone, and oddly threatened. The impulse to run back to that warm bed, to that sense of perfect peace and contentment, surged and she steeled herself against it.

  She’d been weak all her life, doing whatever was easiest, thinking that if she just gave in, if she just went along, then everything would be fine. That thinking, that flaw, had cost her the chance to ever be a mother.

  This time, doing the hardest thing would cost her the men she loved, but the gift to them—their freedom, and the opportunity to have what she could never have—was far more important than any amount of pain or loss she suffered.

  Early evening shadows filled her apartment. Though she’d had nothing since lunch, Annie wasn’t hungry. Nor did she have any energy to do the load of laundry that awaited her, or even channel surf for something to watch.

  She wanted to crawl into bed and have a good cry.

  Listless, she tu
rned away from her kitchen—she’d close the utensil drawer later—and wandered through her living room to her bedroom.

  Like the rest of the apartment, the space seemed empty and haunting, the comfort and sense of security she’d enjoyed for the last year missing.

  I’ve never been a fanciful person before. Of course, I’ve never turned my back on something I wanted with every fiber of my being before, either.

  Annie flicked on the light just inside the bedroom door, went to her dresser and reached for the drawer she kept her nightshirts in. On top of her dresser, good old Mr. Tinkles smiled out at her with his one eye.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Her beloved teddy bear beamed at her from the left side of the mirror, not the right.

  Someone had been in her apartment. Someone had been in her bedroom.

  Revulsion rolled in her belly and fear snaked up her spine. Fear blossomed to terror, flooding her. Run! Her mind screamed at her legs, and for a long moment she stayed frozen, unable to move.

  One step back, another to the side. Pivoting, she ran toward the kitchen, toward the door and the stairs and safety.

  A figure loomed just inside the doorway, and Annie froze. Horror rose up to swallow her at the sight of the man who stood just inside her apartment door, an evil, lurid, familiar smile on his face.

  “Well, hello there, Annie. Why don’t you come over here and give your loving brother-in-law a great big kiss?”

  Chapter 18

  The last thing Jesse wanted to do was stop and help a stranded motorist. All he wanted was to put his foot into the floorboards and get to Annie’s. He couldn’t explain the sense that had grown in the last few minutes that he needed to be with her now. He hadn’t mentioned that feeling to Grant, but apparently the other man had been experiencing it, too.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Yep, Grant sounded just as impatient as he felt. He pulled up in front of the Ford Taurus, recognizing both it and the driver. Which was why he couldn’t just motor past and head on into Branchton.