“I’ll be glad to pay you,” she says earnestly. “You know… in sex or something. I’ve only got about fifty dollars in cash left to my name.”
My cock leaps at the thought, because yeah… although I’m tired, I would not say no to fucking her tonight. But instead, I decide to be a gentleman. “You don’t owe me anything. Let’s get you to my place so you can get a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow and try to figure out how to take care of you.”
She blushes again as I put my hand on the door to close it for her. Just before I do though, she whispers, “Thank you, Rand. You’re a lifesaver.”
Hmmmm… I like the sound of that.
Chapter 1
Rand
I try to be as quiet as possible as I creep past the couch where Catherine’s sleeping. My tiny apartment can be walked from end to end in about five seconds. Roughly 475 square feet of efficient living. I’ve been renting this apartment from my buddy, Jake Gearhart. It’s situated over the garage of his modest ranch house in the town of Jackson, Wyoming.
It’s nothing but a large square that has a semi private foyer/mudroom as soon as you enter. When you round the corner, you have the kitchen and living room to the left, and my bedroom to the right. The bathroom sits adjacent to the foyer.
While I can certainly afford bigger and better, I don’t see any need to spend my money on my living conditions as I’m rarely here. Over the last several years, I’d gotten used to sleeping in small quarters or hotels, so I’m comfortable as is.
Jake’s different. He has a family that includes the pretty wife who’s a local, an adorable two-year-old daughter, and another kid on the way, although you can barely see Lorelei’s baby bump at this stage.
As I try to creep past a sleeping Catherine, I wish I had bigger digs so I could have offered her a guest room so she could get some rest. I actually did offer her my room when we got to my apartment last night, but she refused.
Staunchly.
Said she didn’t want to inconvenience me and she was already feeling like an imposition.
I assured her she was not and tried to push my room on her.
Her eyes immediately turned warm, and then sizzled with blooming sexual heat that made my dick start to get hard. “I’ll only take your room if you let me pay you, and well… you know the only thing I got to offer at this point is my mouth or my pussy. Want it?”
Fuck yeah, I wanted it. I’ve had both before and they’re fucking fantastic.
But not last night.
Last night, Catherine was in a bad spot. I wasn’t about to take advantage of that offer. I wanted her to see she could get something from someone without the expectation of needing to give something in return. It’s called friendship and that’s what friends do.
And I think Catherine and I are friends.
Maybe.
Fuck, not really sure.
So even though I really wanted to fuck her, I saw the stubborn pride bubbling low beneath the sensuality in her eyes, and I knew my dick was going to bed alone. Since she wouldn’t take my room without feeling the need to basically prostitute herself in return, I conceded and fixed up the couch for her complete with pillow, sheets, and a thick quilt. I also offered her up a t-shirt and a pair of my sweatpants, of which she accepted only the t-shirt. It swallowed her whole and made her look even more vulnerable than I was already considering her to be.
She doesn’t stir as I walk behind the couch that sits perpendicular to the mudroom wall and essentially creates a living area that opens right up into an L-shaped kitchenette that houses my stove, refrigerator, and enough cabinet space to barely hold my dishes. A small, round table with two chairs completes the set up.
As quietly as I can, I start making coffee, but the minute I open a squeaky cupboard door, I can hear Catherine starting to stir on the couch. After I fill the pot, measure the coffee, and start the brew cycle, I turn to find Catherine now sitting up with the quilt pulled demurely over her lap. She must have slept fitfully because her hair is a tangled mess and she has mascara smeared under her eyes, which reminds me of something.
“Your bags and stuff in the trunk of your car?” I ask her.
She blinks at me once, grimaces, and rubs a finger under one eye. She pulls it away, looks at the black smear, and wrinkles her nose. “Um… yeah.”
“Give me your keys. I’ll go get them so you can get cleaned up and changed,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she says as she stands from the couch, her voice still rough with sleep. “I should get out of your way.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I tell her as she pulls her purse from the coffee table and reaches inside. “There’s no rush for you to leave.”
Her face clouds over, almost as if she refuses to believe someone could be nice, before tilting down so she can look around inside her purse. I take the brief opportunity to appreciate that even with tangled hair, mascara smears, and a baggy t-shirt on, she’s still one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen. Hell, she may be the absolute sexiest, and I’m only judging this by the fact that, in this moment, I seem to be more attracted to her than ever before. I’m not sure if it’s her vulnerability or my white-knight complex, but I’ve seen Catherine dressed in any number of sexy outfits with perfect hair and makeup, and I never wanted to fuck her as bad as I do right now.
When she turns to me with car keys in hand, I hope she doesn’t notice the hard-on I’m sporting. Not that I’d be embarrassed about it because Catherine’s gotten me hard before and she knows it, but because I don’t want her to think that’s all I’m interested in from her. I especially don’t want her thinking she has to pay me in that way.
I take the keys from her and head for the door. “Mind pouring me a cup of coffee? I take it black.”
“Sure,” she murmurs, but I don’t look back at her. I need to get my dick under control.
In the trunk of her car, I find a large suitcase, a carry-on, and a duffle-type bag, all done in the classic brown leather and gold lettering of Louis Vuitton. I’m totally not into fashion, but I’d bought my fair share of that designer for both my mom and Tarryn, so I know how expensive this shit is. I can’t help but think that Catherine might find herself in a situation where she has to sell her fucking luggage to get some cash, and that’s a shitty place to be.
I cart the bags up the outside staircase to my garage apartment with my hard-on back under control. I find her sitting at the small kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hand. My cup is poured and sitting by the coffee pot.
“Listen,” I tell her in my most casual voice so she doesn’t feel like a charity case. “Why don’t you stay here for a few days until you can get your bearings?”
“I couldn’t—” she starts to say, and I knew she’d rebuff the offer.
“Come on, Catherine,” I cut her off sternly. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
“It’s Cat,” she says.
This throws me off because I’d been expecting an argument. “Excuse me?”
“Cat. The name I prefer to go by is Cat.”
I blink at her, stunned for a moment by the change in subject. “I didn’t know that.”
She shrugs nonchalantly and lowers her gaze to her cup. “No one ever bothered to ask. Catherine is what Samuel insisted on calling me. It’s how he always introduced me.”
Fuck.
Just… fuck.
I can almost see her identity disappearing right before my eyes. What did this asshole do to her? He left her destitute after already stealing who she was right out from under her.
Taking my cup from the counter, I walk over to the table and sit opposite of her. I make a command decision, knowing it’s the right thing to do in this moment. I know Jake will tell me I’m slipping into my savior role, but fuck him. Cat needs help and I don’t think she has anyone else to turn to right now.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say in a firm, take-control voice. Her eyes immediately snap up to m
ine. “You’re going to stay here in my apartment with me. If you want to remain stubborn and stick with the couch, that’s fine. No argument from me. That will let you get your feet underneath you. You can take a bit of time, figure out what you want to do… or where you want to go.”
“I don’t have any money—”
“If it’s that important to you, you can pay me back when you get some.” I don’t even consider trying to talk her out of just accepting my generosity because I can see Cat has pride. I can see that’s about the only thing she has of value to her name, and I’m not about to steal it from her. “How’s that sound?”
She turns slightly away from me, letting her gaze roam over the tiny space of my apartment. It takes her two seconds before returning to me. “You don’t have a lot of room here. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”
“I’m not here a lot,” I tell her as I stand from the table with my cup in hand. “I have a full-time day job. Between that and being at The Silo, we probably won’t run into each other that much.”
And why do I feel a crushing sense of disappointment over that thought?
“I’d want to pay you rent once I maybe get a job or something,” she says, her chin lifting higher. Christ… the sexy seductress looks just adorable right now, all bowed up with dignity and determination.
“What kind of work would you want to do?” I ask her, thinking I’ve got contacts in this area. Maybe I can help her out that way too.
“I’ve only ever done two things to get by in this life, Rand,” she says softly with just a trace of bitterness. It sucks to hear that tone the first time she calls me by my name. “And that’s dancing and fucking.”
“Dancing?” I ask, because I can’t bear to think of her prostituting herself to make a living. Although really… wasn’t that what she was doing by marrying an older man?
I mentally curse at myself for letting my head go there.
“I was an exotic dancer in Vegas,” Cat says with a grim smile. “That’s where Samuel met me.”
I’ve seen Catherine naked many, many times and yeah… she has a dancer’s body. Long limbs, soft curves in just the right places, and breasts that are spectacular. I bet she put on a fucking fantastic show.
But that wouldn’t benefit her here in Jackson as there aren’t any titty bars and the thought of her returning to Vegas isn’t all that appealing to me either for some weird reason. So I point her in the next best direction for now.
“I suggest you work on finding out more about your legal rights,” I tell her with a pointed look before lifting my cup to my mouth for a sip.
“My legal rights?” Her eyes blink in confusion.
“Well, yeah. I mean… you thought Samuel was going to take care of you, then some attorney shows up and tells you to get out of your house. Did he even show you a copy of the will giving him that authority?”
Cat shakes her head, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t ask. He was pushing me hard to get my stuff packed and to vacate.”
Even though I may not have gone to college and only have a degree from the school of hard knocks, I know enough to know that doesn’t sound right.
“You need to go to that attorney’s office and ask for a copy of Samuel’s will,” I tell her. “As his wife, you’re entitled to see it. I seriously don’t think they can just kick you out like that. I’m sure there’s some long process they have to go through or some shit.”
Cat’s cheeks turn even redder. “I didn’t even think to ask for a copy. God, I’m so stupid.”
Before I can stop myself, I take one step to her chair, grasp her chin with my hand, and squeeze slightly to get her attention. “You are not stupid. You’re in a bad place and that attorney took advantage of that. But now you’re on solid ground and I’ll help you figure this out. Okay?”
For a moment, I think she might cry on me, and I brace myself for it. I don’t do well with tears. I’m a sucker for them. If I see one drop spill, I’ll pull her in my arms. At that point, I’ll really have to take shit from Jake that I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to a lost woman.
She surprises me though and nods against my grip. “Okay.”
Though I’m loathe to release her, I do it anyway. “Okay then. I think your goal for today is to go to that attorney’s office and ask for a copy of Samuel’s will.”
“Just show up without an appointment?” Cat asks with hesitation.
“Yup. Just walk in and ask for it. You shouldn’t need an appointment for that.”
I think. Fuck, I don’t know, but it’s a start.
“I can do that,” she says as she stands from the chair.
For the first time since last night, I actually see a glimmer of hope in her eyes that perhaps things will turn out okay. I don’t know that they will, but I know for sure I’m not going to abandon her.
Jake’s going to give me so much shit.
Chapter 2
Cat
So I have a plan.
A temporary one, but at least I have a plan.
I also have a roof over my head for the time being, and since Rand told me to help myself to anything in the apartment, I will also have food in my belly. While he takes a shower, I make use of the carton of eggs in his refrigerator and scramble some up for both of us. I have a plate waiting for him when he emerges from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pale blue towel wrapped low around hips.
I know that body well. It’s tall and lean with just the right amount of muscles gracing a broad chest and strong arms. I happen to know when he flexes his abs, they’ll tighten into a six pack, just as I know his pierced tongue feels good between my legs. I know well those green eyes that will stare at me with frenzied lust and the soft brush of his blond beard against my skin.
Rand is a beautiful package, no doubt. He’s edgy with his golden hair shaved on the sides but long on top. He often brushes his fingers through it, pushing it away from his face. I find it amusing that he always seems exasperated by the length, but he never cuts it any shorter. Add in a multitude of tattoos over his chest, back, and upper arms, a silver ring through his left nostril and a matching one through his left eyebrow, and you have a man who’s edgy, cool, and sexy all at the same time.
So I feed him scrambled eggs while he sits at the table. I try not to stare at the gap in the towel that rides up his right thigh and instead focus my attention on his apartment.
It’s small in and of itself, but it’s cramped with so much clutter that it feels like you’re in a closet. Not the type of small clutter like unwashed cups left on tables, but rather his mudroom has at least four pairs of ski boots shoved under a bench along with a pair of snowshoes in the corner and puffy ski pants and coats hanging on hooks on the wall. In his living room, two corners have various skis and poles leaning in causal stacks. A bookcase holds trophies and glass-encased medals I briefly noticed last night as he was making up the couch. So many, in fact, they appear just haphazardly jammed on the shelves, not to display but merely to just put them somewhere out of the way.
I was so exhausted last night I didn’t take a very close look, but while Rand was getting my luggage out of my car, I went to the bathroom and my attention was caught by a framed photo. It was pushed into the back corner of the second shelf from the top. It caught my attention because of one of the most recognizable logos in the world displaying prominently in the background.
Five circles.
Three on top. Two on the bottom. All interlinked.
Each a different color. Blue, black, red, yellow, and green.
I halted as I recognized the Olympic rings, but more importantly, I recognized Rand standing on a tiered podium, right in the middle and on the highest dais. Both arms were raised high in the air in victory, with one hand clutching a bouquet of flowers and the other raising his index finger pointed upward to the sky.
Around his neck, a large, round gold medal hung on a thick white ribbon.
I was stunned.
R
and was an Olympic medalist?
My eyes roamed around his small living room again, taking in the ski equipment. Back to the photo where he was wearing a heavy, puffed overcoat on the stand done in pristine white with the American flag patched over his left breast.
Holy fuck. Rand won an Olympic gold medal.
I didn’t say anything when he came back in as he dropped my luggage next to the couch and said he had to jump in the shower and head to work. So I made eggs, my gaze flicking periodically to the shelves of trophies and medals, wondering what else was in there.
Now I look over Rand’s shoulder as he hunches over his plate, shoveling the food in, which makes me suspect he might be late for work. My eyes come to rest on the photo I studied earlier.
“You won an Olympic gold medal?” I blurt out, dying to know more about him. I mean… he’s always just been Rand. A gorgeous, sexy man who’s tremendously talented with his cock, mouth, and fingers, but past that, I know nothing about him.
His eyes rise up to meet mine as he finishes chewing the eggs in his mouth. After he swallows, he swipes his lips with the paper towel I laid next to his plate and gives me a wolfish smile. “That was five years ago in Vancouver. Won the gold in the Super Combined as well as two silvers in the Super G and Downhill.”
My mouth hangs slightly open in astonishment. “Three medals?”
He nods, gives me a wink, and takes another bite of his eggs, seemingly not interested in touting his accomplishments to me. But I’m amazed I didn’t know this about him. “Did you compete in last year’s Olympics?”
I can’t say he gives me a look of sadness. It’s not even bitterness. Maybe just a fondness for what will never be again, but he lays his fork on his plate, wipes his mouth again, and says, “I was going to. Made the U.S. Ski Team, but about a year prior to the start of the Games, I took a bad fall at an event in San Sicario. Injured my right knee pretty badly. Tore three of the four major ligaments in my knee.”
“They couldn’t repair it before the Olympics started?” I ask, feeling terrible he lost such an amazing opportunity.
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 49