by Reece Butler
Marci’s entire body tightened in a spasm of lust and need. She gasped at the feeling. That was better than the sum total of my sexual experience! If she went with this cowboy, she might do even better. Best of all, she’d be gone from Nikki’s tiny apartment.
“As a widow, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want,” she stated to Nikki. “And I want hot sex with a cowboy. If there’s a problem, since he can’t move without my help, I can leave if I want.”
“And,” added Nikki slyly, “he won’t be able to escape if you attack him in bed.”
Arousal brought her nipples to peaks. Surely a man living on his own, one without a girlfriend, would be interested in sex with a horny woman? She desperately wanted an orgasm that didn’t come from her own fingers or the assistance of batteries.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s cranky and out of sorts because he wants to go home.”
Marci felt the same, only she no longer had a home.
“I asked Brenda Anderson about him,” continued Nikki. “Both Simon and his twin brother, Lance, are polite to women and have never been known to hurt an animal, woman, or child. Lance is away working in Texas for the winter, which is why Simon is alone.”
“Twins?”
Heat flashed up her face, hardened her nipples, and zapped to her pussy. For the last few years she’d had all sorts of fantasies. One of her favorites involved two men pleasuring her at once. Two big, strong, powerful men doing everything she wanted and even some she wasn’t sure about.
“You know the history of this area?” asked Nikki. “How thousands of men came out to the gold fields?” Marci nodded. “Remember how I said there weren’t enough women to go around so people in Tanner’s Ford found a way to even the odds by sharing a wife?”
“Yes,” said Marci, drawing it out. Nikki waggled her eyebrows. “You mean, Simon and his twin brother plan to share their wife?”
“That’s what I heard, but you’ll probably be gone before Lance gets back. Unless Simon needs more help to recover. Once his full leg cast comes off on Monday he’ll get a walking cast. But that still doesn’t mean he can do everything.”
“I guess it would be best if he has help for a couple of weeks.”
“Marci, Simon MacDougal is one good-looking cowboy. He’ll be completely at your mercy. What he eats, reads, or anything else, is your choice. There’ll be just you and him in that log cabin. Nothing to stop you from seducing him…”
“He sounds perfect!” Laughter bubbled up. Instead of stifling it to hide all emotion as usual, she let it go. Nikki grinned in return. “A sexy cowboy under my control, living in a log cabin. How could I say no?”
“Plus, he’s wild about local history. He has all his ancestors’ diaries and complained about never having a chance to read them. He’ll have time to do that now. Maybe he could read them aloud while you’re working.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully. “I’ve heard that some of those women who came West on the Bride Trains were pretty wild. Maybe it will give the two of you ideas. Simon will have to spend most of the next three days on his back with his foot elevated. That still leaves his mouth, and fingers, and—”
“Nikki!”
Without even seeing the man Marci’s body had come alive. Her breasts and nipples ached and she felt a new sensation of fullness as her pussy swelled. He was a red-blooded cowboy who’d gone without sex for too long. She was going to seduce him if it was the last thing she ever did! She walked past her sister to the closet and grabbed her suitcase. Like the clothing, it had been donated. She began filling it with the few things Nikki had purchased for her. Marci hadn’t been ready to go out in public to choose her own things. She would just have to go with what she had.
“I don’t want him to know who I am,” she called over her shoulder. “I’d like to be judged for myself, not your poor widowed younger sister.”
“We’ll introduce you under your married name. Brenda knows everything but she won’t talk.” Nikki looked down at Marci, who was eight inches shorter, and a lot narrower. She sighed. “Simon MacDougal is a man. He’d never notice we’re sisters.”
“Especially since you inherited all of Mom’s breasts.”
Nikki grimaced. She lifted her big girls. “You think I want to carry these around all day?”
“No,” said Marci mischievously, “but I think you wouldn’t mind a helping hand at night, as long as it belongs to a hot cowboy.”
“Or two,” added Nikki impudently. “I’ll bring the truck around.”
“What truck?”
Her sister gave a wicked, superior, smile. “I figured Mr. MacDougal might try to sneak away so I removed his truck for safekeeping.”
“Veronica Meshevski, even I know you don’t take a cowboy’s truck!”
Chapter Five
Whatever Brenda had put in the needle, one she’d had far too much enjoyment sticking him with, had zonked Simon out. The clock said he’d slept for a couple of hours, but he was now raring to go. He had a bit of pain below the knee, but that didn’t matter. Not when he was heading home.
He’d been awake when the nurse replacing Brenda came in to check him. He’d charmed her into lowering the bars on one side of the bed. She said she’d be back before lights out to do it up again, after the doctor came back from her supper break. That gave him a time window to escape. The nurse had been gone fifteen minutes, long enough to check the rooms and go back to her charts or whatever.
He had to go now. Using the chair beside the bed to help, he hopped across to his locker. He scowled at seeing only one boot, though he couldn’t bend over to put it on anyway, or his jeans. The only clothes hanging on the hooks were his shirt, hat, and belt. Thank God for small mercies. Brenda had the sense to return his belt and champion buckle. He’d left his coat in the truck.
His shirt hung down but, even with the ridiculous thin cloth they called a nightgown on backward, his bare ass still flew in the breeze. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been caught with a naked ass, but the last few were a hell of a lot more fun. Even better, he hadn’t been alone.
“I rode all those bulls without an injury,” he muttered. “Then one stupid mistake, a slip of my foot, and I bust my damn leg!”
He scrabbled for the keys, which he figured were on the shelf. Nothing. He stretched up to search the far end. Still no keys. With a sense of dread he slid-hopped over to the window, which faced the street. He pulled open the curtains.
“Oh, hell!”
No bright red F-150 waited for him. Donny was going to hit the roof. His cousin had just bought the automatic going-to-town truck for his wife, Aggie. Now that they had four children, she needed a truck with a back seat. Simon had been able to drive his own ride from his place to the J Bar C using great-grandpa’s cane on the clutch pedal. He’d heard the baby crying before he even left his truck. He didn’t want to bother them so quickly switched vehicles and took off. They often left the keys in the ignition on the ranch, figuring the truck would be ready to go whenever they had a notion.
He couldn’t see Brenda taking it. She was a rancher’s daughter. She might stick him in the ass with the largest bore needle she could find, but she knew a woman never sat behind the wheel of a man’s truck. Brenda must have put his keys away for safekeeping.
Please, God, let him find them!
He couldn’t afford to stay here, even for one night. Hell, he couldn’t afford the X-rays, the cast, or the doctor’s bill. He certainly couldn’t afford to pay for the junk they called food or the plastic-wrapped, hard-as-nails bed. And he shouldn’t have to. Any man worth his salt could take a bit of pain to get a job done.
Focusing on his objective, he slid the orange plastic visitor chair across the floor. He hop-stepped into the hall as quietly as he could. He was wobbly so kept close to the wall. Setting his sight on the office six miles down the corridor, he gritted his teeth and cowboyed up. He was halfway there when he heard voices behind him. He kept going, hoping whoever it was would
n’t notice him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Mr. MacDougal?”
He whipped his head around and damn near lost his balance. Someone tall grabbed his left elbow. He didn’t see who took the other.
“Why are you out of bed?”
Damn, it was the doctor! He didn’t have his boots on, but she must be only four inches shorter. That meant he didn’t have to bend far to see how furious she was. Well so was he!
“I’m going home,” he declared with as much dignity as a barefooted cowboy with his ass hanging out could muster.
“You think you can drive with that cast?”
“I got here, didn’t I?” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you steal my keys?”
“That won’t fit in the driver’s seat.” She pointed to his cast, ignoring his question.
“I’ll make it fit.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth.
“Who’s going to take care of you?”
“I don’t need taking care of!” They glared at each other.
“Mmm, mmm. That is one fine-looking butt.”
Simon choked at the light female voice behind and to his right. All his twisting must have pulled his shirt even higher than he’d thought. He reached behind and found skin. Yep, his back end was visible to anyone and everyone. At least the woman sounded interested. Surely she wasn’t a nurse. They weren’t supposed to notice those things.
This woman’s voice was like warm syrup, all thick and sweet, ready to pour on hotcakes. Or his belly. Or lower.
“Is this the man you were talking about, Doctor Meshevski? The one that needs my help?”
He turned his head over his shoulder. He had to tilt it down to see her. The tiny woman must be cold because she’d wrapped a thick scarf around her neck and face. Dang, there went the fantasy of finding a hot, sexy woman to marry. If she couldn’t take the cold, she wouldn’t last past September in Montana. He sent her a glare, then faced forward again.
“You’d best be nice to the lady,” said the diabolical doctor with a too-sweet smile. “She’s going to take care of you.”
A mix of chill and heat rumbled through him. “I don’t need a nurse,” he said through clenched teeth. Worse than going without a woman was having one near and not being able to touch. It didn’t stop his cock rising at the possibility of a woman massaging his sore muscles. Or even better, hard ones.
“Good, because Mrs. Grant is not a nurse. She is, however, an excellent cook and housekeeper. Since you can’t get along on your own, she’ll stay near in case you need something.”
He and the Doc glared at each other, eye to eye. He hated hospitals. Hated people telling him what to do and charging him for the privilege. Hated the stink of…was that vanilla and chocolate? He sniffed. Peppermint? The scent seemed to come from the direction of the well-wrapped woman.
“I can’t afford a housekeeper,” he said, grumbling.
“No charge. Marci needs a place to stay for a bit.”
Instead of her usual damn-the-torpedoes expression, the Doc looked embarrassed. At least, that was why he figured her color was high. Who was she trying to fob off on him?
“Let me guess,” he said slowly. “This woman’s on the run from the law. That why’s her face is all covered up. No, thank you.” He looked at the short woman. Definitely the scent of vanilla. And was that a touch of chocolate on her right cheek? Damn, she smelled a lot like the brownies his granny used to make. His belly growled. “No offense, ma’am, but I don’t want trouble. I’ll take my chances alone.”
He turned away. A hand gripped his elbow. Maybe it was just coincidence, but those small fingers gripped a pressure point. It hurt like hell, not that he’d let it show. She brushed against him as she released his arm. If that was her breast, it was the closest he’d come to one since they’d kicked Charlene out. That meant he’d gone without a woman for over four years. It hadn’t bothered him until now. He could hide pain, but it was a hell of a lot more difficult to hide the boner under the loose hospital gown and shirt.
“Mr. MacDougal,” she said softly, “I’m not in trouble. I need a place to stay for a while because my home and everything in it burned to the ground.”
Simon groaned and dropped his head. He’d acted like a prime jerk. He couldn’t imagine how he’d cope if his home burned down. Generations had lived in there since 1846. He and Lance still worked the land pretty much the same way. No hormones, pesticides, or other chemicals had ever touched Tanner’s Ford Valley.
Thanks to the forward thinking of his ancestors, Valley people still controlled one heck of a lot of land. That gave them the right to help decide where to put the badly needed road between Dillon and Wisdom. Unlike the trail carved over thousands of years, the highway ran halfway up the valley to protect the rich bottom land. Handed down by their great-great-grandparents, it was his responsibility to pass on the legacy.
His home meant so much to him, and she’d lost hers.
“I’m only asking to stay for a few weeks, to get my feet back under me,” she continued.
His cock had drooped at the thought of a fire destroying everything, but her voice revived it. He didn’t care about her feet. He wanted her belly under his. Or his belly behind her ass as he slid in from behind.
But even if she was willing, nothing like that was going to happen with this damn cast. And then she’d be gone. Unless he could convince her to stay on as cook and housekeeper.
“I hope everyone got out safe,” he said gruffly. Oh, God. Was she wrapped up like that because she’d been burned so badly she had to hide her hideous face? He pointed vaguely in her direction and spoke to the Doc. “Ah, the lady isn’t the one needing a doctor, is she, because—”
The woman began unwinding her scarf.
“Mrs. Grant,” said the doctor, interrupting, “you don’t have to tell him—”
“It’s all right. I’m asking to live in Mr. MacDougal’s home. He deserves to see what he’s getting. Perhaps he’s not man enough to face me.”
Aw, shit.
With that challenge he’d have to put up with whatever horrid thing had been done to her. But it couldn’t be worse than some of the men who came back from ’Nam. His older brother’s friends were mostly the same people inside their scars. This woman would be no different.
She brushed past to face him. His side burned where she’d touched. She slowly finished unwrapping the colorful scarf from her head. He mentally braced himself not to grimace. Solemn eyes the color of chocolate returned his gaze. He looked for flaws, but she was pretty, even beautiful. Except for the right side of her face. A swollen red line started at the corner of her right jaw and ran to the upper part of her cheek.
“A piece of glass scratched me when I escaped the fire.”
Glass? It looked one hell of a lot like a knife cut from a right-handed man slicing up in a backhand motion. But it wasn’t his business what happened to her. She’d only be staying with him for a bit, then she’d be gone. Maybe not by his choice, but no city gal would want to live in an old cabin full of used stuff.
“Heck, that’s nothing,” he said, taking a closer look at her.
She’d pulled her hair into a thick, black braid. He couldn’t tell how far down her back it went. He liked long hair though he saw few women with it. Ranching took a lot of work and fussing with long hair took time that could be spent more productively. But he’d always had fascination with running his hand through it. Brushing long hair would be so erotic.
His cock lengthened, pulling the blood from his brain. That must be why he was light-headed. He could see her sitting with her back to him as he worked. Both of them naked. Long, strokes with a soft brush that, once her hair was straight, he could use on her skin.
“I escaped,” she said abruptly. “Everything burned, and now I have nothing but a few clothes and my life. I don’t feel comfortable working in public until this heals.”
Her fingertips grazed her cheek. A line of butterfly kisses might ease h
er pain. Of course, he’d continue farther down. Past her neck to her—
“We’d both be better off with this temporary arrangement.”
He jerked back to the present. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For what happened and for saying—”
“That’s fine, Mr. MacDougal. You didn’t know.”
“It’s no excuse for bad manners,” he said, grumbling. “Especially to a lady.”
“You can make it up to me by paying for my food and letting me live with you,” she said. “I don’t have any money, but I know some nursing and I’ll do whatever you need.”
Had she given a bit of emphasis on the last few words? Her eyes dropped. To look at his cock? He leaned forward so his shirttail would cover the solid flesh rising from his groin. Though it was hard to see with her milk-toffee skin, he was sure her cheeks turned pink. He looked closer. So had the tips of her ears. He’d bet his championship buckle she was blushing below her belt as well.
He could get along with this small, pretty woman. Oh, yeah. No problem at all. Even if he was reading her wrong and she wasn’t interested in more than cooking and cleaning, he wouldn’t mind her company. But getting out of here was the only thing that mattered right now. He’d deal with everything else later, including the pain in his lower leg and his throbbing and equally painful cock.
“Can you cook?”
Her dark eyes turned up at the corners, as did those full, luscious lips. Dang, he could see himself nibbling them for hours. And if she put those thick lips over his cock and—
“There’s a box of brownies still warm from the oven waiting in your truck. Why don’t you try one and see what you think?”
Sex was a possibility in the future. Food was now. He’d refused what they’d called supper and had worked through lunch. His mouth flooded with saliva.
“You made brownies?” She nodded. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Chapter Six
Marci didn’t get to escape that quickly. It turned out they had to wait for Simon to eat, be shaved, and learn how to use the crutches he grumbled about. There was extra food, sent in by the Climax Roadhouse, so she had a bite as well. While she ate in the nurse’s lounge, Nikki explained that Montana men believed real men protected and provided for their woman and children. Case closed.