The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  Brenda’s smug smile made Nikki’s stomach tighten. So did the eager ache a few inches below, where her pussy thrummed in need. Could it come true? She didn’t expect her wilder fantasies to happen. That’s why they were called fantasies. But she yearned to find a man who cared enough to bring her satisfaction. Even once, so she’d know she wasn’t a failure as a woman.

  She leaped to her feet and swept the folders off the desk. She needed a reason to escape and calm down. Filing would suit the purpose.

  “Fine, I’ll think about it,” she said without looking up. “But if he likes to fight, I don’t want to even see him.”

  “That’s fair,” replied Brenda. She followed Nikki down the short hall. “On another topic, Max said he got the okay for you to move into that empty house I told you about. It has a master suite with a huge bed, bath, and shower. I’ve seen the tub. You could stretch your legs out, or bend them and have water come up to your neck.”

  Nikki groaned at the thought of sinking into deep, hot water. “I haven’t had a relaxing bath since I got here. Not that I’m complaining,” she quickly added. “The accommodation the town’s providing is fine.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Brenda. “That apartment should be condemned. I’m just sorry it took so long for the Council to contact the absent owner, who’s happy to have someone live there and keep the place up.”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” insisted Nikki.

  She took her time in the file room while Brenda checked the examination rooms. She couldn’t have brought a man to that dinky apartment. She couldn’t fit on the short single bed, and it squeaked so badly that she was sure it would collapse if a man joined her, even if he lay still.

  But if she had a big bed to spread out in, things would be different. Even better would be having a man spread her legs in that big bed and…

  Chapter Seven

  After taking a long, cold drink, Eric set the bottle down and leaned back with a sigh. He was home and all was well with his world. With Matt sharing the room, he’d had a good night’s sleep. No nightmares, a rarity for his time in Montana. That would change tonight, but he would deal with it. He’d been dealing with it for twenty years.

  The beer was cold and crisp, and the saloon was dim and quiet. Perfect. Nothing much changed in Climax from one decade to the other. Or from one generation to another. Strangers came and went, or came and stayed. Old folks got older and babies were born. The work wasn’t much different than when his great-grandfathers, Luke, Gabe, and Oscar, had the Circle C ranch with their wife, Sarah.

  Though the saloon side of the Climax Roadhouse didn’t open until five, no one minded him sitting quietly in the corner. After giving Ethel, the owner, a hug and nodding at the few people in the diner, he’d slipped into the saloon and got himself his usual. When she got a free minute she’d bring him all the gossip. She called it news, of course. As long as she told him about Matt’s woman, he’d listen to her update on everything she considered important.

  She smiled when she came in, then looked confused when he pulled his wallet and keys of his pocket and held them out. “I’d love to talk, but I need a bottle of Jack and a shot glass.”

  “Bar doesn’t open until five. You got half an hour to wait.”

  “Then don’t open it. I’ll sit here in the dark.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she thought things over. “Make it worth my while.”

  “I’m going to get drunk and get into a fight. Tell Max he’d better get his ass down here or I’ll go after him.”

  “Which Max? The sheriff or the judge?”

  “I’m going to show Max Gibson he won with a lucky punch last time.”

  Her face lit up. “That’s good enough for me! Help yourself. Max is off duty today. I’ll send someone with a message for him.”

  Eric settled in his corner. He unscrewed the bottle and poured himself a drink. It barely entered his mouth before it burned down the back of his throat. He exhaled, poured another, and did the same. He filled the shot glass every time his right hand slammed it onto the table. He’d put up with twenty years of the town thinking Max could take him. Thing is, he only had Max’s word for it. He couldn’t remember their fight, but since he ended up in a lot worse shape, he had to take Max’s word that he’d gone down first.

  Today he was going to prove that things were different now.

  Eric settled with his bottle and his anger. As the level of the first went down, the other rose. By the time Max walked in, eyes shining and grin wide, the bottle was down a few inches. For some reason while some men got mean, and others got stupid, his reflexes and mind sharpened when he drank.

  “You need booze to get up the nerve to fight me after all these years?” taunted Max.

  Eric shoved the table in front of him forward. The four legs dragged across the wooden floor, making a racket. He stood, tall and straight.

  “Nah,” he replied. “I don’t want to show you up too much. I’m hoping the booze’ll slow me down so I’ll have a fight that’ll last longer than five minutes.”

  The judge, Max Gibson Senior, pushed his way past his son. His bushy white eyebrows flared like a fan-dancer’s plumage. Staring Max Junior down, Eric dropped his hat on the table. He hauled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He raised his arms, nearly touching the ceiling, and stretched out his shoulders. Not to be outdone, Max did the same. He also shucked his sidearm, handing it to his father the judge, who handed it over to his other father for safekeeping.

  “Pioneer Park,” declared the judge. “Ten minutes.”

  * * * *

  Nikki looked up from the chart she was studying when the clinic’s door blew open. It was almost five o’clock. The young man bursting in had an ear-to-ear grin.

  “The fight of the century is on! Eric Frost is back, and he’s taking on the sheriff!”

  Brenda pushed past Nikki. “Oh, my God! Where?”

  “Pioneer Park. Ethel said he dove into a bottle of Jack and that’s why he’s laughing.”

  “Eric’s laughing?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The boy ran out. Brenda scurried to the staff room. She came out holding her coat and boots. “You’ve got to see this!”

  “What’s so important about Mr. Frost laughing?”

  Following Brenda’s actions, Nikki pulled her light coat over her snug sweater. The spring day had been unseasonably warm, so she’d worn a skirt for the first time in forever.

  “Eric’s finally taking on my brother. And, he’s drunk! When you see him in action you are going to cream in your panties!”

  Nikki stopped dead. “You told me Eric was always calm and cool, that he could handle anything. After what I said about that brawl at Marci’s wedding, why would you think I’d have anything to do with a man who solves problems with his fists, especially drunk?”

  “He’s not solving a problem, he’s finishing something from long ago,” explained Brenda, as if that made it all right. “You might never have a chance to see Eric like this again. When we were seniors he was the life of the party when he had a few. But ever since he and Max came home from that fight, he’s been sober as a hanging judge.”

  Nikki bent to put on her boots. Curiosity nagged at her. “What did they fight about?”

  “Nobody knows. They were about eighteen, so it could have been anything. Neither of them have said a word about it since. Something must have set Eric off. Let’s go!”

  Brenda took Nikki’s free arm. She let herself be herded onto the street. After seeing the man through the window she’d been eager to meet him in person. She’d hoped Eric wouldn’t disappoint her, but all men did. It was a matter of time.

  She’d have to be convinced that Eric Frost was not a drunk or a bully before she had anything to do with him. Just in case, she mentally pushed her dreams and fantasies about him into boxes, duct-taped the lids, and shoved them in the back corner of her brain.

  Excited people hurried down the sidewalk. Brenda saw
her husband and called out. Nikki had met Derek Anderson a few times. The accountant seemed quiet, but there was a core of steel in him. It was obvious he was still madly in love with his wife.

  “Derek! What set Eric off?”

  Nikki waited while Derek locked lips with Brenda. It seemed like a full minute before they broke apart, panting.

  “I heard he was in the Roadhouse having his usual beer and—”

  “His usual beer? You said he never drank!” Nikki gave Brenda an accusing look.

  “One beer after a man’s been away for months isn’t drinking,” scoffed Derek. “Ethel said when she came in he handed over his keys and wallet and grabbed a bottle of Jack.”

  “He should have got a head of steam on by now,” said Brenda. “Since Max and Eric’s big fight happened somewhere else, the whole town’s been waiting to see the two of them go at it. Come on!” She locked arms with Derek and hurried down the sidewalk toward the park.

  Nikki followed, but at a slower pace. She hadn’t realized how much she’d looked forward to meeting the man, until now. The sense of disappointment was greater than she wanted to admit. He’d sounded perfect, which should have been her first clue he was a dud. If she hadn’t been able to find a man to appreciate her six-foot-tall, Valkyrie-sized body and commanding manner in a huge city, why would she think a small town in southwest Montana would have the answer to her prayers?

  Enough of the pity party!

  She had a wonderful life, far better than anything she’d dreamed of while growing up. She had nothing to complain about. It was Marci’s wedding to Simon and Lance MacDougal, and their baby coming in less than six months, that had her all twisted up. She’d gotten caught up in wedding excitement, then Brenda’s talk about Eric Frost had fueled the tiny spark of femininity she’d ruthlessly squashed all her life.

  She might as well forget about him and take matters into her own hands. Now that most of the snow was gone she’d take a trip to the city of Missoula. Surely they’d have an adult entertainment store. It was time she bought a battery-operated boyfriend.

  It seemed the whole town had gathered across the street from the Climax Roadhouse. A row of pickup trucks faced the park. Women and children sat on the hoods, roofs, or stood in the truck bed. All were cheering or yelling. Though she was tall, she couldn’t see a thing. She caught up to Brenda, who was laughing like a cheerleader on football Friday nights. That was something else she’d learned was a Western custom.

  “Isn’t this great?” Brenda had to yell to be heard over the crowd.

  “Sure,” replied Nikki just as loud. “There goes my last chance to find a lover.” She immediately wished she’d kept her trap shut.

  “Last chance?” demanded Brenda, alternately frowning at Nikki and eagerly looking forward. “Why? Eric’s perfect for you.”

  “I am not going to bed a man who’s a violent drunk, no matter how tall he is.”

  “For God’s sake, Nikki, Eric’s not violent, or a drunk.” Brenda stabbed Nikki with a finger. “He hasn’t touched hard liquor in twenty years. He’s a big pussycat, like Max. Always calm and cool.” She narrowed her eyes up at Nikki. “You said you wanted a part-time lover who was tall, handsome, stronger than you, and excellent in the sack. Even better if he could dance. Well, Eric Frost is all of those things.”

  “He’s also drunk, brawling in a public park with the sheriff!”

  Brenda stepped closer, motioning for Nikki to lean over. “I hear Eric hasn’t had sex in months, maybe even years. When a man is horny and does some drinking, the only way to blow off steam is either sex or a good fight.” Brenda glared her challenge. “If you want to calm Eric down, then haul him off to bed and screw his brains out. But don’t offer until the fight’s over.”

  “Haul him off to bed?” Nikki gasped the words. “I’m not going to do that!”

  Brenda rolled her eyes like a teenager told her outfit was not appropriate. “You said you wanted to lose that V-word. It’s either Eric or some stranger you pick up in the city. Make up your mind, Doc.”

  Derek pulled Brenda toward a blue pickup. Someone gave her a hand up as he boosted her behind into the back of it. From her expression, he’d goosed her at the same time. She jumped up and down, waving her fist and yelling.

  “They’re all crazy,” Nikki said to herself.

  She couldn’t tell who was winning by the collective gasp followed by excited shouts. As the town doctor she was responsible for the health of its citizens. If two grown men wanted to pummel each other in a public brawl, that was their right. Especially if one of them was the sheriff. She had no right to judge. They’d accepted her into their homes and their lives. They could pound each other if they liked, but she didn’t want permanent harm. After all, it was her job to care for them.

  She stomped toward what must be the most exciting thing to happen in Climax since Prohibition was repealed. She was tall enough to see over a couple of the women cheering. Both were big men, dressed only in jeans. Max was three inches over six feet, which meant the man circling him should be…

  Oh, my God! They hadn’t exaggerated his height!

  It was one thing to see him from behind a window. It was quite different up close and personal. He was a huge bear of a man. Not the cuddle teddy-bear type but a wild, powerful, arousing version. Shaggy brown hair hung past his ears. His broad chest rippled with muscles that she’d love to practice identifying with her lips.

  Biceps, triceps, deltoids, abs… He turned, crouching with arms reaching as he grinned a wide dare at Max. She hummed in satisfaction at the way his gluteus maximus filled out the snug jeans. Another turn. He stood straight, pounding his hairy chest like a gorilla, to the delight of the crowd. What would it be like to draw a fingernail from the fuzzy line leading from below his umbilicus under the button of his jeans?

  She took a moment to blaze the memory of this perfect physical specimen into her memory bank. She tried to catalogue what it felt like to have her pussy swell and quiver. She’d never had anything in there but her fingers. How could she feel so aware and needy just by looking at the man? She could almost imagine what it would feel like to have his cock ramming into her while he held her hands above her head. With his hips tight against hers and his thighs holding her down, she’d be at his mercy. And, like Conan the Barbarian, he’d have no mercy. He’d take and take until she was a puddle of melted hormones.

  Too bad he liked to drink and brawl.

  Brenda hadn’t mentioned that. She’d described a tough, stern, quiet man who only relaxed with close friends. But Eric taunted Max as if they were eleven-year-olds. His wide grin had more than a dash of a pirate’s take-no-prisoners attitude. He feinted, so did Max, and the next moment they were locked together, rolling in the dirt as they wrestled.

  The crowd called out suggestions to both sides, many of which were rude, but said with a laugh. These people had known each other all their lives. So had their parents, grandparents, and so on, all the way back to the 1870s. The fight before her was something she’d expect to see back then, but not on the main street over a hundred years later!

  They broke apart and rolled to their feet. Their grins were gone now, replaced by grim determination. Would it get ugly? If Eric harmed the sheriff, friend or not, he could go to jail for a long time. What could be so important to be worth that?

  She’d got a tingle thinking about Eric when Brenda said he’d brought Joshua in, even giving him his own shirt. But if he was that careful a driver, why wasn’t he equally thoughtful elsewhere in his life? He’d lectured the boy about telling the truth to his parents, that he owed them to be honest. The man had some morals and integrity. But the laughing jackass once more rolling in the dirt was not the calm authority figure she’d fantasized about imposing his will on her.

  So, that fantasy was out. But with a body that warmed her more than a hot toddy ever could, she’d could put up with him for a couple of wild weeks of sex. It didn’t matter what a short-term lover was like as long a
s he stayed away from alcohol while he was with her. She could have her affair with this hot stud and then wave as he walked out of her life.

  She chewed her lip as she watched them circle. How to approach him? He was a stranger to her, though Brenda would introduce them the first chance she had. No, she would do this herself. As the town’s medical doctor, she really should check both men out once they finished. Or maybe she should stop the fight before one of them finished the other? She didn’t want Eric to be damaged so that he couldn’t perform for her, right?

  * * * *

  “You missed Lance and Simon’s wedding,” accused Max as they circled.

  Eric nodded, accepting the dig. They’d both followed the rules. Wrestling first, to gain the measure of each other. Only if they were well matched would they use the full power of their fists. The unwritten rules had stopped smaller, weaker, or less experienced men from getting the shit kicked out of them. He and Max were well matched. They’d each landed a few blows and missed a couple more. He might’ve broken his nose if he hadn’t jerked his head back in time. Max hadn’t been so quick and would have a good bruise on his jaw.

  “That’s only one of the things I’m pissed off about,” answered Eric. He bared his teeth, but it was no smile.

  Both kept their voices low. The shouting of the eager crowd would have drowned out most people, but they were big men, with deep, loud voices. They were both fit and muscular, bare from the waist up and ankle down. Eric was still three inches taller than Max, and therefore had a longer reach.

  They’d rolled in the dirt and grass, using wrestling holds Max might not have used since high school. Eric had done a lot of wrestling in South America. It was a good way to use up frustration and energy without anyone being hurt too badly. Though his degree said he was a steel-ringer, he was a hands-on man and often worked beside his crew. Eric figured the least fit of the two of them was Max, though the sheriff also worked his family’s Anchor Ranch and had the muscles to prove it.