The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  “And if not?” asked Tom, expressionless.

  She slumped, but only for a second. “Then I will thank you for keeping me from this brute, and be on my way.”

  “Brute? I didn’t even touch you!”

  “That’s right, you didn’t,” she said with far too much satisfaction. She ran her eyes over him, smirking. “Aw, the big, tough cowboy got his boxers in a twist because the little woman got the drop on him?”

  She pushed full lips out in a pout, taunting him. His pulse, which had been steady for years, shot through the roof. He gripped his hat even harder to stop from reaching for her. She needed to be taught a lesson, preferably by applying his palm to her ass. Her naked, about-to-turn-hot-pink ass.

  God! What was he thinking? He gave himself a mental shake. And wasn’t that perfect? The first single woman to land in Climax in months, the first time his cock jumped to attention, and she was a nut job. She had to be single with that tough-gal attitude, as no self-respecting man would allow that behavior.

  Her fists were clenched, her jaw set as she glared. He took a breath, slowly hauling it deep in his belly, and assessed the situation. Her fists and jaw were tight to stop them trembling. She was scared, and refusing to show it. She had guts, if not any sense. How the heck had she turned up here, overnight?

  “Where’s your stuff, and where’re you going?” he demanded.

  “That is none of your business.” She bared her teeth like a riled kitten.

  “It’s mine, if you want breakfast,” said Tom, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Tom got a look of respect, but then he was the one who might provide food. Sam didn’t want anything to do with her. She was trouble, pint-sized trouble with a great rack and a fine ass. She bent over to scratch her knee and he noticed a hole in her jeans right where her butt met her thigh. That tiny slice of white flesh made bells go off in his brain. They sent signals south, causing an even greater surge. He shifted his feet, unused to the painful reaction.

  “I was on the bus to Oregon,” she said in a soft monotone. “It was crowded, so I had to shove over and share my seat with a chatty cowboy heading home after getting tossed in a rodeo. I was tired, the bus was warm, and I fell asleep.” She exhaled, staring at the floor. All trace of belligerence was gone. “The driver stopped to check tickets when we crossed into Montana, and woke me up. I discovered the cowboy was gone, along with my pack, my money, and my ticket home. He left a note saying he was sorry and that he’d pay me back some day.” She shuffled her feet, looking down. “Unfortunately, that’s not much help at the moment.”

  Damn, no wonder she’d popped him one. What kind of lowlife would rip a woman off? That was easy. One who thought he would get away with it. She was small and cute. Asleep, she looked like a kid. He gritted his teeth, furious. How dare she put herself in such a position! Women shouldn’t…

  He caught himself before completing the sentence. Women should be able to travel on a bus without being bothered, or anywhere else. He was not going to blame her for something done without her consent. It still left him with a problem needing solving. His cock would eventually shrink, taking care of that issue.

  “Do you still have the note?” asked Tom gently.

  She had to fight to wiggle her fingers into her tight back pocket. She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, ripped from a notebook. Tom put out his hand, so she placed it there. He glanced at it, nodded, and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

  “How about ID?”

  This time she stuffed her hand into her front jeans pocket. Again, she had to wiggle to get her fingers down. He told himself to look away but his eyes refused to obey. She pulled out a small folded piece of paper. She bent to smooth it on her thigh, revealing that slice of white once more. He cursed silently at the pain in his groin. She handed her ID to Tom, who checked it carefully, front and back, before returning it. She stuffed it in her back pocket, her fingers curving over her ass. His cock jerked again, refusing to submit to his control.

  “Why’d you come here?” demanded Sam. “The closest bus stop is in Dillon, so why didn’t you stay there?”

  She checked with Tom to see if she had to answer. At his nod, she spoke, but to Tom.

  “I was tossed off the bus in Lima when my lack of a ticket was discovered. Another passenger, an old guy, was also getting off. He said he had a truck parked a block away and could take me to Dillon. The bus driver said Lima had no shelter but Dillon was a big town and I could get my folks to wire money in the morning. It was cold and windy and the middle of the night. I figured I had little choice, so accepted the ride.”

  Her voice faltered at the end. A knot of worry formed in Sam’s gut. People didn’t turn up in the middle of nowhere, with nothing, unless there was a damn good reason. The sun had gotten higher and light flowed in through the open door. It showed a smudge on one of her pale cheeks. When she raised her chin, he saw there was one there, too. The bags under her eyes had bags of their own. No wonder she’d slept so deeply that someone stole her pack without her noticing.

  “How’d you get here from Dillon? It’s fifty miles.”

  “I didn’t get to Dillon. I thought that was obvious.” Her expression said Sam was a complete dolt, though her voice had a tremble in it. “I had no map so it meant nothing when we turned off the highway and then crossed those high passes without seeing a town.”

  “Did he drop you here because this was the first town?”

  She gritted her jaw, and her fists. It didn’t stop her hands shaking. His knot of worry tripled in size.

  “He didn’t drop me here. I walked after I jumped out of his truck.” Her voice shook as well as her body.

  “What did he do to you?” asked Tom quietly.

  “Nothing.”

  Tom gave her a look, one Sam had grown up fearing. Few could resist answering, and she wasn’t one of them. She swallowed, hard, and continued.

  “It’s not that he didn’t try,” she said. “I escaped when he slowed down just after the second pass. When I asked why he was slowing he said it was time for me to pay for my ride. I didn’t have to see his leer to know what he wanted. I jumped out while the truck was still moving and ran. When he gave up looking and drove off, I started walking.”

  The surge of intense rage caught Sam by surprise. He didn’t want to feel sorry for the petite, sexy-as-hell woman. He didn’t want to feel anything, but she pushed his buttons without even trying.

  “Why did you come to Climax?” he demanded. His mother would tan his hide for behaving this way but he couldn’t stop himself. She gave him the same wide-eyed, falsely innocent look his younger brother had used on their parents when they were teenagers. He’d hated it on Trey, and didn’t like it now.

  “Gee, maybe because this town is downhill from the whatever-thousand-foot pass we’d just gone through, and I’d seen no signs of life on the far side?”

  “You’ve got a smart mouth, lady!”

  “And a brain to match,” she shot back.

  Tom chuckled, reminding him they weren’t alone. Sam quietly cursed. He rubbed a hand over his face, keeping his hat in place over his belt with the other. He never showed emotion, or felt it. He kept his life calm, scheduled, and safe. She was a stranger, here for a short time. All he had to do was eat breakfast, walk away, and forget her. The first two would be easy. The last one might take a while.

  “Have a seat,” said Tom. “Coffee’s ready.”

  He began pouring, adding cream and sugar without asking. She was so short she had to put her foot on the rail to sit on the red leather barstool. When she bit her lip and frowned, Sam was reminded of his three-year-old niece. If someone went after Emily, even when she’d grown, the guy better make sure Sam never found him. There was a lot of empty land in Montana and four-legged predators eager to dispose of a carcass, no matter the species.

  Why did he want anything to do with this infuriating, far-too-arousing stranger? He shifted his feet to make room in his Wranglers, but it did no good.
She hesitantly sipped at the coffee, more cream than anything, and then drank it all down. She wiped off a milky moustache with the back of her hand. Tom refilled her cup.

  “When did you last have a decent meal?” asked Tom.

  She blinked at him for a few seconds, biting her lip—her pink, plump, kissable lip. He’d much rather be the one nibbling on it. Damn! If he wasn’t so hungry, he’d be long gone.

  “What day is this?”

  “Sam’s here, which means it’s Friday,” said Tom dryly as he glanced over, taking his usual opportunity to get a dig in.

  “There’s nothing wrong with having a schedule and keeping to it,” Sam replied, more forcefully than he’d planned.

  Tom’s eyes crinkled, though he didn’t smile. The damn man had been trained by the US Army to notice everything, and he’d gotten better over the years. Or worse, as far as Sam was concerned. At least Tom kept everything to himself. Sam didn’t want this morning’s lapse in judgment to get all over town. This was the worst time for him to lose control.

  The woman frowned, as if thinking was difficult. “Um, Wednesday?”

  “Figured something like that,” said Tom. “Bacon and eggs, over easy?”

  She pressed her lips together tightly for a second, then exhaled, shuddering. There was a shine in her eyes when she looked up. Her lower lip trembled. It was a ploy women used to get what they wanted, but he got the impression she was doing everything she could to stop it.

  “Thank you, that would be wonderful,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and gave a tremulous smile. “Where may I wash up?”

  Tom pointed behind her. She hurried toward the room marked “Cowgirls.” Her cute little ass moved in those tight, thin jeans like nobody’s business. He winced in pain. He’d gone without sex for so long he’d forgotten what lust felt like. He set his ass on his usual stool, though more carefully than normal, and dropped his hat on the seat to his left. Since Tom was on the far side of the counter he took a moment to adjust himself. It didn’t help so he’d just have to put up with it. No different from the rest of his life.

  He had a sudden thought. Was this what it felt like to be aroused by pain? It hurt, but felt good at the same time. He was a naturally dominant man, just like most Climax males, but he’d never had a partner to share that kind of fun. She was so small his hand would overflow one of her ass cheeks. He could lift her onto his cock and—

  A sharp jolt of pain had him lifting himself from the barstool. He gritted his teeth while trying to hide his reaction. He wasn’t a teenager, for God’s sake. He was a responsible, hard-working rancher with a schedule to keep. She might have a nice ass and a good rack, but she also had a temper. Worse, she took dangerous risks. She was a stranger, a grown woman, and not his problem.

  He would not get involved, even though his hand would fit perfectly over one of her ass cheeks. He could easily lift her with both hands, then slide her onto his cock and—no! He had far more important things to think about than one tiny woman with a pit-bull complex. The upcoming haying, for instance. He was the first hay boss of his generation, something he’d worked for years to achieve. It was his calm control which had put him at the top of the list for consideration. He would not allow her to destroy that control.

  He checked his sore nose again then winced. She had a good wallop, but not enough to break anything. At maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, even with her full weight behind a punch she couldn’t do much damage. She was just a pipsqueak, and he’d been brawling with his brothers and cousins all his life. He wouldn’t fight with her, but he bet they’d have a hell of a good time wrestling each other’s clothes off.

  Another jolt of pain had him hissing. So much for his control. If she ever found out what he was thinking she’d do more than punch his nose. That didn’t stop him wanting her.

  He lifted his right hand to check his watch. His wrists were so big the usual band wouldn’t fit, so he’d had one made of wide leather. The watch face was protected with a snap-off cover. Thanks to the troublemaker, he was already twenty minutes behind schedule. He wasn’t going to head off without breakfast, though.

  “I’ll pay for whatever she eats,” he said to Tom.

  “Got a bit of guilt going?” asked Tom. He idly rubbed at a non-existent stain on the counter. It didn’t fool Sam.

  “Just being neighborly.”

  “I doubt she’ll accept charity.”

  Sam didn’t like the humor in Tom’s eyes. “Then I’ll give her a big tip. I figure you’ll hire her as your waitress for the day, so you can take it easy after your trip to London. You must be tired out from all that sightseeing.”

  “I kept Dorothy off her feet as much as possible,” replied Tom, adding a wink. “Second honeymoons are—”

  “Whoa!” Sam held up both hands. “Not before breakfast, please. Or after. I’ve had enough of that from my aunts and uncles.”

  The senior Frost and Adams triads had recently returned from a month in Europe, researching items found in dungeons, bondage furniture, and the like. As they’d never taken honeymoons, they let it be known they’d done a lot of the other kind of research as well. Aunt Aggie and Nikki glowed and their husbands watched them with an even greater air of possession than usual. There was a downside to all of this elderly action. Few of Sam’s generation were married. It was bad enough when the Adams cousins kissed Jane, or Lila Frost’s fiancés started in on her. That left fourteen other guys his age without women, not counting those who lived out of town. Watching your older relatives cooing like teenagers when you were in a years-long drought just wasn’t right!

  The thought of his cousins kissing the petite redhead hit him like a bucket of ice water. If any of them spotted her they’d be all over her like flies on a cowpat. The thought of her giving one of them a fat lip felt pretty good. Since all nine were over six feet tall she might have to stand on a chair, but he bet she’d go after them like a cranky Chihuahua.

  “You having the usual?” asked Tom, breaking into his thoughts. “Or will you go wild and demand cherry instead of strawberry jam on your wheat toast?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with having a routine.” Sam found himself growling the words. Did no one understand the importance of control? “I like to keep things steady and safe. No surprises means reduced danger. That’s why I was chosen as hay boss. There’ll be no injuries on my watch.”

  Tom snorted, making it a strong insult. Sam was getting pretty tired of all the digs. He’d lost both fathers to carelessness and pride. He was not going to lose anyone else. Tom headed into the kitchen to give his wife the food orders. Sam looked toward the door marked “Cowgirls.” Had she taken her shirt and bra off to wash?

  He hissed at the sudden pain of arousal.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Katie set her dirty palms on the edge of the bathroom counter and slumped. She’d just punched a man in the face. No, not just a man, a cowboy, a tall, handsome cowboy with enough muscle to wrestle bulls rather than ride them. She wasn’t sure if rodeos had bull-wrestling contests, but if they did, this man would do it. He was so big he could easily pick her up and do anything he wanted with her. If everything was in proportion that would mean…

  She crossed her legs, willing the ache to go away. He both horrified and fascinated her. Horrified because she didn’t want to be so attracted to a man who looked at her that way. Fascinated because he held his hat to hide what must be a generous erection.

  Neither of them could stand each other, yet they made each other horny. Lord, what a juvenile word. She was hot, wet, aroused, and erotically drawn to the humungous cowboy. All he had to do was stand there and her pussy purred. After the last twelve hours she should be anything but turned on. If she hadn’t reacted so quickly last night she could have been raped, held captive, and even killed. Psychologically, the primitive cavewoman in her responded to a terrifying experience by wanting to hump like a bunny in order to reproduce. Not that she’d had a lot of
personal experience. She had, however, taken psych classes. She also owned a few well-thumbed books hidden in the top of her closet in a box marked ‘textbooks’. Of course she would choose the best provider and protector, one whose genes would create strong children, as in the muscular cowboy she’d punched. However, she did not live in a cave, and sex was for more than procreation.

  She was Katherine Hildegard Winterbourne, an intelligent, well-educated woman determined to climb the ladder of success. She was going all the way to the top, which meant children were not part of her agenda. Not because she didn’t want them. She did, desperately, but if she married she’d be expected to work long hours, like her own mother and grandmother. She’d survived that type of childhood and had the hang-ups to prove it. She did not want to cause the same issues for her own child.

  Yet children had nothing to do with having hot sex with an arousing male. Once she got home to the family fishbowl there’d be no time, opportunity, or ability to enjoy herself. She’d wanted to indulge in wild and crazy monkey sex but never found the person, the place, or the time. If she was ever to indulge, now was the time. Not with the cranky cowboy, of course. But maybe she’d meet someone while working today, someone who could also turn her on. Sex was way down her list of needs. Food and shelter were far more important.

  She’d had five hundred dollars in that backpack, money she’d counted on to get cleaned up before arriving home. Bad enough she’d chopped off her hair and let it return to its natural color and riot of curls. Proper business attire was a necessity. The thought of putting pantyhose on made her itch. The cowboy made her want to scratch that itch, in person. He was a stranger, which was good. He’d have no idea who she was, so would never find her after.

  After what? Are you seriously contemplating sex?

  It wasn’t as if he liked her. There probably weren’t too many unmarried women around. Or if there were, he’d known them all his life or was related to them. Give it up, you’re a scrawny redhead with big boobs, a big mouth to match your vocabulary, and a brain to top it all off. All a man would want is your body.