by Reece Butler
She stood straight, inhaled, and looked up. The sight made her groan. She scrubbed the dirt off her face and hands with paper towels and the bar of soap. When she splashed cool water on her face some of it landed in her hair. She scrubbed at it with her fingers, making it stand up. She sniffed at an armpit, screwing up her face at the odor. She pulled off her T-shirt and bra and cleaned her skin as best she could. Even though she used warm water, her nipples puckered.
“I don’t like him, and it’s mutual,” she declared to the waif in the mirror.
Her nipples hardened further, proving the lie. The cowboy would be good for a few fantasies once she was back home, but that was it. Yes, he was sexually attractive and had the look of a man who knew what to do with his equipment. But she didn’t even know if he was single, not that it mattered for fantasies.
“He must be single. He’s got a stick so far up his ass no woman would put up with him.”
The smell of bacon percolated into the room. Her stomach rumbled. She gripped the counter, holding on as a wave of dizziness hit. She was a long way from home, broke, possessing nothing but the clothes she stood in. She wrestled with panic, subduing it once more. She could do this. Only a week or two, and she’d be back to normal. Or as normal as was possible with her dysfunctional family. She had no choice but to put her dirty bra back on, topping it with the smelly T-shirt. She looked marginally better. At least her face and hands were clean. She stared at the face in the mirror.
“I have my brain, my body, and the determination to succeed no matter what.”
She repeated it until she could say it with confidence. This assignment had taught her many things, the most important being she did not need her family to survive.
And thank God for that.
* * * *
Sam’s cock had subsided somewhat and Tom had returned from the kitchen before the tiger kitten emerged. She was slender, except for curves that could knock him out if she got anywhere near. That was not going to happen. Her comb must’ve been in her backpack as her hair stood up in spikes. All those curls of red and orange looked like a fiery torch. It lit his fuse, making his cock rise again, but he had responsibilities. This was no time to chase a snarling female.
Tom gave her a wide smile of greeting. She returned it, proving she was wealthy enough to have had good dental care. Or maybe she had excellent DNA. Her hair, face, and nails hadn’t seen a salon in months. Surely no rich bitch would tolerate such a thing.
“I’m Tom, and my wife, Dorothy, is in the kitchen. If you’ll help during the morning rush, that’ll cover your breakfast,” said Tom. “You’ll keep any tips, of course.”
Her smile lit up the room even more than her hair.
“Deal!” She held her right hand over the counter. “Call me Katie.”
Sam noted how she phrased her statement. Tom would put even more into it. He watched as Tom shook her hand then turned it to check for calluses, nodding his approval. He tilted his head at Sam while watching Katie.
“The guy you slugged is Sam. He and his brother are ranchers, like a lot of folks around here.”
She turned her cool gaze on him. The kid was gone. This confident woman could walk into a meeting room and easily take over as chair. Whatever had happened, she’d put it behind her. He admired that.
“Sam,” she said, as if it was an insult. She turned back to Tom with another smile.
Tom pointed at the blackboard on the far wall. “That’s the special of the day. Shepherd’s pie.”
“Because yesterday was roast beef?”
Tom’s chuckle at Katie’s observation bugged Sam for some reason. Or maybe it was the way she grinned at the older man and snarled at him. She took a menu and walked around, nodding absently to herself. She slipped between the tables easily. Friday and Saturday nights things got a little more jammed as they were pushed close to make a dance floor. Some nights a local band played. She’d be gone by then, thank God.
He watched her straighten chairs, set salt and pepper shakers together with the toothpick holders, hot sauce, and ketchup bottles, and check place settings. Every time she bent over with her butt cheek facing him he got another flash of white. If this kept up he’d have the worst case of blue balls since he was fourteen. Not that he could look away.
“I might keep her for a few days,” said Tom quietly. “Sebastian did a good job on the food while we were gone but his cleaning wasn’t up to Dorothy’s standards. We could do it ourselves but since Katie’s here and needs a job, we’ll hire her.”
“Where’ll she sleep?”
Tom’s eyes lit up. Sam should have known not to ask. Any interest was suspect.
“TJ’s room is empty. Sebastian can keep her company. He heads back to school on Sunday.”
The thought of the feisty redhead sleeping down the hall from Tom’s son didn’t sit well with Sam. If she really was twenty-four she’d be a year older than Sebastian. Sam took a sip of his coffee and glanced at her again. She bent to pick up a fallen spoon. He choked. Tom chuckled.
“Not one word,” Sam said in a quiet snarl to the very amused older man.
The batwing doors from the kitchen opened and Tom’s older, taller wife came through with two loaded plates.
“Morning, Sam. You being here must mean it’s Friday.” Dorothy put the loaded plate in front of him and the smaller one to his right.
“Dorothy, this is Katie,” said Tom.
Dorothy raised an eyebrow and checked Katie out. “You need some food on those bones,” she announced. She peered closer. “You look like you haven’t had enough sleep in too long.”
“We all do what we have to, ma’am.” Katie softly replied.
“That’s the truth. Eat up.” Dorothy switched her attention to Sam, shooting a glare at him. “And don’t you say or do anything to ruin her appetite.”
“Me? What would I do?”
Dorothy fixed her stare until he looked away. He didn’t like giving in but knew to choose his battles. One problem with small towns was that everyone knew, and remembered, all the stupid things you did when you were a kid. He’d stopped being a kid at twelve but Dorothy never forgot.
“Be nice, or no pie for a month,” she warned.
“A month!” He shut his mouth at her warning look.
How could a woman who’d known him since before his birth threaten him just because a vagrant had a hissy fit? He jammed a forkful of eggs into his mouth to stop himself from talking back. When there was only one restaurant in town you didn’t piss off the owners, especially the cook. Plus, Dorothy had a nasty pinch when she caught your ear. She didn’t let someone’s age or size stop her from bringing them to heel.
Katie daintily dipped a corner of her toast into her egg. “I really appreciate the opportunity, ma’am.”
“We’ve been away for a week and my son was in charge,” said Dorothy. She looked around with a frown. “Place needs a thorough cleaning.”
Sam hadn’t seen any difference from any other time he’d been in. Of course, being a restaurant it was a lot cleaner than his place. He figured women had different standards, making them even more difficult to understand.
“I’ve done a lot of cleaning in previous jobs, beyond what was asked. I didn’t want to eat at some of the places I’ve worked.”
“Where did you sleep?” demanded Sam, unable to stop himself. “They can’t have been paying you very much, so how did you afford a room?”
“Usually I rented couch space from one of the other girls. Sometimes,” she said calmly, looking at her single egg, “I slept in a booth in the restaurant. That’s one advantage of being short.”
He could understand crashing on a buddy’s couch when he was too tired to safely drive home, but not spending night after night without your own bed. No wonder she looked like a stiff wind would blow her over. She quickly finished off her one egg, two rashers of bacon, and toast. He wasn’t far behind her with his three eggs, six pieces of bacon and four pieces of toast. She stood, gath
ering up their plates.
“Would you please show me the kitchen so I can get started?”
“You have anything else to wear?” asked Dorothy, frowning at her clothes.
Katie’s face got almost as pink as her faded T-shirt. “No ma’am. I’m as clean as possible underneath.”
He wouldn’t mind seeing what was underneath. No, that was incorrect. He would very much like to see what was underneath that stretched T-shirt and snug jeans. Katie caught his eye and knew exactly what he was thinking. He brazened it out, giving her a slow head-to-toe as her blush rose. If her face showed color that easily, how many spanks would it take to turn her ass red?
Oh, Lord! He had to escape before he said something stupid.
“Katie’s backpack was stolen,” Tom explained to Dorothy.
“An apron will cover me, Miss Dorothy, if that’s all right.”
Dorothy pursed her lips. “That will do for this morning, but it’s not good enough.” She nodded abruptly. “You’re about the same size as Marci. I’ll call her.”
“I don’t want to be a bother—”
“You need clean clothes to work here, or to find another job when you leave. Marci loves to sew, and to pass things on. One of my aprons will do for now. We’ll see how you do this morning, then talk.”
Dorothy was six inches taller and at least sixty pounds heavier than Katie, so the apron would cover more than her front. Sam didn’t much care if Katie’s clothes were dirty, but he wanted something covering that straining T-shirt and white slice of moon. All but four of his male cousins were single and none had girlfriends. If they, or the townies, knew Katie was working here there wouldn’t be an empty seat at lunch. If she went to karaoke Saturday night they’d…no, she’d better be gone by then.
Sam shifted on the stool, pushing his knees against the wall under the counter. He’d have to carry his hat over his buckle again if he wanted to leave. He liked the proof he was still male, but the hard-on was a damn nuisance. He glanced at the clock then cursed. Thinking about Katie had thrown off his schedule. He left a five dollar tip under his plate. Dorothy would make sure Katie got it. It was the least he could do to help her along. He nodded at Tom and walked out. He stood for a moment, still holding his hat as if letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight. When he’d subsided enough that it wasn’t painful to walk, he started toward his truck.
He could tell himself he did not want anything to do with the woman, but his cock didn’t believe him. She wasn’t his type, being too small and argumentative. Her temper went with the red hair, which meant trouble. Everyone knew Sam Elliott was the last person in Climax, Montana to have anything to do with trouble. A pint-sized female wasn’t going to change that, no matter how appetizing. His body surged to life again, demanding action. He slid his butt in his truck and slammed the door, glad no one was around to notice.
She’d be gone by the time he came to town next week, but his reaction to her was a wake-up call. Trey was right. It was time they found a wife. Once the haying was over he’d try out that matchmaking service just for farmers and ranchers. It was pretty darn impossible to find a wife when you spent all your time working. Of course, the situation in Tanner’s Ford Valley complicated matters. He and Trey expected to share their wife, just as Lila did Jet and Houston, and Riley and Travis did Jane. He also expected his wife to obey him, no questions asked. It worked fine for all his aunts and uncles. He didn’t think Katie knew what the word “obey” meant. She was also too small for them. And cantankerous. And just thinking of her made his cock stand up and salute.
Sam jammed his key in the ignition and started the truck. He put it in gear, put his foot on the accelerator, and then jammed on the brakes. His heart pounded against his ribs. His fingers were white where they clutched the steering wheel. The damn woman had him so twisted into knots that he almost drove into the street without looking all around him!
He carefully checked his mirrors and craned his head. The street was empty, but you never knew. Incidents happened when you didn’t pay attention, and then people died. He never, ever, put the truck in gear without making sure it was safe. That he’d just done it proved how much Katie messed with his mind.
Admit it. You want her. Badly.
She had temper, but his uncles insisted any woman worth bothering with had one. The challenge was getting her to apply that passion to something more enjoyable, as in sex. Sam wanted to blindfold her, spank her, tie her to the bed, and make her scream his name as she hit her third orgasm. His groan filled the cab. How long was it going to take to get his equilibrium back after the damn woman left town? He snorted a sarcastic laugh.
“Yeah, after she leaves Climax, without me giving her at least one.”
If he got the opportunity, he wouldn’t stop at one. He’d have her screaming a couple of times even before he unzipped. Nope, not gonna happen. Instead he’d have to grimace and bear the pain. He had work to do. Another week and the haying would start. He gave a silent prayer that the weather would hold. When you worked on the land, Mother Nature was always in charge. The feed store was next, then groceries.
“Okay, I need saltlicks and horse feed.”
He checked the street one more time before pulling out slowly and carefully. He cursed his tight jeans which made sitting, and therefore driving, unsafe. Once they had a wife she would do these nuisance town chores, leaving them to do men’s work. All this driving around was a waste of his time. He had things to do at the ranch, things a woman couldn’t do. Women other than Lila, he amended.
Yep, he’d go online and find a strong, capable ranch wife. He needed a quiet, responsible woman who would work hard, understood the ranch always came first, and would obey his orders. He didn’t think Katie would follow a man’s orders unless it was in her best interest. That was another reason she wasn’t suitable for anything but fantasies. And for that she was more than adequate.
He parked at the feed store, backing in by the loading dock, and grabbed his list from the seat beside him. He sat there pretending to study it while thinking of jumping in the snow, naked.
It didn’t help his raging heat or impossible need for an unsuitable woman.
Chapter Three
Katie’s pussy tingled as she followed Dorothy into the kitchen. She could still feel Sam’s eyes on her butt. If she didn’t need this job so badly she’d have stomped over and done a better job on the insufferable man’s nose!
“You won’t have another chance at Sam until next Friday morning,” said Dorothy. “He keeps to a strict schedule. Except for emergencies and meetings, he doesn’t come to town but once a week.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Not that it matters,” she added. “I hope to be home by then.”
Dorothy leaned an ample hip against the counter. “It’s good to have a schedule, but it shouldn’t rule your life. Sam needs something to shake him up. Or someone,” she added. Her face softened into a smile. “You shook him up this morning. I haven’t seen him get that riled in years.”
“That insufferably pompous man needs shaking up.”
“Tom said you punched his nose and knocked him on his butt. Good for you.”
“If I’d been standing I would have flipped him. That would’ve taken him down a few pegs.”
“I’d hire you for the week for a chance to see that.”
If she could catch the handsome cowboy thief from the bus she’d do more than flip him. As for the man who’d attacked her after offering her a ride, he deserved to stare into the piggish eyes of a pair of grinning Bubba cousins as the prison guard slammed the cell door shut for the night.
Tears threatened at the reminder of her circumstances. They were a product of her exhaustion, nothing else. As the smallest and youngest cousin, and therefore easy pickings, she’d learned tears did nothing except turn her face blotchy. Her martial arts training taught her physical pain was transitory. Her family had battered home the knowledge that words could hurt far worse than blows.
> All that was behind her now. She wasn’t a child at the mercy of adults. She’d been sent on this assignment to find a new product for the family business. Once her plan was approved her family should treat her with the same respect due every employee. Unfortunately, there was a long road between “should” and “would.” She’d studied enough psychology to know that first impressions seldom changed. She had a sneaking suspicion her family would always treat her as if she had little value.
“Aprons are in there,” said Dorothy, pointing to a supply cupboard.
A few minutes later a group of old men arrived for breakfast. She grabbed an order pad, put on a welcoming smile, and went to work. A long time later she set a last bucket of dirty dishes beside the dishwasher. A hand touched her shoulder. She whipped around, automatically falling into position. Tom held his hands out to the sides in a low-threat manner. She blushed, stammering an apology.
“I understand,” he said calmly. “It takes a while to feel safe. You’ve been going full speed and it’s time for you to sit.” Tom put a gentle hand on her back and guided her out of the kitchen.
“Freshen up, look out the window, and relax.”
When she slumped into the seat she realized how exhausted she was. Tom returned with a plate of pie and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.
“Dorothy put aside a piece of blueberry pie for you.” He winked. “I think you deserve a sugar rush. Think of it as fruit and dairy, to keep you going until lunch.” She looked at the pie and her mouth watered. It looked homemade, from real blueberries, not the glop that came in giant cans. “You’ve proven you can work,” he continued as she picked up a spoon. “That’s pretty important around here. If you want a job in Climax, we’ll make sure you find one.”
He turned away, allowing her to hide her sudden tears. She ducked her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She gritted her teeth and dug into flaky pastry filled with blueberries and a zest of lemon and cinnamon. She tried to discount Tom’s promise. She’d heard them before. This time, however, she wanted to believe him. These were kind people, and thoughtful. The old men had left good tips, telling her she’d brightened their morning. She was just thinking of licking the plate when Dorothy hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.