She took the last sack and followed him up the porch steps, glancing around as she did. The cabin was indeed small, with two windows on either side of the door. When he unlocked it, he reached inside and turned on the lights. Following on his heels, she stepped inside, noting a small sofa and ottoman, a kitchenette area tucked into the left corner with a tall two-seater café table, and a queen-size bed to the right with a hi-boy dresser beside it. She assumed the door near the foot of the bed led to a bathroom. The décor inside the cabin, with its wood-paneled walls, was hunter themed—antlers on the wall beside the sofa, camo-colored curtains and coverlet. There was a coat of dust on the table.
“I’ll take the coverlet outside and shake it out,” he said, dropping the sacks on the table then heading straight to the bed to do just that.
With that statement, she knew where his priorities lay—the bed was the most important feature of the cabin.
Tamara headed to the kitchen and dug beneath the sink for a rag and cleaning supplies and wiped the dust off the wood furniture and scoured the sink and counters. When she peered into the cupboard holding dishes and glasses, she was relieved there weren’t spiderwebs in the corners. When sunlight filled the room the next day, she’d be able to see what else needed freshening. Not that she was here to do the housework. If she ended up doing all the cooking, she’d hand him a mop bucket.
She emptied the sacks, finding room in the cupboard and the small refrigerator for their supplies, then she selected a large can of stew, poured it into a pan, and set it on the burner. While the stew heated, she cut slices of cheese and arranged them with crackers on a plate, poured waters, and set the table.
When he came back inside, he blinked. “You were fast.”
“You dawdled,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “And I’m hungry.”
He headed to the bed, pulled back the sheets and turned over the pillows. “Just to make sure they’re clean,” he said. Then he placed the coverlet over the mattress and went to the sink to wash his hands. “What can I help you with?”
“There’s nothing left to do. Why don’t you have a seat?” She moved the crackers and cheese to the table. When he reached for the plate, she slapped the back of his hand. “You’ll wait.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said smiling.
A grin tugged at her mouth as she turned back to the stove. The stew was already bubbling, so she gave it a final stir and poured it into two bowls.
When she approached the table, he stood as she laid down the bowls. When she sat, he did the same. They didn’t speak while they ate. When she ate the last slice of cheese, she moaned and sat back in her chair. “Didn’t know how hungry I was.”
“My compliments to the cook,” he said, his hazel-green eyes glinting with humor.
“I can cook, you know.”
“Glad to hear that. I can manage to heat a can of something, but anything past mac ’n’ cheese is beyond my skills.”
“I used to cook for my dad.” When he raised his eyebrows, she explained, “My mom passed when I was eight. It was just us for years. I learned early how to cook and clean a house. He worked all the time.”
Quincy was silent for a second, and then asked, “Is he gone, too?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose and leaned her elbows on the table. “He wasn’t an easy man to be around. Didn’t talk much, but when he did, it always came out sounding like an order. He was in the Marines. Went to the Gulf. When he got out, he worked for a while in Idaho, before settling us Amity. For all that he was a gruff man, the house was still pretty lonely after he was gone.”
“What happened?”
“Heart attack at work. He was the supervisor at the sawmill in Amity. They said he just dropped, and that was it.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “That was eight years ago. I’m fine. I have the house. He has to be rolling in his grave after I converted his bunker.” She smiled as his mouth stretched. She liked the way he looked at her, studying her expressions. Was he really that interested in her sad tale? “What about you? Do you have family?”
“My mom and brother live in Helena. Mom was a schoolteacher. Mitchell is the principal of the school where she taught.”
“And you’re a bounty hunter.”
“I was in the Army before I became a bounty hunter.”
She nodded. “What inspired you to serve?”
“Not any great patriotism. I didn’t know what it really meant at the time. I joined because the recruiter promised me I’d travel the world, and I was ready to get the hell out of Montana.”
“And here you are.”
He snorted. “I spent most of my time training in hot as hell Army posts then fought in truly hellish conditions in Afghanistan and Iraq. I missed the trees and the mountains.” He shook his head, his smile a little sheepish.
Which she found endearing. “Well, I’ve never traveled, but I have a long bucket list.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer, over the table. “What places do you want to see?”
“Fiji, Iceland, India…” She chuckled. “But I’d be happy to go to Las Vegas. Do you know how much airfare costs to fly overseas?”
“I do.”
Did he think she was a sad thing for never having the opportunity to fulfill a dream or two? Someday, she’d have the kind of adventure she’d always dreamed about.
“Fiji, I get, but Iceland?”
She breathed a deep sigh. “I’d love to see a volcano, stay in an ice hotel, and swim in one of their hot springs. It all sounds so…I don’t know…foreign?”
“And India?”
“Well, I know it’s super crowded, but I’d love to do one of those foodie tours and eat my way through the country. Maybe take a cooking class.”
“You like Indian food?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I’ve never had it.”
He chuckled. “And what would you do if you discovered you hate curry?”
She gave him a mock frown. “Way to kill the dream.” She pulled on his wrist and looked at his watch. “Dang, I can’t believe how late it is.” She let go and reached for his bowl.
He covered her hand. “Since you cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”
“I’ll let you,” she said, her gaze dropping away. “I think I’ll get a shower…”
“Look through the dresser and see what you can find. There might be a pair of shorts and a T-shirt you can use.”
Her cheeks beginning to heat, she didn’t glance his way as she grabbed the brush, toothpaste, and toothbrush he’d bought for her at the store then she headed to the dresser. She found a pair of drawstring shorts and a Deadpool T-shirt. She’d have to wash her underwear in the sink and let the garment air dry overnight because she hadn’t seen a washing machine.
The bathroom was very small, barely any space between the toilet and the shower stall. But the water was hot, and there were bottles of shampoo and bodywash. So, she’d have to do without conditioner—or a blow dryer and curling tongs—but there was a little hair wax under the sink, so maybe she could fake beach waves in the morning. And what she wouldn’t give for a little makeup…
He’d probably think she was silly worrying over things like that. He was a guy. He probably got out of bed looking that yummy. She needed a little fairy dust and mascara to look like a goddess. Still, thank God she had a toothbrush, because she had no doubts there would be lots of kissing and other nasty things going on this night.
Quincy knew the minute she turned on the shower, because the water filling the sink slowed to a trickle. As he washed their dishes and set them to dry, he couldn’t help wishing he could join her in the shower. However, he didn’t want to presume that just because she’d been eager to have sex with him in his vehicle that she’d be happy to have him wash her back.
Hell, he didn’t want her to feel obligated to share the bed, either. Truthfully, they barely knew each other. He’d like to get to know her better, beyond these couple of
days. Maybe he should give her space. Be a gentleman. Not that he had much practice playing that role.
While he wasn’t a womanizer, his liaisons had been pretty much one-night-stands. He hadn’t met anyone he really wanted to spend time with outside of the sheets. And though they had yet to actually share a bed, she’d already proven impossible to forget.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, so he dried his hands and swiped the screen. “Hook, you run into any problems getting Walton to jail?”
“We had company for a few miles, but we didn’t get shot at like you did.”
“They probably didn’t want to hit their buddy by accident.”
“You two okay?” Hook’s tone was a little dry.
“I’m at a friend’s place on Flathead Lake.”
“Heard you ran into some trouble with the law.”
Okay. So, now he knew why Hook sounded ready to give him shit. Quincy rolled his eyes at the humor in his buddy’s voice. “Brian’s got a big mouth.”
Hook laughed. “He thought it was hysterical that she was trying to push her panties under the seat.”
“Goddamn. No one better ever mention that he saw that.”
“We got your back. Just glad you two seem to be picking up where you left off. You’ve been grumpy this past month.”
Quincy shook his head. “Well, was there a point to this call other than riding my ass?”
“Not really. Just wanted to wish you luck, buddy. She seems…nice.”
Quincy grunted. “She is, when she’s not snapping at me.”
“Not judging. Both times we met she was in the midst of a stressful situation, but I do think Lacey’s gonna love her. Was thinking we ought to introduce the two. Lace might be able to get the word out about her shop better than those pink flyers.”
“That’s not a bad idea. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Just putting a bug in your ear. Remember to help keep the place neat. Girls like that stuff—you know, don’t leave your socks and boxers on the bathroom floor.”
Quincy shook his head. He did not need relationship advice from Hook, although he did seem to be pretty happy with his girlfriend, Felicity. The sound of running water stopped. “I gotta go.”
“See you, maybe. Looks like Cochise, Dagger, and I are heading to Great Falls. Got two skips hiding out there.”
“The bounties good?”
“So good I’m not griping about a three-way split. Out here.”
“Later.”
The bathroom door opened, and Tamara stepped out, dressed in her borrowed clothing. The tee was so long he couldn’t tell if she was wearing the shorts. Her wet hair was slicked back, making her look younger than her thirty years.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked, hanging her towel to dry on one of the kitchen chairs.
“Hook. He called to say that Tommy Walton’s in jail.”
“They have any trouble?”
“They didn’t get shot at, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“They hear about the cop?” Her gaze narrowed as she looked at him.
He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “A little about it.”
She let out a groan and closed her eyes. “Might as well have tweeted it to the world. You guys think women are gossips…”
He held up his hands. “I’m right there with you. Don’t understand why they can’t keep their noses out of our business.”
She huffed a breath then gave him a sideways glance. “Guess since they already think we’re going to be going at it hot and heavy, we ought to give them plenty to talk about.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You think?” Already half-hard, he felt all his good intentions fleeing beneath the determined gleam in her eyes. “I need a shower.”
“It’s all yours. But don’t be expecting any hot water. I used it all.” And then she grinned.
He gave her a mock glare and strode straight to the bathroom. No need to find any clothes to change into. Seemed to him that clothing was definitely optional.
Chapter 6
Tamara paced until she heard the shower stop. Then she glanced down at her clothing and decided she wanted to keep it clean for the morning, or at least that seemed like a good excuse. So, she peeled off the tee and shorts and placed them on top of the dresser.
When she heard him gargling in front of the mirror, she held her hand in front of her face and breathed, sniffing to make sure her breath was still minty. Check.
When he rattled the door handle, she lost her nerve and dived for the bed, flipping the covers up just before he stepped out, but she’d been a little too energetic. The coverlet covered her head.
Quincy cleared his throat. “Promise I’m decent. You can look.”
How disappointing. She flipped the cover back from her face and glanced at him.
He was nude. His cock stood out from his groin, ruddy and thick. “Thought you said you were decent,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.
“I lied.” His smile was unrepentant as he walked to the dresser and set his watch on top, next to her clothing. Now his body was in profile, and his erection was a vulgar display of manliness, or so she told herself. So, why did she wish her fingers were wrapped around it and his fat “doorknob” choking the back of her throat?
When he glanced down at her, his gaze followed hers and looked downward. “I considered jerking off. The cold water didn’t have any effect. I want to be able to take my time.”
Feeling hot beneath the coverlet, she pushed it down to her hips, just to let her skin breath. Uh-huh. “Maybe we should leave a window open. It’s stuffy in here.”
“It’s going to be ‘stuffy’ in there all right,” he said, staring at the hand covering her mound.
She rolled her eyes. “Really?”
He grinned. “Sorry, seeing you like that makes it hard to think.”
“We have a bed,” she said, inanely; she, too, was finding it hard to string words together when her mouth was salivating and her body was catching fire.
His eyes squinted a little as he smiled. “We do have a bed. A first, for us. Not going to think it’s too boring?”
“Will you?”
Quincy faced her and stroked himself, slowly, up and down, drawing her fascinated gaze to the motion of his hand. “Guess it depends on how inventive we get.”
She blew a stream of air between her pursed lips. Already, he could see a flush moving over her chest, and he noted the quickening of her breath.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked, her voice a little raspy.
“How about you turn sideways and drape your legs over the edge of the mattress.”
“Guess I could do that…” Slowly, and not gracefully, she adjusted her position, keeping her legs together as she let her feet fall toward the floor.
He liked this view of her. Trembling a little. Her breasts pushed upward by the tension in her arms, which she kept pinned close to her sides. He especially liked looming over her, which made him feel a little lecherous, but holy fuck she was quivering mess, waiting for him to take the lead. He couldn’t fuck this up.
But first, he wanted to see how pliable she’d be. “Open your thighs.”
She bit her lower lip and slowly moved them apart.
His dick jumped as he stared at her wet folds. He jerked his chin toward her pussy. “Use your fingers and pull up the top of your pussy. I want to see your clit.”
Her mouth pouted as she began to pant, but she didn’t demur. She reached down with both hands, spread herself, then tugged upward. The thin, fleshy hood moved away, and he could see how red and hard the little nubbin was. “Show me how you please yourself, Tamara.”
“You want to watch?” she asked, her voice breathier.
“I do.”
She swallowed, but then raised one hand, bringing her index finger to her mouth. After wetting the tip, she reached down again and lightly swirled atop her clitoris.
Her eyelids dipped, and her breathing deepene
d. She turned her head to the side, perhaps to avoid meeting his gaze, but continued to circle her clit.
Quincy went to his knees and moved between her thighs, closing the distance between them, hovering over her fingers and her sex as she swirled.
Fluid was leaking from inside her, and he dipped the tip of his pinky inside her and brought it to his mouth to taste her. Fuck, she tasted like the sea.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, and he could tell her arousal was building by the way her nipples dimpled and the tips extended.
Placing his hands on her knees, he pushed her thighs wider apart then leaned over her body. Braced on his hands, he bent to suck on one velvet nipple, swiping his tongue around and around the puffy cone. When he teethed the hard tip, she bucked beneath him. His cock jerked in reaction, but he growled and forced his attention back to her.
When he kissed his way across her chest, he opened his mouth and drew as much of her full globe into his mouth as he could, gobbling her up and shaking his head as he stroked her with his tongue.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him there. He drew back and gave her a hard look. “Did I say you could stop playing with yourself?” He sat back on his heels until she resumed circling. “Is that all you need to come?”
She nodded, but her gaze fell away.
He tsked. “What else do you do? Show me.”
While she toggled her clit with one hand, she sank two fingers of the other into her vagina, stroking in and out while she made little whimpering sounds. “Please,” she whispered.
He softened his expression. “Please what?”
“I want you.”
He brought a hand to her mouth and slipped two fingers inside. She sucked his digits, swirling her tongue along their length, mimicking how she’d gone down on his cock in the bunker.
Quickly, he brought his fingers to her pussy. “Move your hand away.” Then he bent, latched his lips around her clit, and drove his fingers inside her, loving how her body convulsed and how loudly she cried out in pleasure. She was soaked, her walls clasping him. Fuck, he wanted to feel that around his dick.
Quincy: A Montana Bounty Hunters Story Page 4