Bobbi Jo in Ecstasy [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour]

by Robin Gideon

  “Of course not. Need any help?”

  “No, this is one I’ve got to handle alone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Caleb walked off, leaving Jacob alone with Bobbi Jo. He felt the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to take her into his arms, to feel her plump breasts flattening against his lower chest, and feel her lips molding against his in a long, slow, soulful kiss.

  Easy boy, he thought. She’s sure as hell not in the mood to deal with a horny man here and now.

  “Don’t leave just yet,” Bobbi Jo said, her voice quite soft. “Let me get you another cocktail and we can talk a bit. Don’t worry about those jerks. One of the other servers can handle them for me. We switch tables all the time whenever guys get handy.”

  Jacob went back to the booth he’d been at. He didn’t stay for just one more cocktail, he also ordered a steak and a potato with extra butter. Bobbi Jo stopped by to chat whenever she could, but as the evening wore on, the saloon became more and more crowded with customers. Jacob didn’t really mind. It was entertaining enough to watch Bobbi Jo hurrying between the tables, serving customers, always smiling, always chatting with the regulars.

  She’ll make enough money to travel in no time, he thought. With that body, that smile, and that spirit, she’ll have a million in ones, fives, tens, and twenties cash before her next birthday.

  He telephone rang, and he answered it. It was another wildcatter, a man named Jack Westcott. He was a competitor, but an honest one. Their competition was friendly, intense, and mutually profitable.

  “What’s up, Jack?”

  “How’s your work crew looking? What are the numbers?”

  “Like every employer out here, my brother and I are always on the lookout for good men to work the rigs.” Jacob could hear something in his friend’s voice, though he couldn’t tell what it was. “You want to level with me on what’s going on?”

  “I got Number Three-Eighty-One coming on line in a couple days, so I can’t lose anyone I’ve got, but I heard a story about some of my men from one of my rigs. It happened this afternoon.”

  “And you want to get rid of them if the story, whatever it is, is true. That it?”

  “That’s exactly it, but they’re experienced hands, and you know as well as I do that it takes time to get a rig worker up to speed. This isn’t the time for me to be shorthanded.”

  Jacob chuckled. A manpower shortage was perhaps the most common complaint among employers throughout western North Dakota and eastern Montana.

  “So what did they allegedly do?”

  “It’s his day off and he was getting juiced up pretty early. Couple of my guys said he put his hand up a waitress’ dress. Said he really grabbed her Holy of Holies, and laughed his ass off with his brothers about it. If it’s true, I don’t want the sick bastards on my payroll.”

  “You’re talking about the Culver clan. Andy and his brothers, aren’t you?”

  “You heard about it? Then it’s true? I’m not waiting until they show up for work in two days, I’m firing their sorry asses right damned now!”

  “Hey, Jack, I’ll see what I can do about getting you some good men—men you can have on loan on a temporary basis. We’ll mix some newcomers in with experienced oil rig men, and everything will work out.”

  “Thanks, Jacob. You’re a hell of a competitor but a good friend anyway.”

  He closed the connection. Just seconds later he heard Andy shout, “What? Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t fucking do that!” He jumped to his feet, and Jacob saw he had a cell phone to his ear. There was some hurried conversation among the brothers, and then Jacob heard Andy say, “We all just got fucking fired!”

  I didn’t intend for that to happen, Jacob thought as his grin widened. But I sure as hell don’t mind that it did.

  He finished the last of his Jack Daniels, and then slid out of the booth. He tried to catch Bobbi Jo’s attention one last time, but she was attending to a table of eight, and the hungry rig workers were ordering a mountain of food.

  Jacob stepped outside, feeling a certain sense of victory. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to have happen to Andy, but now he wouldn’t feel morally obligated to put a deep dent in Andy’s face where his nose currently was.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. His reflexes were fast, but his thoughts had been elsewhere. He heard the thunk! as the heavy glass bottle struck him in the back of the head. As he fell, he tried to put his hands down to break his fall, but didn’t quite manage it before his world went black.

  Chapter 3

  The sound of tires spinning rapidly and kicking up gravel from the parking lot reached Bobbi Jo’s ears. She took a step to her left to look out the front doors that Jacob had just walked through. A rusted, black SUV was racing hard and fast for the front exit onto the freeway.

  “Someone’s in a heck of a hurry,” Bobbi Jo said under her breath.

  She hated it whenever people drove recklessly in the parking lot, and always suspected she had allowed patrons to drink more than she should have. She tried to be particularly cautious about such things, but Wings & Things often got very busy, so it was difficult to keep track of just who had drank how much.

  She started to turn away from the glass doors when she got a tickle in her stomach. It was just gut instinct, a feeling and nothing more specific than that, but over the years she had followed her instincts often enough to know that sometimes she knew things, she just didn’t know how she knew them.

  Stepping outside, she looked around the parking lot. Nothing unusual. A dozen pickup trucks, half a dozen SUVs, and a few muscle cars. With the income of oil rig workers between $80,000 and $120,000 a year, most of the vehicles were new, and tricked out.

  Turning back to the restaurant, Bobbi Jo stopped halfway around. She looked over her shoulder. Something had caught her attention and she looked at various vehicles, trying to figure out what it was.

  Then she saw them on the ground. Brightly polished black cowboy boots along with the pant legs of a suit. The rest was hidden by a truck.

  “Oh, God!” she gasped, hurrying to where the body lay between two big trucks, knowing even before she turned the man over who it would be.

  She rolled Jacob onto his back and felt his throat for a pulse. She thanked an assortment of deities when she immediately felt his heartbeat. He groaned loudly, grimacing in pain, and a wave of relief washed over her.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked. “Where are you hurt?”

  Jacob blinked several times. It took a while for him to get his eyes to stay open. Finally, they focused on her face, and Bobbi Jo was so grateful he wasn’t dead in her arms she almost broke down in tears.

  “My head. Got hit from behind.”

  Gingerly, Bobbi Jo sat on the parking lot with her legs out in front of her. She cradled Jacob’s upper body in her lap while trying to ignore the gravel digging into the bare flesh of her thighs and buns.

  “Don’t move,” she said. “You might be hurt worse than you know.”

  As lightly as she could, she used her fingertips to test the back of his head. It didn’t take long for her to find a lump the size of a goose egg. Checking her fingertips, she was relieved to not find any blood. Looking around, she saw an empty bottle of an off-brand whiskey.

  “Somebody took an empty liquor bottle to the back of your head, but at least the glass didn’t break. You’re not cut at all. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “My ribs hurt like hell. Whoever did this used their feet on my ribs after hitting me with the bottle.”

  “We’d better get you to the clinic. You may not be bleeding, but you could have a concussion, and those ribs could be cracked.” She smiled at him. “My ass is on gravel right now, and I’d really love to get on my feet.”

  Despite his pain, Jacob grinned and groaned, and Bobbi Jo knew he was banged up, but he’d be okay in the end. It wasn’t easy getting out from beneath him without having more gravel digging into the flesh of her legs, and the tw
o of them had to use nearby vehicles to get to their feet.

  “Do you have a car here?” she asked, taking Jacob’s hand to put his arm around her shoulder. “Let me help you walk. I’ll drive to the clinic.”

  “Hey…thanks,” Jacob said quietly. “I owe you big time for this.”

  Jacob’s vehicle was a shiny, red Lexus SUV. Even though Bobbi Jo wasn’t good at guessing such things, all it took was a glance to know that it was top of the line. Jacob lived in a world where money was never an issue. He didn’t buy anything that was second best.

  He got the key fob out of his suit coat and electronically unlocked the doors. Bobbi Jo had to help him step up into the front seat. She could tell that he was in more pain than he let on.

  “Thank you,” Jacob said. Bobbi Jo put the seat belt on for him. “I’ll pay you back for this. I’ll pay you in spades.”

  “We’ll be to the clinic in just a couple minutes. I’ll take care of everything.” She hurried around the vehicle, and got in behind the steering wheel. “You don’t have to pay me anything…especially not in spades.”

  It took a while for Bobbi Jo to figure out how to adjust the driver’s seat so she could actually reach the pedals. When she looked at Jacob, his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open as he battled the pain going through him.

  * * * *

  The doctor at the new South Williston Clinic was a couple years from retirement, and very competent. The clinic itself was the closest thing to an actual hospital for over a hundred miles. Bobbi Jo was grateful on this night there wasn’t a single other person at the clinic other than a woman whose child was complaining of an ear ache. That didn’t exactly constitute an emergency.

  As they waited for their turn, Bobbi Jo took Jacob’s cell phone and put a call in to his brother. He didn’t answer, so she left a voicemail explaining briefly what had happened. It was hard to not sound at least a little hysterical.

  Jacob was diagnosed with a mild concussion, and three cracked ribs. The doctor agreed with Jacob’s initial assessment of being clubbed, and then kicked while he was on the gravel and unconscious.

  “You’re lucky they stomped your ribs and not your head,” the doctor had said.

  “Thick skull,” Jacob replied in an attempt at humor. “That’s why it’s only a mild concussion.”

  The doctor wasn’t amused. “More likely the guy who attacked you was half drunk, and you started to react before you got hit.” He turned to Bobbi Jo, and she could tell he assumed she was Jacob’s girlfriend. She felt a sudden thrill go through her at the misunderstanding. But when his gaze went up and down over her, taking in her attire, she could see he didn’t approve. “I want you to keep a close eye on him for the next couple days. I’ll give you something to give to him for the pain, but I want you to space them out. Only give him one at a time, and only when he really needs it.” He patted her hands. “He’s got a scratch on his wrist where they stole his watch that I’ve bandaged and disinfected, and judging from the rip in his back pocket, they stole his wallet as well. Ribs heel quickly, and like he said, he’s got a hard head. Keep his head and shoulders elevated for a couple nights when he sleeps. He’ll be sore for a while, and I’ll want to see him again in a week.”

  “Yes, doctor,” Bobbi Jo replied. She kept her gaze on the physician, not on the patient. She wasn’t at all certain how Jacob would take it having anyone assume that they were a couple. “I’ll have him back here in a week.”

  When they were outside, Jacob allowed Bobbi Jo to once again help him walk and get up into his Lexus. He had put on a brave face for the doctor, but aside from the doctor, it was clear to Bobbi Jo that he was in great pain.

  He gave her directions to his apartment. As she could have guessed, he lived in the most exclusive section of the new, fashionable South Williston, not in the old, middle- to lower-class Williston, which was north side of Lake Sakakawea. One had been built before the oil boom and during it. It wasn’t hard to tell which came first and which came after the oil money started rolling in by the barrel.

  The apartment building was six stories and whispered of wealth. Everything was understated and terribly chic. The entryway, where the uniformed concierge greeted Jacob with a look of grave concern, had a chandelier overhead that almost took Bobbi Jo’s breath away. Off to the left of the elevators was a life-size marble statue. Bobbi Jo wanted to ask if it was a statue of someone famous, but she didn’t want embarrass herself in front of Jacob. Their worlds were close together, but they couldn’t be more dissimilar.

  Jacob had a three story apartment on the top floor. Bobbi Jo was a little surprised that it wasn’t more lavish than it was. Everything was very nice. All very clean and orderly. But nothing was at all garish or said that a bachelor lived here.

  “You keep a clean apartment,” Bobbi Jo said, trying to lighten the mood. The more Jacob moved, the more pain he was in. As he pointed out where his bedroom was, Bobbi Jo promised herself she would get one of the potent painkillers in him ASAP.

  “No I don’t,” he said as they stepped into his bedroom. The king-sized bed was made up to perfection, not a wrinkle to be found on the bedspread. “I hire a woman who keeps my apartment very clean.”

  Bobbi Jo remembered what she’d said about what income a housecleaner makes, and she wondered if he was as extravagant with the cleaner’s wages as he was with the tips he gave to waitresses when they served him at Wings & Things. She hoped so.

  “I can take it,” Jacob said, and then stopped because he clenched his teeth as a spasm of pain went through him. His arm was still over Bobbi Jo’s shoulders. He was a big man, and she was carrying a lot of his weight. After several seconds, he concluded, “From here.”

  “We are not getting into an argument over this,” Bobbi Jo said sternly as she eased Jacob’s arm from around her.

  She turned him slowly, had him stand unassisted, and then pulled back the blankets. She wasn’t at all surprised to find his sheets were pure silk. She helped him sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled off his boots, wondering if they were handmade and if they were more or less than $300, then eased off his suit coat.

  “You are not going to undress me and put me to bed like a sleepy five year old.”

  “I work in a saloon, which means every rumor that goes around eventually goes into my ear. Please don’t try to tell me that I’m the first girl to undress you, because I’ve heard more than a few women tell it the other way.” She knelt at his feet and pulled off his socks, both at the same time. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I am putting you to bed like a little boy that’s had a very bad day.”

  She loosened his necktie and removed it, and then tugged the tails of his shirt out of his trousers and began unbuttoning it. Bobbi Jo tried to act calmly, and made a point of never making direct eye contact with Jacob as she removed his clothes. She told herself that she was only nursing a man who’d been brutally attacked.

  There’s nothing sexual about this at all. I’m providing medical attention, not sexual satisfaction.

  Bobbi Jo clung onto that thought like a drowning woman clings onto a lifeboat.

  His shirt came off. Bobbi Jo walked to where she’d put his suit coat over the back of a chair. She folded the shirt and placed it down, then turned back to the man she was undressing. Now she couldn’t deny, even to herself, that her heart was doing anything other than racing at red line.

  “You look terrible,” she said.

  “You have a great bedside manner. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  She took off his T-shirt, and he groaned when he had to raise his arms. His ribs were bandaged from underarms to his navel, and there was another bandage around his head.

  There were four pillows on the big bed. Bobbi Jo piled them together, and put them on end.

  “Lay back, let me finish, then I’ll get you a pain pill.”

  “I can do it.”

  Bobbi Jo shook her head. She took him by the legs and helped him turn on the mattress so he could lean
back. He made a sound of pain as he reclined, and she could tell that his ribs were now hurting him much worse than his head wound.

  She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Not when she was about to take his trousers off. She reached for his belt buckle and saw his hands move from his hips, pause, and then drop back onto the bed, as though he was about to stop her, and then decided against it. Her fingers were trembling, but just a little, when she unbuckled his belt and then opened his pants and eased his zipper down.

  “Lift your hips for me,” she said, and now she could almost hear the blood racing through her veins. “This will only take a second.”

  Jacob did as requested, and Bobbi Jo slipped the tailored trousers over his hips and down his legs as quickly as she could without adding to his discomfort. She folded his trousers neatly, and put them with the rest of his clothes.

  When she turned around, Jacob was leaning back against a mound of pillows, handsome as hell despite the bandages and all the hell he’d been through recently, wearing only a pair of boxers that were white with navy blue stripes on them.

  You’re gorgeous even when you’re all beaten up like that.

  “I’ll go get you the pain killer now.”

  “No.” He said it rather emphatically, and it surprised Bobbi Jo. He was quite clearly in a great deal of pain.

  “You want to explain? Are you just being stubborn?”

  “It’s not stubbornness, and it’s nothing nefarious like having been addicted to them in the past, or something.” He put a hand over the bandage around his ribs, and groaned softly. “I’ve taken pain killers exactly twice in my life. In both instances—and I was in a hospital both times—about twenty minutes after I took the pill, I started to vomit. I then spent the next several hours either upchucking everything I’d ever eaten in the last week, or I was absolutely wracked with spasms from the dry heaves.”

  Bobbi Jo put a hand to her mouth and said through her fingers, “That must have been awful.”