by Sophie Oak
Hope woke up screaming.
Her heart raced as she clutched the quilt. The dream hung like cobwebs, muddling her mind. She was at the Circle G. She was in the guest bedroom.
And she suddenly wasn’t alone. The door slammed open and James stood there, his hair wild and wearing nothing beyond a pair of boxers. He had a baseball bat in his hand, his every muscle ready for a fight. “What’s happening? Is someone in here?”
James held up the bat as he walked around the room. He threw open the closet door.
Her hands were still shaking. She looked down to make sure she was still in her pajamas. It was stupid, but she was still foggy. Everything was in place. Before she could answer, Noah and Butch were in the doorway. Noah had on flannel pajama bottoms, and Butch was just a dog. His tongue lolled out, and his tail thumped. He looked excited about the potential of a little late-night play.
“Are you okay, Hope?” Noah asked, his eyes wide.
She was now. And she felt a little dumb. “I am so sorry. It was a bad dream. I take it I screamed?”
“Like someone was trying to kill you.” James’s chest moved up and down as he finally let the bat drop. He eyed his brother. “Were you going to have Butch lick the intruder to death?”
Noah absently ran a hand across his dog’s head. “Were you going to use someone’s head for batting practice? Let me point out that your batting average was under two hundred.”
James shot his brother the finger before turning back to her. “Would you like to tell me what the dream was about?”
God, no. Let’s see, it was about having some hot sex with both you and your brother, and then Noah’s dog turns out to be the voice of reason and oh, yeah, my criminally insane ex showed back up, and he was holding the knife that he used to kill my best friend. Yeah, no way was she telling him any of that.
Hope shook her head. “I really can’t remember.”
Butch hopped on the bed, obviously giving up on a late-night romp. He put his head down and closed his eyes. Not a guard dog.
“Can’t remember?” James asked, crossing his arms over his sculpted chest. Despite the fact that her hands were still shaking, she couldn’t help but notice that both men looked even better than they had in her dream. James’s chest was perfectly cut and tapered from broad shoulders to a lean waist. Noah’s pajama bottoms rode low on his muscled hips, revealing the glorious notches that pointed straight toward what Hope suspected was a really nice man part.
She didn’t have to suspect about James. His poked out of the hole of his boxers. She knew she shouldn’t look but couldn’t turn away. James was built on big lines, and his cock wasn’t any different. Her voice came out in a breathy whisper. “I don’t remember.”
“Dude, how can she remember a damn thing when your junk is practically pointing her way?” Noah asked.
James flushed, his tan skin turning the sweetest shade of pink. He tucked himself back in. “Sorry. I was having a dream of my own.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Noah’s mouth formed a flat line. “Do you know what I was dreaming about? I was dreaming about being warm because my own damn brother didn’t bother to give me a blanket. He told me to sleep on the couch and then he turned off the heater.”
James had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, you didn’t exactly call to let me know I needed to set up another guest bedroom.”
“If you two are going to fight, go to another room.” She was pleased that her voice sounded halfway steady. She could still see Christian standing there. She wouldn’t sleep the rest of the night. She would lie in bed and wait for dawn. It was the way it had been for a solid week. She thought about asking Noah to let Butch stay with her.
“We’re not going to fight.” James strode right to the bed and pulled back her quilt.
“What are you doing?” Hope asked as she scooted to the middle of the bed.
James climbed in, crowding her. “If I leave you alone, you won’t sleep a wink. I’m not stupid, Hope. You remember everything about that dream. It’s going to haunt you all night, and I would bet this ranch that you’ve been having the dream or something like it for weeks. You’re tired, baby. You have to get some rest. Noah, turn the light off as you go. You can take my bed.”
Noah snorted. “Not happening.”
The light went out as James pulled her close. She could feel his heat. He was better than any electric blanket. She knew it was a dumb idea, but her arms wound around his body, and she laid her head on his chest. The strong rhythm of his heart beat against her ear, a safe sound.
“I have to protect Hope. God only knows what you would do to her.” Noah climbed in on the other side. “Besides it’s way warmer in here.”
“Well, if you’re going to stay, you better stop complaining and go to sleep.” James sounded sleepy. His arms curled around her shoulders.
Noah’s arm draped over her waist. He sighed as he settled in behind her, pulling the quilt up. “I’ll stop complaining now. Now I’m happy.”
She should protest. She should force them both out, but her eyes were already closing as though her body knew to be grateful even when her brain held on to stubbornness. Her body was winning. Noah cuddled up against her backside. She was surrounded by warmth.
She slept for the first time in weeks, safe in between them.
Chapter Seven
James drove into town, a frown on his face. “Do we have to take that dog with us everywhere we go?”
“I think he’s sweet,” Hope said, grinning as she turned slightly to acknowledge Butch’s presence.
“He’s not kissing you,” James grumbled. He was going to need a shower after this little trip into town.
“He likes you,” Noah said. “He’s just a big old lover, aren’t you?”
“He needs a bath.” James sighed as the damn dog’s head came to rest on his shoulder. Butch was sitting in the back of the cab, and since they had taken off for Bliss about twenty minutes before, Butch had shown him a whole hell of a lot of doggy affection. Noah had always had a heart for big, ugly mutts. Ever since they were kids, he was a stray magnet.
The trouble was James didn’t want doggy affection. He wanted Hope. He’d woken up with a wretched hard-on, and for the barest moment in the minutes between waking and full consciousness, he’d thought about just rolling over on top of her and kissing her. He could make them both happy. He could make love to her while she was still sleepy and vulnerable, before her reason came back, and by the time he’d slid inside her, there wouldn’t be any going back. He wouldn’t have a choice if he made love to her. She wasn’t like his other women. If he made love to Hope, it would be a commitment, and while he was still half-asleep, that had seemed like a fine idea.
And then his goddamn, interfering brother had sat up and started talking about plans for the day. Plans. All of James’s plans were blown, and now the only kisses he was getting came from a mutt with doggy breath.
And to top it all off, there was traffic. Traffic. He was stuck at one of the two damn stoplights in town behind a dilapidated RV. James hung his head out the window, trying to get a sense of what was going on. There was a line of vehicles but not what he was used to seeing. People in Bliss tended to drive trucks, SUVs, and Jeeps. These were what he would term city cars. Outside of the RV, there was a Volkswagen Beetle that had seen way better days, and several sedans. The Beetle had a sign on the top of its dome proclaiming that someone named Madame Valentina provided expert palm readings.
God, it was starting. The crazies were coming to town, and given where James lived, that was saying a lot. When Mel was one of the saner people in the area, James preferred to hunker down. By the time the first snow fell, Bliss would be back to normal. Apparently snow killed the “vibes.” He’d also noticed a lot of the psychics, warlocks, or whatever they called themselves tended to prefer warmer climates.
The light changed, and James was finally able to move.
“You guys can really just drop me off. I know you’re busy.
” Hope spoke briskly as she looked out the window, carefully avoiding glancing at either James or Noah.
James turned to her. He noted Noah did the same thing. They were both simply staring at her.
She looked between the two of them. “Fine. But don’t complain later when you’re bored waiting around for me.”
What exactly did she think he was going to do? Did she think he was going to wait in the truck? “I’ll handle it.”
Noah laughed.
“What?” James asked.
“Good luck with that, brother,” Noah muttered.
“Handle what?” Hope asked, her voice tight. She was back in dowdy clothes this morning. He’d preferred the pajamas. She’d looked young and sweet with her hair around her shoulders and her eyes soft with sleep. He really wanted to take her hair out of that ponytail. He sort of wished Trev hadn’t retrieved her clothes from her car. Then he could find something pretty for her to wear. He liked the idea of buying her nice clothes, like she would be wearing them just for him. But since he hadn’t had the chance to buy her clothes, the least he could do was handle her car.
“I’ll handle Long-Haired Roger. I know a little something about cars. I also know Long-Haired Roger will try to keep the cost to a minimum by using crap-ass recycled parts.” He knew that because Roger had fixed his truck more than once in the last couple of years, and he’d worked hard to make sure James could afford his bill. Roger was a fine man, but James didn’t want Hope driving around in a car that had been fixed with parts someone had found at a junkyard. In fact, he intended to see if Roger wouldn’t just tell her to get a new one. He hated the way her car always shuddered when it started or stopped.
“Uhm, that’s exactly what I want him to do, James,” Hope said, her hands on her lap like they hadn’t clutched him all night long as she’d slept. “I don’t have a lot of money. I need my car.”
“I told you I would handle it.” She didn’t seem to be understanding. Stubborn. She was awfully stubborn.
Noah groaned.
“Do you mind?” James asked. He didn’t need the peanut gallery’s opinion.
“Nope. I’m finding this intensely entertaining.” Noah craned his neck and looked around. “The place still looks the same. Wow, I missed Stella’s.”
“You are not taking charge, James.” Hope turned to him, a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “You’re not my husband, and you’re not my dad.”
“I’m damn straight not your dad, but I’m the man responsible for you.”
“What century are you in?” Hope asked, indignation evident in her tone.
He pulled his patience around him. This was why he didn’t do relationships. He was shitty at them. Cows. He understood cows. Cows didn’t yell at him when he tried to take care of them. “Look, Hope, Logan talked to me before he left. He asked me to look out for you. I agreed. That makes me responsible for you.”
“And Logan was responsible for me how?”
“Because he cares about you, Hope.”
Noah stayed silent, but he didn’t miss his brother’s shit-eating grin. Asshole probably knew exactly what to say to get her to understand, but he remained frustratingly silent.
“Well, I care about him, too.” Hope took a deep breath and went quiet.
James drove past Stella’s and Trio. He found the road that led to the Feed Store Church and went north before turning onto the side street that housed the garage, beauty parlor, a ski shop, and the post office.
“Whoa, when did Polly decide to light up the world?” Noah asked, staring at the enormous neon flashing lips that marked the site of Polly’s Cut and Curl. He watched in obvious awe as the lips blinked on and off, opening and closing in a kissing motion. “I think you can see it from space. Does Mel know that Polly’s putting out the astral equivalent of a request for an escort?”
James couldn’t help but laugh. His brother was always quick with a joke or an observation. “It was brought up at a town hall, but Mel assures everyone that aliens are far more interested in probing than kissing.” He pulled into the parking lot and had a sudden plan. If Hope wasn’t around, she couldn’t cause trouble. “Hey, Hope, why don’t you go on over to Polly’s and get your nails done? I’ll handle Roger.”
She smacked him on the arm—and not a girly slap. “Jerk.”
Noah let her out, holding her hand to help her down. Hope didn’t look back as she strode into the office, her sensible bag on her shoulder.
“What did I do?” James asked, his arm still stinging.
Noah laughed as James got out of the truck. “Man, you don’t get how to handle her at all. How long have you known her?”
“About a year. I thought she would like getting her nails done. She works a lot of overtime. I thought it would be relaxing.” Yeah, he would hide behind that.
“No, you thought it would get her out of the way, and then you could make sure her car got fixed properly and maybe make it take a little bit longer than it normally would because that means she has to stay out at the G while she’s getting it fixed. You were thinking it might make her dependent on you, and then you’d have a better shot at her.”
His brother knew him way too well. “I thought it was a good plan.”
“It is. I agree wholeheartedly, but you’re going about it all wrong. You’re expecting her to be compliant, and that little filly is anything but compliant. We have to be sneaky.”
“You have a plan?” James hated to ask, but Noah was always good with a plan. Noah had been the brains behind their operation.
“Yep. Follow my lead. When the time comes, distract her while I explain to Roger that we’ll handle the bill, and he should take his time and do it up right.”
Tag team. Damn it, it made sense. “Fine. Our dads never had this trouble with Mom. When did you get so sneaky?”
Noah frowned, a line appearing between his brows. “I learned from the best.”
Ally. They were going to have to talk about Ally. Noah wasn’t going away. Hell, James couldn’t even get away from his brother when he was in bed. Though it had been nice when Noah made coffee. “Sorry about the divorce. Is it final?”
They started walking toward the office after Noah gave Butch the command to stay. “It’s final. We divorced six months ago, but the marriage has been over for years. You were right about her. I was a fool.”
He didn’t like the defeat in his brother’s voice. Despite his anger at Noah, he was still his kid brother. Hope was right. Noah was his family. “So you decided to come back to Bliss because Stef gave you a job? I assume it was Stef who said you could have a job. Or did you just show up and hope for the best?”
Noah’s jaw straightened. “Stef hired me. And I can find a place to stay. Even if I have to live in Creede.”
James pushed through the doors of the shop. “It’s your home, too.”
“Are you sure?” The question came out of Noah’s mouth in a flat monotone that told James his brother wasn’t at all sure what his answer would be.
His mother would have his ass if he told his baby brother he couldn’t stay in his childhood home. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Just stay away from Hope.”
“Not going to happen, Jamie. You need me. She needs me. Bitch all you like, but you need me.”
They turned the corner. James was just about to explain that he needed Noah like he needed a damn hole in his head when he stopped at the sight in front of him. Oh, he needed something all right.
He needed his baseball bat. That was what he needed. He was really shocked by the flare of righteous indignation that shot through his system. Hope stood in the middle of the garage floor, but she wasn’t anywhere close to being alone. She was surrounded by two large men, both flirting outrageously with her.
Yeah, he would need his brother because he was about to start a fight.
“Who the fuck are they?” Noah asked, his voice low. “Wasn’t Roger’s mechanic a big old hefty dude with a mullet?”
The new mechanics w
eren’t close to hefty. They were both well over six feet and probably didn’t have an ounce of fat between them. One had longish brown hair and a scruffy beard, while the other’s black hair was shorter and his face clean. But Clean Shaven Dude had a problem with shirts. He’d taken his off. Hope smiled up at the guy, a softness on her face James hadn’t seen in a long time.
“We’re going to have to find another shop,” Noah said.
“So you think it’s fixable?” Hope asked, her eyes spending too much time on Scruffy Guy’s shoulders.
“Absolutely, love. Me and Cade here can fix just about anything with wheels.”
“He’s being humble.” Cade winked down at her. “We can fix anything. We’ve got a gentle touch.”
They were about to have two busted lips. “Hope, you want to introduce us to your friends?”
There was no way to mistake the mischief in Hope’s eyes. “Friends? Really, James. These are the mechanics working on my car. Jesse McCann and Cade Sinclair. We were just discussing how long it might take to get it back.”
“Hey,” a new voice said. Long-Haired Roger walked in, his coveralls covered in oil. “No one told me we had company. Cade? What is wrong with you? Where the hell is your shirt, son?”
Cade grinned, but picked back up his T-shirt and shrugged into it. “Anything you say, boss. We were just telling Miss Hope here that her electrical system is shot.”
“Not that it was all that great in the first place,” Jesse admitted. “This car is ten years old. I can tell you that if the electric hadn’t blown, the engine was going to go soon. That tuna can has a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it.” He turned judgmental blue eyes on both he and Noah. “Which one of you is her man? Why would you let her drive around in a death trap like that?”
“Neither one is my man,” Hope replied, and James was damn happy to see her frown at the scruffy mechanic. “And I couldn’t afford anything else.”
“Now, Hope,” Roger said with a conciliatory pat to her back. “We’re going to work something out. I promise. Don’t you listen to those boys. They like to make everything sound worse than it is. We’ll fix your car, or I’ll help you find another one.”