by Sophie Oak
“Asshole!” Noah screamed, his hand clutching the window, his body sliding as the truck moved.
“You’re trying to hurt him,” Hope accused.
“Nah, he’s had worse. He was the worst truck surfer in the county. Max really did damn near kill him that time he stopped because there was a bunny in the road. Saved the bunny, nearly decapitated Noah.”
“I was younger then and way stupider,” Noah yelled. He seemed to have found his balance. He’d managed to sit back up.
“Well, you were younger.” James stopped at the stop sign, gleefully applying the brakes.
“Can we talk about this?” Hope asked. “I don’t want to come between the two of you.”
She did. She really, really did, but not like this.
“We’ll talk, baby. We’ll talk when we get to the ranch,” James replied.
“Don’t trust him, Hope,” Noah interjected. “That’s his ‘I got a plan’ voice. His previous plans included bow hunting a bear, setting off fireworks as a way of getting the herd to move, and don’t forget tractor wars. Who ended up in the hospital every damn time you had a plan, Jamie?”
“I can’t help it that I was faster than you.”
“Well, you weren’t this time, were you, brother?”
James gunned it, his foot hitting the floor.
Hope crossed her arms across her chest and thought about calling Doc Burke. He carried a tranquilizer gun with his med kit. She’d like to shoot them both. James slammed on the brakes as the light turned yellow, and a small bit of white fabric flew past the windshield.
“Oh, my god. Were those my panties?” Hope asked, horror dawning.
The Farley brothers were standing in front of the Trading Post, their arms filled with bags of stuff they were probably planning to use in an attempt to bring about the apocalypse. But they were way more fascinated by the pair of feminine delicates that landed in one of the bags.
Noah talked really fast, his hand reaching toward her. “Hope, I am so sorry. They came loose, and when I grabbed them, my asshole sibling-killing brother stopped at a yellow goddamn light. It’s Jamie’s fault.”
“You kept her panties?” James nearly yelled.
One of the Farley brothers, Bobby, she suspected, held up the underwear like it was a foreign object meant for study.
“She’s not allowed to wear panties. I took them into custody,” Noah explained as though stealing underwear was an everyday affair.
James took off before the light turned green, his tires squealing. Noah’s hand was back to gripping the windowsill.
Hope had had enough. “James Glen, you will slow this truck down, and you will obey all traffic laws or I swear to god I will get out of this truck the next time I can and nothing you do will force me back in.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her,” Noah said, his face pressed against the glass.
“You stop, too. When we get home, we’re going to have a civilized discussion.”
“When we get home, it’s my turn.” James turned toward the valley.
A sudden silence descended.
“What do you mean by ‘your turn’?” Hope asked after James’s words sank in. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant.
“He thinks he can do better than me. That’s what he means,” Noah said through the window.
Now that James seemed to be taking her threats seriously, Noah was able to get on his knees and try to inject himself into the cab.
“Do you two think this is some sort of competition?” Hope asked.
She didn’t know whether to be horrified or a little aroused. She was kind of both. Now that she’d actually reached a real honest-to-goodness, man-given orgasm, she was wondering if she could manage another. The idea that she could have them both played around the edges of her mind.
“I think that you can’t make an informed decision without letting us both try.” James never looked at her, simply stared at the road ahead.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just have sex with James because he wanted a turn. And Noah was going to throw a fit.
Except he wasn’t. He was staring at his brother. “You got to watch me. I should get to watch.”
“Feel free.”
“Well, it’s good to know how much it meant to you, Noah.” There was her answer. She was just a toy they would use and discard. She was a ploy in their little competition, and the minute they were fine again, she would most likely be told it was over. “Drop me off at the Movie Motel. I’ll call Lucy, and she can come get me.”
James blew right by the motel.
Frustration threatened to swamp her. “I meant what I said. I am not going to be used like this. I will call Cam when we get to the G, and he will come get me. Do you really want to deal with the law?”
James’s hands had a death grip on the steering wheel. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll turn the truck around and take you and Noah wherever you want to go. Maybe in a couple of years I’ll be able to think about letting Noah back in the house, but you can’t expect me to stay in the same house while the two of you sleep together.”
“She wasn’t saying that, Jamie,” Noah said, his voice much smoother than Hope would have expected. “She’s just pissed off that you weren’t romantic. I was romantic.”
“You were not romantic. You didn’t even take your damn pants off.” James slapped at the steering wheel. “Where do you want to go, Hope?”
She stopped and realized she was missing something. Why was Noah trying to soothe his brother? Why did James look like he was holding on for dear life? There was a tightness to his eyes. He got that when he was upset. She’d been around him enough to know that.
What was happening? Was she the bone they would tear up in their effort to hurt each other? Or the little bit of glue that might, just might, hold them together? Was Noah offering her up because he didn’t care about what happened to her? Or because he thought it wouldn’t work without James?
What if James had told her the truth? What if he’d stayed away because he had thought he had nothing to offer her? What if a relationship with her had only seemed possible because his brother had returned? James could complain about Noah all he liked, but according to everyone in town, they had been close once before and likely would be again.
Henry’s words made sense. Deep down, they both only knew one way of life. They wanted what their parents had had. They wanted a woman to share and a brother to rely on.
Could she be that woman? Maybe not, but could she live for the rest of her life knowing she hadn’t even tried?
“I haven’t heard an answer.” James stopped the truck before the entrance to the ranch. There was a huge wrought-iron arch that covered the road. The Circle G. Established 1898.
The Glens had been in Bliss before there had even been a Bliss. Generations had held this land and passed it down to James. His parents had passed this land down along with their legacy of love and companionship. Now he was fighting his instincts. What if she could show him it was all right to have what his parents had? Could she bring him back to the life he’d hoped for?
She took full hold of her courage. She wasn’t some wilting flower. She’d done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of. This wouldn’t be one of them.
“Noah is right. You got to watch. So should he.” If Noah was there, it would almost be like he was with them.
She watched James swallow, his breath slow and methodical as though he was steeling himself.
“Then he should get ready because I don’t intend to toss you against the wall and get my rocks off. And I don’t want you to call me Sir. My name is James. You can shout it when you come.”
James was back to his overly confident self. She stared at him while he made the long drive to the house. He wasn’t as hard as his exterior might suggest, and he wasn’t as distant. But he had his pride. James’s pride was a mighty thing since it seemed it was the only thing he had left.
She would have to brea
k through it if they were going to have a chance at anything beyond a little sex.
And she wanted more.
Noah’s hand came through the tiny window, awkwardly patting her shoulder. When she looked up, there was encouragement in his green eyes.
The first man she’d slept with in a year and a half was silently promising that everything would be okay if she would just sleep with his brother. She wasn’t so sure, but she knew one thing.
It would change everything.
* * * *
Christian had watched her all day—from a safe distance, of course. It was easy with all the tents and booths going up in what appeared to be a huge park. He’d been able to watch from the safety of a psychic’s booth. Then he’d had his tarot cards read, and all the while he’d been watching her. Charlatans, every one of them. And he should know. He’d been a “preacher” for ten years, and he didn’t even believe in God, much less that he was embodied in nature.
Hope was still beautiful. She couldn’t hide her radiant innocence. He could still remember how it felt to lie on top of her and fill her. She’d been an obedient girl, as she should have been. Unlike the whores he’d known, she had been a virgin and so shy that first night.
When he closed his eyes, he could see her pale skin and the way her hands had shaken. Careful. He’d had to be so careful with her. Unlike the other women in his group. They had been whores who had given themselves to him in degrading ways. Oh, they had served their purposes. He’d used them, and when he’d been done, he’d prostituted them out. Women like that were good for a quick fuck or a quick buck.
“Can I help you?”
Christian focused on the woman in front of him. She was obviously Hope’s friend since Hope had spent the afternoon sitting with her and talking. Her laughter had been a soft wind through the grounds. “I was just prowling around. The festival isn’t supposed to start until tomorrow, but I see it’s already going strong.”
The woman with straight brown hair smiled, her whole face alight. She was actually quite beautiful. “I’m afraid most of these people don’t believe in schedules. You know Sasquatches don’t have timepieces.”
He smiled his most charming smile. Here was another sweet, innocent little lamb. He liked his lamb rare. “I’m Chris. I would love some of that cider if you have some left.”
“Hello, I’m Nell.” She reached behind her and grabbed a cup. With a practiced hand, she poured a measure of cider into a mug. “Here you go. If you like, you can take the mug with you. Just leave it at one of the other shops. Everyone knows to send them back this way. I can’t do disposables, I’m afraid.”
Christian practically salivated. The little idiot spoke a language he knew well. “I admire you for that, Nell. I travel across the country trying to educate people about the cost of our disposable society. I like your setup here. It’s very earth friendly.”
Her brown eyes lit up. She was a true believer. “Everything is reusable. I lose a few mugs every year, but you would be surprised at how many people bring them back. People are inherently good.”
He wasn’t, but he knew some who were. And lucky for him, they usually proved to be the ones with no protections. If he had time, he would think about charming the lady. She was older than his usual, but then Hope wasn’t sixteen anymore, and he was still obsessed with her. Perhaps he was maturing. Alas, he had a wife to reclaim. And his own almost murder to avenge. He wasn’t sure if he intended to make love to Hope or bury her.
Maybe both.
He shook his head and tried to flush a little. “I have to ask you something embarrassing.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, you can ask me anything, I’m very open.”
“There was a woman here earlier.” He made sure to stutter a little, happy with the sympathetic gleam in her eyes. “She was so lovely. She was a brunette wearing a skirt and a button-down. Look, I don’t want to come off as some creepy stalker…”
“Then don’t.” A man came out of the tent, his eyes hard behind what looked to be relatively thick glasses.
“Henry, don’t be rude,” Nell admonished.
“Never, my love.” But the man didn’t take his eyes off Christian. He stood there like a Bohemian guard watching over a prize.
Nell winked at Henry and turned back to Christian. “Don’t mind him. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just likes to play jealous sometimes.”
It seemed this little innocent wasn’t so unprotected. Though the man wasn’t the tallest man or bulky, there was strength in his frame. But the eyes were what gave him away. He might have his wife fooled, but somewhere in the past this Henry had hurt far more than a fly. Christian would bet Henry hadn’t always been a peddler of apple cider.
“It’s all right,” Christian said, taking a step back.
“I have to admit, sometimes his caveman tendencies come in handy. But you were talking about Hope,” Nell began.
“Her name is Hope? That’s lovely.” He’d always loved her name. It was the perfect name for the child bride of a preacher who made his way in the world by suckering in the hopeless.
“Oh, Hope is wonderful,” Nell said and then laughed a bit. “But I’m afraid you’re a little late.”
“Late?”
“Uhm, she’s taken. She might not know it, but her men do.”
Christian’s brain caught on that one simple noun. “Men?”
“Yeah, welcome to Bliss. We’re pretty tolerant. We have some very happy polyamorous trios. Just trios though. If you want something really crazy like a six-way, you have to go to Wilde, but I’ve heard it’s lovely there this time of year.”
Christian prayed the smile he gave Nell didn’t hint at what he was feeling inside. Fury rolled in his gut. He’d seen that man sitting at Hope’s feet, her fingers patting his head. He hadn’t thought much about it. Hope had always been a very tactile person. She’d always hugged her friends and held hands.
What if Hope had been doing something she shouldn’t? He’d been so sure she wouldn’t even look at another man. She’d been in his thrall. Hope would have done anything for him. She’d looked at him like he was the sun in the sky. The truth of the matter was she hadn’t seemed to like sex. It was one of the things he’d found attractive about her. She was a lady. He would never have married a whore.
Perhaps sometimes ladies turned into whores.
“You really liked her, huh?” Nell asked, her face lined with sympathy.
He had a sudden vision of slitting little Nell’s throat. He could do it easily. She would be a soft, sweet gazelle in a lion’s jaws. She wouldn’t have time to scream before his knife cut through her throat and started spilling her blood on the ground. That would make him happy. That would calm his beast. She looked enough like Hope that he could pretend Nell was her.
Christian took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to do that. Well, not now anyway. He had to keep his eyes on the prize. Eight years and he’d just about put his group back together. He had everything in place. He was ready to start a new website and to begin building his followers. It had taken the millions he’d fleeced out of his previous followers to clean up the mess Hope had left when she’d started that fire, but he’d built himself back up over the years he’d been in hiding.
And he’d fucking done it for her while she was finding another man.
Christian shrugged. “She just reminded me of someone I knew. My wife.”
“I am so sorry. Did you lose her?”
Yes, he’d lost her. He’d lost her to her own feminine weakness. Without a strong man around to keep her in line, she’d given in to her proclivities. “She died eight years ago in a fire.”
“That’s terrible.”
What was even worse was that her body had lived on even after her soul had given in to darkness. Christian’s brain was reeling. He’d never thought for a single second that she wouldn’t be at his side when he reemerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes. She would be with him. One way or another, but perhaps the time had come to
change tactics. He’d come here to watch her, to find out just how easy it would be to convince her to come with him, to forgive him for not hiding his masculine tempers.
He knew he’d made mistakes, but never had he allowed another woman into his heart.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Nell.”
“Mrs. Flanders.” The man named Henry corrected him with a flat tone.
Nell rolled her eyes and giggled a bit. “He’s so possessive.”
Any real man was. No real man would allow his property to be violated.
Christian nodded, left the mug, and walked off. It was time to move this plan forward. He pulled out his cell phone. He wasn’t an idiot. He had men in place. He was never without his followers. He explained what he wanted and then turned back toward the town.
It was time to talk to the sheriff.
* * * *
James had to force his hands to stop shaking. Control. He was in control. He had to be.
Hope had said yes. Well, not yes, exactly, but she’d assented. Now if only he’d managed to keep Noah out of it everything would be perfect, but the little bastard had managed to insert himself into the situation.
It had been a natural thing once. Before they had slept with their first woman, an adventurous college student from Boulder on spring break, he and Noah had made a game plan. They had sat up the night before deciding who would handle what and how to bring her the most pleasure they could. They’d been invited to spend four days in her bed before she’d gone back to school.
They’d shared almost every woman until Ally had come along and started playing her games with Noah.
He wasn’t sharing Hope. James was going to show Hope that he was the man for her, and his brother could go to hell. If Noah wanted to watch his own downfall, then that just made him more of a masochist than James ever dreamed.
James pulled the truck up in front of the guesthouse.
“We’re not going home?” Hope asked.
James put the truck in park, and it shuddered as Noah hopped out of the bed. James unbuckled his seat belt and tried not to think about how much he liked the way she said the word home. “Trev has a room set up.”