With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “And maybe I should just stay away from you and Brian Hastings movies. Can we replace the tape?”

  “We could have bought a new one at the video store yesterday, no problem. Today—big problem. I’ll bet now that the word’s out on you there’s not a Brian Hastings movie for sale in the entire town of Ugly Bug.”

  He shifted position and winced. “Then I’ll just call my secretary and ask her to overnight a copy of the tape.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “Yeah, I can autograph it for Emmy Lou.”

  “Oh, my God. Autographs. We need to find a copy of his signature for you to practice on.”

  “Or sprain my writing hand.”

  “A fake sprain, you mean.”

  “Oh, no, I want a real sprain. Something major to take my mind off my…other problem.”

  “Quinn, we’re not going to deliberately injure you. I’m sure Emmy Lou has something with his signature on it. You can practice. I can’t believe I didn’t think of autographs. The trouble is, I keep forgetting that you’re supposed to be Brian Hastings.”

  “You do?” He turned to her, and his gaze was steady.

  “I thought that’s what was going on just now. You had me confused with him.”

  “You thought that?” She tightened her grip on her blouse to keep it together. “You thought I was like those women who rip your clothes off because they think they’re getting a piece of Brian Hastings? You thought I’d parked my brain somewhere?” She had parked her brain somewhere, which explained her rash actions, but she’d never for a minute fantasized that Quinn was Brian Hastings. Quinn was powerful enough for any woman’s fantasy.

  “Well, we were watching one of his movies, and you were getting turned on.”

  “So were you! Does that mean you imagined I was Cheryl Ramsey?” she asked, suddenly worried.

  “No.” He propped a hand on the back of the sofa and leaned over her. “It means that the movie inspired me to think of what we might be doing. Power of suggestion. And to be honest, when I’m in the same room with you I need very little of that. This movie was overkill.”

  “So it wasn’t seeing that beautiful naked woman that got you worked up?”

  “Not by a long shot. It was the thought of seeing this beautiful naked woman.”

  Her pulse raced as his gaze traveled over her. “And for the record, it wasn’t seeing Brian Hastings’ butt that got me worked up, either,” she said.

  He looked into her eyes. “Thank you.” He gave her a wry smile. “But I would have taken that. I want you so much I don’t care who you think I am if you’ll let me touch you.”

  “Me, too,” she murmured. “I don’t care if I’m substituting for a glamorous movie star.”

  Desire flared in his eyes. “You’re not. She wouldn’t be a fit substitute for you.”

  “That’s sweet. I don’t believe it for a minute, but—”

  He leaned closer, and his hand went to his belt again.

  “Want proof?”

  “Oh, Quinn, I—uh-oh, I hear the truck coming up the road.”

  Quinn moved to his end of the sofa and grimaced as his jeans tightened across his crotch. “Better go upstairs and put yourself back together.”

  Jo sat up. Under her cushion the remote clicked again, and snow crackled on the television screen.

  “Easy.” Quinn gently lowered her feet to the floor.

  “Would it help if you stood up?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do that in a minute. Go on.”

  “I hate to leave you to explain the broken tape to Emmy Lou.”

  “I’m a big boy.”

  She couldn’t resist. “So you said.”

  His gaze was challenging. “Looks like you’ll have to take it on faith.”

  “Yep.” Jo couldn’t help glancing at his crotch and remembering what he’d felt like pressed against her. She had some idea of what she was giving up, which didn’t make the sacrifice any easier. A little bit of knowledge could be a terrible thing, she thought as she stood on rubbery legs.

  “I’m sorry I put us in this position,” she said, starting past Quinn. “It won’t happen again.”

  He reached up and gripped her thigh. “I’m not sorry,” he said, gazing at her. “I love this position.”

  “Okay, so do I.”

  He gave her thigh a squeeze. “If it happens again, I’ll make no noble guarantees about my behavior. I’d take you on any terms. Any terms at all.”

  Warmth rushed through her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “See that you do.” He released her.

  She wanted to stay, wanted to make love to him more than she’d ever wanted that with any man. The slamming of the truck’s door propelled her reluctantly up the stairs.

  QUINN’S EMOTIONS were in a shambles, but he could pick one truth out of this mess. He should never make Jo choose between him and the Bar None. Maybe in a moment of sexual weakness she’d choose him and hate him forever for causing her to lose this ranch.

  Emmy Lou made a lot of racket coming into the house. Quinn suspected she was giving notice in case he and Jo were in the middle of…exactly what they’d been in the middle of.

  “I’m back!” the housekeeper announced in a loud voice as she closed the front door with a bang and bustled into the kitchen with a paper sack in each arm.

  “Need any help?” Quinn called. He was almost in shape to render aid. Almost.

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” She sounded breathless.

  Quinn flashed on an old memory—coming home from a hot date and discovering his mother still up watching a movie on television. He’d responded to her greeting in that same breathless way before hurrying to his bedroom to see whether his shirt was buttoned up wrong or he had lipstick smeared across his mouth. Sure enough, once Emmy Lou dumped her bags in the kitchen she scurried down the hall toward her bedroom. Apparently everyone had some repair work to do.

  Quinn took his time standing, then turned his back to the door to adjust himself. He’d had uncomfortable erections before, but nothing to compare with the pain of being saddle sore and aroused at the same time. He had new respect for cowboys who could ride all day and make love all night. They must be tough in places he’d never considered needed toughening.

  Finally he was able to crouch and lift the seat cushion to retrieve the remote. As he reached for it, he noticed a movement next to his foot. He leaped back, knocking over the coffee table in the process.

  “What on earth is going on in here?” Emmy Lou appeared in the doorway, her plump cheeks flushed.

  “Stay back!” Quinn glanced around for a weapon and settled on the shovel from the fireplace tool set. By the time he had it in his hand, the creature had scuttled under the sofa.

  “What is it?” Emmy Lou put her hand to her throat. “A rattlesnake?”

  “It’s not a snake.” Quinn’s insides were flipping around, but he was the only man in a house with two vulnerable women. It was up to him to protect them.

  “Then what is it, for heaven’s sake?”

  Quinn thought of Jo lying on the sofa, her soft skin exposed, and shuddered. Then he thought of what might have happened if he’d unzipped his jeans, and he nearly passed out.

  “Quinn, tell me what you’ve found.”

  “I don’t know.” He gripped the shovel and raised it over his head as he crept slowly toward the sofa. “But it’s a monster,” he said, his voice quivering.

  9

  “A RAT?” Emmy Lou asked.

  “You have rats out here, too?” Quinn wondered how anybody in Montana slept at night.

  “Well, of course.”

  “Well, it’s not a rat or a mouse. It had a bunch of legs.”

  “Oh, a bug.” With a chuckle, Emmy Lou took off her shoe and walked to the sofa.

  “Stay back!” Quinn warned. “I’m the man around here. I’ll handle this.”

  “If you whack that bug with the fireplace shovel you’ll spray soot from here to kingdom com
e. Put that thing down and I’ll take care of this, whatever it is.”

  “It had fangs.”

  “Really? How many legs, exactly?”

  “Too many.”

  “Probably a wolf spider,” Emmy Lou said.

  “A wolf spider?” Quinn’s hands grew clammy. “It attacks wolves?”

  “No, no.” Emmy Lou looked as if she was trying hard not to laugh, for which Quinn was grateful. “They just look ferocious. They’re not poisonous or anything, and they keep the other insects under control.”

  Quinn got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What other insects?”

  Emmy Lou gazed at him, a twinkle in her eye. “You know, it’s really sweet of you to offer to defend me, considering you’re so scared of bugs.”

  “I’m not, either! That’s no bug. Bugs are things like flies and mosquitoes and ladybugs. Moths, butterflies, caterpillars. This is…prehistoric.”

  Emmy Lou smiled. “How did you think the creek and town got named?”

  “I tried not to think about it, if you must know.” He had a horrifying thought. “You mean these things are common around here?”

  “Sure. You get used to them.” A wicked little gleam appeared in her eye. “You’re more likely to find them down at the bunkhouse than up here.”

  Quinn caught his breath. For one wild minute he thought of reconsidering his sleeping arrangements. Then Jo appeared in the living room doorway, and he knew he’d have to stay in the bunkhouse, ugly bugs and all. She’d combed her hair and fastened her clothing so she looked perfectly proper, but he remembered all too well how she’d helped him unbutton her blouse. And how she’d unhooked her bra for him. And then lifted those spectacular breasts, pressing them into his waiting hands.

  “What’s going on?” Jo asked, gazing at the sofa cushion tossed aside, the coffee table capsized and the fireplace shovel in Quinn’s hand. “Spring cleaning?”

  “Sort of,” Quinn said. “Don’t come in here, Jo. Wolf spider.”

  “Really? Cool! Where is it?”

  He couldn’t believe her reaction. “Under the sofa,” he said ominously. “You know, under the sofa.” He wondered how long it would take her to realize the monster could have attacked while she was lying there exposed.

  “Then let’s move the sofa,” Jo said, totally nonchalant about the whole thing.

  “Don’t, Jo. You’ll faint when you see it. It’s huge.”

  “They usually are,” Jo said, walking toward the sofa.

  “Suit yourself, Red Riding Hood.” Quinn folded his arms, but he kept hold of the fireplace shovel. “Move that sofa and take a look at that big old wolf spider. Don’t blame me if you start screaming your head off. I warned you.”

  Emmy Lou started out of the room. “Hold on. I’ll get a glass and see if we can catch it and put it outside.”

  Quinn almost dropped the shovel. “You’re going to what?”

  “Try to catch it. You know, put a glass down on top of it and then slide a piece of cardboard underneath.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No. I’ve done it before.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes. “Then you’d better bring a punch bowl and a piece of plywood! We’re not talking about Charlotte here, ladies. We’re talking big. Very, very big. Spiderzilla.”

  Emmy Lou smiled at him. “I’ve discovered that men tend to exaggerate the size of things.” She left the room.

  Jo let out a very unladylike snort of laughter, and Quinn glared at her.

  She tried to compose herself but was obviously having trouble. “Did you tell her about the tape?”

  “Not yet. I—”

  “Well, this should work.” Emmy Lou came in holding a water glass and the back of a cereal box.

  “For one leg,” Quinn muttered darkly. “But if you women are determined to do this reckless thing, I’ll ride shotgun. If it starts to attack, I’ll be here.”

  “They don’t attack,” Jo said. “Okay, Em. I’ll move the sofa just a bit, and you stand ready with that glass.”

  “Right.”

  “And I’ll stand ready to whack it when you two run screaming out of the room,” Quinn said, raising the shovel over his head.

  Jo moved the sofa a few inches, and the spider ran right at Quinn.

  The women didn’t scream, but he was afraid he might have as he started banging the shovel everywhere, stirring up clouds of soot as the spider raced around the room.

  “Quick, over by the door, Em!” Jo cried.

  Emmy Lou pounced with her glass. “Got him!”

  “Or her,” Jo said. She crouched as Emmy Lou slid the cardboard under the glass and expertly flipped the whole thing over. “Nope, it’s a him.”

  Quinn stared at the two women in horrified fascination. “How can you tell? And why would you want to?”

  “Spiders are fascinating,” Jo said. “His sex organs are right by his mouth, an arrangement certain people might envy. Want to see?”

  “That’s okay.” Quinn was sweating like crazy. Sure enough, the monster fit in the glass, but he wouldn’t have bet on it. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “This is a pretty big one,” Emmy Lou said. “That body looks almost two inches across, so with the legs and all, it’s—”

  “Gigantic, like Quinn said,” Jo finished, giving Quinn an understanding smile. “Bigger than his fist.”

  “I’ll take him outside and let him go,” Emmy Lou said.

  Quinn tried to sound casual. “Uh, where would that be, exactly?”

  “Out in my veggie garden. He’ll like it there. He’ll probably stay.”

  “Oh.” He rolled his shoulders and made a mental note to never, ever offer to pick vegetables for Emmy Lou. “I’ll, uh, pick up around here, then.”

  “I’ll help,” Jo said.

  Quinn replaced the shovel in the fireplace tool holder and turned to find Jo looking at him with great tenderness.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s just that you’re so adorable,” she said.

  “Adorable?” He preferred words like virile and manly, himself. Adorable was for kids.

  “A big strong man like you who’s afraid of snakes and bugs,” she said. “And trying so hard not to be. It’s very sweet.”

  Quinn felt his face heat up. He set the coffee table on its feet to avoid looking at Jo. “I had an older cousin who used to tease me, shoving wiggly things in my face.”

  “Shame on him,” Jo said.

  “It was a girl,” Quinn said, growing even redder.

  “Then shame on her.” She walked over to touch his arm. “But you know, it’s possible to get over things like that.”

  “I doubt it. Been that way ever since I was four.”

  “You can desensitize yourself. It would be easy around this place, because you’ll always be coming in contact with creepy-crawlies. Soon you’d barely notice them.”

  He glanced at her hand. His arm already tingled where he felt the light pressure of her fingers. He looked into her eyes. “Think that would work with you, too?” he asked in a low voice. “Because I’d sure love to try.”

  She jerked her hand away and stepped back.

  “If the concept works, it should work for anything,” he said, closing the gap between them. “Maybe if I kiss you enough, eventually I won’t get so aroused when I do it.”

  Jo swallowed. “I don’t think…we have that much time.”

  “I don’t think we’d ever have that much time,” he murmured.

  “So,” Emmy Lou said from the doorway, “how did you two enjoy the movie?”

  Quinn cleared his throat and glanced at Jo. “I broke it.”

  “No, we broke it together.” Jo turned toward Emmy Lou. “We’re both to blame.”

  Emmy Lou looked confused. “Broke it?”

  “Yeah,” Quinn said. “The tape snapped. Don’t worry. I’ll have my secretary send a new copy right away.”

  “How much did you get to see before it broke?”
/>
  Jo tapped her chin. “Let’s see. Was it before the train robbery? Or was it after that scene in the miner’s shack?”

  Quinn didn’t dare look at her. “The miner’s shack scene, I think. Anyway, a new tape’s practically on the way. I’ll make a—”

  “Oh, don’t buy me a new one.” Emmy Lou blushed. “I know why it broke.”

  “You do?” He wondered if she’d somehow figured out what had been going on.

  “It’s all that pausing and rewinding.”

  “How did you know about that?” Quinn asked before he could stop himself.

  Emmy Lou’s eyes widened, and then she clapped a hand over her mouth. A smothered giggle slipped out anyway.

  Jo’s cheeks grew pink. “You mean you paused and rewound the tape a lot at that spot.”

  Emmy Lou nodded, her eyes bright. “Plus it was a rental tape I bought on sale at the video store. I’m sure it was already weak right there. I guess you two weakened it a little more.”

  Quinn’s ego had suffered enough. First he was revealed as bugophobic, and now Emmy Lou thought he was some sort of voyeur who’d had to replay a nude scene over a hundred times to get his kicks. “It was by accident that we kept rewinding it,” he said. “The remote fell between the sofa cushions, and…” He realized the quagmire he’d stepped in about the same time he caught the dismay in Jo’s eyes.

  “You know, that pot roast smells a little too good,” Jo said. “Maybe you should check on it, Emmy Lou. I think you might need to turn down the heat.”

  Emmy Lou put her hands on her hips and glanced from Jo to Quinn and back to Jo again. “I believe I could say the same thing to you.”

  “The thing is,” Quinn began, determined to find a way out of this, “I lost my balance and—”

  “Did I hear the dinner bell?” Fred asked, coming through the front door.

  “We don’t have a dinner bell,” Emmy Lou said.

  “Well, I didn’t think we had one, but then I was out in the yard and I heard all this clanging and banging that sure sounded like a dinner bell. So I figured I’d just wash up and come in to find out if it was time for lunch yet.”

  “Why, as a matter of fact, it is,” Jo said. “I’m starving. How about you, Quinn?”

  “Starving,” Quinn agreed.