Angie's Destiny [Cattleman's Club 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jenny Penn

“Of course, I’m the idiot who insisted we go,” Cybil raged on, seeming completely unaware of Kristen’s impending breakdown.

  She was wanton, and definitely not gay.

  “I don’t know which one of that makes us the bigger idiot.”

  Kristen did. She was the big idiot…maybe she was in love. That would certainly explain a lot, but wouldn’t she know if she loved the deputy? How could she love him when she didn’t even know anything about him?

  “And then he had to go throw you into the pool. And all for what?”

  What? That was the question. What was wrong with her? Kristen wished she knew.

  “To make me jealous.” Cybil snorted and braked hard for a stop sign. “I really don’t know why I love him.”

  Kristen blinked, coming out of her thoughts to turn and blink in stunned amazement at Cybil, who was looking back at her with just as shocked an expression.

  “You’re in love with Duncan?”

  “No.”

  “But you just said⎯”

  “That he’s an immature asshole. Yes.” Cybil turned back to the road to stare out at it forlornly. “And I have bad taste in men.”

  Kristen didn’t know why, but she giggled at that. The light, airy sound deepened into true laughs as Cybil joined her. In that moment of misery disguised as hysteria, their friendship was bonded. It ended as it began with an abrupt blare of a horn as the driver behind Cybil honked at her.

  “Oh, honey, we are a pair.” Cybil sighed and eased up on the brake to finally roll through the intersection. “Though, you haven’t told me what idiot you fell in love with, but I bet I can take a guess. Deputy Hammel?”

  Kristen blushed and glanced down at her lap as she confessed to the truth. “He kissed me.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And I liked it.” Kristen peeked up to see if that had shocked her new friend, but Cybil’s smile was nothing but warm and full of understanding, emboldening her to expand her confession. “A lot.”

  “You’ve never been kissed before, have you?”

  “Not like that.” Kristen sighed and shook her head. “It isn’t right, but…I wanted him.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that,” Cybil quickly assured her. “You’re a pretty woman with healthy needs.”

  “But I always thought that those…healthy needs would be…”

  “Saved for marriage?” Cybil supplied, a hint of amusement sounding in her tone.

  “For love.” That’s what Kristen really wanted.

  “Well then, you need to give it time and room to grow,” Cybil suggested as she pulled into Gwen’s drive. She brought her car to a stop and pulled up the hand brake before turning to pin Kristen with a pointed look. “And who better to give that to than a man who makes you lose your head?”

  “I just don’t understand.” Kristen really didn’t. “The deputy is not my type.”

  “You have a type?” Cybil lifted a brow, clearly doubting that Kristen did. “I don’t mean to offend you, honey, but you don’t seem to know what you like. After all, you keep letting your cousin pick your clothes.”

  Cybil had a point. One that bothered Kristen as she finally said her farewells and headed into the house. It was time. Time for her to get her sewing machine out and start looking online. She might not have money for a new wardrobe, but Kristen had the talents to make one out of her old clothes.

  Chapter 7

  By the time Gwen got home that night, Kristen had already decided what her new style was going to be⎯retro. She’d spent a good part of the afternoon on the Internet, purposefully avoiding thinking about both her near drowning and the passionate embrace that followed. The two were impossible to ignore, though, and her thoughts led her to a shocking realization.

  She wasn’t really living. Kristen was only existing.

  Sure, she had plans and dreams, but for some strange reason, she seemed to be waiting for life to happen. Well, no more. She hadn’t moved out of her parents’ house and gotten a job because she needed somebody tell her what to do. That included everything, including how to dress.

  So, with renewed determination, she began pulling out her clothes and figuring out how to alter them so they were more modern but yet still in the stylish fashion of decades gone by. She worked late into the night until she was just too tired to continue on. By the time she went to sleep, it was well after midnight, and Gwen still hadn’t come home, leaving Kristen lying in bed exhausted but too unnerved to pass out until she heard her cousin finally stumble in through the front door.

  By noon the next day, Gwen still hadn’t appeared from her room, and Kristen had grown tired of waiting for her to wake up so she could ask her cousin for a ride. Instead, she called Cybil, who immediately agreed to take Kristen down to Dothan to see if she could get a haircut.

  More than that, Cybil knew just the place to go and offered to shell out for the facials and pedicures that came with the new, more sophisticate hairstyle Kristen had selected the previous evening. The length didn’t shorten by much, but this time she got layers and highlights, red ones, the same color they painted her toenails. Her mother would have been so scandalized.

  That was just why Kristen didn’t mention the idea of going to her normal hairstylist, Mrs. Hankon. Not only was she as old as the moon, but she was also the biggest gossip and would have told Kristen’s mother everything. Then the questions would have come, along with a full-on panic attack, no doubt, and Kristen didn’t want her mother to worry.

  Though, it was her who worried when she got back and Gwen’s bedroom door was still shut, the house quiet. Too quiet. It was nearly evening, and Kristen had a sick feeling something was wrong. She creeped down the hall to press an ear to Gwen’s door but couldn’t catch a hint of sound.

  That left her worried. Of course, she could be overreacting. She didn’t know, and she didn’t dare knock or enter. Instead, Kristen went back down to the dining room, where her sewing was set up. She hadn’t even made it through her first seam before Gwen came stumbling in, grumbling about all the racket.

  “What are you up to?” Gwen scowled as she shuffled into the room dressed in a pair of men’s boxers and a tank. “Sewing? What the hell are you⎯oh God. What is this?”

  Gwen held up one of the dresses Kristen had already finished altering so that it now cinched in better at the waist. She’d also removed the high-neck collar for a nice large square one and cut the cap sleeves back into thick straps. It was absolutely adorable as far as she was concerned, and she even had material left over to make herself a matching hairband.

  “Are you making clothes for the poor?” Gwen glanced over at her hopefully, but the depression returned to her gaze as Kristen shook her head.

  “No. These are for me. I’m modernizing.”

  “Uh-huh.” Gwen’s frown deepened as she studied Kristen. “Well, that explains the 1990’s hairdo, but not the 1960’s wardrobe you’re creating.”

  “I like it.” Kristen stuck her chin in the air, pulling on every bit of confidence she had to stand up to her cousin. “And I’m going to wear it.”

  “Where? To church?” Gwen snickered.

  “I didn’t go to church today.”

  That was another thing her mother better not find out about. She’d called and invited Kristen to church and lunch last night, but Kristen had assured her mother that she wanted to start going to church in Pittsview as a way to get to know the town, but instead, she’d spent the morning getting to know herself.

  “Oh, wow. Somebody is about to be struck by lightning.” Gwen rolled her eyes and chunked the dress back onto the table before turning to head into the kitchen.

  Feeling compelled to follow, Kristen first paused to straighten the dress back out so it couldn’t wrinkle then she headed into the kitchen to find Gwen pulling the coffee pot out of its maker and beginning the process of brewing up a new pot.

  “So…did you have fun yesterday?” Kristen started, not certain how to ask what she really wanted to know but sur
e she didn’t want to come right out with it.

  “Yeah.” Gwen shrugged. “I got burnt. I got drunk. I got laid. Just another Saturday.”

  Kristen stared, reeling between each one of those revelations and not certain on how to respond to any of them. So, she chose to ignore them all and plastered a smile on her face.

  “I had fun.”

  “Yeah?” Gwen quirked a brow at her as she paused to snicker. “Nearly drowning is your definition of fun?”

  “No.” Kristen almost laughed at that bit of absurdity before shyly adding on. “But after…”

  “Oh, you mean cracking Brandon’s head open.” Gwen laughed outright at that as she turned back to her coffee. “I warned those boys that you were a good girl.”

  “Excuse me?” Kristen blinked, not completely certain by what she meant but sure that it wasn’t good.

  “You know, a virgin. Oh, there is no need to blush over it,” Gwen tossed over her shoulder as Kristen felt her face go up in flames. “Virginity is a rare and very precious commodity in this city.”

  “I…I…”

  “And I told those boys none of them would be claiming any prize until they put a ring on your finger,” Gwen assured her, but Kristen did not feel comforted in the slightest.

  “That…that…”

  “But you know, men will be men, and they’ve got their stupid competitions, so you’ll probably have to crack a few more heads open until they get the message.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kristen finally managed to latch onto a thought and get it said. “What competition?”

  “The deputies’ challenge.” Gwen turned around as she rested back against the counter to offer Kristen a smugly amused smile. “They’ve got a competition going to see who can pop your cherry first.”

  Kristen felt sick. Instantly sick at that revelation. It had all been a game. What had happened between her in the deputy had been nothing more than him trying to win some stupid bet? She’d never been so crushed. It was as though the joy and possibility that the day had held had suddenly soured into a nightmare, and all she wanted to do was flee from the memories of how stupid she’d been.

  They were impossible to escape. So was Gwen’s laughter. It followed Kristen into her bedroom, where she slammed the door and fell across the mattress before bursting into tears.

  * * * *

  Brandon found himself whistling while he worked. It was a beautiful day, full of possibilities. It didn’t even matter to him that his head still hurt or that he probably had a new scar and tiny little bald spot. That was what hats were for. Besides, his hair would grow back, though he was betting Miss Kristen would feel horrified when she heard what she’d done to him.

  Guilt was going to be his weapon, and Brandon planned on using it to talk the little miss into a date. He even had the plans made. They included flowers, a romantic dinner, a stroll by the lake, and then he was going to kiss her again. This time he wasn’t going to lose all sense of self. He would stay in control.

  After all, he was a Cattleman. Cattlemen were all about control.

  They were also all about getting the girl, but his plans got put on hold when the sheriff called to ask him to fill in for Byron, who had come down with a serious stomach ailment they called “drinking too much.” That didn’t mean he didn’t intend on stopping by Miss Kristen’s place and giving her the flowers, at least.

  He already had them picked by the time the sheriff called, and he took enough razzing from the guys when he came in carrying the fragrant bouquet. He ignored all their jokes and Dylan’s glare as he got a glass of water to keep the pretty petals plump and attached to their stalks.

  Then he sat down at the front desk and began twiddling his thumbs until his dinner break finally came and it was time to go woo his maiden. He went whistling past Dylan once again, knowing he was irritating the hell out of the other man. Dylan was just sore because he didn’t have his own maiden.

  Actually, Brandon knew that wasn’t true. His friend was worried, worried that Kristen was going to tie Brandon around her little finger and turn him into a well-whipped man. That wouldn’t happen. Not now. Not ever. It was Kristen who was going to be wrapped around his finger.

  Brandon’s optimism continued right up to the moment that Gwen answered her front door. She took one look at him and the flowers and started to laugh. She was such a bitch, but Brandon didn’t have time to get into it with her. She didn’t give him the time. Gwen stepped back and called out to Kristen that she had an admirer at the door.

  Then Gwen waltzed out of the way to let Kristen shuffle past. She looked like hell. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks all red and raw looking, and her eyes puffy. Brandon knew instantly she’d been crying. He would have demanded to know why if she hadn’t spoken up first.

  “Hello, deputy.” Kristen looked disinterestedly at the flowers clutched in Brandon’s hand and asked without a single hint of enthusiasm, “Are those flowers for me?”

  “Yes.” He thrust them forward proudly. “I just wanted to stop in and see⎯”

  “If I’m as gullible today as I was yesterday?” Kristen said, cutting him off and confusing Brandon with the amount of bitterness in her tone.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I know about the competition,” Kristen stated simply, confusing Brandon all the more. She didn’t explain, though, simply told him how it was. “And I’m not interested in being your prize. Good day.”

  With that, Kristen slammed the door, the heavy wood banging into his flowers and crushing them. Brandon stood there staring down at the crumpled mess as his fist tightened over the flower stalks. His mind was catching up, and he knew who to blame for this disaster. Unfortunately, Gwen was out of reach right then.

  But Duncan wasn’t.

  * * * *

  Dylan sat with his feet up on the counter and his nose buried in the listing of college courses as he tried to decide what to pick from for the upcoming semester. The county offered to pay for one class a semester as long as a B average was maintained. Dylan normally got A’s.

  Brandon was the B student. He was also grumpy as shit as he came storming back into the station house, assuring Dylan that his buddy had gotten shot down. Normally that would have drawn a smile and a joke from him, but he could tell that Brandon wasn’t in the mood.

  “Where’s Duncan?”

  “In the back.” Dylan jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he eyed Brandon. “You okay, man?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess you don’t want to discuss what course to take this semester?” Dylan offered up hopefully, but Brandon was already storming around the counter.

  “No.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Dylan muttered to himself as he turned his attention back to the course listings.

  He was leaning toward a women’s lit class. There would be women in it, no doubt. Women who would think he and Brandon were so civilized and evolved for taking an interest in such a subject. That would be a great lure to getting laid all semester. Unless the women turned out to be lesbians.

  A commotion in the back drew Dylan from his thoughts as almost every deputy there jumped up and rushed toward the sound of a fight breaking out. Dylan didn’t move that quickly. He knew what was going on. Kristen was already twisting Brandon into a demented man.

  That was what women did.

  If he had any doubts about his conclusion, they were cast aside as he shoved open the locker room door to find Travis restraining Brandon and Dale holding Duncan back while the two men continued to holler and cuss.

  “You screwed me!”

  “What the hell, man? I didn’t do anything!” Duncan spat back as he wrestled against Dale’s hold.

  “Bullshit!” Brandon stretched and reached but couldn’t break Byron’s hold. “I have bad news for you, you idiot. Kristen knows about the competition.”

  “Well, I didn’t tell her.”

  “Did you tell Gwen?”

  That had D
uncan stilling as he appeared to settle down. From the way he went silent, the answer was obvious, but it was too late to avoid the wrath of the sheriff, who shoved past Dylan and stormed into the locker room.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Alex held up a hand before anybody could say anything. “No, wait. I don’t care. It just has to stop, and now. Got me?”

  “Yes, Sheriff.” A chorus of agreements echoed through the room as Alex nodded.

  “Good. Now break it up and get back to work.” Alex paused to stare at Brandon for a second. “Except for you. You better go get that head wound checked out. Dylan, cover the desk.”

  Duncan followed Alex out the door, mostly because Dale kept shoving him. Travis trailed behind him as Brandon collapsed onto the bench seat, looking more dejected than Dylan had ever seen him. He couldn’t leave his best friend like that.

  “Hey, man.” Dylan dropped down onto the bench across from Brandon. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  That didn’t mean he didn’t need to. Dylan knew Brandon well enough to push. “This about Kristen? I take it she turned you down.”

  “She slammed the door in my face,” Brandon muttered.

  “Well, that’s not that bad. Last time she brained you,” Dylan pointed out with a small smile that got him one in return as Brandon snorted and shook his head.

  “I just…really like her, you know?”

  Actually, Dylan didn’t. He’d never really liked a girl before. They were fun, momentary distractions, nothing more. He wished Brandon would agree with him, but he could tell that it was a lost cause. Despite the fact that it made no logical sense to Dylan how Brandon could be so attached to a girl he hadn’t even talked to for more than five minutes, the truth was right there in Brandon’s sad gaze.

  “When I kissed her, it wasn’t like anything ever before.”

  Dylan doubted that, too, but what mattered was that Brandon believed it. “Then you try again, right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re giving up?” Dylan asked, appalled by the very idea. As much as he didn’t want Kristen turning his best friend into a milquetoast, he didn’t want her defeating him either.