Love Under Two Prospectors [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  One of the things Ricoh had noticed was that it was rarely family pairs on the fire roster, except for Grant and Andrew Jessop. That was why Jake Kendall was going, but not Adam. Ryder Magee would be on board, but not Colt Evans. No matter what, at the core of everything, these men protected their wives and families above all else. Steven sometimes covered the duty along with his brother Matt. Being a deputy sheriff, Matt had sometimes been dragooned into policing duties—like directing traffic—when they were on a fire call.

  “If you need me, I can come,” Ricoh said.

  “Thanks, Ricoh, but seriously, we’re good. And y’all have to keep an eye on things around town because we’re not there. They’re calling for the possibility of severe thunderstorms, and there will likely be a tornado warning or two before this day is done.”

  “Okay, cousin. Take care and keep us updated if you can.”

  “We’ll have a couple of Sat phones with us. Town Trust decreed it was to be standard procedure from now on. Jake sent out word for folks to break theirs out and keep them handy tonight. If the cell towers go down, you can use those to reach us if you need to.”

  “Got it. Be careful.”

  “Count on it.”

  The call disconnected. Ricoh had his hands on his hips and looked at his bosses. “I was going to ask you about the weather. Don’t like the looks of things out there.”

  “We’re not under any warnings yet, but that could always change. We’ve got the alerts coming to our cell phones. It maybe wouldn’t hurt to get your Sat phone out and keep it nearby, too.”

  The main ranch house had one, and one had been issued to Ricoh. He wasn’t certain how many satellite phones the Town Trust had purchased. They were expensive devices, but the dollars didn’t matter here in Lusty near as much as the safety factor did.

  “I’ll probably settle in with a TV dinner and the Weather Channel after my shower,” Ricoh said. “But I’ll keep the phone close by, just in case.”

  “They’re not forecasting anything for this end of the county so far,” Brian said. “Go shower and relax. If anything changes, you’ll likely get an alert on your cell phone.”

  Ricoh nodded and bid his bosses good night. They’d found a good working rhythm, mainly because there wasn’t a single Benedict who didn’t pitch in and work hard. They all knew he tended to worry a bit when it looked like things were in flux. They accepted his worrying, and him, just the way he was.

  Yeah, a shower, a beer, a quick meal. And it wouldn’t hurt to get that Sat phone out as he kept an eye on the local weather network for the evening. It never hurt to be prepared.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brittany arrived at the Big House an hour early because she’d wanted to pitch in, to help the women who had come, in so short a time, to mean so much to her. She couldn’t say she’d ever had a lot of experience spending time with women, doing female things. She’d never thrown a shower, bridal or baby, in her life. Laci and Kate were the day’s hosts, as they were the two women closest to Angela Monroe.

  There was plenty to do to get ready for the large gathering. Bernice Benedict put her to work making a tossed salad while she and Abigail and Anna Jessop worked together making sandwiches and a yummy-looking black bean dip.

  Kate was in an especially happy mood. As she worked, she learned that Kate had met Angela a few years before, on the last cruise she’d taken. At the time, Angela had been working on the cruise ship, a manager in the hotel part of the operation, in charge of the bars and bistros.

  Their friendship had taken, and Kate had finally succeeded in getting Angela to come to Lusty—where she found the only man she’d ever loved, a man whose arms she’d been torn from while she’d been but a young woman.

  Brittany didn’t have all the details, but she sensed that both Angela and Ricoh had walked through fire. Life takes all kinds of twists and turns. Having heard some of the story of Angela and Ricoh—a story told her by the bride-to-be herself—Brittany could only marvel at the strange ways of fate.

  Who could doubt that those two souls were meant to be together?

  She thought she could say the same for Sean, Noah, and herself. The men had been born and raised in Wyoming, and she in Indiana. Yet they’d met in what some would say was an unlikely place and at an unlikely time. Brittany believed it had been at the right place and the right time.

  All was ready, and the guests would arrive soon. Brittany was alone in the great room and took a few moments to enjoy the view out the large window, and to be in the moment. The sky seemed darker than it had when she’d arrived. There were weather alerts all across this part of Texas. So far everything had avoided Lusty and most of the surrounding area, though she’d heard that the fire department had been called out to help with grass fires near Hamilton, at the northern edge of the county.

  There’d been thunder rumbling off and on all day, and the fear of tornadoes had touched more than a few people. But for now, things seemed calm, if a little dark.

  Brittany had met with Chris Williams that morning for one of their three-times-a-week sessions, and she’d had her first of two weekly appointments with Shar the day before.

  Brittany felt good about where she was in her journey. She would indulge in no more self-delusions and no more evasions. She was working through her issues, and there were times when it was damn hard work and damn slow going. But she knew she was making progress. Brittany would still cry some days, and she knew she wasn’t done grieving that part of her that was lost. But she knew now that life did go on. She not only knew it, she was beginning to feel it.

  She’d had a couple of riding lessons, and the discipline, as well as the presence of the animal in her life, was a good thing. It was truly amazing the way that focusing on a living, breathing creature, on its care and needs, instead of being focused inward on her own, made such a difference. During the time she was with the horse, nothing else existed. That was progress, too. She’d also been introduced to little Lindy and her brother, Nathan. Lindy had been wide-eyed when Brit had shown the little girl her left leg. They’d finished riding at the same time and had stood side by side grooming their horses. Lindy had asked questions, and Brit had answered every single one. It felt good to help someone, especially when she was the only one who could. Lindy didn’t know any other amputees.

  Brittany didn’t yet know what her future held, career-wise. She’d have to see what options were available to her. She’d come to understand that what meant the most to her was that she not waste her life. She simply wanted to make a difference. She didn’t need to move mountains. If she could make a difference in some way for some people, she’d be content. She’d enlisted right out of high school because serving others, in her family, meant serving in the military. Now that she knew herself a little better, she could begin to look ahead and consider other possibilities.

  Now, if only I was making progress with Sean. Her lover still treated her like she was made of spun glass, as if she would fracture at the slightest jarring. He touched her and loved her, but it was as if he believed she truly was totally fragile. She’d tried giving him hints, and she’d even tried to make him lose control, but nothing seemed to be getting through to him.

  Because it was bothering her, and because she was learning to deal with the change fate had given her, she decided to think of this challenge in the same way as she thought of all the others. Sean’s treatment of her was as much an outcome of her accident and the aftermath as was her prosthesis.

  Chris and Shar both believed in being honest with the self and, when something was off, to face it head-on. That was what she needed to do with Sean. No more hints, no more trying to get him to let go through seduction. Honest, straight-forward, head-on discussion.

  I think what I need to do is just tell Sean, straight out, that this new attitude of his is coming between us. Of course, it wasn’t really just an attitude. She thought she knew what was going on with him. He hadn’t dealt with his fear of what had nearly happened
to her, of how she’d contemplated taking her own life. He blamed himself for stepping back, for giving her the space she’d asked of him. He blamed himself because he believed he never should have stepped back. In his mind, he’d made a mistake, and the close call was all on him.

  Brittany knew she was responsible for her own actions. The bad choice she’d almost made was on her. They needed to hash it out and go on from there.

  The sound of laughter and arriving party guests drew her attention. Before she turned to join her friends, she promised herself she wouldn’t close her eyes this night before she told Sean Kendall exactly how she felt. She loved him too much to let him make the same kind of mistake she herself had made. She had sought to assume responsibility for her men’s decisions, just as he was doing the same for hers.

  Over the next hour, Brittany got into a party mood. There were a few people she hadn’t met, but most she had. And two people in particular she had met who weren’t coming at the last minute. Carrie Benedict was having a rough time with morning sickness and had taken to her bed. Tracy Alvarez-Kendall had been hit by a stomach bug. She was also home in bed. Jordan, who’d been going to attend the party for Ricoh, was home with her and their son because Peter had been on the volunteer fire roster.

  Brittany loved seeing the look on Angela’s face when she’d arrived. Yes, the woman had known there was going to be a shower for her, but she’d thought of the event on a much smaller scale.

  And oh, some of the beautiful and sexy and downright naughty gifts she received! When Angela got to Kate’s gift, Brittany finally understood what the expression “gobsmacked” looked like.

  “Oh! Kate!” Angela chuckled then blushed.

  “It has zippers in the front, so you can wear as much of it, or as little of it, as you like. Depending.”

  “And there’s not much here to begin with! But I love it. But more, I have a feeling Ricoh’s really going to love it. Thank you, my friend.” Angela set the garment in the box and handed it off to Laci, who made a note on the card and then sent the gift around for everyone to get a look at.

  “I’m going to have to visit that boutique,” she said. “Because they have some seriously beautiful things.”

  “They also have a web site,” Kate said. “Summer has your sizes and color preferences on file. She does that with all her customers because that allows a lot of her customers’ men to shop, worry free.”

  “So you can bet, girlfriend, that I’ll be showing that website to Ricoh,” Laci said. “But I’ll wait until he gets a load of your new intimate wardrobe first.”

  Laughter rang through the room, interwoven by the sound of everyone chatting, and exclaiming, over the gifts. Outside, the sky turned darker, and then it lightened. The change registered, and Brittany frowned as she looked out the window. It had done that a few minutes before, and she thought it was odd.

  Brittany guessed there was a lot about Texas she needed to learn. It didn’t appear that anyone else was concerned by Mother Nature’s ballet taking place outside the window.

  She guessed she should just relax and enjoy the party.

  “This one is from Brittany.” The sound of her name drew her attention, pushing away the odd discomfiture. Sitting beside her, Ginny Kendall gave her a smile. “I can recall coming to a bridal shower not long after I arrived in Lusty. I really didn’t know too many people, and I was so nervous about my gift being opened.”

  “I remember that,” Julia Wakefield-James said. “You gave Penelope an exquisite hand-tatted table covering.” Julia looked at Brittany. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

  Brittany grinned. “I never thought to be nervous until Angela picked up my gift.”

  “She’s loved everything so far,” Ginny whispered. “She’ll love your gift too—because you gave it to her.”

  Angela had the box opened and was gently lifting out the nightgown. “Oh, it’s so pretty! My favorite color! Thank you, Brittany.”

  “You’re welcome. You really should visit that store, Angela. It is amazing.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to hire a bus the next time we go,” Kate said.

  The women all laughed. And into the laughter slammed a discordant sound as the front door of the Big House burst open, banging against the wall.

  “Sweetheart?” Abigail Benedict surged to her feet. Her daughter-in-law Carrie Benedict stumbled into the room, terror etched on her face.

  “Mom! Grandma Kate!” Carrie ran straight for the family matriarch. Her tears fell, and Brit could see she was shaking. “You have to help! It’s gone! Ricoh’s house is gone!”

  * * * *

  Ricoh showered, but he didn’t bother eating because he wasn’t hungry. So he got himself a beer and turned on the television. Just before he sat down, he remembered the SAT phone. He kept it in his office, which was off the kitchen.

  He brought the phone into the living room and set it on one of his two rustic hickory tables. The twin pieces measured eight feet long by three feet wide and lined opposite walls in the great room. He’d built them himself just after this house had been constructed. Ricoh looked around the room and shook his head, as he often did, just thinking about his current digs. This was, in all likelihood, the largest and most lavish ranch manager’s house he’d ever seen.

  He ran his hand over the table, taking a moment to appreciate anew the beauty of the wood. These two tables fit the room and his style perfectly. It gave him great pleasure to work with wood. He liked the discipline of it, the warmth of the wood, and discovering the story hidden within the grain. He thought he’d try his hand at making a pair of rocking chairs, for Angela and himself. Mike Jones worked with wood as his chosen profession, but for Ricoh it would only ever be a hobby.

  He settled in his favorite chair and turned on the weather network. There was a line of thunderstorms to the south, and it looked like San Antonio might get hit. And there was another string of storms that might or might not be rumbling through close by. Good thing I have that alert app on my phone. He really didn’t like the feeling he’d had earlier as he’d looked at the sky.

  Ricoh frowned as a knock sounded at his front door. He set down his beer and muted the television. He couldn’t imagine who’d be knocking on his door on a Tuesday evening. Most anyone who would visit would just come right inside.

  He pulled open the door and gaped. “Julián! Son of a…what the hell are you doing here, man? Come in! How’s Gwen? How’s the little boy?” He hadn’t seen Julián Alvarez since a couple months before, when he’d taken Angela on a weekend outing to the Hill Country.

  “Chris is doing fine. Oh! You meant our son.” Julián grinned. “Gwen and Peter are both great. As to why I’m here? Well, I brought a few friends,” Julián said. As he spoke, men came from around both front corners of the house, wearing grins and carrying…stuff, including a number of folding chairs. “Just me and about eighteen of your closest friends, all here to throw you a bachelor party.”

  Julián moved in, giving Ricoh a playful shove. Then he grabbed him in a man hug, pounding his back. Ricoh laughed and then greeted Benedicts and Kendalls and Jessops, including all the men he worked with and worked for.

  “We all figured since our women are at the other end of town, partying it up in honor of your woman, you might as well deal with us.” Sean’s proclamation made Ricoh laugh even as he accepted the man’s congratulations.

  “I hope you didn’t go ahead and eat yet,” Brian Benedict said. “Because we’ve got pizza and fried chicken, and it is all hot.”

  “As long as you didn’t do the cooking, Benedict, I guess we’re all good.”

  Brian shot him the finger, as his brother, Chase, gave that man a shoulder bump. Those two cowboys couldn’t cook to save their souls, but their wife, Carrie, was a professional chef.

  Noah Kendall offered his congratulations and, along with his cousin, Adam, began to set up the keg they’d brought. Jesse and Barry Benedict carried in some boxes of pizza while Josh Benedi
ct, head honcho of Benedict Oil and Minerals, Morgan Kendall, and Dev Wakefield, retired navy SEAL, carried in what looked like a ton of chicken and other covered dishes Ricoh figured the women folk had made. Clay Dorchester and Gord Jessop, introverted cousins, lifelong friends, and husbands to the exotic-looking Tasha, toted in cases of soda and a couple of bottles of Jack.

  Alan Wilson and Duncan Moore, the first wranglers Ricoh had hired on this ranch, slapped him on the back and saw to it he had the first glass from the keg. Rick Benedict, businessman, and Greg Benedict, head of Mariah’s Quest, brothers born in Lusty, along with Cord and Trace Benedict, cousins originally from Montana, greeted him. Rick was the only one of the three titans present, and he looked particularly serious as he approached.

  “We’ve got cards for poker and a few DVDs that we’ll watch for their…artistic merit. Sadly, there will be no live dancers of the exotic, naked kind.”

  “You’re only sad, Benedict, because you’re such a lousy poker player,” Adam Kendall shouted out.

  “What’s worse? Not being able to raise an ante or not being able to raise something else? We’re doing you a favor, here, Kendall,” Rick Benedict shot back, his implied insult obvious. Laughter abounded, and Ricoh shook his head. Cousin-speak. You gotta love it.

  The television was turned off, and the weather watch forgotten. Music came on, and Ricoh found himself in the middle of something he’d never experienced before—a party thrown in his honor.

  He ate a couple of slices of pizza, and the chicken—it tasted like Abigail Benedict’s recipe—was so damn good he considered for one moment simply eating himself sick.

  There were indeed cards and poker chips and men exchanging paper for plastic. The men cleared off Ricoh’s two hickory tables and with great effort—they were heavy as hell—positioned them in the center of the great room. Chairs were set about, and fresh drinks passed around. Two tables of ten men apiece and the poker tournament was on.

  “There was a time,” Julián said as they played, “when the hombre, here, and I would find ourselves in a little game on the road.”