The Cowboy's Thirty-Day Fling
Page 7
The little girl blinked up at him as if he’d read her mind before nodding slowly.
“I’m Sawyer. Would you like to ride one of them?”
Her eyes grew wide in shock. “Can I?”
“You bet. I’m afraid our first trip will have to be a short one. We still need to get you settled into the bunkhouse, but after that long bus ride, I thought you might like to breathe in some fresh Texas air.”
“I would. I really, really would.”
Sawyer smiled, then turned to a counselor named Jason. “Miss Tina and I are going for a little ride on Thunderbolt. We’ll be back shortly in case anyone is looking for us.”
“Got it, boss. You two have fun.” Jason nodded as he helped another child in a wheelchair clear the lift gate.
“Thunderbolt?” Tina asked with an audible gulp. “Does he go fast?”
“As fast as you want him to.”
Tina reached up and timidly brushed her thin fingers over the horse’s shoulder. “Not too fast, okay, Thunderbolt?”
The horse jerked his head as if answering. Tina’s face filled with wonder all over again. The horse stood motionless—like he’d been trained to—while Sawyer hoisted himself onto the custom-fabricated saddle. Gripping the metal horn, he leaned over and plucked Tina off the ground. She let out a tiny squeal of surprise, and her crutches clanged together as she clung tightly to Sawyer’s arm.
“Easy, Tina. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall,” he assured. “You’re doing great, sunshine.”
After settling the girl onto the front portion of the saddle, he helped her out of her crutches and slid them into the specially designed leather sheath behind him. With one arm, he reached around her and unwound the reins from the saddle horn before handing them to her.
“Take us away, Tina.”
“Me?” she squawked in a small voice.
“Yes, you.”
“Oh, wow,” she whispered before clutching the reins in her bony fists. “Giddyup.”
Sawyer lightly tapped the heels of his boots against Thunderbolt’s sides. The horse reared its head and let out a loud whinny. Tina giggled, then laughed as Thunderbolt began clomping toward the pasture entrance.
“I got it,” Nate called. He jogged to the galvanized metal gate and swung it open wide. As Sawyer and Tina passed him, Nate doffed his Stetson. Bowing deep, he raised his head and winked at the little girl. “Your pasture awaits, my queen.”
Tina covered her mouth and laughed. It was the second sweetest sound Sawyer had heard all day. Brea’s sultry timbre was the first.
Chapter Four
Brea
* * *
With her duffle bags stowed in the back of Jade’s truck, Brea rode shotgun toward Barbara’s house. When they pulled into the driveway, she fell instantly in love with the Victorian gingerbread-style home. It looked like an oversized dollhouse. As they climbed the stairs and onto the white wraparound porch, she drank in the ivy, climbing the multicolored spindles and white lattice panels. Brea couldn’t wait to spend a month in the beautiful house…
Until Barbara opened the screen door and Ozzie, a massive black and tan Doberman, raced onto the porch, nearly knocking Brea on her ass. After circling her legs, Ozzie stopped, then shoved his nose between her thighs, furiously sniffing her crotch. Her face caught fire as she tried to shove the beast’s muzzle away.
“And you thought you were through with men,” Jade giggled.
She shot her bestie a steely glare. “You are so not funny.”
Jade laughed harder.
“Sorry about that,” Barbara sheepishly groaned. “Ozzie! Leave it.”
At her command, the dog jerked his head from Brea’s crotch and padded over to nuzzle his mistress’s hand. Barbara sent her an apologetic frown. “Crazy beast. I swear he’s part Alabama crotch hound. Please, come inside.”
With a wary eye on Ozzie, she followed Jade and Barbara into the house. To Brea’s relief, the cooch-sniffing mutt kept his nose out of her business while his mistress took them on a tour of her magnificent home. It had a warm, welcoming vibe, and the walnut pocket doors and glossy hardwoods charmed Brea. But it was the detailed crown molding and bull’s-eye-trimmed windows framed against crisp white walls that took her breath away. The craftsmanship was astounding, and the intricately carved spindles surrounding a grand staircase were the icing on the cake. It wouldn’t be a hardship spending a month in such architectural splendor.
After the tour, they waved goodbye to Jade, who promised to stop by often. Then Brea and Barbara spent the next several hours going over everything from breaker boxes to bird feeders and how to care for the massive flower and vegetable beds in the backyard. Ozzie ran wild, barking and chasing birds, while Barbara and Brea sat at a marble-topped outdoor patio set. Relaxing under the wide umbrella, the women talked and sipped iced tea.
Ozzie lifted his leg and relieved himself on the chain-link fence separating Barbara’s yard from her neighbor’s.
“Oh, I almost forgot. If something breaks…the dishwasher, garden hose…anything, my neighbor Neville is a natural-born repairman. What he can’t fix, his brother Nate can. Those two are great with their hands.”
Brea nearly spewed tea out her nose. Coughing and sputtering, she finally cleared her throat and sent Barbara a suggestive grin. “Oh, really?”
“Not like that. Heavens no.” The woman, all flustered and embarrassed, blushed wildly. “They help me with repairs from time to time. That’s it.”
Brea glanced at the chestnut-colored two-story craftsman over the fence and wondered why Barbara hadn’t enlisted Neville to watch her dog and house. Then again, with a name like Neville, he might be minutes from moving into the nursing home. Or worse…he could be buckets full of crazy like Emmett, the delusional Bigfoot hunter.
Brea was quickly learning that while Haven was a quaint town, some of its occupants and types of stores were beyond strange.
Back inside the house, the women prepared an early dinner. Brea realized how much she’d missed the company of another female. The time she’d spent with both Jade and Barbara had been more relaxing than multiple days at the spa. Brea didn’t have to worry about interrupting some amazing punt return on TV or hounded about clean boxers or reminded that the milk was all gone. It was like a breath of fresh air, a vacation, and she was enjoying every single second of the strange sense of peace blooming inside her.
Like old friends, she and Barbara sat talking and laughing. The woman had a dry and biting sense of humor that Brea adored. It wasn’t long after the sun went down that Barbara thanked her again for coming to the rescue, then said good night and goodbye.
As darkness closed in, Brea snagged a romance novel from the bookshelves and climbed the stairs. Halfway through the first chapter, she zonked completely out.
The sounds of birds chirping and a lawn mower churning in the distance tugged her from yet another sinfully erotic dream featuring Sawyer. Brea tossed back the covers and moaned. Her girl parts still ached from the nocturnal sexcapades that’d had her orgasming in her sleep. Ozzie’s toenails clapped across the wooden floor. As she sat up, the dog padded to the bed and dropped his muzzle on the mattress beside her. With sad brown eyes, he peered up at her and whined. The crotch-sniffing hound was mourning the loss of his mistress. Reaching down, she stroked his head and ears.
“It sucks not being with the one you want. Trust me. I know. Don’t worry. Your mommy hasn’t abandoned you forever. Me? Well, that’s a sad story even your big, brave puppy-dog heart doesn’t need to hear.”
The pup issued a pitiful sigh and stared up at her with an even sadder expression that touched Brea’s heart.
“All right. I can see I’m going to need to declare this a no-moping day. Let’s go get you a treat. That ought to cheer you up…it always does me. Of course, my treats walk on two legs and do things with their tongues that…” Brea let out a low growl.
Ozzie quirked an ear and cocked his head at her. With a laugh, she pulled
off her wrinkled T-shirt and tugged a clean one on. She’d been so exhausted last night she’d fallen asleep fully dressed.
After feeding and watering the dog, she gave him his promised treat, then made a pot of strong coffee. Leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for her caffeine infusion to brew, images of Sawyer’s face and all the wicked things he’d done to her in her dreams plowed through her brain. Her skin tingled and her body hummed.
“Oh, get a grip. You’re not sixteen anymore. Stop pining over him like you did Luke Perry. You’re a grown woman. You can’t go around with your head in the clouds. Mr. Wet Dream, who kept you up all night, has character flaws like every other man. The only difference is you haven’t discovered them yet…and you’re not going to. Because you’re going to stay far, far away from that sinful side of beef, even if it kills you.”
Talking to herself did little to sway Sawyer from her thoughts. She had to silence her subconscious to keep from torturing herself and get a good night’s sleep. Besides, she was there to take care of things for Barbara, not fixate on her overactive libido.
After a shower and a light breakfast, Brea called her boss, Charlie. She laid out the debacle with the cops, Weed, and the drugs. Bless his understanding heart, Charlie didn’t care about anything but her welfare. He told Brea to take as much time as she needed, that her job would be there when she came back.
Relived to her toes, she then plucked the card Detective Estes had given her and called the station. She checked in with the desk sergeant and supplied him with Barbara’s address and phone number, then followed Ozzie onto the back deck.
While the beast chased a bold squirrel scurrying over the thick green grass, Brea sat down and opened the book she’d started before passing out last night. Surprisingly, Barbara’s literary tastes leaned to the kinky and erotic side, and Brea was sailing into chapter three when sweat began to roll down her brow. Either the scorching sex scene she was reading or the heat was getting to her, probably a combination of both. She needed to cool down.
“And I thought last night was rough. If I keep reading this shit, I’m going to burn out BOB in two days.” Brea tossed the book aside and stood.
As she unwound the garden hose and turned it on, Ozzie raced toward her. Dancing around, he bit and growled at the water. Brea laughed at the dog’s zany antics as she gave drinks to the foliage and one crazy, lovable mutt.
By the time she was through, both she and Ozzie were soaking wet. Brea put the hose away before she and the dog stretched out on the deck, letting their clothes and fur dry in the afternoon sun. Closing her eyes, Brea let out a happy sigh. She hadn’t been this stress-free in years.
The rest of the day, she did absolutely nothing, and it felt good for a change.
When the ten o’clock news was over, Brea climbed the stairs and tossed on her pajamas, a short, nearly threadbare T-shirt. The thing was practically see-through and didn’t quite cover her ass, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone but Ozzie was going to see her tonight. She washed her face and brushed her teeth and was about to head downstairs when she glanced in the bedroom mirror. The red lace thong peeking from beneath the tattered hem of her shirt made her look like a homeless stripper.
“Good grief. If there was a Bag Ladies of Hustler, I’d be the centerfold,” she said, laughing at her reflection.
Back in the family room, Brea pulled the curtains and locked the doors before settling in on the couch. Scrolling through television stations with Ozzie curled beside her, she paused at the Food Network. The yellow-haired host observed a chef preparing grilled Tuscan garlic chicken that made her mouth water. She was about to get up and raid the pantry when her cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. Peering at the caller ID, she scowled.
“Give it a rest, Weed. I’ve said everything I want to you.”
She issued a heavy sigh and ignored the call. Ozzie raised his head and gave her a look akin to sympathy.
“Just how smart are you?” she asked the dog.
He answered with a yawn, exposing sharp, scary teeth before bounding off the couch and scurrying to the back door.
“All right, buddy,” she chuckled as she headed his way. “I know dog code for let me out or I’ll pee all over the floor when I see it.”
After unlocking the door, she pushed it open as she flipped on the porch light. Ozzie sprang off the deck as if he’d been shot from a cannon. Rocketing across the lawn, he was in hot pursuit of a terrified rabbit, zigzagging maniacally across the yard. Brea’s heart lurched to her throat as visions of Ozzie eviscerating poor Thumper exploded in her brain.
Without thinking of her tacky attire, she raced off the porch after the dog.
“Leave it!” she scolded.
But the obstinate mutt ignored her. Chasing after the single-minded mongrel, Brea waved her arms, screaming at him like a lunatic. She’d nearly cornered him twice, but Ozzie evaded her as he continued barking and trailing the nimble, frightened bunny.
“I said leave it, you bloodthirsty brute!”
The rabbit escaped through a gap under the fence as the door to the house slammed shut behind her. As she slid to a halt in the grass, a wave of dread poured through her. Turning, she sprinted up the stairs and gripped the doorknob. It was locked.
“Son of a bitch!”
Sawyer
* * *
After studying the campers’ activity schedule for the next day, Sawyer grabbed a beer and strolled to the backyard. Kicking back on a padded chaise, he gazed at the stars, twinkling like diamonds in the inky night sky, and wondered if Brea were looking at them, too.
“Damn. She’s got me waxing poetic about stars and shit.”
It was sad but true. Brea had invaded his thoughts ninety-nine percent of the day. The way the wind had tousled her dark hair as she stood on the sidewalk that morning left no doubt in Sawyer’s mind what she’d look like after a night in his bed. Just the thought turned his cock harder than a sledgehammer.
Taking a long pull on the bottle, Sawyer tortured himself again as visions of Brea’s plump lips wrapped around his shaft, her shapely legs locked behind his back, and her screams of ecstasy filling the air crowded his brain. His cock was at full mast, scraping the zipper of his jeans again, when his neighbor’s porch light came to life.
Sawyer looked up as Ozzie leapt off the back porch, but instead of Barbara trailing after him, Brea raced off the deck. Sawyer nearly dropped his beer at the sight of her barely covered body glowing in the floodlights. His rousting cock grew impossibly tighter and slammed against his zipper with a jerk.
Rising to his feet, safe in the shadows, Sawyer set his beer down. Quenching his other thirst, he branded the sight of Brea’s pert ass cheeks jiggling oh so temptingly—as she chased after the dog, screaming like a banshee—to memory. A slash of red lace between her legs made Sawyer’s mouth water. But as the comical sight beyond the fence continued, he pinched his lips together to keep from laughing.
After the rabbit escaped and the chaos calmed, Brea sprinted back to the deck and wiggled the door handle before cursing.
“First day on the job, and I’m locked out,” Brea spat. “Priceless. This is just piss-assed priceless.”
Ozzie loped up beside her, panting and wagging his nubby tail, while Sawyer sank farther back in the darkness, grinning like a loon.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, running after that poor defenseless rabbit. Now look what you’ve done! We’re locked out because of you…you big, goofy bastard.”
Ozzie responded with a taunting bark.
Sawyer slipped a hand to his pocket and fingered his keys, particularly the rubber-tipped house key Barbara had given him eons ago.
“Rule number one, never, ever sniff my crotch. Rule number two, don’t chase rabbits.” She wagged her finger in his face. “Got it?”
Once again, the dog barked, and Sawyer could have sworn the playful pooch was grinning. When Brea darted a glance toward his house, he froze like a statue.
Old man? Dusty, fossilized fart? Sawyer didn’t know whether to laugh or growl with insult.
Brea continued ranting at Ozzie as if he were human. “I’d go over and see if he has an extra key, but I can’t do it dressed like this. What if the decaying dude has a bad heart? I might make him stroke out or something.”
You’d make me do something, all right, darlin’. But the only stroking I’d do is with my tongue…up and down that pretty red-lace-covered pussy of yours.
Sawyer’s cock was screaming.
Brea darted another furtive glace his way before releasing a heavy sigh. She looked down at the dog and pouted. “All right, you little troublemaker. Let’s hope I can find a window that’s unlocked, or I’ll be replacing a pane of glass in the morning.”
Sawyer remained in the shadows as Brea tugged on several window frames, cursing louder in a tone growing increasingly desperate. He knew it was time to lend his fantasy girl a hand…or rather a key.
Stepping off his deck, Sawyer silently moved between the two houses. As he unlatched Barbara’s gate, Brea cried out, “Score!”
By the time he’d rounded the corner, she was trying to launch herself through the partially opened dining room window. Ozzie came barreling toward him, tongue hanging out and tail wagging frantically. Sawyer scratched the dog behind his pointed ears as Brea slid back to the ground with a hiss.
“Shit! That stings,” she bit out, pressing a hand to her chest.
He opened his mouth to call out to her, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as Brea lifted her shirt and peered at the angry red welts marring her ivory flesh. With his eyes glued to her full, heavy breasts, Sawyer’s palms burned to cup them, draw them to his mouth, and torture her dusty-rose pebbled nipples.