The Merry Widow of Tanner's Ford (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Marci didn’t need to look down to know they were hard. She could feel the tingling. “So? From the blush on your cheeks, I expect you want a hot stud as well.”

  “The curse of a pale complexion.” Nikki ruefully fluffed her short curls. “Yes, I’d love a big, strong man to fill my bed, but not at the expense of my career. But we’re talking about you. Wild sex with a hot cowboy or two will cure you of Ted. Then you can move on with your brilliantly satisfying life.”

  “You’re a family physician, Doctor Meshevski, not a magician.”

  “You’re my sister, and I love you. That trumps everything.”

  Nikki was right about her thing with cowboys. But it wasn’t just the boots, hat, body, and hip-rolling swagger that drew her. Ranchers had to be tough, decisive, and strong-willed to survive in the harsh Montana environment. Yet on some of her late-night walks she’d watched them laugh as they roughhoused in front of the Climax Roadhouse. She’d delighted to see such big men tossing each other in the snowbank, like children. Their ability to laugh in the face of adversity was equally as attractive as their physiques. After tamping down her enthusiasm and spontaneity for years, she craved a touch of adventure and passion.

  No more sitting with knees tightly together at a formal dining table with her hair up, silk skirt down, and mouth closed. She wanted to be stripped and laid on that table where she’d demand rich chocolate sauce be poured over her belly. She’d provide the main course as they licked her clean, inside and out. For after-dinner entertainment they’d flip her over and haul her to the edge of the table where a thick cock would impale her. Maybe she’d hold another one tight in her fist and guide it into her mouth.

  Her imagination had got her through a cold, dry marriage. It was time for a dose of hot, wet reality. Her purring pussy agreed. No doubt about it. She needed a man eager to help her explore these cravings. She wasn’t looking for a husband so didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t to be accepted. Any man who wanted her would take her as she was.

  “Hot sex with a stranger, huh?”

  “That’s my prescription,” said Nikki.

  “Maybe I will change.” Marci plucked at her pants. “Just in case.”

  Chapter Two

  “You waited to drive here until you finished shopping? What were you thinking!”

  “I was thinking the feed store closes at six.” Simon MacDougal glared back at the irate female doctor. Normally he’d walk away from an obstinate woman who wouldn’t listen. Unfortunately, he was lying in a bed with a cast from his toes to his balls. “Since this place is open all night, I figured a sore leg could wait.”

  “A sore leg?” Doc’s deep voice rose along with the color on her face. “Mr. MacDougal, I haven’t read your chart as I just came on shift. But that cast suggests a broken leg.”

  She had to be six feet tall. It went well with her big breasts, a waist narrow in proportion, and hips as broad as an axe handle. Any man brave enough to get her into bed would have his hands full. He knew one or two who’d be eager to tame such a female. Though he’d gone way too long without a woman, she was not his type. He liked them quiet, amenable, and lusty. Even better would be someone who was a good cook and housekeeper, who’d be delighted to raise their children on his family’s ranch.

  Unfortunately there weren’t any of that type around. By the time he and Lance had realized their so-called fiancé wanted nothing to do with living in the middle of nowhere, all the available women had been snapped up. Working full time on the ranch did not allow a man a chance to find a woman.

  He bet the furious doctor could barely boil water, unless it was to sterilize her scalpels. Her home would be a mess as she’d never be there, too busy working with patients. She’d never stay home with her children. Not with her career bringing her everything she wanted.

  “Didn’t figure it was broken,” he said. “I stepped on a rock and felt a jab in my leg. Didn’t hear a rattle, but that jab made me jump as if I was snakebit. My ankle gave way, and I fell. I heard something snap. I figured it was a stick until I tried to get up.”

  “My staff gave you a full leg cast, so you must have broken something.” When she blew air out of her mouth her bangs fluffed. “You should have come straight to a doctor, not messed around for hours.”

  He scowled back at her. “I wasn’t messing around, I was working. Broken leg or not, a rancher’s animals come first. You’d best learn that if you plan to live in Climax, ma’am.”

  He gave the Doc the same innocent look he’d used on Great-Granny Beth Elliott when she caught him stealing a cookie. She always laughed, called him a scoundrel, and ruffled his hair. He was seven when she died just after her hundredth birthday, still laughing and giving the male doctors a wink. He wasn’t going to wink at this doctor. She tapped her pencil on the clipboard where the sweet young thing at the desk had written down everything he said when he came in. That would teach him not to tell a woman his business.

  “Mr. MacDougal,” she said, reading from the chart in her hands, “according to this report, you fed and watered your horses after your accident. You then got in your truck and drove, not to the nearest medical facility, but to the store for some fence posts and wire.”

  “That’s not quite right,” he said, correcting her. “My truck’s got a stick so I drove to the J Bar C and got their new automatic. Good thing I hurt my left foot.”

  Her face got even redder at his interruption. He sighed and decided to read her the riot act. His father had taught him to be polite to women but this one had to understand reality.

  “Ma’am, since you’re obviously a city gal, I’d best explain a few things.” He pointed to the locker where they’d stashed what was left of the clothes he’d worn. “There’s a Stetson and championship rodeo buckle in there that proves I’m a Montana rancher. Fifth generation, in fact. Ranchers are proud of getting the job done, no matter what. It doesn’t matter a dang what the weather is, or if you’ve stubbed your toe, or got home from an all-nighter just before breakfast. You cowboy up, saddle your horse, and ride out anyway.”

  She gave him such a bland look that he didn’t know what she thought. He decided he might as well give her both barrels while she was listening. It might save some other guy the same runaround.

  “You might have noticed that ranchers wear jeans and cowboy boots. Your battleaxe nurse cut my new jeans in pieces and then sliced open my perfectly worn-in boot. How the heck can I work without my boots?”

  The Doc leaned over. She gave him the most patronizing smile he’d seen since the last election.

  “But that’s just it, Mr. MacDougal,” she said in a fake perky voice. “You’re not going to work. Your job is to put your foot up and let it heal. Nurse Anderson did her job. Be glad you had her expert hands on you.”

  She straightened up when he scowled.

  “That’s the last time Brenda gets her hands on me!”

  When he’d arrived at the clinic in the J Bar C ranch’s truck a nurse had rushed out with a wheelchair. They recognized each other at the same time. Brenda’s lip had curled and he’d realized he was toast.

  It started the first day of school when he tugged on the blue ribbon in her hair. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but she’d turned and punched him in the nose. He still didn’t know who was more surprised. Everyone laughed so he had to show her. Since he couldn’t hit a girl, he pestered her. Every day he had the chance, he’d pull that ribbon off. She’d try to hit him but he’d jump away, laughing at her red face and teasing how she got their mutual ancestor Gillis’ short temper, while he got the sense of humor. Each year the ribbon tying her braid was farther down her back. She cut it as soon as she left home for nursing school.

  But that was long ago, when they were kids. He was the second son back then, the one that would inherit nothing and always have to work for his perfect older brother. He had nothing to lose, so thoroughly enjoyed his life. Brenda was the sheriff’s daughter, and since Max Gibson was always te
lling his fathers what Simon had been up to, he didn’t mind pestering the daughter.

  When she hauled out that knife tonight he’d told her not to destroy his boots. When she insisted, he’d accused her of getting back at him for grade school, that she was jealous he never tried to kiss her. She’d given him a look that reminded him of Uncle Riley’s stubborn old mule and sweetly suggested he keep his mouth shut.

  Shutting up wasn’t something he was good at when riled. Nor did he have the patience to lie around on a bed when he needed to get home. Five o’clock came early and he had chores to do. Donny and Keith Adams would do them if he asked, but they had four little ones to care for, along with Aggie and the J Bar C ranch chores.

  He set his jaw. He was going home. No ifs, ands, or buts. Soon as the Doc left for the night, he was out of here. He might have been raised as the spare son, never quite good enough, but he’d be damned if he’d let the ranch fail. If that meant sucking up to a demanding female, then he’d do it.

  “Ma’am, I’ve got a ranch to run. I can’t afford to stay here, or let my animals starve because you have a stick up your… ahem.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean, because you’re concerned about your patients. If you will kindly sign the release papers, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  She raised an eyebrow and looked at him from his hatless head to the toes sticking out of his full leg cast. He knew he’d broken something below his knee but had no idea it would need a cast on his whole frickin’ leg. He might’ve got Donny to splint it for him if he’d known all this rigmarole would happen.

  “Mr. MacDougal, I cannot in good conscience let you go home alone with a full leg cast. Is there someone who can stay with you?”

  “Nope. Don’t need anyone.”

  “Perhaps if you hired a caretaker, or even a housekeeper—”

  “Housekeeper?” He leaned forward, ignoring the twinge of pain. “We live in an old cabin in Tanner’s Ford Valley. Decent women say it’s too far to drive back and forth, and the ones willing to live in are not what we’d want anywhere near.”

  “You’re alone? No lady friends who’d move in to help?”

  “Nope. We wanted a wife but the local gals are all hitched.”

  She tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. He could see those doctor gears crunching away on something. She cleared her throat and looked at his chart.

  “What about taking in a woman who’d be content to act as housekeeper and caregiver in return for a place to live?” He shook his head as she kept on talking. “Unwed mothers, women escaping an abusive relationship—”

  “Got the first, but their kin takes care of them. As for the second, if a man puts his hand to a woman, he’s seen to by the rest of us. He doesn’t do it again.” He rubbed his right fist with his left hand. “Trust me, there’s no one. Send me home. I’ll do fine.”

  What was it about doctors and nurses? Did they learn that bug-under-a-microscope stare at school? His first grade teacher had the same look. Used to scare the bejesus out of him. But the Doc was big, busty, and blond. If Eric Frost was in town he’d be after her like a starving man facing a juicy steak. He’d take her down a few pegs as well. Too bad she seemed like the man-hater type. Or maybe it was just ornery cowboys that pushed her buttons.

  “Mr. MacDougal, you cannot be left alone on a ranch miles from the nearest neighbor.”

  “The hell I can’t! No city woman, doctor or not, is going to run my life!” He pushed his fists into the hard mattress and shifted his hips toward the side. She moved fast, slamming up bars that shut him in like a baby’s crib. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared.

  “Protecting you from yourself.”

  “Dammit, I’ve been taking care of myself for most of the last forty years!”

  The door pushed open. Brenda glared at him. He glared back. He just bet she was gloating over this. Thank God she didn’t carry tales.

  “Is there a problem, Doctor?”

  “Mr. MacDougal needs to rest.”

  Both of them talked so sweetly his head started to pound from the sugar buzz. Or maybe it was sheer irritation.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  He didn’t like the evil glee in Brenda’s eyes. “You’re not sticking any needles into my ass!”

  “I’ll put something in his drip, Doctor Meshevski. Mr. MacDougal will sleep like a baby.”

  The two women shared a nod. The door closed behind them.

  “Hey! I said I want to go home!”

  The door stayed closed. He slammed his hand against the bed’s bars. They rattled but nothing happened except more pain. He slumped against the pillows, rubbing his hand. He had a ranch to run. Lance had a winter contract in Texas, a damn good one. He couldn’t come back early as they needed the money to keep the ranch afloat. It was Simon’s job to keep the ranch going while his twin was away.

  Gad, the Doc wanted him to take in a woman to care for him? Was she crazy? A woman needed sand to survive on an organic ranch run the old way. Unless she grew up with it, even modern ranch work was too tough for most women. In addition to the unending work everyone had to do, almost everything went back into the land or to pay bills. In really good years ranchers put money away for the bad ones to follow.

  City gals thought ranchers just rode horses when the weather was nice. An invitation for a week-long visit had brought a dose of reality to the only woman he’d invited to the MD Connected. Thank God he hadn’t wasted money on an engagement ring. What was her name? Charmaine? Chantal? No, it was Charlene. It sure as hell wasn’t Chastity. The only good thing she did for him was to teach him how to sexually satisfy a very demanding woman.

  He thought she loved him, but she kept urging him to sell the ranch for millions so they could live in the city and have fun. She didn’t believe Simon when he said they couldn’t legally sell the land. Even if they could, he soon realized nothing would satisfy her craving for diamonds, furs, and upscale travel.

  Her wanting to marry right off, without even seeing the ranch, should have warned him to back away slowly, as if she was a she-bear they’d interrupted in the berry patch. But he was dazzled by her beauty and the way she looked at him, as if he hung the moon.

  It hadn’t taken Lance’s ravens more than ten seconds to scream a warning when she stepped out of his truck in her three-inch spikes. Dumb fool that he was, he said he’d let her stay a couple of days to get used to things. But she wanted to change everything.

  She started out saying how much money they’d get selling their ancestor’s things to collectors. When Lance came home he’d caught her stuffing some of the more precious things into her suitcase. He’d removed everything before sending her back to the city with Keith to make sure she got on the plane, followed by a trail of loudly mocking ravens.

  That was when they found scribbled notes regarding divorce and child support laws. They figured she planned to marry Simon for a couple of years and produce the son he desperately wanted. She’d then insist on divorce and demand cash for half the ranch. If they didn’t pay up she’d make sure he never saw his kids again.

  That was when they’d given up on looking for a wife. If one came to them, someone sincere that they could get along with, then fine. Otherwise they’d just have to do whatever they could to survive.

  That’s what ranch life was all about. Survival.

  Mother Nature was a tough taskmaster but he couldn’t imagine another life. He reminded himself of what it felt like to ride out on a crisp spring morning with snow still covering the mountains. Wildflowers bloomed and newborn calves jumped and played. There was no better place to be. His eyes shot open at the warning squeak of nurse shoes. The door shoved open.

  “Back so soon?” he asked with sweet poison.

  “I have something just for you.” Brenda held up a needle the size of a branding iron. Her smile was as false as his.

  “You said you’d put it in my drip.”

  “Doctor suggested this would be be
tter.” She had the same look in her eye as the mossy one-horn that tried to gore him every roundup.

  “I bet it was your idea, to get back at me for that tack I put on your chair in fourth grade.”

  She just smirked. But he was a descendant of the original founders of Tanner’s Ford, both the MacDougals and Elliotts. No mossy cow could sway his path, and neither would a nurse bent on revenge. He gave her a suggestive wink.

  “You just want a look at my tight cowboy ass, Brenda. That accountant of yours doesn’t measure up.”

  If she was a teakettle, steam would be screaming out her ears. “Are we going to be a difficult patient, Mr. MacDougal?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  He gave her a charming smile. It would make her even madder but it gave him the upper hand. Or butt cheek, in this case. He shoved down the thin sheet, lifted the lousy excuse for a nightgown and patted his thigh.

  “This is your one chance to kiss my cowboy ass, Brenda. Don’t waste it.”

  Chapter Three

  Nikki grabbed a Muppets Take Manhattan plastic cup from the communal kitchenette and filled it from the sink. She needed a drink of cold water to calm herself before finally reading Simon MacDougal’s chart. The man’s flaming red hair suited his temper. Not that he had been rude considering the circumstances. She leaned her thigh against the counter and drank, enjoying the crisp taste. Let the people in the cities drink Perrier. She’d take this anytime.

  She didn’t blame Mr. MacDougal for being testy. As self-employed businessmen most of the local ranchers hated anything that slowed them up. The embarrassment of slipping off a rock and breaking a leg would be worse than the pain. But while his body was drool-worthy and, from his records, four inches taller than her six foot, she liked a man with quiet authority, one who was in control of himself.

  She wanted that control to extend to herself as well, but she never admitted that to anyone. Her nipples rose to the occasion. It must be the talk with Marci that had her thinking these thoughts. Her sister wanted a strong man to be her equal. Nikki wanted him to grab her hair at the back of her neck, order her to her knees, and—