Lustful Intentions [Climax, Montana 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “I’ve done a lot of cleaning in previous jobs, beyond what was asked. I didn’t want to eat at some of the places I’ve worked.”

  “Where did you sleep?” demanded Sam, unable to stop himself. “They can’t have been paying you very much, so how did you afford a room?”

  “Usually I rented couch space from one of the other girls. Sometimes,” she said calmly, looking at her single egg, “I slept in a booth in the restaurant. That’s one advantage of being short.”

  He could understand crashing on a buddy’s couch when he was too tired to safely drive home, but not spending night after night without your own bed. No wonder she looked like a stiff wind would blow her over. She quickly finished off her one egg, two rashers of bacon, and toast. He wasn’t far behind her with his three eggs, six pieces of bacon and four pieces of toast. She stood, gathering up their plates.

  “Would you please show me the kitchen so I can get started?”

  “You have anything else to wear?” asked Dorothy, frowning at her clothes.

  Katie’s face got almost as pink as her faded T-shirt. “No ma’am. I’m as clean as possible underneath.”

  He wouldn’t mind seeing what was underneath. No, that was incorrect. He would very much like to see what was underneath that stretched T-shirt and snug jeans. Katie caught his eye and knew exactly what he was thinking. He brazened it out, giving her a slow head-to-toe as her blush rose. If her face showed color that easily, how many spanks would it take to turn her ass red?

  Oh, Lord! He had to escape before he said something stupid.

  “Katie’s backpack was stolen,” Tom explained to Dorothy.

  “An apron will cover me, Miss Dorothy, if that’s all right.”

  Dorothy pursed her lips. “That will do for this morning, but it’s not good enough.” She nodded abruptly. “You’re about the same size as Marci. I’ll call her.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother—”

  “You need clean clothes to work here, or to find another job when you leave. Marci loves to sew, and to pass things on. One of my aprons will do for now. We’ll see how you do this morning, then talk.”

  Dorothy was six inches taller and at least sixty pounds heavier than Katie, so the apron would cover more than her front. Sam didn’t much care if Katie’s clothes were dirty, but he wanted something covering that straining T-shirt and white slice of moon. All but four of his male cousins were single and none had girlfriends. If they, or the townies, knew Katie was working here there wouldn’t be an empty seat at lunch. If she went to karaoke Saturday night they’d…no, she’d better be gone by then.

  Sam shifted on the stool, pushing his knees against the wall under the counter. He’d have to carry his hat over his buckle again if he wanted to leave. He liked the proof he was still male, but the hard-on was a damn nuisance. He glanced at the clock then cursed. Thinking about Katie had thrown off his schedule. He left a five dollar tip under his plate. Dorothy would make sure Katie got it. It was the least he could do to help her along. He nodded at Tom and walked out. He stood for a moment, still holding his hat as if letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight. When he’d subsided enough that it wasn’t painful to walk, he started toward his truck.

  He could tell himself he did not want anything to do with the woman, but his cock didn’t believe him. She wasn’t his type, being too small and argumentative. Her temper went with the red hair, which meant trouble. Everyone knew Sam Elliott was the last person in Climax, Montana to have anything to do with trouble. A pint-sized female wasn’t going to change that, no matter how appetizing. His body surged to life again, demanding action. He slid his butt in his truck and slammed the door, glad no one was around to notice.

  She’d be gone by the time he came to town next week, but his reaction to her was a wake-up call. Trey was right. It was time they found a wife. Once the haying was over he’d try out that matchmaking service just for farmers and ranchers. It was pretty darn impossible to find a wife when you spent all your time working. Of course, the situation in Tanner’s Ford Valley complicated matters. He and Trey expected to share their wife, just as Lila did Jet and Houston, and Riley and Travis did Jane. He also expected his wife to obey him, no questions asked. It worked fine for all his aunts and uncles. He didn’t think Katie knew what the word “obey” meant. She was also too small for them. And cantankerous. And just thinking of her made his cock stand up and salute.

  Sam jammed his key in the ignition and started the truck. He put it in gear, put his foot on the accelerator, and then jammed on the brakes. His heart pounded against his ribs. His fingers were white where they clutched the steering wheel. The damn woman had him so twisted into knots that he almost drove into the street without looking all around him!

  He carefully checked his mirrors and craned his head. The street was empty, but you never knew. Incidents happened when you didn’t pay attention, and then people died. He never, ever, put the truck in gear without making sure it was safe. That he’d just done it proved how much Katie messed with his mind.

  Admit it. You want her. Badly.

  She had temper, but his uncles insisted any woman worth bothering with had one. The challenge was getting her to apply that passion to something more enjoyable, as in sex. Sam wanted to blindfold her, spank her, tie her to the bed, and make her scream his name as she hit her third orgasm. His groan filled the cab. How long was it going to take to get his equilibrium back after the damn woman left town? He snorted a sarcastic laugh.

  “Yeah, after she leaves Climax, without me giving her at least one.”

  If he got the opportunity, he wouldn’t stop at one. He’d have her screaming a couple of times even before he unzipped. Nope, not gonna happen. Instead he’d have to grimace and bear the pain. He had work to do. Another week and the haying would start. He gave a silent prayer that the weather would hold. When you worked on the land, Mother Nature was always in charge. The feed store was next, then groceries.

  “Okay, I need saltlicks and horse feed.”

  He checked the street one more time before pulling out slowly and carefully. He cursed his tight jeans which made sitting, and therefore driving, unsafe. Once they had a wife she would do these nuisance town chores, leaving them to do men’s work. All this driving around was a waste of his time. He had things to do at the ranch, things a woman couldn’t do. Women other than Lila, he amended.

  Yep, he’d go online and find a strong, capable ranch wife. He needed a quiet, responsible woman who would work hard, understood the ranch always came first, and would obey his orders. He didn’t think Katie would follow a man’s orders unless it was in her best interest. That was another reason she wasn’t suitable for anything but fantasies. And for that she was more than adequate.

  He parked at the feed store, backing in by the loading dock, and grabbed his list from the seat beside him. He sat there pretending to study it while thinking of jumping in the snow, naked.

  It didn’t help his raging heat or impossible need for an unsuitable woman.

  Chapter 3

  Katie’s pussy tingled as she followed Dorothy into the kitchen. She could still feel Sam’s eyes on her butt. If she didn’t need this job so badly she’d have stomped over and done a better job on the insufferable man’s nose!

  “You won’t have another chance at Sam until next Friday morning,” said Dorothy. “He keeps to a strict schedule. Except for emergencies and meetings, he doesn’t come to town but once a week.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Not that it matters,” she added. “I hope to be home by then.”

  Dorothy leaned an ample hip against the counter. “It’s good to have a schedule, but it shouldn’t rule your life. Sam needs something to shake him up. Or someone,” she added. Her face softened into a smile. “You shook him up this morning. I haven’t seen him get that riled in years.”

  “That insufferably pompous man needs shaking up.”

  “Tom said you punched his nose and knocked him on his but
t. Good for you.”

  “If I’d been standing I would have flipped him. That would’ve taken him down a few pegs.”

  “I’d hire you for the week for a chance to see that.”

  If she could catch the handsome cowboy thief from the bus she’d do more than flip him. As for the man who’d attacked her after offering her a ride, he deserved to stare into the piggish eyes of a pair of grinning Bubba cousins as the prison guard slammed the cell door shut for the night.

  Tears threatened at the reminder of her circumstances. They were a product of her exhaustion, nothing else. As the smallest and youngest cousin, and therefore easy pickings, she’d learned tears did nothing except turn her face blotchy. Her martial arts training taught her physical pain was transitory. Her family had battered home the knowledge that words could hurt far worse than blows.

  All that was behind her now. She wasn’t a child at the mercy of adults. She’d been sent on this assignment to find a new product for the family business. Once her plan was approved her family should treat her with the same respect due every employee. Unfortunately, there was a long road between “should” and “would.” She’d studied enough psychology to know that first impressions seldom changed. She had a sneaking suspicion her family would always treat her as if she had little value.

  “Aprons are in there,” said Dorothy, pointing to a supply cupboard.

  A few minutes later a group of old men arrived for breakfast. She grabbed an order pad, put on a welcoming smile, and went to work. A long time later she set a last bucket of dirty dishes beside the dishwasher. A hand touched her shoulder. She whipped around, automatically falling into position. Tom held his hands out to the sides in a low-threat manner. She blushed, stammering an apology.

  “I understand,” he said calmly. “It takes a while to feel safe. You’ve been going full speed and it’s time for you to sit.” Tom put a gentle hand on her back and guided her out of the kitchen.

  “Freshen up, look out the window, and relax.”

  When she slumped into the seat she realized how exhausted she was. Tom returned with a plate of pie and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

  “Dorothy put aside a piece of blueberry pie for you.” He winked. “I think you deserve a sugar rush. Think of it as fruit and dairy, to keep you going until lunch.” She looked at the pie and her mouth watered. It looked homemade, from real blueberries, not the glop that came in giant cans. “You’ve proven you can work,” he continued as she picked up a spoon. “That’s pretty important around here. If you want a job in Climax, we’ll make sure you find one.”

  He turned away, allowing her to hide her sudden tears. She ducked her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She gritted her teeth and dug into flaky pastry filled with blueberries and a zest of lemon and cinnamon. She tried to discount Tom’s promise. She’d heard them before. This time, however, she wanted to believe him. These were kind people, and thoughtful. The old men had left good tips, telling her she’d brightened their morning. She was just thinking of licking the plate when Dorothy hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Tom! Stella fell and hurt her arm.”

  “At home?”

  He immediately went to his wife. The room was too small for Katie not to hear everything.

  “No, she was at the Seniors Center. The medical assistant doesn’t think it’s broken. They’re driving her to the clinic to make sure.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s not like Stella to get hurt.”

  “There’s a lot on her mind, what with the haying. She’s not ready to go back to the Rocking E yet.”

  “I forgot about the haying! If she’s hurt, Stella won’t be able to take over from Aggie. We’ll all help, of course, but someone has to be in charge.”

  “You could do it.”

  “Oh, Tom, no!” Dorothy shook her head. “I’m fine in my own kitchen, but that’s all. We need someone who can work with a bunch of people, get them organized, and give direction. Maybe Marci?”

  “That’s for later,” said Tom. “Did someone call the Elliotts?”

  “Trey’s on his way. His brother should be at the Mercantile by now, so they’re calling Jeb to pass on the word.” Dorothy squeezed her husband. “This is going to hit him like a Mack truck.”

  “He’ll cope, and so will we. Maybe Jane could do the organizing.”

  “Jane’s pregnant, and anyway the J Bar C has been doing it for years. Someone else needs to step forward. Maybe Louise Jefferson’s daughter, Frannie? She’s moving back to live with her mother.”

  Katie couldn’t help listening. Someone’s mother was injured and needed help, so she would do whatever she could. She owed these people, and always paid her debts. She wiped her mouth with a napkin as she stood.

  “Could I help?” They turned to her. “I don’t want to butt in, but…” She looked at Tom. “I’m not asking to be paid, I’m offering help. I know my way around a kitchen, though nothing like you, Miss Dorothy. If you need someone to organize, I have a business degree, though not much practical experience except volunteer activities.”

  She’d taken courses in cooking and many other things in the evenings during high school. Anything to avoid being in that oppressive place where most of her family lived. It had never been home to her. Her volunteer activities happened at college. Since she had no social life, she wanted to help those who might appreciate her. It had been the first time in her life that she’d felt wanted or appreciated. She’d liked that feeling and wanted more.

  “Thank you,” said Tom.

  “Maybe Louise can take care of Stella until Ben and Amy get here tomorrow,” said Dorothy. “Good thing they’d planned to visit this weekend.”

  Katie looked away, uncomfortable at the way the older couple held each other. Her family didn’t show emotion, especially affection.

  “At least some of the cooking should be done in the Rocking E kitchen,” said Tom. “We understand Stella not wanting to be there, but if someone else is in charge, it could work.”

  Dorothy grimaced. “Amy says the kitchen is bachelor clean, but that’s not good enough for me or the other women who’ll be helping.”

  “What if Katie cleans it up? We already know she can work hard, and she needs the money.”

  “Oh, Tom, that’s perfect!”

  They broke apart, both turning to face her.

  “You could solve a number of problems,” said Tom. His assessing look had her wanting to take a step back. “Would you be willing to clean a kitchen that hasn’t had a woman living there in years? The boys would enjoy having you cook, if that works out for you. The main thing is to bring the kitchen up to standard. Of course, you’ll be paid. It will be more than enough to get you home.”

  “You’ll have your own bedroom, with an en suite bathroom,” added Dorothy. “The boys are gentlemen, so you would be safe.”

  “Nothing will happen against your will,” added Tom. His words were soft but there was something in his eyes that suggested more was at stake.

  Katie had assumed she was over her attack scare but the thought of a safe bed proved otherwise. She grabbed her elbows, trembling. She needed more than money. She needed a safe place to close her eyes. She kept her head down until she could fake a relaxed expression.

  “How could I turn down a real bed, a paying job, and a chance to make a difference?” she replied, keeping it light.

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Dorothy. “Tom?”

  He kissed her cheek, patting her ample bottom as he turned away. “Before anything is decided, we need to have a little chat. Come into my office…Katie.”

  She froze. The genial man was gone, replaced by someone hard-eyed and suspicious. The way he’d said her name suggested he thought it was false. Though she shivered, her face flamed. This was it. What she’d avoided for almost six months was happening, and at the worst possible time. She had no choice but to obey. She tried not to drag her feet as she followed him into his tiny office.
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  “Shut the door. Sit.”

  Katie followed his orders, perching on the edge of the sturdy wooden chair and clasping her hands in her lap. She stared at them, noticing her ragged fingernails and cuticles. If her mother saw her like this she would be grounded for a month, even at her age. Living in the family home meant following the rules, even the unwritten ones. Those were the worst.

  Focus!

  Katie met his eyes. During the last six months, if something came up, she could just move on. Not this time. She had nothing but the clothes on her back. She was caught in the middle of nowhere in a valley between two very high passes. If Tom threw her out she would get home some way. One thing the last six months had taught her was that she could survive a lot more than she’d thought possible.

  Tom leaned back, resting his elbows on the chair’s arms. He matched each fingertip to its mirror image. She felt like a bug caught in his web.

  “The driver’s license you showed me earlier was sufficient to spend a few hours under my eye. However, if you’re going to be left alone in the home of a dear friend, I will know the truth.”

  Her heart pounded even harder. She’d been told it was foolproof.

  “My license—”

  “Is a very expensive forgery. It would fool most people. Not me.”

  She hadn’t thought his eyes could get harder. She was wrong.

  “Who are you, and why are you carrying very expensive false ID?”

  * * * *

  Tom kept perfectly still, letting the tension rise. Both he and Dorothy were good judges of character. His wife had over forty years of experience dealing with the public. His natural instincts had been honed by years of Special Forces training. It, and knowing Dorothy waited for him, had kept him alive during the worst days of his life. If Katie lied someone would drive her to Dillon with a recommendation that she was a good waitress, and leave her there. He liked Katie, if that was her name, and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.