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  T-Bone

  Grade-A Beefcakes Series - Book 2

  Vanessa Vale

  T-Bone

  Copyright © 2018 by Vanessa Vale

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from both authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover design: Bridger Media

  Cover graphic: Deposit Photos: vishstudio; Period Images

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Note From Vanessa

  Join the Wagon Train!

  Get A Free Book!

  Also By Vanessa Vale

  About Vanessa Vale

  Prologue

  TUCKER

  * * *

  I was in lust, in love, in over my fucking head, pussy whipped even, by the owner of the Seed and Feed. Oh yeah. Every luscious, high maintenance inch of her. And that saucy mouth, well, I had something to keep it quiet. Ava was everything I’d always wanted but never knew. Not until the night we had our weekly Duke dinner at Cassidy’s, and then wham. A fucking two-by-four to the heart. Being BFFs my big brother’s girl had Ava joining us. It had been almost impossible to keep my hands off her. I’d thought her all prissy in her blinged-out jeans, high heels, blonde hair perfectly styled and lips painted a fuck-me red. But when she turned fierce to protect Kaitlyn from the little fucker, Roger, holy hell. My dick went instantly hard for the tiger. I’d hooked her about the waist and held her back, felt every soft curve of her, even with her claws out. And those claws? I wanted them scratching me. I wanted her wild as I watched Colton take her, as we claimed her together. Because one thing I’d learned that night, between one heartbeat and the next… she belonged to us. She just didn’t know it yet. She would though. We’d make sure of it.

  1

  TUCKER

  * * *

  “Nobody smiles like that when ordering pig feed,” I grumbled, elbowing Colton in the ribs. We were in the Raines Seed and Feed, standing beside the scarred wood table that used to hold old copies of agricultural magazines, but now held a fancy coffee machine, one of the many additions made by the new owner since she bought the place last winter. Ava Carter.

  He looked up from the sugar he was pouring in his coffee. He pulled his cup from the fancy machine that used the little pods. The first time I’d seen it, I’d thought it a little ridiculous for a small town ag store, especially situated between the salt licks and deworming solution. But now, well, it was a great addition. Keeping her customers caffeinated was pretty fucking smart.

  But I didn’t give a shit about coffee. Not today. I had all my attention on the fucker who was leaning his hip against the checkout counter and flirting with Ava.

  Our Ava.

  I knew that guy’s look; I’d used it before myself. Roscoe Barnes was laying on the charm. The cowboy reached across the counter and put his hand on top of hers as she filled out one of the delivery forms.

  Colton stood straighter, put his to-go cup down, all but forgotten. “That right there’s a way a man can lose some fingers.”

  Ava pulled her hand away, shifted so she was out of reach, but continued with her paperwork—and didn’t punch Roscoe in the nose.

  “Yeah, too bad cutting them off is against the law,” I replied. “I’m sure the sheriff will agree that breaking them is fine when he’s touching our woman.”

  Colton offered a small growl in response. Yeah, no one touched our girl. No one but us.

  And we hadn’t even done all that much with Ava Carter. Yet.

  We stopped into her store every day, one of us or both of us together like this morning, to check on her. To buy something we didn’t really need. To make sure no man crossed the line like Roscoe was right now. To let her know we were around, that we weren’t going anywhere. Ever.

  The first time I ever laid eyes on Ava, the woman we would marry, was a month ago at Cassidy’s. Kaitlyn Leary had been bothered by a guy she’d dated. Roger Beirstad. The little fucker had stopped by our table and talked trash about my older brother’s woman. And since Ava was Kaitlyn’s BFF, she had been ready to rip Roger’s eyes out.

  Fuck, I loved a feisty woman.

  I’d had the good fortune of holding Ava back while Duke and Jed took care of Kaitlyn. With my arm about Ava’s narrow waist and her pulled back against me, I’d felt how soft she was. Every fucking inch of her. My forearm had been tucked beneath lush tits and her delectable ass had been pulled tight against my dick. I’d gone instantly hard and the thick pipe had settled between her cheeks, right where it wanted to be. She hadn’t pushed me away. In fact, she’d wiggled those wide hips and looked at me over her shoulder, wide-eyed and… interested.

  I’d bet the ranch she’d been wet for me. Oh yeah, it had been perfect except we’d been in a room full of people and we’d had our clothes on. She’d known right then and there I wanted her. Knew my dick rose for her. That I had her in my sights.

  I’d told Colton all about her and the next day, he’d skipped out on morning chores at the ranch and headed right to the Seed and Feed. One look and he’d agreed. Ava Carter would be our woman.

  All this time, we’d been waiting for her. And the kicker was, she’d been in town for months—months—and we hadn’t even known she was The One. We’d heard about the city slicker woman who’d bought the store, but hadn’t expected Ava. Hell no. Time we could have been eating her pussy had been wasted.

  I licked my lips, eager for the taste of her. I now got hard from the scent of strawberries—it had to have been her shampoo that night—because she’d smelled good enough to eat. I just knew she was sweet all over and we’d find out. We’d get between those thick thighs with our mouths, our fingers, our dicks and she’d be screaming our names. That’s right. Everyone in town would hear her and know the truth.

  Her pussy belonged to me and Colton.

  While she might smell and taste sweet, her temperament was anything but. She was a little wildcat, my tiger. I loved it when she showed her claws. I was eager to have all that energy, all that wildness taking my dick for a ride. I wasn’t called T-Bone because I ran a cattle ranch. Hell, no. My dick was one hundred percent, grade-A, prime meat and she was going to love it. Every single inch.

  As for Colton, she wouldn’t find him lacking either.

  She went to the far side of the counter and got on the phone, back to us, most likely to confirm with her delivery driver about Roscoe’s order—we’d been in enough to know how she ran her business—leaving the fucker on his own.

  We walked up to him, settled on either side of Roscoe. He paid no attention to us. No, his eyes were square on Ava’s ass. She looked fucking hot in her jeans, showing off every inch of her perfection. While I enjoyed the view, that didn’t mean I wanted the fucker to enjoy it at all. I wanted to toss a grain sack over Ava’s head so no one could see what Colton and I did every time we looked at her.

  But fuck, it would be no use. A sack would do shit to hide her beauty.

  “I’d like to plow her like the fall harvest,” Roscoe murmured, winking at me and grinning at Colton.

  Yeah, we were three good ole boys. Buds talking tail.

  At least that was what he thought.

  “You won’t disrespect her that way,” Colton said. His voice was low, but it was laced with steel.

  The smile slipped from the bastard’s face, but he kept at it. He had no fucking idea he was about to lose his teeth. “Oh, come on. My dick never got hard for Pete when he ran the place. I consider it a perk of getting supplies for the ranch. I’ll have to go rub one out before I head home.”

  “You mean head back to your wife. How are Rachel and the kids?” Colton asked, right before he gripped Roscoe’s hand and wrenched it behind his back.

  I watched as Colton easily escorted the fucker out the front door, funny sounds of pain coming from Roscoe’s throat as his fingers were close to being broken.

  “Tucker Duke, what is Colton doing with my customer?” Ava asked. Her eyes were fixed on Roscoe being escorted out the store’s entrance.

  I turned so I could face her. Winked. “Taking out the trash, tiger.”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Oh yeah, here came the claws.

  “He’s a customer! You can’t just… just manhandle people in here as the two of you see fit.”

  “He touched you,” I countered.

  If Roscoe wasn’t being taken care of by Colton, I wouldn’t be so calm. If he ever came in the store again, Roscoe’d be showing Ava and his wife some respect or he’d be buried in the back forty.

  “You think that’s the first man who’s done that? I can take care of myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The flannel plaid button-up did nothing to hide her generous curves. While I longed for the day when she wore only my shirt—and nothing else—this one had a trim women’s cut to it, showing off her pretty curves. Thi
s was good because if it were another man’s—besides Colton’s—I’d have dragged her into the office and stripped it off her. Covered her with mine.

  Her outfit was fashionable. As sassy as she was. To me, she always looked perfect. Blonde hair styled and makeup on, even when taking orders for pig feed. Fire engine red nail polish coated her fingernails. Small diamond studs sparkled at her ears. While her clothes bordered on the ridiculous for a small Montana town—and as the owner of a Feed and Seed store, I loved the way she looked. As if she never got her hands dirty a day in her life. That was how it should be. Ava with two men taking care of her, doing all the dirty work.

  Well, maybe not all the dirty work. We’d get nice and dirty. Filthy even. Together.

  Why she’d bought the Seed and Feed from Pete, I had no idea, and I damned well wanted to find out, but she was doing a good job. With the amount of time I’d spent in the store the past month, I’d say she had a whole slew of customers. Which had me wondering—

  “Who else has touched you? Worse?”

  She gave a small shrug of her dainty shoulder. While she came up to my chin, I knew she had on some kind of heels. I’d never seen her without them. Again, impractical, but I loved a good fuck-me heel on a woman.

  Colton walked up then, propped his hip against the counter. “Well, sugar? Any other man we should know about?”

  “Roscoe Barnes ordered four months’ worth of feed,” she said, pointing toward the door. “I can’t have him shopping for it in Clayton. I have a business to run.”

  I nodded. “You do. But you don’t need men pawing all over you.”

  “So you’re going to what? Continue to come in every day to make sure no one does?”

  Colton shifted, put his hands on the counter and leaned in. “Roscoe will be a perfect gentleman from now on, I promise you that. But to answer your question, yes. If that’s what it takes. We protect what’s ours.”

  Her mouth fell open at that. I imagined it open a whole lot wider as my dick worked its way inside.

  “Ours?”

  I leaned in, too, so both of us were close. So the two of us blocked out everything else. “You need a man touching you?”

  “Men,” Colton corrected.

  “You’ve got us right here, tiger.” I pointed between Colton and myself.

  The blue of her eyes went darker, her cheeks flushed and her hand crumpled the order form. We watched as she took a moment to pull herself together, to fortify that fucking wall she put around her emotions. Inwardly, I grinned, for we were getting to her. Slowly, but surely.

  She licked her lips, looked between the two of us. “Every day you stop in. Every day you ask me to go out with you and I say no. Don’t you take no for an answer?”

  “If you really meant it,” Colton said seriously. Neither of us would force our intentions on a woman. But we knew the signs of when a woman wasn’t interested and Ava hadn’t shown any one of them. Ava was just scared. I didn’t blame her. We were bossy men. Intense. We wanted everything from her, but we would give her the same in return. We wouldn’t treat her half-assed like Roscoe did his wife. Hell, I hadn’t even glanced at another woman since I laid eyes on Ava. Only thought of her—those fiery eyes, thought of her tiny hands trying to wrap themselves around my dick, wondering if her pussy was bare or if she had a little strip of hair pointing the way to heaven—when I rubbed one out in the shower. Every fucking day. We’d love her completely. Fuck her completely. Cherish her.

  “Sugar, a woman’s nipples don’t go all hard for men she doesn’t want.”

  She glanced down and sure enough, two hard points poked against her flannel. Instantly, she crossed her arms, blushed prettily. As if that was going to keep me from thinking about the color of those tight tips, how they’d feel in my mouth.

  Colton reached out, brushed a knuckle down the side of her neck. “A woman’s pulse doesn’t race for men who don’t make her hot.”

  “We’re patient men, Ava,” I told her. “We’ll wait for you to switch your no to a yes.”

  I could smell strawberries and, of course, that meant I was as hard as a fence post in the middle of the Seed and Feed.

  Again. Fuck.

  Realizing she was sinking into us, she stepped back, tilted up her chin. Fortified those defenses. “In the meantime, you’ll continue to kick men out of my store? I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “We know what you need.”

  Those words lit the fire in her eyes, just like I wanted. Yeah, I sounded bossy as fuck, but I had a feeling, deep down, she liked her men in charge. At least in the bedroom.

  “Do you always argue and bicker with the woman you want?” she asked.

  I glanced at Colton, then turned to look at Ava again. Grinned.

  “Sugar, this isn’t bickering.”

  The bell above the entrance jingled, signaling we were no longer alone.

  “Oh, what is it then?”

  “Foreplay.”

  2

  AVA

  * * *

  Bossy men. They were everywhere. My father was the king of that annoying universe. I’d left Denver, and his powerful thumb, behind. Like I was going to go for an arranged marriage. I huffed out a laugh at the thought.

  Smile, nod and say “I do” just because that was what Daddy wanted? Yeah, right.

  And to be stuck with Casper Johnston the Third—or Perry, for short—for the rest of my life? Fuck, no. We’d dated. No, he’d escorted me to functions, parties, tennis matches. People had thought we were together. Hell, he had, too, and so had my father. Absolutely not. Fuck no.

  He might be my father’s right-hand man, powerful and rich in his own right, but I didn’t care about any of that. The fancy house, country club, private schools for little Perrys. I didn’t want to marry a corporate VP, for that’s what I’d get with Perry. Married to the executive position. I’d be Mrs. VP.

  What I wanted was to marry a man, not a title. A real man. A man who saw me as more than a trophy. More than a brood mare who gave him the heir and the spare, while he’d have a whole string of mistresses. My pussy would grow cobwebs and that was not going to happen. Besides, I would bet Perry’s dick was as limp as his handshake. He might be loaded, but not where it counted.

  My cell rang, the distinctive ring tone of I Will Survive that was set for my mother. Completely apt since I felt like all I’d done was survive until I walked away. My mother though, she’d never walk. She was so under my father’s sway I actually felt sorry for her. She had the means to divorce him, but she wouldn’t. It only made me feel sorry for her. And that was why I pulled over to the side of the road and answered the call.

  “Hi, Mother.”

  “Avaleigh, your father has been trying to reach you for days. Weeks, even.”

  “Yes, I know.” I rubbed my eyes with my free hand.

  He’d taken to call or text lately. Daily. I guessed he was pissed, even after all these months since I moved away he hadn’t caught on that I wasn’t interested in Perry. He’d been pretty quiet for a while, especially since he figured cutting me off would have had me running right back into the cushy lifestyle. But lately, he’d started in again. I’d blocked his number. What was the point of talking with him if all he wanted to do was talk about himself and about how I was being a terrible daughter? He kept getting my new cell numbers. My third since I moved to Montana. Being a billionaire made it easy to get info out of a phone company.

  Now he tried another tactic. My mother.

  “He could have been dead and you wouldn’t have known,” she replied, her voice going shrill. It wasn’t five o’clock yet, but no doubt she had a Manhattan, extra dry, in her hand. It was cocktail hour somewhere.

  “His demise would have been all over the news,” I countered. Having your photo on the cover of Forbes a few times put him in the famous category, at least in the business world. And if he’d died, then there would be a shakeup in one of the biggest wealth management companies, so… yeah.