Hitched: Steele Ranch - Book 4 Page 10

  “You mean your latest girlfriend dumped you.”

  His eyes narrowed in quick anger, but he smiled. Darkly. “She changed the PIN number on her ATM card.”

  Meaning, he was broke.

  “And Mother? Why would she come here? I thought she had a thing for some yacht salesman.”

  He pushed off the counter, went to the seating area and dropped into one of the worn leather chairs. His feet went up onto the coffee table in the middle, melted snow dripping from his shoes onto the wood. Fortunately, it missed the selection of magazines in the center. Grabbing a small towel I used for dusting that was beneath the counter, I stood, rounded it and went over to him. Tossing the towel onto his chest, I crossed my arms, tapped my toe. Waited.

  We had a staring contest for all of thirty seconds. I was not cleaning up after him. Finally, he sat up, dropped his feet to the floor and wiped up his mess.

  “She had a plan for his son. For you.”

  At his words, I subtly put my right hand over my left in front of me to hide my rings. I wasn’t talking about King and Wilder with Karl.

  He glanced around the library’s one big room. “He’s better for you than this dump.”

  “So she’s what, come here to drag me to California?” I was so frustrated I needed another orgasm—and to be tied down and dominated—to relax and forget. “Where is she, anyway?”

  He tossed the towel back at me. I caught it easily as he stood. “Meeting an old friend.”

  She had friends here? I couldn’t imagine who that would be. I was just thankful the people in Barlow still liked me after all her shenanigans she’d walked away from. Divorced men. Empty bank accounts. Catty behavior.

  No, she wasn’t meeting a friend. She wouldn’t have come to the middle-of-nowhere Montana to visit a long-lost friend. She never came here to visit me.

  “She’s broke.” I dropped into one of the chairs at the realization. The press of the butt plug had me squirming, so I stood again.

  “It’s not like you’ve got money to give her,” he countered, clearly bitter.

  “That’s right, I don’t.” I replied, rattled. “It was good seeing you, but I’ve got work to do.” I went into the back room again, closed the door and slid to the floor. The plug bumped deep into my ass again and I shifted, straightening my legs out and leaning slightly to the side.

  I smiled, the plug reminding me of King and what we’d just done to me. My bottom was a little sore, the plug big enough to remember that he’d been there. That he loved me. Wilder, too.

  Whatever my mother was up to, I’d get through it. With them. I wasn’t alone anymore.

  * * *

  “It’s too bad we’re all taken. Karl sounds like a real catch!” Cricket said.

  We stared at her across the table at the bar.

  “Not!”

  My sisters laughed. I rolled my eyes. Cricket had come into the library just before closing and invited me to join them for a drink. Penny and Kady were content with water, but wanted to get together. I’d texted Wilder and we agreed I’d drive myself to the Barlow ranch and he would meet me there. Then I’d sent a quick text with Red on the plug and he’d told me okay about removing it and that he was pleased I’d told him.

  Now, sitting with my three sisters, I thought of Wilder. Of King. I loved both of them and the secret, dirty sex life we had. Eyeing Kady, Penny and Cricket, I had to guess theirs were just as dirty.

  “He’s here for money, then?” Penny asked, taking a sip of her water with lemon.

  I shrugged, staring at my white wine. I didn’t drink much and since I was driving, I was nursing this glass. “He’s always gone along with whatever my mother had planned. She’s skilled at making money off people and he’s learned it from her.”

  “And you’ve somehow avoided this bad character trait,” Kady pointed out.

  I didn’t tell them about the child support because I had no idea what arrangements Aiden Steele had made with their mothers. Cricket had said she’d been abandoned by hers when she was just a baby and grew up in foster care so I had to assume our father had made none with her. She’d also just finished college, working and taking classes for almost six years, so he hadn’t left her a bank account for that either. As for Penny and Kady, they made no mention of any money. It led me to believe that perhaps I was the only daughter he’d known of. While he wouldn’t have won Father Of The Year, I liked to think he’d have supported them in some fashion if he’d known of their existence.

  “And yet instead of Karl and my mother, I’m the one with all the money now,” I responded. “I got exactly what my she wanted. Aiden Steele’s ranch.”

  “And sisters!” Kady said, reaching out and patting my hand. “We should do a slumber party. Make up for all the years we’ve been apart.”

  Penny and Cricket stared at her, eyes wide.

  “What?” she asked, grabbing a small pretzel from the bowl in the middle of the high-top table.

  “You really think our men are going to let us spend a night away from them?” Penny asked.

  Kady pursed her lips. “Good point. Based on the way Cord and Riley went after me when we first met, I’m surprised Sarah’s even here. Or conscious.”

  All three swiveled their heads my way.

  “I have to work.” That was my only response, which was pretty lame since I didn’t need to work any longer. But Kady worked at the school and so did Cricket at the hospital, because it fulfilled them, no longer because they had to do it to make money. I didn’t want to touch the Steele money. I’d leave it in the bank for my children, for their college.

  I flushed, remembering King coming to my work earlier and having his way with me. I clenched my bottom, feeling sore and very empty. Kady was right. I wanted my men and I probably should be catatonic with all the orgasms they gave me. I was insatiable. I’d been in a sex drought for so long, now I wanted it all the time. Good thing my men did, too.

  “Speaking of…” I said, sliding from my chair, “I’m going to head out. I’ve got men at home waiting to make me unconscious.”

  12

  KING

  * * *

  “Kingston Barlow. Took you long enough to get home.”

  My hands were on the buttons of my shirt, headed to take a shower when the woman’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Shit,” I swore, when I saw who was sprawled seductively across my bed.

  I turned away.

  “You don’t have to stop what you were doing on my account,” Beatrice Gandry Roberts Something Something all but purred. She’d been through too many husbands and I had no idea what her name was now. It had been a few years since I’d seen her and tossed her out of my house. Then, she’d been naked. This time, she was wearing one of my flannel shirts.

  Not only was I pissed that she’d broken into my house, but that was one of my favorite shirts. I was going to have to burn it now.

  I wanted to walk right on out of my house and pretend she wasn’t there, but I didn’t dare leave her alone. Not here. Fuck, she was on the bed I shared with her fucking daughter.

  “Beatrice, what the fuck are you doing?”

  I looked out the hallway window, hands on hips. The view was all white snow and open fields; the stables and other ranch buildings were all on the other side of the property.

  “You could at least look at me,” she replied, sounding put out.

  “You could at least ring the fucking doorbell,” I countered. I wasn’t being a gentleman and my mother had taught me to treat a woman better than this, but Beatrice was no lady. She was where she blatantly didn’t belong. The weight of my wedding ring proved that.

  “You always leave your door unlocked.”

  I did, but that would stop. I’d rather have a fucking burglar in the house than her.

  “Why don’t you keep taking off that shirt and let’s have some fun.”

  I spun about, stalked into my bedroom. She was a pretty woman, I’d give her that. But she was almost thirty years older than me and been through more husbands than I could remember.

  “Get off my bed and get dressed.” Grabbing her clothes from the chair beneath the large window, I tossed them onto the foot of the bed.

  “I have an itch and you can definitely scratch it. By the size of that bulge in your pants, I’d say you can do a fine job.”

  “You don’t want my dick. You want my cash. My land. Just like last time. Didn’t I make it clear enough then that I wanted nothing to do with you?”

  She sat up, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder. My shirt was big on her—she had the similar petite and curvy physique as her daughter—and it slid down to reveal the top swell of one bare breast. I looked away.

  The answer was obviously no.

  The only breasts I wanted to see were Sarah’s. The only woman I wanted wearing my shirts was Sarah. I only wanted Sarah.

  “I’d keep your bed warm. Other places around the house, too. You’ve got long winters here and a man’s got needs.”

  “I’m married.” I lifted my left hand up so she could see the proof.

  The seductive smile slipped. “When?”

  “Recently.” I wasn’t telling her more than that.

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter who it is. She’s the woman who belongs in my bed. Not you. Now get the fuck out of it and out of my house.”

  To let her get dressed, I went back in the hall, looked out the window again. I heard her rustling around, but didn’t dare turn around. I saw a car come up the long drive, recognized it as Sarah’s. My heartrate kicked up and I ran my hand through my hair. “Fuck.”

  I didn’t look back, but went down the steps and to the front door, tossed it open.

  Sarah came in, all bundled up, smile on her face. Yeah, this was what I’d dreamed of. Having Sarah Gandry be Sarah Barlow and be excited to see me as she came home from the library, kissing me on the cheek with her cold lips, undoing her coat.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, studying me as she hung her jacket on a hook by the door. Since we’d married so quickly, we hadn’t had time—or let her out of bed to do so—to pack up her things and move out of her house. I didn’t care since she was here. A sofa or her summer clothes could wait.

  “Um, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Sarah, dear. What are you doing here?”

  I gritted my teeth as I watched Sarah’s eyes widen, then all color drain from her face. She couldn’t see her mother because I blocked her view, but she knew who it was instantly.

  “Mother.”

  When she moved to the small bench by the door to remove her boots, she paused, her mouth falling open.

  Turning, I got a look at what made my wife blanch. Beatrice was on the stairs, one manicured hand on the railing, still in my shirt…and only my shirt.

  I ran my hand through my hair again as I glanced down at Sarah. I didn’t give a shit about anything else. She was looking to me, then Beatrice, then back. I noticed her gaze was on my chest, not my face. Looking down, I realized my shirt was mostly undone.

  Shit. This looked bad.

  Sarah dropped down onto the bench, leaned forward and began to undo the laces of her snow boots. Only a few hours ago, I’d had my hands on the tops of those sexy-as-hell thigh-high tights as I’d fucked her ass.

  My dick stirred. Shit, this was not the time, but just thinking about Sarah made me hard. I smelled her shampoo from four feet away.

  “I heard you were in town,” Sarah said to her mother, but didn’t look up from her task.

  “Yes, we came in town last night. I was just…catching up with Kingston.”

  “I didn’t realize you two were close.” Sarah dropped her boot on the plastic tray that was beneath the bench, used to catch the melting snow.

  Beatrice came down the steps casually as if she owned the place. “The last time I was in his bed—”

  I held up my hand. “Stop.”

  “What?” Beatrice asked, putting her hand to her chest, looking as if she were the one being put out. “I only tell the truth. The last time I was here, I was in your bed. Just like this time.”

  I hated that woman.

  “What do you want, Mother, besides my husband?” Sarah asked, tugging off her other boot. She didn’t seem mad. She didn’t seem sad. Hell, she just seemed…calm.

  Beatrice stilled, then laughed. Hard. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so proud of you. I told you to go after Kingston Barlow and you did. Good job. Think of the trips you can go on, the decorating you need to do to the house. So drab.”

  I narrowed my eyes. They’d talked about me? About Sarah…what, seducing me so she could get her hands on my money? If Beatrice couldn’t do it herself, then Sarah could do it for her.

  Was that why she’d been at Hawk’s Landing last weekend all dressed in that sexy-as-fuck outfit? To seduce me out of my property?

  Another car pulled up. I went to the door, opened it again. This time it was a sheriff’s SUV. Archer Wade climbed out of the driver’s side, Wilder was the passenger. Thank fuck.

  I stepped out onto the porch, left the door open, even in the cold weather. I didn’t dare turn my back for too long on those two.

  “What’s up?” Wilder asked, frowning.

  “You’re never going to believe this one.” I shook Archer’s hand when they made it to the porch. “I’m going to need your help.”

  Spinning on my heel, I walked back inside, the others following.

  “Wilder, Archer, this is Beatrice, Sarah’s mother.”

  I heard Wilder swear under his breath, but Archer kept his calm. He had on his uniform and held his hat in his hands, clearly on the job. “Ma’am.”

  I turned to Beatrice. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  “But it’s a family reunion, my daughter and I need to celebrate her wedding,” she responded.

  As if we were going to uncork the champagne with her in my flannel shirt.

  “Archer, I’m pressing charges. This woman broke into my house and she’s refusing to leave.”

  “What?” she squawked. “The door was unlocked. We’re old friends!”

  Archer raised a dark brow and I nodded.

  “Ma’am, since you’re family and all, I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed or I’ll have to take you in like that.” Archer crossed his arms over his chest, already bulked up by his bulletproof vest.

  All casualness slipped away and Beatrice’s mouth thinned, her eyes narrowed. “Sarah, tell him off.”

  “No. I’ll get your clothes.” She walked to the stairs, turned her shoulder to pass by her mother. “I assume they’re in King’s bedroom.”

  Wilder hissed and Archer cleared his throat.

  We all stood there, uncomfortable as fuck until Sarah came back, a clump of clothing held against her chest. She went to her mother, dropped the pile at her feet. “Be sure to call Karl to bail you out.”

  She turned on her heel and went back up the steps, taking them two at a time. I heard a door slam and I knew I was screwed. At least she didn’t get in her car and leave.

  As soon as Archer took the woman away, I knew I had some groveling to do. I didn’t know what Sarah thought, whether she believed I’d fucked her mother, not just today—which looked pretty damning—but in the past as well. She was hurt and it was my job to make it right. Our marriage was being tested and she had every right to flee. It had only been three days and I was about to discover how strong our love was.

  13

  SARAH

  * * *

  I leaned against the door of the bedroom Wilder had claimed—there was no way I was going into King’s room until I had the sheets burned—took a deep breath and tried to will the tears away. It didn’t work. My feelings bubbling to the surface were too much and I couldn’t help but cry. My mother. My mother!

  Oh. My. God. I looked up at the ceiling, put my fingers over my eyes. Pressed and physically tried to hold the tears in.

  I wasn’t sure if I should be mortified or angry. Mortified that my mother had tried to seduce King. Angry for well…the exact same thing. She had the gall to come all the way to Montana and hop in King’s bed, and his shirt. And she’d said she’d done it before.

  I hadn’t seen a car parked in the driveway, so Karl must have dropped her off. That meant one thing: It hadn’t been spontaneous. They’d planned this.

  Had King turned her away or had the seduction just started when I’d arrived? Of course, he had. She hadn’t gotten him to marry her and the disgust on his face now was indication enough. King wasn’t a cheater. I knew it in my bones. Glancing down at the rings on my finger, I blinked against the tears, knowing they meant something. Not the tears, but the rings. King and Wilder both had pledged themselves to me even knowing my family.

  But what did King think of me after what my mother had said? While she’d talked about me ‘bagging’ Kingston Barlow on our last phone call, it had been just that, talk. But she’d spun the truth into something nasty, making our marriage into something fake. Something exactly like every one of my mother’s marriages.

  Like mother, like daughter. I pushed off the door and went to the window, stared at the snowy field, the steel-colored sky.

  I whimpered, realizing King now thought I’d gone after him because of his money, because of his land, doing Mommy’s bidding. If she couldn’t get him, then I would. And did. I was just like her, bagging a millionaire. And she’d been pleased! For the first time in my entire life, she sounded proud of me. And what was absolutely ridiculous was that she’d done it while standing in his house in just his shirt. Like we’d been a team who had ambushed him. I’d gotten him over the weekend, but she hadn’t known that, so her attack had come today.

  God, she didn’t care which of us got in his bed as long as one of us did.

  I wanted to vomit.

  I didn’t want her praise or approval, I wanted King’s. What was I going to do? King surely hated me. Hated both Gandry women. Now he was stuck with me. I rubbed the rings with my thumb.

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