Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (26 page)

Why couldn’t it be Max who celebrated with her, instead of Sam or Josh? Given such a kick, Max’s cock jumped to life once more. Sam twitched, eager for an answer. Max shouldn’t take such enjoyment out of poking his brother. Shouldn’t, but did on the few occasions when it happened. So Max made Sam wait while he thought a few things out.

“What about my plan?”

“Smythe has to sell those shares tomorrow. He needs the money.”

“So?” Sam shifted his feet impatiently.

“What if Smythe is Isaac? The railroad wants him arrested for selling stolen shares.”

“Baird said the railroad wants Smythe put away. He doesn’t care who does it, or the reasons why. If Smyth’s Isaac, then we’re to grab him when we can. So, my plan?”

“Will only work if Hames keeps his mouth shut about who we are. Even better, if he doesn’t go near Ruby’s while one of us is there.”

“We can ask Trace and the others to keep him occupied. So?”

“The plan’s good,” said Max. Sam crowed. “I’ll arrange to buy Sophie, demanding that she be taught to behave first.”

“What?” Sam shook his head. “No, I—”

Max held up his hand, stopping Sam’s outburst. “If Josh is serious about marrying Sophie, I need a chance to talk openly with her.”

“But you had an hour or more with her!”

“I was soothing her, not talking.”

Sam stopped. He stared at Max, mirror images both wanting the same thing.

“Is that what you call it now? Well then.” Sam chuckled, low and knowing. “Sophie needed a fair bit of ‘soothing’ from me after you left her all alone.”

“I didn’t leave her alone. I left her sleeping, with you in the chair.”

“Chair?” asked Sam, acting the fool. “All I saw was a bed. A comfortable bed filled with an even more comfortable woman. One I want to keep.” Sam crossed his arms, set his feet, and glared at Max.

“You’re itching to fight,” he replied. “There’s likely to be one in that saloon when Isaac shows up, so you might as well put your energy to good use.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sam glared at him.

Max silently imitated his twin’s pose. He had Smythe cornered two ways, Isaac close to capture, and was going to protect Sophie, and hopefully enjoy her charms once more. Getting back at his brother was a bonus.

“I am. Now, don’t you have a job to do, little brother?”

Sam laughed. It sounded more sarcastic than anything.

“Most of the time I was with Sophie I massaged her sore muscles.”

Max narrowed his eyes at his twin, looking for signs that Sam was pulling his leg. Sam opened the door. He looked over his shoulder, grinning.

“That’s all
I
did. Sophie’s got the mouth of an angel. And I don’t mean she can sing.”

Max’s boot hit the door just as it closed. Laughter trailed down the hallway.

“I can’t go downstairs. You ripped my only gown!”

Josh grinned at Sophie’s complaint. She’d wrapped the sheet around herself while she slept. It hid her skin, but Josh had already seen, touched, tasted, smelled, kissed, and loved those curves. He wanted to nibble her again as he pulled the sheet from her body, then follow wherever his mouth took him.

After Sam had left her as limp as a rag doll but no longer sore, Josh had snuggled close. He’d fallen asleep with his hand wrapped around her breast, her soft bottom snug against his groin. He didn’t think either of them moved all night. He woke first and went out to find a replacement for the dress he’d ruined. It took a bit of convincing, but he was pleased with what he found.

He’d let her sleep late, but she had to work today, bringing drinks to customers. He was not looking forward to seeing other men touch her. And because he’d spent almost everything he had left on her dress, he only had enough coin for a couple of rotgut drinks. That was all he needed to play the part of a drunk. But it wouldn’t be easy to do with Sophie in the room, smiling at other men.

“I got you another one.”

He took the wrapped parcel from the floor by the end of the bed and held it out. She stared at the gift in wonder.

“For me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

“Baby, there’s nobody else I’d buy a dress for.”

She worried her lip with her teeth. Josh realized she mustn’t have received many presents. He hadn’t either, but it was different with a woman. Sophie deserved to have pretty things. His brothers said the dresses she wore, other than at Christmas or weddings, were brown, dark blue, or gray. Because she had to hide her womanliness or lose her hotel, even when dressing up, she’d worn black with just a bit of lace. He bet she was eager for a touch of brightness. She’d better be, considering what was in the parcel.

“If you don’t want it—”

“No!”

She dropped the sheet and scrambled toward him. He admired the way her breasts swayed. The cheeks of her ass parted, each begging for his kiss. His cock responded, but now was not the time. Later, after she finished her work, he’d do everything he’d done before. Only he’d do it twice as well now that he’d learned about her body.

He handed the parcel to her. She pulled the string and the bow opened. He waited, eager to hear her reaction. She pushed back the paper and stared.

“Oh, Josh,” she whispered.

The dress was so bright it almost glowed. He knew the flame-orange dress would go well with her dark hair.

“Hold it up against you to see if it fits.”

She leaped out of bed and tenderly lifted it from the brown paper wrapping. It had a high neck and long sleeves, just like he wanted. It was loose enough that she could move around easily, which hid her shape from curious eyes. Lace, which the woman who sold it to him said was two shades darker than the satin, edged each seam.

He’d never given anyone a present before. Seeing the joy on her face, how she investigated every little bow and button, made his chest expand in pride.

“Oh, Josh, thank you! I love it!”

She laughed and held it against her front. She swirled around the room, her hair trailing behind to tickle her bottom. His heart soared at seeing her so happy. He would do anything to make her smile like that. She stopped, facing him. Her face glowed above the flame like a pixie or an angel.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He had to clear his throat to talk. “I think you look just fine without it, but I don’t want anyone else seeing you that way. You’d best put it on and get out to work before Abby pounds on the door.”

He hated to see her smile fade with the cold dose of reality. But then she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes.

“Abby will be so jealous. I can’t wait to see her face!”

A few hours later Josh slumped on a chair in the corner of the saloon. Acting totally soused, he watched Sophie flicker across the room like a firefly. He’d wanted her hair tied up where other men couldn’t see or touch it. Unfortunately that would make it easier to figure out who she was, and put her in danger. But once this was over, she wouldn’t let anyone else but the three Gibson men see her hair down. He’d have her sit naked in front of him by the fire after her bath and he’d brush it dry.

Josh’s cock strained against his pants, eager for more of the same.
Later
, he told it. Seeing his woman get patted by other men’s hands had him eager to prove she belonged to him. There was only one way a man did that, so he had to wait until tonight.

He let his head wobble as he looked around the room. He’d perfected the slightly glazed expression that let him take everything in. He didn’t expect Max or Sam to come by, but he thought one of the less well-known ranchers might pass on a message. Considering how easily Ross slipped through shadows, he could come in, say his piece, and be gone before anyone would know.

The saloon was half-empty as it was only midmorning. A flash of sunlight streamed in when the door to the street opened. Acting the drunk, Josh startled and stared. The man quickly moved to one side. Though he was dressed like an Eastern dude, he mustn’t be a greenhorn. They tended to stand in the doorway, uncaring that they made an easy target.

The man looked around the crowded room as if he knew what he was doing. Queenie walked past and the man asked her a question. She backed up a step, her hand on her breast as if startled. She knew this man. Was he from Tanner’s Ford? Josh had never been there and didn’t know the ranchers. Queenie’s fake smile quickly reappeared. She pointed toward Josh. If she was sending someone to him, there was a reason.

Had someone identified Isaac? Had the Tanner’s Ford men gone into the Golden Nugget to inflame Frederick Smythe? Or…Josh blinked. He recognized the way the man moved. No, it couldn’t be Max. They were supposed to stay clear of each other.

Josh had set his foot on the chair beside him when he sat down, claiming it as part of his act. His knee could be seen above the table in warning to keep away. He kept his head down when the stranger headed his way, as if he didn’t notice.

“That seat taken?”

It was Max all right. Plans must have changed. He’d find out how soon enough, but he had to keep in character. This man was a stranger, someone who obviously wanted something from him. Josh raised his head, blinking as if having a hard time focusing.

Max bounced lightly on his toes. He only did that when enjoying himself, something that rarely happened. A happy Max meant something was up, something Josh might not like.

“You say somethin’?” Josh demanded aggressively. He was big and nobody messed with him. Men could tell he was a mean drunk with just one look.

“The seat your foot is on. Anyone using it?”

“Yep. Me.” Josh shoved his jaw out and tilted his head. “My foot’s got ahold of it real good.”

“Any chance my back end could take the place of your foot?”

Max lifted his left hand. He held a full bottle by the neck, along with a shot glass. The whiskey looked expensive. Josh, keeping his act, gaped at the bottle and then tried to pretend he didn’t care. He hawked and spat, just missing Max’s polished boot.

“Depends on whether ye plan to share that there bottle, friend,” he drawled.

Max bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. He lifted the bottle higher. “I always share with friends.”

Josh tossed away the last few drops of rotgut in his glass. It sank into the months-old sawdust. He hauled a handkerchief out of his pocket. It looked filthy, but he’d carefully stained it with tea and blueberry juice. He swirled it around in the glass, blew his nose loudly in it, then stuffed it back in his pocket. He set his glass on the table with a thunk.

“Name’s Josh.” He squinted up. “You aiming to hold that thing forever, or do I yank it out of your hand and pour one myself?”

“You aiming to move your foot, or do I keep this bottle corked?”

Max’s tone was mild, but there was enough steel behind it to warn those listening that something was going on.

Josh waited just long enough to prove his point before shoving the chair an inch away. Still standing, Max poured a stiff drink for each of them. He set the bottle down, fastidiously brushed off the chair with his own white handkerchief, and sat. Josh took a swallow, exaggerated swishing it in his mouth, then swallowed. He exhaled, gasping. After a moment he shook his head like a wet dog.

“Phew! That’s the good stuff all right,” he said loudly.

They sipped for a while, both of them watching the flame-dressed woman. Sophie moved easily, flowing from one table to another. The high neck kept men from trying to look down her bosom. That was one reason Josh had bought it. He shifted in his seat and glared at Max.

“Yer watchin’ my woman pretty damn hard,” he said, slurring the words.

“Sure she’s your woman?” asked Max. “She’s not even looking at you. And it took you a while to notice I was looking at her.”

“I saw ye lookin’.” Josh leaned forward and gestured with his empty glass. “Jest didn’t want to have to kill ye for it.”

Max leaned back. He shifted to open his coat and reveal his gun. Men would take it as a statement of intention rather than outright threat.

“Queenie’s only yours until the end of the week,” said Max mildly.

“A man can do a lot in a week, if he sets his mind to it.” Josh spoke loudly. Talking about a woman, especially one as attractive as Sophie, was serious business. He knew the other men would be paying attention.

“A man can also spend all his money on a woman before he realizes he has other uses for it.” Max swung his hand in Queenie’s direction. “That’s a pretty dress she’s wearing. Makes a man wonder what happened to the one she wore yesterday.”

Josh sent a leer toward Queenie. She caught it and stuck out her tongue at him.

“Told her to take it off. She didn’t listen.” He turned to Max, grinning in pride. “So I got her nekkid my way. Kept her too busy to sew it back together.”

“That dress must’ve used up the last of your coin.” Max held up the half-empty bottle. “You could be drinking more of this if you had a bit of gold.”

Josh leaned over the table, a mulish expression on his face. “Say what ye mean to say or hobble your lip.”