FrankenDom (42 page)
“No, I don’t,” she said weakly. She didn’t
need
it. Want it, maybe. And she definitely could use a good, hard romp in bed. But this…
“Sure you do.”
She stared at him, biting her lips. Bound to a dining chair, backlit by the afternoon
sun streaming in through the white sheers, and smiling benevolently, her husband looked
like some kinky fallen angel trying to lure her to the dark side. Which was weird,
since she kind of felt like she’d lured
him
there in the last couple of years.
“Are you going to play, too?”
His smile turned to a wry grin. “You know I’m not up for adventurous sex yet, sweetheart.
I’ll be here, watching every move they make, but this is strictly for you.”
An uncomfortable tangle of anticipation and anxiety tightened in Mandy’s tummy. She
and Hake sometimes talked late at night about doing something like this, but never
without him in an active role. How was this going to affect their relationship? She’d
love some kinky sex, but not at the expense of her marriage. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, this is the only way I can give you what you need right now.”
She almost crossed her eyes at him. Hake had this insane idea that if he couldn’t
pound her into the mattress on a daily basis, he was no good to her. His ego, already
bruised from operating the farm at a loss for the last couple of years, had taken
a real beating since he rolled the ATV, and his depression seemed to be getting worse.
After his pelvis and leg had healed enough, he let her ride him a couple of times,
and up until a few weeks ago, he’d been more than willing to use her toys on her.
But lately he wouldn’t even let her go down him, and when she tried, he didn’t get
hard.
Talk about a vicious cycle—less sex led to more depression, which led to even less
sex, which led to even
more
depression…
Maybe this was Hake’s way of finally trying to snap out of his extended funk and get
their marriage back on track, but if so, he was going about it the wrong way. It was
up to her to see that things went the
right
way.
“Fine,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay, then you know what to say.”
Mandy took a deep breath and said, “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”
Samhain Publishing
Copyright 2011
Chapter One
“She’s giving me that starved puppy look again.”
Joe’s murmur made Brent look up from his laptop. They sat across from each other at
the dinette, and if his back weren’t to AJ, he might have checked her out covertly.
But he didn’t really need to—she’d directed a similar look his way several times in
the last few weeks.
“Is that a problem?” he asked in a low voice. The RV wasn’t the best place for this
conversation, especially with AJ sitting right behind them, but she had the TV turned
up loud enough to drown them out.
Joe rubbed his knuckles on his unshaven cheek. “It might be if you don’t find someplace
else for her to bunk.”
Brent studied the man who’d been his right hand and best friend for over six years.
He’d never seen Joe this on-edge. His jaw was tense, his blue eyes furtive, and his
dark brown hair stood on end like he’d been shoving his hands through it for the last
hour while Brent was absorbed in his bookwork. When had he gone so salt-and-pepper?
Even his moustache and beard stubble glinted with a considerable helping of silver.
Actually, it was kind of surprising that AJ would be so attracted to a man showing
as much wear as Joe did. Big, gruff, and work-hardened, he looked older than his forty-seven
years. Her attraction to Brent made more sense—he was friendly, fairly laid-back,
and had the kind of lean blond looks that had attracted a lot of ladies over the years.
“You think so?” he asked doubtfully. “She seems more like the type to just lust from
afar rather than put the moves on a guy she works with.”
“It’s not
her
moves I’m worried about.”
Brent narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re interested.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re way out of her league.”
He hadn’t intended it to be a warning, but that was how it came out. At thirty-four,
AJ Pender might not be in the first blush of womanhood, but she was quiet, reserved,
and obviously still young and innocent in all the ways that counted. She wouldn’t
have the least idea what to do if guys like them took her up on the unconscious offer
in her eyes, and he’d just as soon it stayed that way.
“Tell me about it,” Joe said impatiently. After another quick glance at AJ, he said,
“Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”
Brent shut down his laptop without hesitation. Shoving the receipts back into their
file folder, he stood up and unbuckled his belt to take off his pliers holster while
Joe did the same. After he’d tucked the tail of his flannel shirt back into his jeans,
he turned to look at AJ. The lanky blonde farmhand was curled up on one end of the
couch in a baggy sweatshirt and faded jeans, dividing her attention between her own
laptop and some medical drama on TV. Judging by the lack of keyboarding sounds, she’d
been mostly reading rather than writing.
If he were polite, he’d ask her to go along with them. Instead he asked, “Whatcha
readin’, AJ?”
Red flags appeared on her cheeks as she looked up, and she put on hand on the laptop’s
lid like she intended to slam it down if anyone came near enough to see what was on
the screen. “Um, nothing. I mean, nothing much. Just an e-book. They’re a lot easier
to carry around than a stack of paperbacks,” she hurried to explain.
“An e-book, huh?” He tried not to grin. “We know someone who writes e-books, don’t
we, Joe?”
“We sure do,” Joe drawled, shrugging into his jacket. “Ever read anything by Amanda
Garrity?”
AJ’s blue eyes widened. “You know Amanda Garrity?”
“Yup,” Brent said. “So you’ve read her books?”
He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she turned even redder. “Well, um, I think
I, uh—“
“That’s okay, honey.” Brent winked at her. “We won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
Instead of protesting her innocence, AJ just let her eyes slide to the TV and chewed
on her lower lip. The confirmation that she read dirty books drew his balls up tight.
Ignoring the reaction, he said, “So we’re headed to town. Need anything?”
“Not unless you can get me a new pair of boots at the bar,” she said without looking
at him. She was obviously uncomfortable with their knowing about her choice of reading
material. It made him think, though. If AJ read the kind of books Mandy wrote, maybe
she
would
know what to do if one of them—or both of them—put the moves on her.
Don’t go there. You don’t fuck the hired hands, remember?
But Joe had been known to once in a great while. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
Her words finally registered and he asked, “You need boots?”
“Yeah, I knocked the corner off a heel this morning. But that’s all right,” she said,
keeping her eyes glued the television. “I’ll pick up a pair when we go through Sioux
Falls.”
“Okay then—guess we’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, snagging his jacket and cap off
the hook by the door.
She didn’t look up. “Have a good time.”
“Will do.”
They were both silent until they got into the truck and then Joe blew out a loud breath.
“Well, I didn’t see that coming.”
Brent started up the engine. “Me neither.”
“Shit, why do I feel bad about leaving her there?”
“I don’t know. She seemed glad enough to see us go,” he said with a grin, pulling
away from the camper. They could have walked, since the RV park was less than a mile
from the bar, but driving everywhere was an ingrained habit. He’d never lived anyplace
you didn’t have to drive at least a couple of miles to borrow a cup of sugar from
a neighbor.
“Yeah, but she spends too much time alone.”
“That’s her choice, Joe. She knew when she hired on with a custom farming crew that
she’d probably be the only woman.” And he tried to show her as little deference as
possible for exactly that reason. If he treated her with kid gloves, she’d probably
be uncomfortable and the guys would be resentful.
When she’d reported for work at their North Platte job in September, hiring packet
in hand and a laptop and duffel bag slung over her shoulders, he’d just about shit
a brick. What the hell was Brenda thinking, sending a woman up here? And why the hell
hadn’t she warned him?
Well, the answer to that last one was obvious—he’d have vetoed her choice of hire
without even giving AJ Pender a chance and Brenda knew it. It was just asking for
trouble to put single women on custom farming crews. Hell, the quarters were tight
enough already without tossing a decent-looking female into the mix, especially one
who wasn’t related to any of the crew. But if he voiced that opinion in the wrong
place, to the wrong person, he’d have the ACLU, the IRS, the SPCA, NASA and every
other alphabet soup organization under the sun up his ass—assuming he still had an
ass after Mandy and Brenda were through with him.
But instead of sending her off, he’d looked AJ over from her crown of short, pale
curls to the toes of her scuffed work boots down and asked, “So what does AJ stand
for?”
“None of your business,” she replied, radiating tension. “I take it you were expecting
a man?”
Wisely, he’d held his tongue and given himself a minute to consider the situation.
He’d been happy enough with her qualifications when Brenda emailed him her application,
and she had that look about her that always got to him when he was interviewing displaced
farmers.
“Yeah, I was,” he finally said. “But I’ll get over it. I hope
you
weren’t expecting a ladies-only camper.”
“No sir. I expect to be treated just like everyone else.”
He pointed to his pickup. “In that case, you can stow your gear in the back seat for
the time being and take over for Seth Dietz running that grain cart.” He’d planned
on AJ bunking in with Seth and his younger brother Tim, but that was when he thought
she was probably another young horn-dog. The only viable option was to put her in
with Joe, who made no bones about his preference for lovers who disappeared before
the sun came up the next morning.
“Come on.” Joe’s skeptical voice cut into Brent’s musings. “You know she wouldn’t
be here if she’d had any other halfway agreeable choice.”
Brent sighed as he pulled into the gravel lot behind the Shady Shanty. Joe was right.
AJ didn’t say much, but she shared a little here and there—enough for them to know
that her mother had died of cancer when she was in high school and she’d farmed with
her daddy until he had a stroke. The man had spent months in the hospital before dying
and his land had been sold off to pay the medical bills. Probably all she’d had left
was her pride, something most farmers had in spades.
Farming had been a risky proposition since the beginning of time, but it was also
rewarding in a way few jobs were these days. It afforded a man—or a woman—the kind
of independence that was hard to give up. After running his own custom farming business
for so many years, Brent thought he’d probably rather just end it all than spend the
rest of his life flipping burgers in some fast food joint, so he’d understood and
sympathized with AJ’s desire to join his crew.
Seeing her squared shoulders and the proud set to her chin that first day, he’d known
she was fully prepared for him to show her the door. If he’d gone that route, she
wouldn’t have cried or thrown a tantrum or threatened him with legal action, like
a lot of women would have—she’d have given a short nod and headed back down the road
with her head held high, then looked for another crew to join.
It was her desperate pride that had finally clinched it for him. He couldn’t turn
her away. He’d had to give her a chance to prove herself, and so far, she’d done a
damn fine job of it.
Entering the bar through the side door, he and Joe slid into the booth in the back
corner. The place was hopping for a Monday night, and despite the late hour, there
were a few kids among the diners.
“Chelsea’ll be right with you boys,” Kayla called from the window to the kitchen.
Brent pushed back the bill of his cap as he nodded at her. “No hurry—we’ll just have
a couple of shots of Jack with Bud chasers when she’s got time.”
“And a medium combo,” Joe added.
“You got it, Joe.”
“Didn’t we just have supper?” Brent asked.
“A bologna sandwich and chips ain’t supper—it’s lunch.”
“True. I’m ready for a piece of Mandy’s apple pie.”
“I’m ready for a piece of her ass, myself.”
Joe’s disgruntled tone made Brent grin. “Man, you really are wound up.”
“Well, it’s been a while, and Mandy’s got a nice ass.” Then he gave Brent a pointed
look, adding, “And since you won’t give me a piece of yours…”
