Stony Creek Hero [Stony Creek 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

“Whose innocence?” was all that was heard from the open doorway. The owner and bartender of the town’s honky-tonk, The Gas Pump, stood in the doorway waiting. Donny was a fun-loving, kind man who was madly in love with Florence Powell. He also derived endless happiness at torturing Bill, his longtime friend.

“Leave it, Don,” Bill growled out in warning.

“Hell no! Boys, while your father is pulling his best stern daddy act, ask me where I caught him and your mother last month. Come on, just ask!”

Collective groans that spoke disgust at the turn of the conversation filled the room.

With a hiccup, Hunter was the only one who was man enough to ask, probably fortified by his liquid courage. “Where did ‘Papa Bill’ get caught?”

“Lillian, isn’t dinner ready yet?” Bill desperately hollered in the direction of the kitchen, looking for an escape.

“Not gonna save you, Bill.” Donny smiled as he threatened the head of the Powell clan. Ben and the men were now watching the silent standoff between the men, with Troy just itching to get the goods on his father. He needed some ammunition against his dad when the shit hit the roof on some of his latest female companionship.

The women suddenly burst into the room announcing dinner. Florence with the ever-present naughty frame of mind took in the tone of the room. With a shrewd eye she turned her attention to Donny.

“What did you do?” Florence asked her gentleman in a firm tone.

With a sly smile he replied, “What makes you think I did anything, love?”

Ben watched the show with a quiet sense of enjoyment at the entertainment. His little aunt had no fear of anyone, especially this big Irishman who was humorously so enamored with her.

“Because Jackson looks nauseated, Brody is going to throw up, and Troy looks too eager to
get the skinny on my brother-in-law leading me to believe that he must have done something wrong. So I ask again, what did you do?” Florence demanded.

Donny just crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Florence with a soft, patient smile on his face.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, dinner is going to get cold,” Lillian spoke up. “Donny is having a field day because he caught us in his office at The Pump with your father’s pants down. Now dinner is served. Please remember to wash your hands, boys!” With that, she grabbed Florence by one hand and ignored Billie’s shocked look and took her arm as they were directed back to the dining room.

“I don’t know about you all but I have no appetite for dinner after that confession from mom. I think I need to wash my brain out with Listerine or something,” Ben whispered out.

They all looked toward Bill who had a sheepish expression on his face. “What? Why so shocked? I am your father, you got it from somewhere,” he managed out having the grace to look somewhat embarrassed and trying to ignore the pained looks on the faces of his sons and nephews.

Hunter walked back up to the bar and lined up shots of whiskey for all the men in the room. He had a feeling that this was going to be a needed fortification for the meal ahead. Billie always said that Hunter was the wise one.

Lizzie woke to the sensation of rough-skinned hands gently running down over her collarbone, leaving sizzling sensations in their wake. A familiar musky cologne was filling her senses as shivers of arousal made her limbs tremble. Goose bumps appeared due to the sensations produced by the strong lips that were currently nibbling up the column of her neck. She sleepily tilted her head to give better access to whoever was providing the most pleasant wake-up she had ever had. Those same strong fingers moved lower to skim over the tops of her sensitive breasts, allowing them to tweak over the tight peaks. Lizzie heard herself moan, wishing for a more predictable stroke while she felt her arousal starting to coat her thighs.
More
, she moaned in her head,
please more
. Those magical lips drifted slowly over her cheek to lightly nip at her lower lip. As she let out a soft sigh, the man took advantage and swept his tongue into the recesses of her mouth, drawing her further into his intoxicating spell. She couldn’t think of anything but the strong tongue that was dominating her thoughts while his hands now cupped her breasts reverently through her silky nighty. Why didn’t she just open her eyes? She had to see. Darn it, they just wouldn’t open as he shifted his substantial weight over her while moving in to suck desperately on the sensitive area below her ears. She felt him settle in the cradle of her thighs as his solid erection pressed insistently against her damp folds. Her clit rubbed just at the right spot, sending delicious torrents of pleasure up through her body as he started to grind his cock against her feminine warmth. Just another second, that was all needed as she could feel herself on the precipice, please, please let her come. It had been so long since she had any sort of relationship with a man and not one of her own imagination. The man moved restlessly as though he too was getting desperate to get inside her heat.

“Please, Ben, please, please. I need you inside me, now!” she heard herself yell out.

Beep, beep, beep, beep… What the heck was Ben’s cell phone on for? He had better ignore that darned thing. Lizzie felt like she was going to throw it out the nearest window. Slowly she found herself able to finally pry her eyes open. Damn it all. It was another dream, really? Disappointment flooded Lizzie’s core as the reality hit her.

Lizzie sat up in her soft, fluffy, white down blankets with a rush of frustration. Alone, she was all alone, as usual.

“I knew it was too good to be true. That man doesn’t want me to ruin his goal of bedding a new female every three weeks. He is rapidly approaching a world record or something. Darn it, I was so close, too.” Lizzie let out a loud groan and decided that she needed to take things into her own hands. She lay back into the plush pillows and voluntarily closed her eyes this time, conjuring up the vision of the man she desired more than anyone in her whole life. Her hand stole down the front of her flat abdomen, arousing as it slid liquidly over her silken gown. She used her fingers to pull up the hem as she arched her back and slid her index and middle finger over her clit into her soaked folds. Waves of pleasure radiated up from that small caress, streaking into her limbs.

She began to circle her index finger over the swollen little nub while her middle finger pumped in and out of her moist channel. Lizzie thrashed her head in frustration wishing that it was Ben’s thick fingers or better yet, his mammoth cock that was sliding into her, granting her the pleasure it was sure to provide. Her breathing began to become irregular as she started to pluck and massage the nipple of her left breast with her other hand.

“Ben, Ben, please.” It was part of the chant that seemed to fill the room as Lizzie teetered impatiently on the edge. She sped up the circling of her clit and felt herself slide into an electric wave of bliss as she moaned out her pleasure. A delicious sense of satiation swept throughout her body as she slowly drifted back down to reality.

Lizzie opened her eyes again and scanned the room sadly. If only he could see how much she adored him, had always adored him, then he would actually be part of the pleasure she had just experienced. With a sigh, she sat back up against her pillows. Lizzie had too much self-respect to be the flavor of the week for Mr. Benjamin Powell. She didn’t turn down the advances from Theodore Davis only to become just a fun memory for Ben. Even as lonely as she was, there was nothing in the world that would coax her to sell herself cheaply. No matter how delicious his hand gently spanking her butt to prevent her from risking her life again had felt. No matter how seductive that man could make a pair of worn wranglers look, no matter how delicious his musky male cologne was, no matter how entrancing his gorgeous green eyes were, there was no way Lizzie Carmichael was going to fall into just being a number. Nope, it was not going to happen to her, she hoped.

She had tossed and turned last night while chewing over in her head the offer that Ben had laid on the table. She wished with a quiet desperation that it had been her who had been laid out on the table and not just the offer, she thought with a giggle. After hours of silent deliberation, she had decided to
allow
him to invest in her business. It cramped her style to be sure, to have someone offer to rescue her while making up a cock-and-bull story about just having extra money lying around that needed to be invested. He really had reached pretty darned far with that one, she laughed. It just confirmed to her what a generous, kind soul he was—creative no, but caring yes. She would let him think that he was the clever one. Why confuse the man? Men as a general rule, in her experience, needed to be men once in a while. She had decided to accept his offer and allow him to feel like “the man” as well. After all, what could she say to such a kindness? He was saving her from ruin. He was saving her from having to deal with the nauseating advances of Theodore Davis. He was just saving her, period. She knew that he had a soft spot for her as he practically had his own designated table at the café. Yes, she would let him think anything he wanted to. He was easing her burdens from her shoulders without anyone knowing, without allowing her pride to be bruised. He was a real gentleman.

Darn it, how was she ever to get him to stop being a gentleman in every other way? Lizzie tapped her finger on her chin and sat up with a smile. She was going to gather some of the girls for a power lunch and wrap herself up in a more suggestive outfit than she was used to wearing for work. Desperate times called for desperate measures!

* * * *

“Shit, man, what the hell has gotten into you this morning?” Troy grumbled in Ben’s direction. He narrowly avoided being hit with a shovel full of horse dung that had gone flying in his direction.

“You are going to be ‘shitman’ if you don’t get the hell out of that stall, Troy! In fact it is going to be your new nickname.” Loud male laughter filled the horse barn as some of the other Powell men appreciated Ben’s wittiness that early in the morning.

Cole chimed in with his own humor, pretending to hold his hand as though answering a phone. “I can hear it now, smart boy. As you are filling cattle orders, you answer the phones, ‘Hello, Rugged Hill Ranch, shitman speaking, how may I help you?” More laughter rolled over the rafters as they all appreciated that the one Powell who was computer literate and handled most of the ranch business, who usually wasn’t on the receiving end of the teasing, was the object of the torture.

As usual, Troy handled it with grace and his renowned sense of humor. “Well, my cousin, it certainly has a lot more class than your nickname given to you by our esteemed eldest who is out in the pastures.”

“Fuck. What did the old man on a pregnancy mission call me?” Cole demanded with a growl. Jackson obviously was earning his reputation with his and Billie’s desire to get started on their family, like yesterday.

Troy checked to make sure that it was in fact Jackson who was riding up toward the barn because he couldn’t wait to watch the full-out brawl that was brewing. He didn’t require the largest of the cousins sticking his face in a pile of dung just because he was sensitive about his age.

“Well, during the last calving season, while he was mooning over Billie, he was in a really bad mood,” Troy reminded Cole.

Ben even looked up at that comment as he recalled the short temper that their elder brother had graced them all with at the time. Man, he had it bad then and they all just wanted to slap him and tell him to marry her already. Shit, Ben thought, he never wanted to be like that.

Ben watched as Cole shuddered.

“Don’t remind me! He was off his rocker. He should have just whacked off more or fucked a damned cow, he was so miserable to be around. What the hell name did he give me?”

“You aren’t gonna like it!” Troy taunted him with glee.

“Just tell me,” Cole asked again, appearing to get agitated. Cole did not like being made fun of, ever.

“Where is the fun in that, Cole? I could just torture you for days and tell everyone but you. Maybe I will call your mom first.” Troy held his fingers up to his ear, mimicking a fake phone. “Hello, Aunt Flo, yes it’s your favorite nephew here.” Ben had to snort out loud at that.

“Auntie, do you know what your beloved baby boy’s new name is? Well, let me tell you.”

Troy pretended to whisper into his “phone-hand,” further annoying Cole if his stance was any indication.

“Grow up, you idiots,” Ben yelled out as he went back to mucking, disgusted that grown men could act like such morons.

Ben watched as the ever hyperaware Brody took stock in his brother’s agitation. He knew exactly how to divert Cole’s attention from knocking the head off their eldest cousin’s shoulders when he saw Jackson or giving Troy the beat down that he deserved. He chimed in, “Wasn’t that about the time some cute waitress was starting to ring your bell, bro?”

Cole swung around seeing his brother in the doorway. “Hey, Brody, yeah. Something about that Mimi. Going to have to take some time and figure that one out. Every time I get near her, I get hard. I can’t just walk around town like that, you know. I might have to stop eating at Lizzie’s café if this keeps up.”

Ben looked up again at the mention of Lizzie’s name. “You are always up, you horny butthead. Who were you with this weekend? Was it the new Miss Wallander Rodeo Queen or something?”