Cowboy Sandwich (8 page)

Bryan saw a few grins appear on the jeans-clad men sporting ball caps and cowboy hats. Her face looked calm, but he saw the frantic pulse beat in her throat.

She held up her hand and he thought she’d given the bastard the finger. But no, she made a circling motion. The man, highly amused and confident, unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped it off. Holding the collar from a finger, he held his arms out and did a slow turn.

“Body’s not bad,” she said. “And didn’t I see that outfit in GQ?”

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Bryan had once skimmed through the magazine while waiting for an appointment with a lawyer. The stuff in it was so far from his lifestyle that it could be from another planet. The suit preened.

“But, I like men. Working men who smell like it, not fancy perfume. Who spend money on liniment for sore muscles instead of manicures. Pretty boys like you think a thin layer of expensive clothes can hide the garbage underneath, like veneer over rotten wood.”

The man glared at her, at the insult a small woman gave him in front of a room full of laughing cowboys.

“You might be rich.” She lifted her chest, thrusting it out like a challenge. “But you’ll never be a man.”

“You bitch,” he said, fists tight as if to hit her.

Adam tensed, ready to strike. He’d bet the bastard had backhanded many a woman. Though six inches shorter than Adam’s father, the man had the same evil glare. If the suit took one step, he’d take him down so fast…. Adam’s growl behind him agreed.

“I haven’t time for the likes of you,” she said calmly. “Go play with yourself. No one else wants to.” She sniffed a dismissal and turned away. She picked up her basket and stepped toward the revolving glass doors. “Don’t we have a storm to beat and work to do once we get home?”

Adam relaxed tense muscles, flexing his hands and shaking out his shoulders. His grin matched his partner’s.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Heads high, they followed their magnificent woman. Some of the men doffed their hats as she sailed past like the Queen of England. Adam walked tall, as if a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders. She’d stood up for them, for men who worked rather than put in time. Better, she’d stated to the whole damn room that she belonged to them, and they to her.

“Jim. Bill.” Adam couldn’t hide his shit-eating grin. Candy was their kind of woman. By the time they got home, everyone in the county would know about their new cook, and not to call at the
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Double R unless they had an emergency. He’d hoped to keep it quiet for a while, but he’d never been the type to hide.

Better to arrive a blaze of glory than to sneak home like a beaten dog.

He’d done that too often as a boy, hiding under his bed where his father’s thick arms couldn’t reach. When he was ten and Bryan eight, they’d screwed door hinges attaching the bedposts to the floor so the bastard couldn’t lift the bed and throw it into the wall to get at him.

All his life, he wore his bruises with defiance, held his head high and let no one give him crap about it. And he wasn’t changing now.

“That’s one hell of a wildcat you imported from the East. When will it be safe to visit?”

“Doc!” Adam hadn’t noticed the old man in the crow of rowdies.

“Bry, grab Candy. Doc wants to say hi.”

They waited until a smiling Candy approached.

“Doc, I’d like you to meet our new cook and housekeeper, Ms.

Candice Stevenson. Candy, Doc Secord’s birthed most everyone in the county for the last forty years.” He lowered his voice and spoke in Candy’s ear. “He knows where all the bones are buried, and keeps his mouth shut.”

“Enchantée,” said the dapper man. Candy blushed when Doc bowed over her hand, grazing her knuckles with his lips.

“Hold it, old man. She’s not for the likes of you.” Though Doc passed sixty the other year, Adam still felt uneasy when she smiled at him. It wasn’t jealousy, of course. No, he just wanted to be on the road.

“Back off,” she growled at Adam. “I’ll make friends where I want.”

Adam ignored Bryan’s snort when Candy smiled at Doc like sunshine, breathing deep and relaxing from the tension of the last few minutes. Doc knew everything about them. What they’d gone through as kids and why they still sometimes shared an extra-king bed just to
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stop the nightmares. The old man also knew there’d be three of them in it tonight.

A widower for many years, Doc would be a great friend for Candy since she wouldn’t have to hide anything. He and Bryan would be outside all day working and she might get lonely. Since Doc retired he’d had too much time on his hands. He’d told them he was fed up with old women chasing him with casseroles.

“I hear you’re a good cook.” Doc gave Candy a mournful look that would have done a basset hound proud. He dang near put up a paw and begged.

“I bet you have a sweet tooth that needs filling.”

Caught, the old codger blushed.

“I’m afraid I haven’t even seen the Double R and don’t really know what I’m getting into, but I’d love to bake for you.” She turned to Adam. “Would it be okay to have my new friend over for dinner soon? He looks like he could use some fattening up.”

Adam pulled Candy’s back against his front and kissed the top of her head. It felt fantastic to have a warm woman to show off, especially a feisty, proud, gorgeous one like Candy.

“Give us a week or so to settle in first, Doc. I don’t know what she needs in the kitchen. The two of us aren’t exactly gourmet chefs.”

“Your version of a three-course meal being macaroni from a box, wieners and ketchup?”

Adam shrugged sheepishly at Doc’s comment since it struck so close to home.

“And on that note, I’ve got breakfast,” said Bryan. He held an insulated bag in one hand, a cardboard tray with three tall coffees in the other.

Adam let Candy go when she pulled away. He’d have time enough with her soon. Doc blushed when she brushed his cheek with a kiss before returning to the door.

“She’s a keeper,” murmured Doc. “Look at those hips. Perfect for babies.”

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Adam’s gut twisted. He pushed down the ripple of happiness he’d felt before Doc reminded him of facts. “She’s just visiting for a few weeks,” he growled. “Then she’ll be gone.”

“Why? You won’t go wrong with that one for the next thirty years or so.” Doc lifted an eyebrow and gave him That Look.

“Come on, she’s from Boston. She won’t last long before she needs her cappa-mocha-whatever and heads back to the city.”

Adam followed Candy, eager to get her home.

“Truck’s not going anywhere. I got the keys,” called Bryan.

Adam flipped him the bird and kept walking. He hated leaving Bryan alone with Doc since they were talkative bastards. He turned and, sure enough, Bryan’s mouth flapped, close enough to kiss the old fool. He dug into his pocket for his second set of keys and jangled them high as if they were panties and Bryan a tracking dog.

“Rock and roll, boy!”

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Candy leaned forward, straining to see the ranch house between the snowflakes they’d chased the last few hundred miles. She’d spent most of the trip asleep on Adam’s shoulder with Bryan’s solid presence in the driver’s seat. They’d woken her near the peak of the Anaconda Range before crossing the Continental Divide even though she could see nothing but snow.

Now perched between the two men in the front seat, she wriggled, cursing her damp panties. She’d never been so horny in her life. From the matching bulges visible on either side of her, they felt the same.

Last night’s gyrations brought a morning’s worth of aches in muscles she’d never known existed. Would she get the chance for a soaking bath before they burst in on her, raring to go?

Adam sat up, straining forward as if the few extra inches would bring him home that much faster. They’d made a quick stop at Sue’s for Candy to pack a suitcase and grab her art supplies, another at the mercantile in town for groceries.

“We’ll empty the truck then check things out,” said Bryan, eyes straight ahead. He rested his left palm on the wheel, leaving his right hand ready to shift gears. He’d turned on the all-wheel drive after they left the highway.

“There’s our welcoming committee.”

Candy caught an impression of a large farmhouse, windows spilling light, before a pack of dogs rushed from the porch, yipping and howling. From the doggie-style grins and wagging tails, they were certainly friendly. But…

“Is that collie hurt? It’s limping.”

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“Nah, Sally always walks like that. She’s only got three legs, but it doesn’t slow her down,” said Bryan. “Adam’s never been able to turn down a hurting animal. The cats are also rescued but they own the railings.”

Sure enough, at least four cats trolled the porch railing. She could see one had a tail with a thirty-degree kink at the end, but the rest would have to wait for another look. Any man who’d take in broken animals had a piece of her heart. She had a few wounds to heal herself, and she needed peace and time alone for that.

Bryan pulled up to the porch near a door, cut the engine and sighed. Adam had offered to trade places half way but he’d refused, saying Adam would owe him.

He’d leered and said he’d collect tonight. Candy figured she’d be the one paying, something she looked forward to.

The door opened and a man hobbled out, grinning and waving.

The porch light caught his face, highlighting lines of age.

“Don’t mention anything about Johnny’s leg. The stubborn old fool won’t retire. Says we’ll toss him off the ranch if he can’t work,”

said Bryan.

“Tell him Candy only cooks for us. Not the bunkhouse,” said Adam.

“Johnny’s the camp cook,” explained Bryan. “Takes care of the men and, with a bit of help, the chuckwagon spring and fall. He’s great over a camp oven, but can’t cook much indoors except biscuits.”

“Cattle fed?” Adam barely opened the door before he questioned the old man.

“We listen to the weather, same as you. Joe got in thirty minutes ago. They’re okay for two days.”

“Good.” Adam looked toward the barn, obviously chafing to check it out personally. He turned back to face the man. “What’s for dinner?” He stepped closer and clasped the older man’s gnarled hand.

“Beef stew and biscuits. Stew’s still warm and I’ll finish mixing the biscuits soon’s you like.”

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“Want you to meet someone,” said Adam. He turned to the truck where Candy waited, the truck door open. She shuffled her bottom to the edge of the passenger seat.

“She followed us home. Honest,” said Bryan. “We tried to say no, but….”

He sounded so much like a little boy with a lost kitten that Candy had to laugh. She clutched her coat around her and reached for Adam’s hand to step down. Instead, he grabbed her around the waist with both hands and swung her onto the porch, forcing a surprised squeak out of her.

“Johnny, this is Candy. This little filly wandered in from Boston, looking for God’s country. She’s visiting for a few weeks to live life the way it should be. We tested her cooking, but you might have to teach her the way we do things on the Double R.”

She tried to look eager, though it wasn’t hard to fake. Suddenly she wanted her charcoals. She’d capture this dark man’s face and title it ‘Father Time’. Each wrinkle told a story, one she wanted to hear.

He sniffed and rubbed his nose, looking sideways at her.

“Boston, huh?”

She nodded. “I escaped just in time.”

Johnny’s lip twitched. Not much, and she’d have missed it if she wasn’t memorizing him.

“You taking over the indoor chores?”

“Yep.”

“You make buttermilk biscuits?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I’d sure like to learn.”

“I don’t do sweets.”

“Now, that’s something I can do. Squares, muffins, cookies, cakes, brownies, berry buckle, apple crumble…. Maybe you could give me an idea of what my new bosses like.”

“We like anything and everything,” said Bryan, returning outside.

“Now grab something and get inside before you freeze that cute little
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ass.” He smacked her butt possessively and went to the truck for another load.

She glared, rubbing her bottom. Last night’s introduction to three-ways followed by hours of sitting in a truck made her a mite tender.

Johnny’s eyes lit up and he smiled, strong white teeth glowing against the dark skin. “So
that’s
how it is. Well, come on in, wash up and I’ll give you a lesson on how to make the lightest, fluffiest biscuits in the world.”

Candy, having removed coat and boots in the mudroom, stepped into the kitchen and stopped, sock feet on polished cork.

“Oh, my. This is perfect!”

Her dream kitchen was huge, with stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances and a glass-front industrial fridge. Wooden cupboards rose to the ceiling, some with glass doors. A huge ancient harvest table with eight chairs, each with a different colored cushion, ran along one wall.

Johnny pulled milk and eggs from the fridge.

“You can’t mix biscuits too much or they won’t be light. Use a fork and stir it in just enough. Rolling pin’s in the far drawer.”

She put on a cherry sprigged apron and, under Johnny’s guidance, rolled and stamped out the dough. She insisted the old man sit and point out everything so she could learn the kitchen. She set four places, clustering them at one end of the newly-washed table.

Concentrating on pulling the pan from the oven, she didn’t hear the men enter.

“That’s what I like to see when I come home,” drawled Bryan.

“The business end of a woman, doin’ one of the things she does best.”

Her back to him, she slid the perfectly browned biscuits into a basket lined with a checked tea towel. If she thought for a minute he was serious, she’d bean him with one. She heaped stew on plates, thinking up a good comeback line.

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