Three to Ride

  He turned back to Rachel, hoping their Peeping Toms hadn’t ruined her mood. He was surprised to find her laughing.

  “Stella was right. Bigfoot does roam these woods.” She reached out underwater and stroked his cock. It was already getting hard again. “But, Max, Bigfoot’s got nothing on you.”

  He pulled her close and proceeded to prove her point.

  Chapter Four

  Rye Harper looked across his desk at his brother. “No, I will not fix your parking tickets.” This was a long-fought battle. “You cannot park across three places because you’re saving them for your friends.”

  Max pointed his way. “One of those was for you, buddy. I didn’t want you to have to walk all that way.”

  “I was walking anyway. You were at Stella’s. It’s a block away. And I’m not going to make things easy on you by calling in favors with the judge.”

  Max sat back. “All right. Rye, I’m going to need to borrow a couple hundred dollars.”

  Rye groaned. “No.”

  “Fine.” Max got to his feet. “But I’m wounded. Who do I see about getting Johnny Law off my back?”

  Rye shook his head, shock flooding his system. “You’re going to pay them?”

  “Yeah,” Max replied. “If I don’t pay I go to jail, and I don’t want Rachel to see me like that. She doesn’t know anything about my past as a rebel and an outlaw. She believes I’m a law-abiding horse trainer. I think we should keep it that way.”

  His heart twisted in a weird way. One week into Max’s relationship with Rachel and he was feeling weird. Jealous was probably the better word. So fucking jealous.

  He sat back at his desk. “That’s surprising since you’ve had, what—three dates with her? Shouldn’t she have met the real you by now?”

  Max grinned. “Nah, I’m being real careful. And she’s got some funny rules. I think maybe we’re both being careful. Hence the cleaning up my record so when she does let me drive, we won’t get pulled over and I won’t get hauled off to jail. I probably should pay the tickets I have in Creede, too. She wants to go to some kind of play the Creede rep is doing. I hope it’s not one of those things where everyone sings.”

  “It’s called a musical. A lot of women like them.” Normal women. Women who liked dating and holding hands and being a real live girlfriend. Yeah, he missed women like that. The women in his life over the past year had been interested in Rye’s reputation as the county stud.

  “You’ve done this thing before. What tips do you have on staying awake during a musical? Because I think Rachel could get mean if I snore.”

  Yes, my tip is to let me handle the dating stuff like I always have. Let me hold her hand and take her to dinner and figure out if she’s the right woman for us.

  He couldn’t say those things even though the words were practically bursting out of his throat. “Just pay attention, Max. That’s all she really wants from you. She wants to know that you listen to her and give a damn about her feelings. Everything else is negotiable, or at least I’ve found women can be extraordinarily tolerant if they believe they’re cared for by their men. Or in this case, by her man.”

  Max’s face fell. “Rye…”

  He held a hand up. “It’s all good, brother.”

  “You know it’s new and stuff. We’ve only been out a couple of times,” Max said, not quite meeting Rye’s eyes.

  “Every night she isn’t working, and when she is, you go and spend time with her during the day,” Rye pointed out. “I’m surprised you’re not staying at her place or bringing her back to ours.”

  Max flushed slightly. “Well, we might have rushed into the physical part. She thought we should slow down so we’ve been dating. She even drives. I think she feels more in control that way. We’re trying the dating thing out for a few weeks to see if it works. You know I can have serious sexual mojo, and I don’t want her to see me as nothing more than a sex machine.”

  “Sure, you came up with that plan,” Rye replied.

  He thought back to that night a week ago, when Max had come home late with the dippiest grin on his face. Rye had known in an instant that his brother had fucked Rachel Swift, and probably more than once. Max had the look of a well-satisfied man. He’d finally admitted that he’d made love to Rachel in the pond behind the east field. He’d used those words. Max Harper had said he’d “made love.”

  Rye couldn’t help it. He was incredibly jealous of his brother’s happiness.

  Maybe it wasn’t the same for Max as it was for him. For as long as he could remember, Rye had always fallen for the same girls as Max. It was almost like there was a link between them. When Max saw something he liked, Rye was sure to follow. It explained the deep connection he’d felt to her the minute he’d met her. Rye had known the instant he looked at that pretty waitress that Rachel was important. He might not be able to read Max’s every thought, but when his brother felt something deeply, Rye felt it, too.

  Max had been serious about going the vanilla route. Rye had tried to get him interested in Janine, the hot brunette from Creede, but Max wouldn’t go for it. Now, it looked like Max was ready to start his life, and Rye was going to be left alone. It wasn’t the way he’d envisioned the future. Always in the back of his mind, he’d thought that they would find one woman and settle down. For a while he’d thought that woman would be Nina, but now, looking at Rachel, he knew that had been a mistake. Nina was too hard to ever be at the center of their ménage. She would have taken everything they had and given nothing back.

  “Believe it or not, she kind of forced my hand that first day.” Max turned and sat back down, as though he’d been waiting for an opening. He frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about this.”

  “I’m still your brother.” Rye bit back a sigh. “You decided you wanted to date alone. Have you decided you don’t want to be my brother anymore?”

  “Rye, I decided to be alone. It wasn’t working, the threesome thing we always wanted. I don’t know that it can work.”

  “We’ve seen it work.” He couldn’t give up. Something deep in his soul needed this. They didn’t work apart, he and Max. Rye let himself drift and Max demanded too much. Only when they worked together did he feel like a whole human being. “Jamie and Noah’s dads.”

  Their friends James and Noah had been raised on a ranch by their single fathers, Fred and Brian. They’d married their housekeeper and lived happily until their deaths. It could be good. It could work.

  “I don’t know, Rye. The thing with Rach…it just happened. I wasn’t looking for it and I don’t know how she would handle the whole ménage thing.” Max’s voice had gone quiet, somber. “Do you want me to break it off?”

  God, how was this happening? Rye’s brain flashed back to the hundreds of times they’d sat together and gone over how to get the girl they wanted. They’d started at twelve. She’d been a pretty girl in a town next to Bliss. They’d kissed her, first Rye and then Max. Nothing more, but it had been their start.

  He wouldn’t kiss Rachel. He barely knew the woman and the fact that he wouldn’t kiss her made him ache.

  “No, I don’t.” He felt a bit hollow inside and wished, god, how he wished he was normal. Normal people didn’t feel their brother’s desire and want it for their own. Normal people didn’t need two souls to be whole and happy. “But you have to be calm around her. No crazy blowups. I won’t be around to smooth things over and your temper can be hard to handle.”

  Max nodded. “I’m trying to keep it down. We went to the lodge for a drink the other night and I didn’t even punch that Tyler kid for flirting with her. Now I might have left a weird note on his truck, but I didn’t punch him.”

  Well, that explained a lot. “Are you the one who’s going to pull his balls off and staple them to his forehead?”

  “No, I was going to cut his dick off and use it as a mini baseball bat,” Max replied as primly as a large man with his reputation could. “See, I’m not the problem here. He is.”

 
Ty Davis was the Elk Creek Lodge’s EMT and kind of the manwhore of southern Colorado. Oh, at one time he and Max might have fought the twenty-three-year-old for the title, but those days were gone. And apparently blond god Ty had pissed off more than one man. “I’ll look into it. And Max, I’m happy for you. I want you to feel free to come and talk to me. We’re brothers. We’ve always talked to each other, and god knows you’re going to need my help if you want to make this thing with Rachel work.”

  He wasn’t, but he had to start faking it ’til he could make it because otherwise he was going to be the broody one.

  Max leaned forward. “Are you sure? Because I’m nervous about tonight.”

  “What happens tonight?”

  “She’s got the dinner shift off and she wants me to spend the night with her out at the Movie Motel. That’s where she’s staying. It’s stupid, Rye. We’ve already had…well, we’ve already known each other in a biblical sense, but I’m nervous. She deserves more than sex. She certainly deserves more than a roll in a cold pond followed by drying off sex. I want it to be special. I don’t know that I’ve ever talked to a woman after sex.”

  Because that had been Rye’s job. Because Max tended to show up for the sex and disappear when it came time to cuddle and have real intimacy. Or he rolled over and snored.

  “All right, here’s the plan. You want to make it special, you have to start at the beginning,” Rye said. He leaned in and gave his brother a game plan.

  Two hours later his brain was still on Rachel.

  “Hey, boss,” a familiar voice said. Rye looked up and his deputy, Logan, was standing in the doorway. The lanky deputy better resembled a college kid than a law enforcement officer, but he was the best Rye was going to get out here. Logan Green hadn’t been born in Bliss, but he’d gotten there pretty quickly after and he showed no signs of wanting to leave. “The guy in cell one woke up and he’s complaining about everything. He says he’s going to give us a terrible review on Yelp. We’re trying to maintain that sweet, sweet middling three star and this asshole giving us a one is going to ruin it.”

  Rye groaned. Maybe it was because he’d recently spent time with normal law enforcement officials—officials who didn’t have to deal with alien invasions and nude nature hikes—but sometimes he thought his job was plain weird and he craved some normalcy. “No one cares about online reviews of our jail cells, Logan.”

  Logan frowned. “Oh, the mayor does. You made me go to the last town hall. They’re very concerned that we’re making the town look bad. Who wants to come here if the jails aren’t comfortable?”

  Rye stared at his deputy for a moment. “How about tourists who aren’t criminals and don’t intend to wind up in jail? Damn it. I guess we have to feed that asshole. Have Callie handle it, but don’t let her get close to him. I know he’s here on a reckless driving charge, but he’s got a nasty background and he’s wanted in Denver for breaking parole. The state boys are coming to pick him up tonight.”

  “Callie took an early lunch and we’re out of peanut butter,” Logan said. “I already checked. The only thing in the fridge is an out-of-date yogurt from Callie’s last cleanse. And, might I say, I don’t think it’s cleansing anymore. It’s more like ready to take over the world if we allow it out of its container, if you know what I mean.”

  What a day. “Fine. Call Stella’s.”

  Logan perked up. “Already did. She’s sending someone over with a turkey sandwich and small salad. I would have ordered fries for him, but he’s in jail. Some kale might help rehabilitate the fucker. Or it might clean him out and he’ll be less nasty. One or the other. But she’s going to require cash and we used the last of our petty cash on the air fresheners in the bathrooms after the phantom pooper hit again.”

  Yes, there were days he craved normalcy. Sweet, sweet normalcy. In places where no one thought to become the phantom pooper. “I’ll handle it.”

  He’d never wanted to be the sheriff. Nope. He hadn’t spent his childhood thinking “hey, I would love to wear khakis and a big hat and arrest people.” Now, he had spent most of his late puberty and adulthood thinking about tying women up and slapping some pretty asses, but it wasn’t the same. The people he arrested typically smelled like farts and deep, gut-wrenching bad life choices, but one of them had needed a real paycheck after their mom had died and he and Max been left with a teenaged sprite to raise. It had been get a job that paid or lose their baby sister, Brooke, to the foster care system. As Max couldn’t function in society, the task had fallen to Rye.

  Anything normal fell to Rye. Talking to horses was Max’s job. Making an ass of himself was Max’s job. Annoying the shit out of everyone around them was Max’s job.

  Having a stable and lovely girlfriend who might be capable of loving their town and settling down…how could that fall to Max?

  Nope. He wasn’t going there. He was being supportive. He was being a good brother.

  “I’ll get Stella the cash.” It served him right for arresting someone. He should have slept in his car instead of going hard after poor drivers who should probably die on the mountain road in a perfect example of Darwinism.

  “Thanks, Rye,” Logan said. He started slightly and turned toward the front of the building. “Oh, she’s here now.”

  Well, of course she was. Stella was quick. She didn’t hang around and put things off the way the rest of the world did. Nope. Stella pulled that bandage off and fast.

  He stood up. This was his life. The most exciting thing he would do all day was pay for some asshole’s lunch and talk his brother through a date with a woman who should have been theirs.

  Yep. There it was. Jealousy rose hard and fast. How was he going to freaking get through this if he couldn’t go half a damn day without feeling jealous? Everywhere he went, there was someone talking about Max and the new girl. They talked about how Rachel was the Max whisperer.

  They also wondered how long it would be before the sheriff was in her bed, too. Fat chance of that. He should bet against himself. At least he would get some cash out of it.

  He grabbed his wallet and stalked out of his office. Now that he thought about it, someone could have offered to bring him lunch, too. He would have to haul his butt over to the Trading Post and grab a premade sandwich because Logan never missed a break. He missed work sometimes because he was watching a movie and forgot, but those breaks were sacred.

  What would it be like to have a woman who gave a damn about him? Who would take care of him and let him take care of her? He couldn’t cook, but he could do other things. He could think about her all day. He could take over the little things to make her life easier.

  Why couldn’t he find that?

  He sighed and pulled out a ten. The turkey sandwich was eight dollars. He’d tip two and be done with it. Stella’s markup on sandwiches was insane.

  Except it wasn’t Stella who was standing in the middle of the station house looking like sunshine on a stick. Rachel was standing in the middle of the front office, a brown paper bag in her hand as she looked all around the space, her eyes super wide.

  He studied her for a moment. Curious wasn’t the right word to describe her. No. If he had to pick a word to truly express her in that moment he would have picked scared.

  Why would that woman be scared to walk into a police station?

  “Rachel?”

  She started, her whole body tensing as she turned toward him. For a second, her lips began to curl up and those shoulders came down from her ears, but then she seemed to see something he didn’t understand and the tension returned twofold.

  “Sheriff.”

  Shit. She’d seen Max for a moment and then realized it wasn’t Max. She’d realized it was him and that was when she’d tensed up again. Oh, that girl was in trouble and that spelled trouble for his brother. The not-sexy kind.

  Still, it was hard to believe someone like Rachel had gotten herself into serious trouble with the law.

  She seemed to steel herself and walke
d over, holding out the paper bag. “Your lunch. Stella told me to hurry. I guess getting lunch delivered is one of the perks of your position.”

  She said the word “perks” like it was a bad thing. Like she really meant it was one of the ways he abused his position.

  He took the bag. “It’s not for me. Apparently I’m not allowed to starve the prisoners. This turkey sandwich will save me from being known as the starving sheriff. I need him happy and healthy when he walks out of here.”

  She frowned and looked toward the cell in the back. “What did he do?”

  “Reckless driving,” Rye replied. Damn she was pretty. Her strawberry blonde hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing faded jeans and her Stella’s diner T-shirt. She didn’t wear much makeup, but it didn’t matter. He was sure she was stunning when she dressed up, but she was beautiful like this, too. He had the feeling he would always find her lovely.

  “That’s a handy one,” she muttered. “Who gets to decide what constitutes reckless driving?”

  “It’s one of those things that you know it when you see it.” He wanted to reach out and brush that wisp of hair that played around her ear back.

  “I can imagine. It must be nice to have all that power.”

  He frowned. “Power? You think being the sheriff of Bliss County is a powerful position?”

  “I think you’re in a position of authority and many times people in your position abuse that authority. How can anyone know if that poor man in the cell is actually guilty? It’s your word versus his,” she said.

  “Well, and it’s also his paint on the guard rail where he damn near went into the river. Honey, is there a reason you don’t like cops?”

  She frowned and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I never said I didn’t like cops.”

  “Because we’re not all alike, you know. We’re people, too. Some of us are good. Some bad. I happen to be one of the good ones. We’re in the heavy majority, too.”