Drawn to a Cowboy (Brother Duet #1) (13 page)

“Thank you, concierge Jade, my deepest apologies. And by the way, I don’t know a lick of that language so you could say whatever you want to me in French using that sexy as hell, sensuous tone of yours, and you will rock my fucking world.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we cozy up later. I’m very good at regurgitating the information I had been given on many of my own excursions around the city. I probably could’ve had a job as a tour guide instead of working in a vintage clothing shop, but it’s not easy to work when you’re a foreigner.”

Carrying on with her more serious reply, I asked more about her Paris trip. “You were a working student? I thought Americans had to pull lots of strings to work abroad. Being young must have been even harder.” That was the first I heard of her working, her stories before had only included painting stuff and some weird stuff she ate.

“I only went two years ago. I thought I told you that,” she looked at me strangely and shrugged. “Anyway, I was an older student. I went after my regular college studies. I was looking for more… I was like Jinxie, in need of finding myself. I told you about staying in New York before going to Paris and about Phoebe.”

“Pastry girl?”

“Yes, her. When she was out and about in Paris while I was in painting classes, she found out about a position that was more of an exchange for room and partial board. It was a perfect deal. I was sure she was looking into it more for herself, but she had things to organize before she could jump into Paris living. First thing, apply for culinary school. Thank God we didn’t live together with her going to cooking school, I would’ve weighed a million pounds or been deathly ill stuffed to the gills.”

“I see you eat plenty and you’re thin as can be.” I loved her amazing body. It had all the right curves and I cherished each one as often as I could.

“Nonsense, I’ve been gaining lately. I’m going to have to start hitting that treadmill in the barn. Though I prefer walking in nature. That would’ve been the only thing that saved me in Paris, all the walking.”

“Are you going to finish your story? And don’t worry about your workout, I’ll be happy to run you through a circuit!”

“Yes, I bet you will.” She shook her head and launched back in, “What was I saying… oh yeah, before she left me, she helped me get out of my temporary housing with her outstanding knowledge of the French language and bureaucracy. And thanks to her, I lived over an incredible bookshop in Pigalle that had fabulous pastry every morning and a great cheese and wine happy hour, as we call it here.” She stopped and turned to me. She looked like a light bulb just popped on. “Hey, you might incorporate something like that at the lodge in the late afternoons. Look at me… back to food talk.”

“Funny you should say that, Spencer plans to add that when he comes back in a couple weeks. Enough business. I only want to hear your crazy stories. You tell me yours and I will tell you mine.” She stuck out her hand to shake on it, then I led her down the dock to the boat that I reserved for us alone. Wayne and Sal, along with a few of their family members, had just finished their spin around the lake and informed us that the fish were not biting. Saying our goodbyes, we hopped aboard.

Settled into seats across from each other we moved through the water. Touring the lake, I pointed out other resorts, the San Juan mountain range, and different nature features along with the manmade dam of the lake. I told her some of the history that I had learned from Hank, like the land once belonged to the Southern Ute Indian tribe, and the lake’s name meant little valley. All of a sudden, I was the one that sounded like a tour guide.

Stopping near the south end of the lake, we got ready to drop a couple lines. “Ready to fish for our dinner?” I asked her with a grin.

“Sure.” She lifted a bag I had prepared for fishing, “Hot dogs and cheese to pre-flavor our catch. What kind of fish will they be—not that I would know one variety from the next. When I read menus and they say this is halibut, I don’t question it, it could be cod or sea bass or whatever when it arrives cooked on a plate. However, I am pretty good at deciphering it when it’s raw. Cut it open, slice it up into bite size pieces and plate it with some wasabi, soy and fresh ginger, then I can tell you what type of fish it is simply by its natural color.”

I laughed, “Are you done, Miss Sushi girl?”

She shook her head, smiling at me. “Funny,” she said sarcastically with her hands on her hips before I began to tell her about our local fish.

“The lake is stocked with pike and trout mainly, one other one too, but I can’t remember the name. Anyway, we’re really only catching—hopefully—and releasing. And don’t laugh at our bait, that combo seems to attract them. Hank used to say, ‘why buy bait when you can serve them cheese dogs.’ Oh, how I miss him.”

She didn’t reply to my words about Hank, she just smiled at me, and gave me a few moments to bask in my thoughts. Then, of course, she made a face of disgust as she lifted a container marked live bait. “So we don’t need to torture the worms?” she asked as she opened the lid and looked down at the wiggly creatures burrowed under dirt.

“We’re using those too.”

I was surprised when she poked around in the soil. “Poor slimy, little, fat things. I’m not putting a hook through them. I swear they just gave me a sad look.”

“I’ll do it,” I told her with a laugh, loading up her pole.

Sitting there looking at the surroundings, she caught two fish. Each time she had the same reaction; happy she caught something, then squeamish once the floundering fish was pulled into the boat and I used a pair of pliers to remove the hooks. I laughed as she yell, “Hurry! Hurry! Don’t hurt him.” I thought what a kind soul she had as she said that she was a terrible person for enjoying the hunt, but hating the result of the capture. Horror struck when the hook did not come out quite so easily from one of the fish I had caught. I found myself kissing her to distract her as she was on the verge of shedding tears. I told her there was no crying in fishing. She laughed and said, “That’s in baseball, not fishing.”

She looked so beautiful with the vast mountain range on display behind her, I pulled out my phone and snapped a couple photos of her. I was glad that we had opted to cruise on the lake alone. I only wished that the pontoon offered a bit more privacy.

She wished that it had a commode and yelled “show off” when I showed her how easy it was to pee off the side of the boat. I told her if she had to go so bad she could hang her ass over the side, and that I wouldn’t look. She took it as a dare and went for it. We laughed like crazy when people off in the distance honked a horn and hooted. Her fantastic backside deserved such appreciation, I couldn’t blame them.

Back on shore, over the next few days, we stayed on the property or close to it. We went zip lining, paddled kayaks, and attended an impromptu straight shot horse racing competition in the meadows. We made wagers between us, she was very good at picking the winners. She confessed that she had been around horse racing during the summer months back home, she could tell a winner. When I accused her of cheating, she giggled and threw herself in my arms. God, I loved every minute with her, and I didn’t mind that my crew saw us together.

On our last night, I talked her into helping me whip up dinner for the staff. While we made meat sauce, cut up greens and tomatoes for salad, slathered garlicky butter on bread and baked dessert, we talked about the week we spent together. I had never enjoyed being in the kitchen as much. Truth be told, I had never done a lot of simple domestic things with a woman, besides Norma. I would miss her when she left. Maybe I should veto all her paintings and make her start over.

“Jinxie would love all of these excursions. First, she loves to be on the water and secondly, she says adventures that took you out of your comfort zone and taught you something were the best.”

“Jinxie? You mentioned her earlier… actually a few times. I always meant to ask you who she is… another fun girlfriend?”

“Crazy name, I know. Not hard to forget, but fun! When my grandparents went to name her they both said ‘Virginia’ at the same time and followed up her name saying ‘jinx, you owe me a coke.’ Then selecting a middle name they said ‘Lee’ at the same time and again ‘jinx…’ You get the idea. Anyway, they continued to do that all day long and ended up calling her their little Jinx which turned into Jinxie.”

“You call your mother Jinxie, too?”

“Yep, she had me at nineteen years old. She was a kid having a kid, I swear we’ve grown up together. I don’t remember ever calling her mom. I was always surrounded by people that called her Jinxie. No one used her real name, even when she got in trouble, her parents called her Jinxie Lee or Jinxie Lee Cassidy.”

I loved hearing about her family life. She seemed to really love her grandparents and her mom, now that I knew who Jinxie was. A far cry from my family life. Well, at least with the true one that was only visible behind the scenes. “Why the sad face?” she asked. I hadn’t even realized that I was frowning.

I lied when I answered her. No one wanted to hear my shit, I had no desire to bring the evening down. It was the end of our free time, the following morning we would be back to tending to guests, who would take priority over my personal wants, needs and desires. “I am trying to concentrate. I don’t want to add the wrong ingredients. Like sugar instead of salt, I’d never hear the end of it. Although, I could always blame it on you.” She smacked me, playfully, and I swept her into my arms.

“Hey, you two, get back to work. You have hungry campers!” Norma caught us.

Back to work we finished the baked ziti, salad, garlic bread and brownies with ice cream for their dessert. With everyone fed and happy, we cleaned up the cooking items, and threw away all of the paper and plastic ware we opted to use for easy clean up.

Locking up the lodge, I tossed my cowgirl over my shoulder and took her to bed. I had a need for a second helping of dessert back at
our
cabin for the night.

Jade

B
ack to bunking in the ranch-hand quarters, I still found myself in the arms of a certain cowboy. We had meals together when we could. He snuck in and out of the stable, stealth-like. The staff all knew that we were spending extra time together. My guess was that he didn’t want guests seeing him sneaking around the property. As long as I got my Sage time, I was fine. The last few days we had been meeting up in the afternoon to play office. I was the secretary taking dictation.
Ha!

When I was summoned for my mad skills late one morning, I found myself alone. Figuring he would return soon, I pulled off my panties from beneath my denim skirt and sat in his chair with my feet slightly opened resting on the top of his desk that was filled with what looked like legal papers. None of my business, I fiddled with picking leftover paint off my finger while I waited.

I was surprised that my cowboy didn’t attack me right away. I knew he had a tantalizing view. Instead, he looked at my face then down at the paperwork. Still ignoring me, he quickly gathered up all of them and placed them into a manila folder. “I didn’t look at any of that if that’s what you are worried about,” I said as he stuck the secret documents away in his desk when I had moved my legs down and stood from his chair. “I’ll come back… or I’ll see you later.” I was moving to leave when his hands stopped my exit, turned me to face him, pulled my skirt up around my waist and set me on the top of the desk.

“Sorry, I’m a bit crazed today. Stressed, I need you,” he said sitting in his chair and pushing his mouth to my little red curls. “Yes, just what I need.” I leaned back on my elbows and let him work out his tension. “Who says you need a stress-ball when you can have crayon-red pussy?” A throaty, giggling moan escaped my lips. I was too far gone down the ecstasy trail to answer him.

His mouth sucking on my tingling, lower lips, his tongue flicking my swollen nub made me forget my own name. The gentle, constant sliding of his fingers inside of me added to the whole rodeo of pleasure that he was performing on me. I shamelessly moved my hips causing him to increase his tempo. Reaching the ultimate climax, I bit my lip to silence any words or screams that might scare anyone within the vicinity.

Once he had made sure that he had apologized sufficiently to me, we took our “game of office” to a whole new height when I slid onto his exposed lap. Yes. Yes. Yes. Saddled up, I rode that cowboy. I think we saved a couple horses before I returned to the desktop with my panties back in place.

“Are you okay now?” I asked as a couple of little creases appeared between his beautiful, sky blue eyes. Whatever was going on, it seemed that our coupling hadn’t completely removed the battle waging in his mind.

Leaning back in his chair, his arms perched on the armrests, he looked me square in the face. “Do you know Hank Griffin? Are you familiar with that name?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Should I be? I’ve heard you mention your Hank and a bit about him.”

He ignored my answer and posed another question, “What about Carson Crosby, you know him?”