Hard Ridin' (17 page)

Holden hung out the side of the tractor cab, watching Jens fill the trough on the feed spreader. Another couple passes and the machine would be empty again. Jens would walk back to the house for the ATV, but there wasn’t time. Not when Holden had already been working, and Jens had fallen short.

Holden’s question niggled at Jens. Why would he ask if he was sex drunk? Better yet—why did it sound as if Holden was excited?

Jens emptied both bags and then stared up at Holden. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat this morning, and the dark knit hat conformed to his head. Without his hat brim, his expression was plain to Jens.

Damn, it looked as if he was fevered.

“You okay, man?”

Holden ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, why?”

“Want me to take over for a while?”

A grin stretched across his rugged features. “Hell, no. I want to see you hauling all those bags up here in punishment for being late.” He narrowed his eyes as he said “late”.

Did Holden think Jens was tied up with Laurel? If only he could say that. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to be too happy when she awakened and found herself alone and untouched.

Guilt and worry slammed through Jens like a bull through a stack of barrels at a rodeo. That was no way to treat the woman he loved. He should have stayed up and given her what she needed—more than she needed.

“Why were you late, Jens?”

Jens lifted a brow. He wasn’t about to give Holden the satisfaction of knowing he’d fallen fast asleep by ten o’clock. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Instead of Holden’s expression darkening, he flushed again. What the hell was going on?

Jens twisted on a boot heel and made his way down the slope to the truck again. He tossed the empty seed bags into the back and leaned against the fender. After pulling out his cell, he speed-dialed Laurel. His heart thumped heavily as he waited for her to pick up.

Finally, she answered in a breathless voice. “Hey, you. What’s going on? You forget something at the house?”

“Nope. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” He could almost hear the smile in her voice.

“Tonight I’m going to sink my cock into your sweet pussy until you’re screaming for release. And only after you’ve had three orgasms will I fill your tight sheath with my come.”

“Holy…fuck, Jens. Can’t we pretend it’s night?”

He stared at the acreage of plowed earth still left to plant. Shaking his head, he answered, “Sorry, baby. If you want to get those seeds into the ground today, we’re going to have to push hard. We aren’t going to get the entire main farm planted—not by a long shot. But we’ll get enough done to help you.”

“I’m headed out there now with my wagonload of starters. I’m going to plant until you come up, and then we’ll all share lunch.” That undercurrent was back in her voice. What was she really trying to say?

“You got it, darlin’. Keep your pussy wet for me.”

She hissed. “Damn, Jens.”

“Real good, baby. One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If I ever see those pink thong panties again, I’m going to rip them off with my teeth.”

Holden sunk his teeth into a drumstick and groaned with bliss. A woman who knew how to cook as well as navigate a man’s body? He was keeping her.

Laurel raised her gaze to his and gnawed her lower lip. “Is that a good groan or bad?”

“It’s delicious, baby darlin’.”

A pink flush stole over her cheeks. Damn, how was he going to keep out of her pants for the rest of the afternoon? They needed to finish up their work on the main farm before heading up to plant the organic crops.

On the other side of her, Jens slipped a hand to her nape and directed her attention to him. “Holden and I have a surprise for you before we head up to your farm.”

Her eyes lit. “What is it?”

Jens opened his mouth to tell her about the old Ford, but the ring tone of a popular country song on his cell interrupted. He tugged it out of his jeans and brought it to his ear. “Yeah…? Oh shit… We’ll be right there.”

He stood as he finished the sentence. Immediately, Holden’s heart was battering the walls of his chest.

“What’s going on?”

“Accident up on Breakaway Farm. The missus needs us right quick.”

“Can I help?” Laurel’s eyes were wide as she stood with him and Holden.

“We’ll be okay. Besides, you have work to do. Holden, give her the gift.” Jens kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry not to finish this chicken, sweetheart. Save it for me?”

“Of course.” She squeezed his hand and caught Holden’s.

Holden gently pried open her fingers and placed a single key on her palm. “It’s in the big shed.” Then he kissed her soundly on the mouth and followed Jens out the door.

As the truck roared to life, he pummeled Jens for answers. “What happened? Who is it? Old Breaker or the junior?”

Robert Breaker had owned the farm adjoining the Rope Burn Ranch practically since men started squatting on land and calling it theirs. He was ninety if he was a day, and still farming. It wouldn’t surprise Holden in the least if the man finally keeled over on the tractor.

“Old. The ambulance has been called, but it will take a while. The missus said Robbie’s nowhere to be found, and she needs help now.” Jens’s mouth was tight. He slanted a look at Holden. “Doesn’t sound good, does it?”

“Drive faster.”

He hated to see a lady in distress, and he could only imagine how Mrs. Breaker must feel, helpless as her husband withered away.

Jens stomped on the gas and tore around the bends in the dirt road as if he were in the Indy 500. Holden gripped the handle above the door and fixed his gaze on the top hill where the Breakers’ house sat.

“Not to be insensitive at the moment, but I wish I could have seen Laurel’s expression when she turned the key in that Ford, and it fired up.”

Despite the tense moment, Jens smiled crookedly. “Me too. There are a lot of things I’d like to be doing with Laurel these past two days, but duty calls.”

What did that mean? Jens had spent the night with her. It was Holden who hadn’t gotten his time with her, as a piss-poor result of a coin toss. Again, he imagined Jens in bed with her, thrusting into her, working her rosy nipples with his lips and tongue and pouring his come into her. And he saw himself splayed between her thighs, lapping at her sensitive and creamy folds until she screamed with release.

Damn, she’d been wild the previous day.

Holden shifted to ease the throb in his groin and tried to concentrate on the Breaker farm. The road hooked to the right, and Jens sped past enough white split rail fencing to encompass Washington D.C.. The Breakaway Farm was one of the most prosperous in the state. Holden could only dream that someday the Rope Burn Ranch would bring in the sums this farm did.

“Did the lady say where Breaker was? In the field? House?”

“Barn.” Jens looked grim, as if he knew something more but wasn’t saying.

They raced into the yard in a cloud of dust. Holden was jumping from the truck before it came to a full stop. In front of the barn, Mrs. Breaker stood, her wispy, white hair flying around her distraught face. She trotted toward Holden and Jens, hands wringing.

“Oh, thank you, boys! It’s my Robert!” Fresh tears bloomed in her red eyes.

Holden ran into the barn. A few steps in, Breaker was crumpled on the hay floor. His head was turned sharply to the side, but Holden already knew by his pose that the man was dead.

Question was, for how long? Dropping to his knees, he twisted the man so he faced up. His eyes were lifeless, lips blue. He wore his shirt buttoned right up to the neck and with a string tie. As Holden set about loosening them, Jens checked for a pulse in his wrist. Then his throat.

Holden tilted the man’s head back and listened for breathing. Nothing.

A quiet sob sounded from Mrs. Breaker. “It’s no use, is it?”

Holden met her gaze, and a painful lump clogged his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

As Jens lifted the man’s sinewy, old body and bore him off to the house until the ambulance crew arrived, Holden comforted Mrs. Breaker by holding her and making her a cup of tea. If not for him and Jens, who would help her? Half the time, Robert Jr. wasn’t even in town.

Who would do these things for Laurel? If she had two men to care for her, someone would always be there. If she lost Holden, she’d have Jens, and vice versa.

By the time they returned to the ranch that night, Holden was pretty damn sure that he wanted to unite the three of them. What choice did they have? The land was rough and their jobs rougher. They needed all the support they could get. The saying was that two were better than one.

But three was impenetrable.

Chapter Ten

The old, black Ford truck idled sweetly, and Laurel’s heart gave a trill of happiness. That Jens and Holden would take their precious time to fix up the truck amazed her. She couldn’t possibly repay them for their time and effort—a few measly chicken drumsticks didn’t come close to compensating. And lately, she couldn’t show her appreciation with her body.

Her pussy ached. After being satisfied relentlessly for so many days, she was ready to perish from neglect now. If either Jens or Holden came within grabbing distance, he’d better watch out. She couldn’t be held accountable for her actions.

She drove the Ford over the back roads leading to her farm. The guys would come up eventually. In the meantime, she prayed everything was okay at the Breakaway Farm. She didn’t personally know the family, but had heard the owner was getting up in his years. Hopefully, it wasn’t a farm accident.

Were Jens and Holden okay? She itched to grab her cell and call one of them. Reaching toward her back pocket for the phone, she stopped herself. It was almost sacrilegious to use a cell phone in a 1940’s truck. In fact, she felt as if she should be wearing a fur stole instead of a hoodie.

Last night’s lingerie might have fit. Maybe tonight she’d try that—sprawling across the big, worn bench seat in nothing but her camisole and lace thong, waiting for Jens.

The throb between her legs increased until she thought she’d have to scream or rub herself to completion. That thought annoyed her, though. With two men, she should have completion at all hours of the day.

The memory of Jens peacefully sacked out in her bed flitted through her head. She couldn’t fault him or Holden for being too busy or tired. They were running two farms now, after all. And they’d gotten this truck running for her, which meant she could haul her plants out to the field in very few trips.

She stopped the truck in front of her house and cut the engine. After making several jaunts into the house, she carried all her precious little baby plants out and loaded them into the truck bed. Then she grabbed her gloves. Looking around her entryway, she wished she had something to put on her head besides a ball cap. The sun would toast her.

“No help for it,” she muttered and drove out into the field where her cucumber and pepper plot would be located.

Working with her hands soothed her. The spicy scents of the soil and plants sure beat the sterile odors of the hospital. Now if only she had a masculine smell or two to throw into the mix…

For long minutes, she drowned in visions of the three of them together, rolling, licking, kissing and touching. Jesus, she had to get a grip. Neither man was likely to jump into bed with the other.

But Holden had enjoyed Jens’s flavor. That was something. Maybe all was not lost for Laurel’s cause.

The sun was beginning its descent in the western sky when Jens and Holden finally drove up to her place. She dropped her small spade shovel and carefully set down the plant she was holding. Making her way across the field, she saw by the sets of their shoulders that something bad had happened.

She brushed her hands off and removed her gloves as they neared. “Not good, huh?”

“Not remotely. Robert Breaker was dead when we arrived.” Holden kicked at the dirt.

“The old man or his son?”

Jens jerked, yanked off his hat and plowed his fingers through his hair. He avoided Laurel’s questioning gaze.

“Old man,” Holden responded. “It wasn’t easy.” His voice broke, and Laurel’s heart went out to them.

“Why don’t you guys forget about planting today? Take some time off.”

“No way.”

“Uh-uh.” They spoke at once.

Jens met her gaze. Something moved behind his eyes—a worry she couldn’t determine. Then he refocused on her as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re getting sunburned.”

She fingered her neck. The skin felt tight and a little raw. “I don’t have a hat.”

“Good thing I do.” He strode toward the truck and came back carrying a smaller cowboy hat, one she’d never seen before.

Placing it into her hands, he grinned. “I bought this for you the other day in town, but I wanted to wait until the right time to give it to you.”

Stunned, she trailed her fingers over the thick, fawn-colored felt. “Jens…”

He glanced at Holden. Warily, she followed his gaze, prepared to see Holden fuming at some imbalance between their relationships. While she didn’t view it that way, Holden might.