Angie's Destiny [Cattleman's Club 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  He was boycotting helping her move. Of course her mother hadn’t been of any great assistance, but fortunately, Kristen didn’t have much to move. It wasn’t as if she was going to take all her stuffed animals with her. There was no need. Kristen knew her parents would keep her room as a shrine.

  “Hear, hear.” Gwen raised her tea in salute to Kristen’s determination for independence as she tacked on a political statement that had Marissa’s brow furling once again. “It’s about time women rose up and took care of themselves. You want to join us, Aunt Marissa? I got an extra bedroom. You can kick my uncle to the curb. God knows, he doesn’t treat you right.”

  “That’s enough!” Marissa’s mother snapped, showing a rare flare of temper as she turned on her niece. “You will not talk about your uncle that way. He’s a good man. He’s taken good care of his family, and you should apologize immediately for being so rude.”

  Gwen didn’t respond to that for a moment, just stared down her aunt, and Kristen sensed that something deeper was passing between them. It left her curious, as it always did, just what it was that Gwen knew about her father. There was something there, but Kristen doubted it was anything serious.

  Her dad was a good man. A religious man. Devout and loyal to his family. Surely whatever he’d done it couldn’t have been that bad. After all, why would Gwen finally apologize if it was?

  “Sorry, Aunt Marissa. I was just teasing.”

  That was a lie. That much was clear from Gwen’s tone and the bitter turn of her smile. It would have been rude, though, for her mother not to accept that apology, and Marissa Harold was never rude.

  “Of course, Gwen.” Marissa heaved a heavy sigh and took one last forlorn look at her daughter. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

  Kristen was. This was her future. One day she’d be like her cousin Gwen, with a house of her own and a job that afforded her security and the luxury to do the things she loved, like competing in some of the national quilting competitions. Kristen knew she could. She was good, but she never had the money to attend the quilting conventions. Not to mention her parents didn’t approve of her traveling alone.

  “Yes, Mom. I’m sure.”

  Kristen smiled as she began to shepherd her mother back out of the room and past Gwen. Her cousin stepped out of the way, but her smirk didn’t dip a bit as Kristen continued to head her mother toward the front door.

  “Now you better get back on the road before the sun starts to set. You know how Dad worries about you driving at night,” Kristen reminded her, as if that were necessary, but it did help get her mother moving.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I thought I might take you out to an early dinner before I left.” Marissa stalled out near the door to turn a pleading gaze on Kristen.

  Her mother knew how that affected Kristen, knew it made her feel guilty and obliged. Just as she knew that her mother had every intention of using the dinner to nag her and wage one last-ditch campaign to get Kristen to change her mind.

  “I’ve really wanted to try the local bakery. I hear they have excellent sweets.” Marissa tempted her with a hopeful smile.

  “Fine.” Kristen sighed and caved. “Just let me go get my purse.”

  Five minutes later the two women were packed into her mother’s twenty-year-old Buick, which still had less than thirty thousand miles on it. They headed into town, going exactly five miles below the speed limit. That turned a two-minute drive into ten with another three dedicated to parking.

  By the time they pushed in through the bakery’s front door, Kristen was just glad to have made it there without having anybody shooting them the bird. Her mother tended to get flipped off a lot, which contributed to her view that the world was generally rude.

  Manners were a thing of the past, her mother liked to say. Kristen kind of thought that her mother was a thing of the past, but would never have said that. Instead, she turned her attention to taking in the Bread Box.

  It smelled heavenly and had a cuteness about it that made Kristen feel at home. Even the woman who came out from behind the counter to welcome them made Kristen feel as though she’d made the right choice. This was the kind of place she could see herself coming to study and get a piece of cake. More importantly, there was nothing her mother could complain about.

  Nothing that is but the fight that broke out in the middle of their meal. It built, as most of these thing tended to, with two women at the center and the men who clearly were fighting over them. It started when the deputy sheriff entered and stormed up on the booth the two women were sharing with two men to order one of them to stay away from his woman. It ended when another belted out the most humiliating of all revelations.

  “You fucked Hailey Mathews, and you didn’t even share!”

  Kristen’s face went up in flames at that language while her mother turned as white as her napkin. Then all hell broke lose, and the two women ran for the door. Kristen envied them the ability to flee. She and her mother still had to pay the check, and that took a little longer than it should have, especially once more deputies started to arrive.

  Kristen watched the drama play out as they arrested the first two men, unable to tear her eyes away from the spectacle they were all making. She shook her head, knowing that she was going to be hearing about this once her mother got home and told her dad about what had happened.

  It was hard enough to resist the pressure her mother put on her. It was doubly hard to resist her father’s lectures. Kristen wouldn’t give in, though. She was fighting for her freedom, freedom to do what she wanted, and Kristen kind of thought she’d found what she wanted as she glanced over to find a deputy picking himself off the floor.

  He was tall and broad but giant sized. Just the right size to fill out his uniform in a way that made Kristen’s blush deepen as she felt the first stirrings of desire. It was a sweet thrill that she savored as she took in the guy’s country-boy good looks. He had a little shag to his dark hair and a slightly rounded face that made his smile seem bigger, brighter, and so carefree that Kristen’s heart just ached to share that kind of joy in the world, but when he caught her staring, she quickly looked away.

  Focusing back on her mother, Kristen was just about to suggest she go wait in the car and let Kristen handle the bill when a shadow fell across their table. It was followed by a deep-toned Southern accent that made each word drawl out in a caress to her senses.

  “You ladies doing all right this afternoon?”

  Kristen’s stomach quivered as she glanced up to find the dark gaze of the deputy twinkling down at her. He might have been good looking at a distance, but he was devastating up close. Up close it was clear that his body was rock hard, flexing with a gracefulness that could have made her sigh with longing if Kristen wasn’t already being consumed by a sudden flush of embarrassment she couldn’t explain.

  Thankfully, she had her mother there to help.

  “Oh, Deputy⎯”

  “Deputy Brandon Hammel,” the deputy supplied, extending his hand toward her mother and then taking hers, when she offered it up, all the way to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles, making Kristen’s mom giggle.

  “Oh, Deputy, I’m a married woman,” her mother informed the big man, as if he couldn’t figure that much out. Neither could she resist a little lecture. “It’s not appropriate for any man’s lips to touch me…but my daughter, here, is available.”

  Kristen’s eyes widened at that ultimately humiliating revelation. Unfortunately, the horror had only begun, and so had her mother.

  “Go on, sweetheart, introduce yourself to the nice young man,” her mother prodded Kristen as she continued to sit there bug-eyed with her cheeks burning. Then her mother actually kicked her as she nodded to the man, who was clearly biting back his laughter. “Go on.”

  “Kristen Harold,” Kristen mumbled, begrudgingly giving her hand over to the man and then clenching her knees tightly together as she waited for the brush of his lips against her skin.

  It
was like an electric shot, sending a bolt of pure delight straight up her arms and tingling across her breasts as she felt them swell, the tips hardening in an embarrassing rush. Instinctively, her eyes darted up to meet his, and she felt her breath catch at the interest she saw there.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kristen,” he murmured, clearly reluctant to release her hand. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure.”

  “That’s because Kristen is new to town,” her mother volunteered.

  The interruption broke the spell that seemed to be twining between Kristen and the deputy, and she quickly pulled her hand back as her mother continued on.

  “She’s moving in with her cousin, Gwen. Gwen Harold. Do you know her, Deputy?”

  Marissa blinked innocently up at the man as if she weren’t aware in the slightest that she’d broken up a sweet moment between him and her daughter. That was probably for the best, especially as the man smirked and nodded.

  “Oh, yeah. I know Gwen.”

  Kristen’s heart sank because she was sure he was saying that he knew her cousin in more than the passing sense. More like the biblical one, and that was not only gross, but Kristen certainly didn’t want to get involved with the men her cousin normally went after.

  Her mother seemed oblivious, though, to the obvious. Instead of being indignant, she responded with a smile.

  “Well, I’m glad to see my niece has cultivated a few respectable connections.” Marissa beamed, her gaze darkening though as it focused once again on the commotion erupting behind the deputy. “But I do think your services might be needed, Deputy.”

  The big man didn’t look impressed by that suggestion but glanced over and eyed the brawl that had now caused half of the diner patrons to evacuate, including the two women at the center of the dispute. Kristen wished she could have joined them, but she was stuck there entertaining one of Gwen’s former paramours.

  “Ah.” The deputy shrugged as he turned back, clearly unconcerned by the fight. “That’s Killian’s mess. He made it. He can clean it up.”

  “Excuse me?” Marissa’s delicate features pulled tight into a look that Kristen knew well. “I’m sorry, young man, but you are a deputy. It’s your job to go over there and put an end to this nonsense.”

  The deputy’s hands shot into the air in a universal sign of surrender as he began backing away. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I thought my services might be needed here. I stand corrected.”

  “Yes, you certainly do.” Marissa waved him away. “Now go on. My daughter and I can handle ourselves.”

  Kristen couldn’t believe her mother. She just wanted to melt right out of her seat and hide beneath it, but there was no escaping the look the deputy shot her. It said it all. He was amused. He thought she was a little girl. God, but she was tired of men looking at her as if she was a child. Worse, she was tired of feeling like one.

  “See,” her mother started the moment the man was out of earshot. “That’s why you need to come home with me. This place isn’t safe, and just think of what kind of men must live here if their deputies are so rakish, and don’t think I didn’t notice you were interested. The way you went all mooneye and mute…it was just embarrassing.”

  Chapter 2

  Brandon watched the little Miss Kristen scurry out of the diner with her uptight and way-too-proper mother. The woman had actually waved him away, and Brandon couldn’t deny that he found that kind of spunk a little attractive. The older woman certainly wasn’t ugly.

  In fact, it was clear from how much she looked like her daughter that the woman had once been a looker. Brandon eyed the sway of Miss Kristen’s almost non-existent backside. She was a tiny little thing, and cute as button.

  With her hair all done up and her grandma hanging a little too lose on her, Kristen might have easily been looked over by most men, but not Brandon. He noticed the clarity of her skin, all pale and silky smooth looking. Her features were pert and smooth with a perfectly bowed mouth and a set of wide eyes that reminded him of a porcelain doll.

  Just like a doll, he was betting she was a virgin.

  That thought intrigued Brandon as he wondered just what kind of man Miss Kristen was waiting to give herself to. He was betting he could qualify. Her gray gaze had certainly held the kind of interest Brandon knew well.

  The other thing Brandon knew well was Gwen. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to win him any points, not unless the good-girl blushes were all just a disguise to mask the woman’s true wild and wanton ways. Brandon didn’t hold out that kind of hope.

  He didn’t actually hold out any hope.

  He didn’t need to. If he wanted a woman, he had a club full of eager applicants willing to do almost anything he commanded. None of them would be as fun, though, as giving Miss Kristen her first climax. He was betting she’d never scored one of those before. Maybe if he made her come, she’d let him a try a few other moves while she returned the favor.

  “Are you going to just stand there grinning like a dumbass or help?” Killian snapped at him, drawing Brandon’s gaze to where he had Cole pinned to the floor with a knee in his back.

  Killian’s partner on the force, and in crime, Adam, had Cole’s best buddy, Kyle, pinned down against a table. Both deputies already had their cuffs in their hands. So it didn’t seem as if there was much to do.

  “Eh.” Brandon shrugged. “Why get involved? It’ll just cause me paperwork. Say, any of you know that Gwen had a cousin?”

  Four shocked and outraged stares turned on him as all four men froze for a second, and Brandon knew what they were all thinking, as if he were the improper one. Hell, he hadn’t started a fight in the middle of the bakery. Neither had he been the one to horribly embarrass two women in the process. So maybe they weren’t the best people to ask for advice.

  “Never mind.” Brandon shook his head and turned toward the woman barreling at them. “I’ll take care of Heather because she looks like she’s about to throw a fit.”

  As if on cue, Heather came to a stop and gaped at them all. “What in the hell is going on here?”

  She didn’t give anybody a chance to answer before she lit into a lecture that would have done Miss Kristen’s mother proud. Heather had spunk, too. Brandon would have made a pass if it wouldn’t have landed him on the sheriff’s shit list.

  Right then Killian and Adam were Alex’s current whipping boys, and Brandon wasn’t looking to replace them. Actually it was kind of ironic, Brandon thought, given everything that what had landed Killian and Adam in the hot seat with the sheriff was Gwen Harold.

  The sheriff and Gwen had a thing for a while. That was until Gwen did Killian’s and Adam’s things. Not that it should matter. Everybody knew the sheriff wasn’t in love with Gwen, but the man was so stubborn he wouldn’t go after the woman he was in love with. That was Alex’s problem.

  Brandon kept a straight face when he got back to the station house and reported to the other deputies on shift what had happened down at the Bread Box. Killian and Adam might have screwed Gwen, but they’d moved on to Rachel. Rachel wasn’t half as easy as Gwen, and she was proving to be better at torturing Killian and Adam than Alex ever would be.

  “She’s got those two idiots tied up in knots.” Duncan snickered as they all hung out in the deputy locker room.

  Crammed into one of the aisles made by the rows of old lockers, which reminded Brandon of high school, they all clustered around where Brandon stood holding court. That was just like high school, too. High school had been good to Brandon.

  He’d been popular, athletic, and had kept up his grades enough to assure that many young women’s fathers had considered him an ideal catch. What they hadn’t known was that Brandon was wise to the bait. He brought his own condoms and used them religiously because he wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.

  “I don’t know, man.” Dylan shook his head. “I wouldn’t want Cole hanging out too close to my woman.”

  “Cole, sure,” Duncan agreed easily. “E
verybody knows that man’s got like twelve different women going at once.”

  “I heard he almost got Patton,” Brandon chipped in, sharing a look with Duncan.

  “No!” Duncan broke into a big smile. “You don’t mean the Davis boys’ woman. That Patton?”

  “Uh-huh.” Brandon nodded. “Apparently, he almost made it all the way to home a while back before them boys caught up with the two of them.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment,” Travis butted in. Hunkered down on the bench that divided two rows of lockers, he was grinning even as he argued with Brandon’s suggestion. “If he’d laid a hand on that girl, those boys would have killed him.”

  “Yeah?” Dylan lifted a brow at that. “Well, I think Cole’s lucky Killian didn’t do him in. Were you here for the scene that happened earlier?”

  “No,” Brandon answered, his curiosity piqued. “What scene?”

  “Oh,” Dylan drew that word out, clearly savoring the moment. “Then you don’t know.”

  “What don’t I know?” Brandon snapped, hating to wait for any good gossip. “Tell me.”

  “Rachel, that girl came storming into the office a while back. Let me tell you, she was lit up like the sun. Pissed as shit.” Dylan laughed as if he’d made a joke.

  He sort of had. The rest of the men certainly found that revelation humorous, including Brandon. Killian was kind of a dick. He liked to strut around, acting like the big man all because he was a couple years older and a few inches thicker than the rest of them. Not that he’d ever done anything in specific to cause or pick a fight. It was just his attitude.

  That attitude came storming into the locker room not but a few seconds later. Killian barely spared them a glance, but his scowl was dark enough to assure that none of them dared to speak up. Instead, they all watched him head over to the sink and start cleaning up. A second later Adam came slamming into the locker room, no doubt looking for Killian.

  He paused to shoot them all a dirty look, along with a pointedly challenging question. “Is there something you wanted?”