Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (30 page)

Sexy, low male laughter drifted from the other lawn chair.

Macie took another couple of steps and noticed the beer cans. A whole lot of empty beer cans. Beside Carter.

The man stood and thrust his hand out. “Hi. You must be Macie. I’m Jack Donohue.”

“Jacksh’s my beshtesht bud from college.”

Macie looked up at the man. Good God, he was a god. Firelight glowed behind him, making him look as if he’d been forged from steel. He was huge. Muscular. With a brawny chest, ripped biceps, big hands, and never-ending legs thick as tree trunks.

Longish coal-black hair framed his square face. He had a roguish smile boasting brilliant white teeth; a deep cleft in his chin, and eyes the color of green grass. Those same eyes were highly amused.

“Nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Ain’t she beautiful in firelight?”

“Yes, she is. Hang on. I’ll get you a chair.” Jack disappeared into the barn.

Whoo-ee. The beefcake was a gentleman to boot.

“Come over here and give me shome shugar, shugar.”

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Macie skirted the fire and looked into Carter’s face. He had a silly smile. And glassy eyes. She bit back a grin. He was unbelievably adorable. “Hey.”

“Hey. I misshed you, my shweet darlin’.”

“I missed you too.” She brushed the springy curls from his damp forehead. “What are you celebrating?”

Carter frowned. “I don’t remember. You probably.” He cupped his hands around her face and brought her mouth to his for a deep, wet, beer-flavored kiss. Even drunk the man knew how to melt her with his kisses.

She gradually removed her lips from his. “I won’t stay, since you have company, but I wanted to tell you thanks for the apology and the picture.”

“An apology for what? The pictures I’m paintin’ of you?”

“What are you talking about?”

From behind her Jack said, “He’s babbling because he’s been drinking for hours.

Hate to say it, but he probably won’t remember you were even here.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll remember.”

Jack said nothing.

Carter’s head drooped to his chest.

“Carter?”

No answer.

“Maybe we’d better get him in the house before he passes out,” Macie suggested.

“If you insist. Or we could just drag him into the barn.”

“So you claim you’re a
good
friend of his?”

Jack chuckled. “Don’t kid yourself, he would’ve done the same thing to me had the situations been reversed. In fact, he has.”

They tried to rouse the party animal but he wouldn’t budge. Carter wasn’t a small guy by any means, and Macie wouldn’t have been able to move him by herself. Luckily for Carter, Jack was strong enough to carry him in a fireman’s hold and deposit him on the sofa in the trailer.

Macie managed to get Carter’s boots off before he started to snore. She stripped him down to his boxers, tucked a blanket around him. On her way outside, she noticed he’d added a picture to his family collection. She peered at it and her breath caught. It was one he’d taken of her the first day she’d posed for him, a profile shot. The light turned her www.samhainpublishing.com 229

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skin a stunning shade of red-gold. Her lips were parted, almost in a smirk. She looked mysterious and…beautiful. Was this the way he saw her? Would his paintings reflect the same mood? Shaking such crazy, hopeful thoughts from her head, she returned outside.

Jack sat by the fire. “Got a minute before you need to take off?”

“I suppose.”

“Want a beer?”

Macie wrinkled her nose.

Jack smiled. “There’s Diet Pepsi in the cooler too, which is why I’m not in the same sad shape as McKay.”

She grabbed one and sat. “It’s the first time I’ve seen him drunk.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Three years. We met in Denver while we were in grad school.”

“Oh. Are you an artist too?”

“No. I’m an architect.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Carter tells me you’re posing for a couple of pieces for his art show.”

“I guess. I haven’t actually
seen
anything yet.”

“That’s nothing new. He’s usually pretty secretive about his work.”

Awkward silence followed. His eyes seemed to be following her closely too.

“How long have you known him?” Jack asked.

“Seems like forever, but since the beginning of summer.”

Jack frowned.

Crickets chirped. The fire crackled. A gentle breeze blew. The uncomfortable quiet lingered.

“Carter was right. You really are beautiful by firelight. I suspect you’d even be more dangerously beautiful in the dark.”

Macie froze.

“How serious are you about him?”

Her heart beat faster. “Why?”

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“Just curious.” Jack granted her body a visual examination that burned her skin hotter than the bonfire. “Just wondering if it’s an exclusive thing. Or if maybe you and I…”

This guy was Carter’s best friend? He was a total letch. Macie scrambled to her feet.

“No way. Not interested.” She stomped to her SUV.

“Macie. Wait. Sorry. I had to do that.”

She whirled on him. “Do what? Hit on me? When your friend is passed out not more than twenty feet away?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Carter is head over heels for you. I’ve never seen him like this and I had to make sure…Sit down and let me explain. I’m not going to make a pass at you, okay?”

She sat.

More sticky silence.

Macie said, “So, if I would’ve jumped at the chance at, well, jumping you, would you have told him?”

“In a fucking heartbeat.”

She waited.

“Can I be blunt?”

“I don’t know, Jack. You’ve been pretty subtle so far.”

Jack grinned. “You bust his balls all the time, don’t you?”

Macie shrugged.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“No.”

“Carter called me in a panic yesterday. He’s never done that. So, I changed my schedule, flew in, expecting to hear he’s dying or something. But no. He sits me down, tells me about you, how crazy he is about you, and then he asks me…shit. I need another beer.” He snagged one out of the cooler and drank.

Impatiently, she demanded, “He asked you what, Jack?”

Jack locked his gaze to hers. “He asked me to be the third player in a threesome with you and him.”

All the blood drained from Macie’s face. “Omigod. Why would he do that?”

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“He said you have some fantasy about being with two guys at one time, or two cowboys or some ménage thing. Anyway, he wanted to give you that fantasy, and he asked me here because, well, to be blunt again, he and I have done this type of thing before—granted, it was a couple of years ago. But the bottom line is he asked me because he trusts me. And he trusts me with you. Which says a whole helluva lot to me, about how he feels about you.”

Macie stared at Jack, absolutely dumbfounded.

When she made no effort to speak, Jack said, “So was McKay on crack, or what?

Did you, or did you not, tell him you had a fantasy like that?”

“I
joked
about it. After he and I met I had this bizarre dream that Freud would’ve had a field day with, and Carter was in it. I didn’t give him particulars, because it would’ve weirded him out. And I was glad I’d spared him the details after I found out about his slight homophobia.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow.

“If I didn’t tell him the gory details, I won’t tell you. So it was probably stupid and childish, but I kept it going like a running gag. I never believed he’d take me serious!”

She gazed into the fire, feeling like an absolute idiot. “After all we’ve done, doesn’t he know I don’t need anyone else, I don’t want anyone else, and I can’t imagine being in bed with someone else when I’m equally crazy about him?”

“No, it appears he doesn’t know.”

Macie looked up and blushed. Crap. She’d forgotten about Jack.

“So why don’t you tell him?”

“Oh I will, just as soon as I kick his sorry butt.”

“That, I’d like to see.”

“I should teach him a lesson. Thank him in the morning for the most spectacular sex of my life, and the awesome threesome we had with you.” She toed a beer can toward the fire. “But I couldn’t do that.”

“Might be good for him.”

“I couldn’t hurt him. Not on purpose.” She sensed Jack’s hesitation and her gaze zoomed to him. “What?”

“Can I give you some advice, Macie?”

“Sure.”

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“Carter is a great guy. But his artistic nature sometimes causes him to do stupid things that make sense to him at the time.”

Macie thought of Carter’s over-the-top reaction to her sitting on the back of a mechanical bull. Yeah. That made sense.

“He eventually sees the error of his skewed thinking, but not right away. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose either…but accidentally?” Jack shook his head. “It’ll happen. More likely than not.”

Even if she didn’t understand what Jack meant, his words were a little disturbing.

She stood. “I should go. Thanks for not hitting on me for real and for being a good friend to Carter.”

“McKay is a lucky man. Make sure you send me an invitation to the wedding.”

“Or an announcement for his funeral.”

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Carter woke at two in the afternoon with a hellacious hangover.

Shit. What’d happened last night?

He remembered Jack showing up. And drinking. Talking about seeing if Jack was up for a rodeo with Macie. More drinking.

Macie. She’d been here.

What had gone down after that?

Carter lurched up on the couch. Goddamn, that hurt his head. He looked down. At least he was wearing his boxers.

“Jack?”

No answer.

He stood. Ooh. That was worse than laying down. He stumbled past the guest bedroom and froze. The bed hadn’t been slept in.

So where had Jack slept?

With Macie.

Not possible. Jack wouldn’t…

Unless Carter gave him the okay. And he’d bypassed “okay” and gone straight to

“what are you waiting for?” when he asked—no—
demanded
that Jack fuck Macie.

Damn.

Carter shuffled to his bedroom. The sheets and the mattress pad were stripped and rolled in a ball. What the hell? Why?

Because they are damp and stained from being well used last night.

His gaze swept the room, searching for condom wrappers, used Kleenex, a bottle of lube.

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Nothing. Except Macie’s sweater hung off the dresser and the scent of her skin hung in the air.

He sat on the bed. Hard.

Images flashed in his mind like a movie on fast forward. Jack and Macie kissing.

Deeply. Hungrily. Jack unbuttoning Macie’s shirt, feasting on her dark nipples. Macie arching her neck, moaning, demanding more. Macie shoving Jack’s hand down her pants.

Jack tearing off her shorts, leaving her naked.

Jack falling to his knees as he kissed the sweet curve of her belly. And down, over the dark hair covering her mound and down, zeroing in on her pussy. Spreading her pouty lips wide to reach her clit. Sucking. Licking. Making Macie cry out in ecstasy. Jack stood and whispered in her ear while plunging three fingers in and out of her wet slit until she came screaming his name.

Macie stretched out on the bed, watching as Jack whipped off his jeans. Then Jack straddled her, burying his face in her sopping cunt as his cock rammed in and out of Macie’s mouth. The slow easy rhythm built into a rush to the finish. Jack’s hips pumped faster into her face. Macie ground her sex harder into his. They climaxed simultaneously.

Macie sucked him deep and swallowed, but some of Jack’s come dribbled out the side of her mouth as she smiled. When Jack lifted his head, his face was shiny wet with her juices.

Jack flipped her on her belly and rammed his cock in her cunt as his fingers dallied with her asshole. After they’d both come again, he lubed up Macie’s tits and fucked her there, while Macie’s vibrator was buried in her pussy.

She screamed Jack’s name again as her orgasm hit and he came on her face.

Then Jack took her ass. Twice. First with his cock. Then with the vibrator as he gave it to Macie from behind.

But that wasn’t the end. Jack tenderly cleaned Macie up, kissing her. Caressing her.

Sweet-talking her. Making Macie purr beneath his roving hands. And when she was heated up again, he fucked her slowly, face-to-face, whispering in her ear. Making love to her mouth as his body made love to hers. Then they fell asleep curled in each other’s arms, smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

No wonder the sheets were rolled up. Hell, they’d probably worn holes in them and the mattress too.

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But… Had he really seen that? Why hadn’t they asked him to join in? After all, it was supposed to be a three-for-all.

No, three’s a crowd.

The bottom line was: Carter couldn’t remember and that made him an idiot and a loser.

The very bottom line? If the images were reality, not the blurred imaginings of an alcohol stupor, Jack Donohue was a dead man.

Cash had something up his sleeve.

Gemma couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was acting…nervous. Which set her on edge. Cash was the most unflappable man she’d known. Well, he was even-keeled outside of the bedroom, at any rate.

She still hadn’t seen or heard from Carter McKay. Maybe should double-check to make sure Cash hadn’t killed him for the stunt Carter pulled.

Macie hadn’t been around so Gemma knew Cash’s anxiety didn’t have anything to do with his daughter.

Trevor? Why would seeing his old rodeo pal make him nervous? Hadn’t Cash invited Trevor to stay at the Bar 9? Cash wasn’t embarrassed to be working here, was he?