The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (5 page)

Ethan moved closer. She countered his steps until she successfully trapped herself against the planks between two stalls.

“There ain’t nothing to be afraid of. You can walk the property without a worry at the Iron Spur.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Then why won’t you look me in the eyes?” He slung the rope over his shoulder and tilted her chin up. “And why do you flinch every time I move? The Lord knows I’ve never struck a woman and I never will.”

She shrugged.

“Someone hurt you?”

He could see her swallow hard, her body stiffening. She finally shook her head.

“Then what is it, darlin’? If you’re going to be working under me, there can’t be any tension between us. Is it shyness? Tell me.”

“I guess I’m used to keeping to myself. People aren’t always good by nature.”

“I can agree with you there. But you have to let some people in. If not, the world’s a lonely place. Take it from me.” Ethan knew all about watching the stars at night and wondering if there was more out there for him. Man wasn’t created to be alone. Repressing his thoughts and feelings brought him a measure closer to madness each day. He’d come to the conclusion that his future would consist solely of horseshit and backbreaking labor. It made for a dismal existence, a chore to get up each morning.

She said nothing, barely moving a muscle.

“Suppose I’ll have to prove myself to you.” He couldn’t stand the silence another second. It could destroy the mind just as cancer could the body. Ethan hung up his coiled rope on a hook near her head and then brushed his hands off on his jeans. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s get inside before the mosquitoes eat us alive.”

Trapped all night with Rachel in the trailer? It was going to be a restless night.

Rachel looked around the trailer, the warm glow from the lamps a welcome contrast from the growing darkness outside. It smelled masculine, like musk and leather. There was no sign of femininity, only the basics she’d expect from two men living alone.

She could feel Ethan’s larger-than-life presence behind her as she tentatively walked around. Although she should be thankful they didn’t throw her off the property and that she still had a glimmer of hope in getting the job, being alone with two men went against her better instincts. Agreeing to bunk with these strange men, regardless of the reason, was so unlike the old Rachel. She’d always been faithful to her boyfriend, even at the worst of times. He had been her one and only. Now she had to retrain herself to be open for new relationships, to not cower in the presence of other men.

Retraining her mind to accept new possibilities was only half the battle. She doubted she’d attract a good man being so overweight. She needed much more time to make herself the least bit marketable. Rachel couldn’t stand the sight of her body, so how could she expect a man to be attracted to her? Men were visual creatures, and she definitely wasn’t easy on the eyes. Her own mother was thin and fit, a stark contrast to Rachel’s explosive curves. She’d tried dieting on too many occasions to count but always managed to quit—usually thanks to Jason’s negativity.

“What do you think?” Ethan asked, his gruff voice sluicing through her body.

She turned around and smiled, suddenly noting the five-o’clock shadow along his jawline. It gave him a rustic, masculine quality. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

Back in the barn she’d been close to tears. Ethan seemed to pinpoint her weaknesses as if they were stamped on her forehead. His continued willingness to make her feel welcome softened her guards. But she refused to reveal her fears and set herself up for more heartache.

“Make yourself at home.” He strode over to a tiny kitchenette at the far end of the trailer. He had a tight ass that filled out his Wranglers in an unholy way. Ethan moved with a masculine grace that captivated her. “Thirsty?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Rachel felt awkward and insecure. It would take time to reunite with the outside world. She’d been sheltered, isolated, and dehumanized for so long. Rachel had known nothing but her small bubble of existence back home—Jason, her apartment, and the constant depression weighing over her like a black cloud. Now that she was in a new environment, free to do as she pleased, she felt like a boat without an anchor, unsure what to do or feel.

She was tired of thinking, tired of guessing Jason’s moods and tiptoeing around his mood swings. For once, she’d like to just live, to say and do things without having to worry how her actions would be perceived. She needed a strong man, a good man, one she could trust with her heart.

“Darlin’, if you want anything, you’ll have to speak up.”

She nodded.

He rummaged through a cupboard before plugging in an electric kettle, and then he proceeded to strip off his outer layers of clothing. He tossed his long-sleeved shirt on the back of a chair before unbuckling his belt. The sound of the heavy buckle captured her undivided attention. Ethan froze when he looked up to find her staring. He made her feel like a twelve-year-old, not a twenty-eight-year-old woman. If only he knew the unwholesome thoughts playing in her head.

“Oh, shit.” He took a few steps away and grabbed a flannel blanket and pillow off the end of a bed and tucked them under his arm. “I have to remember there’s a lady in the house.”

She couldn’t speak. Ethan only wore a tight white tank top. It molded to every ridge of muscle from toned pecs to washboard abs. She’d never seen such a perfectly sculpted male in all her life. How could shoulders be so broad? The sight sparked something deep in her core, a fire that grew more intense by the second. He was the type of man any woman would happily exchange her ideals for one night of fucking. Rachel wanted him but wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d want her back for anything meaningful. He could easily snag the woman of his choosing. That left her out of luck.

“I’m taking the floor. You can have my bed.” He tossed the linens on the linoleum and motioned her closer with the curl of his finger. She bit her lower lip and took a few steps, holding her breath. Every muscle in his arm seemed to work as he beckoned her to come. Those kinds of muscles were earned by hard work, not easy living. Rachel started to believe she’d follow him anywhere he demanded. “Promise, it’s comfortable. I’d love to spend more hours sleeping, but it’s not in the job description.” He patted the mattress beside him, an irresistible smirk on his lips. He was so confident and outspoken, the opposite of her. She couldn’t deny she was as much disappointed as relieved that he hadn’t attempted to make a move.

The trailer wasn’t large. One bed was set atop the other, Ethan’s at the bottom.

Before she could bend down to test the mattress as he urged, the door to the trailer smacked shut, making her jump. She whirled around to find Wyatt standing in the doorway. A rush of fresh evening air drifted into the room, providing a respite for her overheated body.

Wyatt still wore his black Stetson, including some brown leather chaps. She’d never seen a cowboy in full uniform beyond a television screen. There was a rustic appeal to Wyatt that made her pussy pulse even stronger. She didn’t recognize herself today. She blamed her newfound freedom for her rising libido. Rachel had been certain she was incapable of an orgasm, having never experienced one with Jason. But maybe he was the problem all along. He’d made her feel inferior, convincing her she had a medical defect. Right now she felt like she’d spontaneously explode, liquid heat threatening to escape at any moment. Was it a mix of fear and possibilities, or just the raw sex appeal from her two hosts?

“I spoke with Damien. He’ll meet you in the morning at first light,” he said. Wyatt had an authoritative presence, all male. He tossed his hat onto the table and dropped down in an oversized chair with a groan. “Ethan, Mr. Carson wants half a dozen hand-picked Arabians tomorrow. You can take Trevor and Jesse with you to round ’em up.” He leaned over and pulled off his cowboy boots one at a time, dropping them to the floor with a thud.

“What about Rachel? Don’t you need me to show her the ropes?” asked Ethan.

Wyatt shrugged. “After she gets the all clear from Damien, I don’t see why she can’t join in the roundup. She may as well get used to them from the get-go.”

A roundup?
Rachel supposed that meant riding a horse, maybe at top speeds. Would a handler be expected to be a pro rider? She’d better put on a very good show tomorrow just in case. That was
if
she passed Damien’s approval. The man’s name alone sent terror racing through her veins. He held her fate in his hands, the owner of a vast equine enterprise. She envisioned a stern older man with hard-set features and a lethal tongue. But if she wanted the job she had to follow protocol and meet the owner as requested. Hopefully he’d show her some pity and give her a chance.

Wyatt stripped out of his chaps as he stood and tugged his flannel shirt and other layers right off over his head, leaving him gloriously bare chested. She couldn’t help but stare like some lovesick school girl. He was tanned a beautiful golden hue, not an ounce of fat to hide the hard, defined muscles. And he was so close. There were words tattooed in calligraphy along his abs. She wondered what they said but dared not stare too long. As he stepped closer, she automatically moved back but hit a hard wall. When she turned, she realized she was sandwiched between the two cowboys. They were so tall. It was like being flanked by opposing mountain ranges.

“You sure you’re okay staying here the night?” asked Wyatt. He reached out and tilted her chin up like Ethan had. She flinched, nervous when his hand came toward her face. “You’re more nervous than a stallion in line for gelding, darlin’. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

He looked genuinely perplexed. Both these men were trying to put her at ease. Should she trust them? How long would they put up with her emotional distance? Maybe she was damaged beyond repair.

“The girl doesn’t know us from Adam, Wyatt. Leave her be until she feels comfortable.”

As much as her nerves were frayed in so many directions, his touch had stirred her emotions. It was strange to be touched with gentleness rather than aggression. The way he spoke and looked at her made her feel wanted, desired. Safe. Was it possible she wasn’t imagining it?

“You have beautiful eyes.” He shifted his hand, his fingers supporting her head and a thumb caressing her cheek.

His simple compliment melted her from the inside out. She was curious about what he’d do next, almost hoping he’d push the envelope. Her sexuality had been stifled for so long. She felt like a phoenix attempting to rise from the ashes.

“Are you comfortable,
Rachel
?” Wyatt pronounced her name slowly, the sound drizzling along her skin like melting chocolate. The entire world went away, leaving her alone with Ethan and Wyatt. Sexual energy snapped in the air, and despite her nerves, she wasn’t immune. No consequences, no witnesses, no holds barred.

She nodded, not wanting to offend or appear too damaged. If only he knew the struggle within her, the tug and pull of desire and fear.

“You have a man back home waiting for you?” asked Wyatt.

She shook her head. Jason was part of her past now, a negative glitch on her road of life. The sooner she could remove him from memory, the better.

Ethan made a sound of approval, stepping closer until they were almost touching. She’d forgotten she was trapped between both men. “Interesting,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard about the Iron Spur Ranch before coming here, would you now?”

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course.” She’d read the ad and followed the instructions. If she’d had time, she may have done more research, like finding out where the ranch was located before boarding a bus into the unknown. She also would have found out what was required of a horse handler. But regardless of how far from civilization her journey had taken her, she’d deal with it.

“I knew it,” said Wyatt. “There’s fire in her eyes.”

“She had me fooled.” Ethan leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “I still can’t see her fitting into your world.”

“No, she’s perfect. Textbook perfect.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what they were talking about. They both began to touch her, intimately, as if she condoned it by admitting she’d heard of the ranch. Was there more to the Iron Spur than she knew?

She should stop them, have a fit or something, but instead she threw caution to the wind. The truth was she wanted them to continue. She wanted to know what it felt like to be dominated by two men, to experience their intimate seduction. Rachel’s eyes lolled back in her head as they explored her body. They were gentle, like calm waves washing over her skin. It felt so good, so all encompassing. When one of the men began to unbutton her blouse, she reluctantly slipped back into reality.

There was no way these men were chubby chasers. They were any woman’s fantasy, so why would they settle for her? The only explanation was a complete lack of available women in the area. They were using her for sex and would probably laugh about her when it was all said and done. She couldn’t stand the thought of being the butt of their jokes no matter how much she wanted them for herself.

“
Stop
,” she managed to say. “Please…don’t.”

“What’s the matter, sugar? Have you never taken two men?”

Two men? She’d never done anything improper in all her life. Her experience with sex had been Jason getting off within a minute and then falling asleep, and even that had been over a year ago. She was completely lacking in human companionship, affection, or any sort of emotional connection.

She shook her head.

“You’re not my first little lamb,” assured Wyatt. “I promise we’ll go slow, teach you everything you need to know.”

He continued to unbutton her blouse. When the last fastening was freed, her blouse lightly parted down the middle, exposing her mountainous cleavage. It was impossible to find a bra in a regular department store large enough to contain her unruly breasts. The worst part was how fat they made her look when she was dressed. At least without her blouse, she had a more hourglass shape, even if extreme by regular standards.