Two Cowboys Next Door Page 3

I can’t even begin to count the times I came out here in middle school and stared longingly across the field. I’d watch the windows upstairs, looking for signs of movement, imagining I saw a shirtless Clay in them. The house is too far away to see people clearly, though. I was always just dreaming.

  I sit down and tightly hug my knees to my chest. My heart pounds against my leg.

  I can’t stop picturing Dad’s hard face while he talked about Clay. He’s never really liked the guy, but I forgot about that.

  My stomach churns and I keep looking at Clay’s house. At this point, I’m not even sure what I’m planning on doing. Am I going to go over to the Murphy ranch tomorrow, knock on the door, and ask Clay and Nash if they’d like to have a threesome?

  That is what Nash seemed to be offering.

  But even if I don’t do that, even if I corner Clay on his own, I’ll still be playing with fire. In a small community like ours, one with ranches and farms wedged between two towns, rumors travel fast. No matter what I do with who, it’s likely half of everyone in church will know about it by Sunday.

  No matter how discreet I aim to be.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head drop forward onto my bare knees. This is a horrible idea, and there’s no more denying it.

  Maybe the fantasy I hold onto about Clay is nothing more than just that. Maybe it’s time to let it go. My dad’s not the only person who has a strong opinion about Clay. Though he’s been gone for years, the reputation he made for himself here has stuck. If people hear about me hanging around with him, they’ll probably think I’m loose or headed for the dark side.

  And my dad will think Clay will use me and leave me heartbroken. He’s lost a lot since Parkinson’s started getting to him. He’s entirely given up working on the farm, and he barely leaves the house.

  His only pride and joy are Mom and me. I know because he tells us all the time.

  I can’t hurt him. I can’t do anything to make him disappointed in me.

  If that means letting go of fulfilling the biggest wet dream I’ll ever have, then all right.

  5

  Clay

  “That should do it.” I stick the hammer in my belt and give the porch pillar a shake to test its durability.

  Nash sits down on the front stoop, removes his hat, and strips his shirt off.

  “This isn’t a peep show,” I joke.

  He grins wickedly at me. “I just want to be ready in case Cheyenne is somewhere around.”

  I look over him at the front of Cheyenne’s house. It’s been three days since we saw her at the bar and we haven’t run into her once, which is surprising considering we’ve been working on her porch for two days.

  The way she ran out of the bar makes me wonder if maybe she’s been avoiding us.

  “What are you thinking about?” Nash asks.

  I scratch my chin and look back at him. “You know what.”

  He grunts.

  The screen door opens. Mrs. McGee comes out with two glasses of water. “Oh, it looks good out here.”

  Nash puts his black Stetson back on and tips it at her. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  I accept the water with a nod. “Where has Cheyenne been getting to?”

  Mrs. McGee shrugs. “Oh, Cheyenne. She’s always busy, what with school, working around here, and hanging out with friends.”

  “Ah.”

  I catch Nash’s eye, and he winks.

  “Well the porch is all done, it looks like,” he tells Mrs. McGee. “Anything else you’d like us to do?”

  Her eyes drift up as she thinks about it. “The southwest corner of the horse fence needs repairing.”

  Nash hops to his feet. “We’re the men for the job.”

  “Great, dear. Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiles warmly at Nash then goes back inside.

  I step closer towards him. “What did you do that for?” I hiss.

  His face falls, and his eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?”

  “We just finished up. We’ve got the rodeo tonight.”

  Nash grabs his shirt from the steps. “Doing handiwork around here is nice. It’s way better than the rodeo.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You test out growing up in the suburbs. You can’t appreciate this kind of work because you grew up doing it.”

  “Tell me that in another week. And you didn’t grow up in the suburbs. It was a regular house in a small ass town. You’re not some spoiled valley girl. Don’t exaggerate.”

  We grab our toolkit and horses and ride out to the southwest fence. The wind softly laps at my shirt, the perfect complement to the warm May sun.

  I get what Nash means about liking it out here. Traveling town to town with the rodeo doesn’t afford the kind of freedoms I always hoped it would. You’re still running on someone else’s schedule most of the time. You’re surrounded by other people almost constantly. In spite of all that, I’ve never once thought about coming back home and working on the ranch. My father has mentioned it to me plenty of times, but I’ve always ignored the topic. Returning home and settling down on the family ranch is what everyone around here does.

  I don’t want to be like everyone. I want something more.

  I just haven’t figured out what that is yet.

  We tie the horses up in the shade of a sapling and get to work on the bit of barbed wire coming loose from the wood. The repair takes only a few minutes.

  Relieved to be done, I toss the hammer back in the tool box and stand to stretch.

  “Well look there,” Nash nearly purrs.

  He’s watching a figure on horseback. They’re coming at us with the sun at their back. I can’t see who it is.

  Some hair whips around their shoulders and my stomach jerks. It’s Cheyenne.

  She sees us and turns her horse to veer away from the corner we’re at.

  “Hey!” Nash yells, waving his arm at her.

  She hesitates for a moment but then rides over to us. She stops her horse a few feet away but doesn’t dismount. She’s wearing a spaghetti strap top, short shorts, and brownish ladies’ cowboy boots. Her tan shoulders and legs glisten in the sunlight.

  Raking my eyes across her body, I take each inch in. I look up at Cheyenne’s face to see her staring straight at me.

  I grin. “We thought maybe you were ignoring us.”

  “Why would I be doing that?”

  Nash and I exchange a glance. He shuffles towards her horse. “Maybe because two cowboys are one too many for you to handle.”

  Cheyenne’s throat bobs. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Come out with us,” I say. “Tomorrow night.”

  Her lips grow tight. “No. I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m… busy. Just like I said.”

  She’s an awful liar, one of the worst I’ve ever seen. I step closer to her horse and offer her my palm. She looks down at it. A moment passes.

  “I can’t hang out with you,” she says, her eyes latching onto mine.

  I still don’t drop my hand. “And why’s that?”

  She looks away. “It’s… complicated.”

  “It can’t be that complicated,” I whisper. “You’re a woman. We’re two men.”

  Cheyenne looks from me to Nash. “Are you two being serious? You’re really offering to...” She blushes instead of finishing.

  Nash chuckles low in his throat. “You don’t have to be scared. We’ll take care of you. We’ll show you things you’ve probably never dreamed about.”

  I still haven’t moved my offered palm. Cheyenne looks back at it and then slowly takes one hand off the reins. Her fingers slip around mine, and I help her down off the horse. Her boots hit the ground with a thud.

  Nash takes her horse and ties it up with the other two. Cheyenne looks up at me, our heights different enough that she has to tilt her head nearly halfway back to look in my eyes. I stare back, letting her know I mean business. I’m not backing down.

  “T
ake a walk with us.” I tighten my hand around hers and pull her along.

  The three of us amble in silence through the grasses and down the hill to the creek cutting across the edge of the ranch. Small boulders rest together at a bend in the creek. I lead Cheyenne over to the rocks and deposit her on one of the smaller ones.

  Nash and I settle down on either side of her. Her bare knee brushes my jeans, and desire flares up in me. I trail my fingers along her leg and over her hip, all the way up her side and to her face. Her breathing quickens and her lips part.

  Cupping her face, I press my lips into hers. A barely audible moan leaves her. My dick perks up, eager and ready. I slide my tongue between her teeth and across the length of her mouth. A fruity taste similar to strawberries welcomes me.

  Cheyenne shifts her body to face me more. Her palms press into my chest, and her fingers splay across my shirt. I find the back of her head and wind her hair around my fingers. My other hand presses against her smooth hip, the bit of skin between her top and shorts brushing against my thumb.

  Each part of her is smoother than the last. Lust rolls through me, my cock getting harder and harder by the second.

  I break my mouth away from hers, hook my hand under her chin, and turn her face toward Nash’s direction. He covers her lips with his. Her shoulders fall as she surrenders to the new kiss.

  I rub my hands across her neck and down her back, the tips of my fingers humming with need. I can already perfectly see everything we’ll do to her.

  With her clothes stripped off and her naked body bared to the elements, we’ll stretch her out across the rock and take her in a way she’s never known. My cock will be buried so deep in her throat she won’t even be able to scream from the pleasure we give her.

  I twist the end of Cheyenne’s top in my hands, bunching the fabric together. One good hard yank and the shirt can be split open.

  Suddenly she breaks off her kiss with Nash and stands up. “I have to go.”

  Not able to speak, I settle for standing.

  “What?” Nash barks.

  Her eyes wild, she looks from him to me. “I can’t do this. I’m… I’m a virgin.”

  The last word echoes in the creek bed. I feel Nash’s eyes on me but keep my own glued to Cheyenne’s.

  “You’re a virgin?” I repeat.

  She purses her lips and nods.

  I exhale heavily and run my hands down my face. “Holy shit.”

  “I couldn’t… do anything more without telling you.”

  “We have nothing against virgins,” Nash says.

  Now I look at him. The truth is, we’ve never been with a virgin.

  But the thought of it?

  Fuck, it sets off a whole new kind of need in my veins. I can only imagine what it would be like to stretch the walls of a never touched pussy, to feel the resistance around my cock, to hear the moans of a woman letting herself go for the first time, to know Nash and I are the ones making it all happen.

  “Nash is right,” I say. “We like that.”

  “You’ve done some stuff,” Nash says. “Haven’t you? You must have gone to third base.”

  Cheyenne’s eyebrows bounce up. “Do people still use baseball analogies to make sexual references?”

  “Classy,” I tell Nash, then I look over at Cheyenne. “You don’t have to answer him.”

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I can tell she feels put on the spot and needs some calming down.

  I step towards her and lightly touch her cheek. “Stay.”

  Her mouth twists. “It’s much more than just the virgin thing,” she whispers.

  I feel my eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

  “I have to go.”

  She turns tail and runs away from the creek.

  “Nice going,” Nash grunts.

  Fury flashing through me, I turn to look at him. “What the fuck?”

  His jaw clicks. “You scared her the hell away.”

  “Oh, shut up. The girl just told us how terrified she is.”

  He crosses his arms and gives me a surly look. “Cheyenne never used that word.”

  “But that’s what she basically meant.”

  I ball my hands into fists and curse at the ground.

  Nash stands up. “No use throwing a fit. It doesn’t matter what she says or whether she runs away. We’re right next door. She’s gonna be ours soon.”

  I stare at the trees Cheyenne vanished around. “A virgin...”

  Nash whistles. “God, I know. Can you believe our luck?”

  I lick my lips, the words not coming to me. All I can see is Cheyenne’s brown eyes, bright, innocent and full of surprise as I drive my cock into her.

  Nash is right. No matter what Cheyenne says or does, she’ll be ours soon.

  6

  Cheyenne

  “Cheyenne! Are you listening?”

  I jerk and sit up straight. “Huh?”

  Mom stomps into the living room, the loaded laundry basket in her hands. She stares at me on the couch. “Are you taking a nap?”

  I rub my eyes. “I didn’t realize I fell asleep.”

  All I remember is laying on the couch lethargically staring at the TV while actively having a fantasy about Nash and Clay. I must have drifted off somewhere in between Nash licking me from head to toe and Clay popping my cherry.

  “I need you to run out to the store.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. “Here’s the list.”

  I pocket the paper and glance out the window at the gray sky. Are Clay and Nash still out in the fields? They’re probably pissed over me running away from them this afternoon.

  There’s not much I can do about it. To say things are ‘complicated’ is to treat the matter lightly.

  “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Mom says, vanishing into the hall.

  I pull my sneakers on and grab my purse from the hook near the door. The weather is perfect. If I weren’t busy being intensely conflicted, I might have a serious case of spring fever.

  I roll my car windows down and suck in the sweet smells of wild flowers and new grass.

  The nearest grocery sits about five miles out. I take my time waltzing down the aisles and filling the cart from Mom’s list. I obsessively read ingredients and compare prices in an attempt to keep Clay and Nash off my mind.

  I still taste their tongues. I still feel the pressure of their hands. I’m still going insane.

  I check out and carry the load to the car. Darkness blankets the trees all around the grocery store parking lot. I’ve taken longer than I meant to. I quickly pack the bags in the trunk and pull out of the lot. If I’m late for dinner, Mom will have a fit.

  I hook my arm on the open window and pick up speed. A few miles and I’ll be off the highway and back on Ello.

  I glance at the dash to check the gas gauge. I need gas soon, so I have to make sure to stop on the way to class tomorrow. The needle to the right catches my eye. It rapidly rises, leaving the cool area and going up to hot.

  “Shit.”

  I pull over and stop on the grass. The needle bobs at the top of the gauge. Cursing under my breath, I pop the hood and jump from the car.

  Heat rushes from the engine and chokes me. I cover my face and reach into my back pocket for my cell phone.

  It’s not there.

  And it’s not in my purse.

  I ran out of the house so quickly I forgot to grab it.

  I run my hands through my hair and look around the dark highway. This part of the road is one of the slowest. There’s no telling when someone will drive by.

  And there’s no telling whether they’ll be people I can trust or not. My parents drilled enough fear into me years ago about taking rides from strangers.

  I drop the hood and loop my purse over my shoulder. Time to walk. It’s too bad about the frozen waffles, but I’m not carrying the grocery bags all the way home.

  The purr of an engine slices through the air. Headlights appear around the
corner and fly by me. The car slows down and starts to back up.

  I tense up and stop walking. The car backs up right next to me and its window rolls down.

  “Hey there.” It’s a young woman with long black hair. She’s about my age and no more than a hundred and ten pounds.

  I let out a sigh of relief. Looks like I’m not about to get abducted and raped after all.

  “Car troubles?” she asks.

  “Yeah. It overheated.”

  “Sucks. Want me to take a look? I’m pretty good with cars. My dad’s a mechanic.”

  “Yes, absolutely. Please.”

  I can hardly believe my luck. She pulls her car over to the side of the road and walks my way.

  “I was just walking home,” I explain to her.

  I pop the hood again. The car cooled down a bit, and the girl unscrews the coolant cap.

  “It’s simple,” she says. “You just ran out of coolant. Hopefully your car hasn’t been hurt too bad.”

  I palm my face. “I feel like such an idiot.”

  “It happens. How about a ride home?”

  “Please. You’re a godsend. I thought I would get murdered out here.”

  She helps me transfer the groceries from my car to hers then I direct her to Ello road. It takes all of three minutes to arrive.

  “You live down here?” she asks.

  “Yeah. You know the road?”

  “Um…”

  I glance at her, waiting for an answer.

  She smiles brightly. “No, I don’t know it. What’s it like? How are the neighbors?”

  “It’s okay. The neighbors are fine. I’m right here.” I point to the driveway. She takes her time edging up it and stops at the very end.

  “Here we go.” She grins, smiling from ear to ear as her head cocks to one side.

  “Oh my God. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Have a good night.”

  “You too!”

  I gather my groceries and haul them to the porch. The car turns around and leaves. I realize I never got the woman’s name or number.

  The front door opens.

  “Where have you been?” Mom asks. “I’ve been calling your phone.”