Taming Jenna [Sequel to Saving Grace] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 3

  Trevor frowned. “You talking about Jenna?”

  “That’s her. Fucking sweet. Is she single?”

  For some reason Trevor’s hackles rose. Jenna belonged to the Wagner ranch, and he didn’t want to share. Nobody dared to talk about Jenna like a piece of meat, besides horsing around. It felt odd. It felt wrong. “Hasn’t anyone told you that she’s gay? Don’t waste your time.”

  “A lesbian? No way. That’s just an excuse used by women that’ve never had a real man.”

  The cocky bastard reminded him of himself, so he didn’t appreciate the target of his attention being Jenna, even if she could take care of herself. Why did he care? He’d known her for six years. They worked side by side as a team on countless occasions. She was a hardworking, trustworthy worker. Not unlike Wagner—she was tough, but compassionate.

  “If I were you, I’d stay away from Jenna. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

  “Maybe I’m the one for the job.”

  He wanted to say more, to warn him of her expertise behind the barrel of a gun, but thought better. It would be fun to watch Jenna cut this clown down to size.

  Chapter Three

  The rest of the week flew by in a whirlwind of wedding preparations, guest arrivals, and the usual demanding work of the cattle business.

  “Look at me!” shouted Brad as he balanced along the top rail of the fence. His tie was undone and shirt buttons partially open. The only light highlighting his fool behavior were the spotlights scattered around the property. Even the moon dared not make an appearance, hiding behind thick cloud cover.

  “You’re drunk, Brad. Get down before you get hurt.”

  Jenna was glad that after the wedding tomorrow, things would finally go back to normal around the ranch. This had to be the worst night yet, thanks to Scott’s bachelor party. It seemed every cowboy for a ten-mile radius was at the Wagner Ranch, drunk and rowdy. Tonight she kept her nine millimeter in the waistband of her jeans. The rest of the partygoers had to turn in their weapons before the alcohol was released or she had no doubt shots would be ringing out in the dead of night, spooking the cattle and unsettling the horses. It was crazy to allow the men to get this carried away. She tried to watch them like a hawk, making sure they did no damage to the property and didn’t offend the sober guests staying at the house.

  “I knew you cared about me,” he sang, looking up at the full moon with a vacant smile.

  For the love of God. Where was Trevor? She expected that as foreman he’d keep track of the men, even if it was off working hours.

  “You’ll ruin your suit for the wedding.” She tried to reason with him, but decided it was pointless. His logic was lost at the bottom of a bottle.

  She carefully navigated her way through the dark landscape, weaving between the cattle in the pen. The women had some sort of tea party earlier in the evening, but she declined their offer to attend. She wasn’t one for lace and teacups. Instead, she chose to try and maintain some order as case after case of liquor and beer turned up empty.

  “There she is,” said Steve, appearing from the pitch-black interior of the barn. His tie was undone, and his white shirt partially unbuttoned. She felt a presence behind her, and when she turned, the blast of alcohol on Tanner’s breath struck her before she could focus on his glazed-over eyes.

  “Looking for trouble?” asked Tanner. “Or a little fun?”

  Jenna wasn’t afraid, wasn’t a victim. Not even a sliver of fear crept its way into her thoughts. “You boys are gonna regret this come morning,” she warned low and steady. Her muscles were tense and ready.

  “There’re two of us and one of you, sweet thing.” Steve was even younger than her, a boy in her opinion. Although they weren’t as built as the regular cowboys, they could still overpower her in a heartbeat. Lucky for her, she was prepared for just such a situation.

  “You can count. That’s more skill than you’ve shown all week during training.”

  Steve scowled and reached for her shirt, tugging her toward him. “Little bitch.” She reached for the waistband at her back, ready to shove the barrel of her gun under his chin and make him beg for forgiveness. But before her fingers could touch the cool metal handle, Steve was yanked away from her.

  “I don’t think she’s interested, cowboy.” Conner held Steve back with ease, his features set hard.

  “Mind your business.”

  Conner twisted Steve around and slammed him against the side of the barn, rattling the wooden planks. Tanner took off running. “You wanna drink like a man, but you can’t hold your liquor. You say you’re a cowboy, but you can’t even rope a calf.” She could only see black-and-white images in the minimal lighting. Conner only wore a fitted, white tank top, the dark tattoos on his upper arms moving every time he flexed his muscles.

  “I ain’t got no beef with you, Conner.” Steve struggled futilely. Conner was the biggest guy on the ranch. No one messed with him.

  “You do now.” Conner pulled him by the scruff of the shirt like a marionette and dragged him into the side shelter where they did the branding all day. Jenna followed. The embers in the cast iron fireplace still glowed red. He pushed Steve’s back against the table, holding him down with a palm to his chest. Then he brought a hot poker around, aiming it directly in front of his line of sight.

  “No!” Steve wailed and squirmed. He no longer carried his booze-induced bravado. “I wasn’t gonna do nothin’. Honest!”

  “Conner… Don’t do it. He’s not worth it.” Jenna’s heart raced. If anyone was capable of such madness, it was Conner. He was a cold, hard fighter. When he first pulled Steve off her, she wondered if her situation had gone from bad to worse before she realized Conner was trying to help her.

  “Jenna, don’t defend him. He’s a no-good drunkard.”

  “He’s a stupid kid. Let him go.” She hoped to God he’d listen to her. Was he just as drunk as Steve? Would she be his next victim? Right now all that mattered was ensuring he didn’t brand the greenhorn. If he did, Mr. Wagner could be looking at a lawsuit, Conner could lose his job, and a black shadow would hang over Grace’s wedding—all things she wouldn’t allow to happen on her watch.

  He didn’t move, didn’t flinch for what felt like an eternity. Conner just held the red-hot poker in front of Steve’s face, his mind a mile away. He taunted the kid until she was sure he’d piss himself. Then in a quick move, he stood straight and stepped aside. “Get out here!” His voice was its usual deep baritone. They shared eye contact after Steve scrambled away. Conner’s face was shadowed, highlighting the sharp planes of his face and black goatee. Why the fuck was her pussy pulsing? Her traitorous body was confusing fear and sex, that’s all.

  “You drunk, too?”

  He shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off her. “Never touch the stuff.”

  “Well, thanks for that. Not that I needed saving or anything.” She reached back and palmed her Colt, which eased her tension.

  Then as mysteriously as he appeared, he returned to the night, probably heading back to his lonely cabin out back. She decided her best bet was to call it a day and hole up in her apartment. There wasn’t much she could do at this hour, and Brad was a lost cause. She’d deal with the aftermath of the bachelor party in the light of morning. Although she’d never been in any real danger thanks to her hidden weapon, Steve’s attack had her nerves on edge. Her body continuously sent mixed signals to her after the way Conner sized her up. She was used to cowboys looking at her with hunger in their eyes, regardless of whether or not she was interested in men—except Conner. He wasn’t a saint. She’d heard about his sexual escapades from the other men, even stories of his hard-core BDSM fetish. Jenna wondered what he did with the women he brought to his cabin. When they faced off, his gaze wasn’t sexual—it screamed possession, dominance, ownership. Her body heated remembering his dark eyes and hard-set features. But she’d never be owned.

  She spared no time in returning to her loft and locking the door behind her
. Once safely inside, she slumped against the door and exhaled until she felt dizzy. Her place was simplistic, functional, but it did have its charm. She loved the color blue, from the early morning sky to the evening twilight, and the walls surrounding her reflected that. Dropping her gun on the coffee table amongst her other weapons, she collapsed onto her oversized, worn couch. She stared up at the ceiling feeling a violent mixture of loneliness and confusion. Over the years she’d built up such impenetrable barriers and now wondered if the benefits outweighed the disadvantages. She’d never fall in love, never have children, and never have a life beyond the Wagner Ranch.

  Soon even Grace would be out of her life, off to start a family with Scott at their own place away from the ranch. Over the years she’d seen countless cowboys leave to start families. Some stayed—like Trevor and Conner. Others never lasted a month, like her greenhorns. What did the future hold for her? Did everyone expect her to find a nice woman to settle down with in an unorthodox relationship? They had another thing coming if that’s what they believed. She had no more desire for women than the ranch stud, Trevor, had for men. But that was her little secret, the one Mr. Wagner kept under lock and key as she requested. Wagner promised he could keep her safe without the lie, but she knew she couldn’t handle unwanted advances. She’d had enough of that growing up.

  A knock at her door forced her to sit up in rush. Nobody dared climb those stairs. They were hers. She grabbed her favorite rifle off the table, metal knocking against metal as she pulled it from the pile, and then rested it on her shoulder. If Steve had a sudden return of bravery after Conner disappeared, she’d give him a new reason to piss his pants. She swung open the door. Standing on the small three-foot-by-three-foot landing was Trevor. He pushed his way inside without invitation.

  “Foreman, have you truly lost your mind this time?”

  “Conner told me about that fucking kid giving you trouble.” Why was he so angry? She wasn’t exactly a damsel in distress. “Did he touch you?”

  “What? No! What do you care anyway?”

  “Just because you agreed to entertain Wagner’s guests doesn’t give them the right to hit on you. I warned that piece of shit to stay away, but obviously the boy doesn’t have the common sense to listen. When I find him—”

  “When you find him—nothing.” She dropped her rifle back on the table and wandered away from him and took two mugs out of the cupboard in her kitchenette. The coffeemaker was set to warm, so she poured them each a mug, not concerned that her back was to Trevor. He may have had an unsavory past before coming to the ranch, but she trusted him. “I’m sure they’re halfway to town by now. I’m more upset that I’ll have to start training new ranch hands all over again.”

  “Ranch hands? Wasn’t Ms. Scarlett’s son the one bothering you tonight?”

  She lowered her brow. “No, it was that limp dick, Steve. When I last saw Brad, he was pissed drunk. He’s probably asleep in the barley fields.”

  “Oh.” Trevor’s body seemed to visibly loosen. “Well, them boys were good for nothing anyway. I was going to tell Wagner to cut them loose.”

  She passed him a mug. “You probably need this more than me,” she said.

  “Real men can hold their liquor.” He smirked. She noticed that his eyes were as blue as her painted walls, and she forced herself to look away.

  “Conner said he doesn’t drink. Is that true?”

  He sat on the arm of her sofa. “Guess he doesn’t want to end up a drunk like his old man.”

  “But you do?”

  “I’m not a drunk, Jenna. It was a fucking bachelor party. You should know better than to compare me to my father.” He attempted to stand up, but she shoved him back down with a hand to the chest.

  “Relax. Drink your coffee, foreman.”

  She reclined on the other end of the sofa, feeling oddly comfortable with Trevor in her private place. He was the first man besides Mr. Wagner to pay a visit. He’d been on the ranch longer than her, longer than anyone. When he was a runaway teen, Wagner took him in and gave him a chance. Mr. Wagner replaced the drunken, abusive father he had grown up with, providing a positive, loving role model. Now Trevor was at the top of his game as foreman. They were essentially two in the same, both rescues, making the Wagner Ranch their home.

  “So what do you think about the wedding?” he asked after taking a sip of coffee.

  She shrugged. “It’s good for everyone. I’m happy for Grace.”

  “Yeah. I suppose.”

  Jenna shifted to sit higher on the sofa. “I knew about the two of you, you know. Did you love her?” Her heart clenched as she awaited his response.

  “Love? No.” He shook his head emphatically. “We were open about our feelings. I didn’t love her, and she didn’t love me.” He paced the floor in front of her. “She loves Scott.” He said it like a curse. She knew he’d always harbored jealousy over Scott since he was Wagner’s real son, which was the status he coveted. But since Grace came back to the ranch, they seemed to get along.

  “You don’t think they’re good together?”

  “They’re perfect. Too perfect. The whole happily ever after makes my stomach turn.” He dumped the rest of his coffee into the sink and set his empty mug on the counter. “That’ll never be me.”

  “Well, aren’t you Prince Charming, Mansfield. I thought even you would appreciate a happy ending.”

  “My life hasn’t been a fairy tale, darlin’. I gave up on dreams long ago.”

  She watched him pace and fidget. He was one of the most handsome men on the ranch—blond, blue-eyed with classic, rugged good looks. His worn blue jeans hung low on his slim hips. The rest of his body all lean muscle and tanned a golden hue. She’d seen him with his shirt off too many times to count, which didn’t help her predicament. Her body heated being alone in the enclosed space with Trevor. But she’d grown good at hiding her feelings and desires. Her entire life was an act, built to protect herself from predators. Although Trevor had turned out to be a good man, thanks to Wagner’s example, he was a player through and through.

  “What about me?” she whispered. “Should I give up on my dreams, too?”

  He dropped down to one knee in front of her. She tensed and pulled back, giving herself some personal space. “You’re the one person around here that deserves a happily ever after, Jenna.” He reached out to touch her chin, but pulled back before he made contact. “There any girls out there you’re interested in?”

  Right. Her lesbian charade. It seemed foolish to continue with the lie, but it was necessary if she wanted to work at the Wagner Ranch. If the dozens of sex-starved cowboys knew she was straight, they’d hit on her constantly, treat her differently. She liked being one of the guys, invisible, safe.

  “No.” She didn’t want to elaborate and dig her lie deeper. The moment felt honest and vulnerable, and she wouldn’t ruin it with insincerity.

  “What about that cute young thing, Brittany? I thought you liked her.”

  “Trevor, just because I don’t want you messing with her doesn’t mean I want her. She’s a flighty young thing that’s only looking for a good time. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “You said my name.” His smirk was too cute. His face so close to hers. What would it feel like if she ran her fingertips along his stubbled jawline? Would his full lips feel soft or firm to the touch?

  She swallowed. “So?”

  “You never say my given name. I like the way it sounds coming from you.” Why was he looking at her like that? He thought she was a lesbian. Did he see past the lie?

  Chapter Four

  When Conner had told Trevor he pulled a young drunk off Jenna, he thought he’d lose his mind. That spoiled rich kid in the polo shirt kept flashing in his head, and he regretted being kind to him earlier. The kid had said he wanted a piece of Jenna and obviously kept his word. All Trevor saw was red.

  He didn’t care that Jenna had a no-visitors policy. He had to ensure she was safe and unharm
ed. She may be one tough cookie, but she was a tiny little thing. Lesbian or not, she was a woman and needed protecting. One thing he couldn’t tolerate was a man abusing a woman. He’d hated it when he went to the city to fetch Grace away from her abusive ex-husband, and he hated it now that Jenna had been assaulted.

  It must have been the combination of heightened emotion, alcohol, and the fact he hadn’t been laid in weeks because a new desire ignited inside him. He’d always been attracted to Jenna. It would be impossible not to be. She had the most killer curves he’d ever seen on a woman. But that’s as far as things went between them, a silent attraction. Now he felt a new pull. She looked so different off guard, in her own comfortable surroundings. Such a stark contrast to the kill-or-be-killed woman that lorded over the cowboys during the day.

  When she said his name with her sexy Southern drawl, his cock hardened in an instant. He only realized upon hearing her say his name that she’d never said it before. It was always foreman, cowboy, or Mansfield. His name on her sweet pink lips was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Say it again.”

  “What?”

  “Please. Say my name again.” He was so close he could feel her warm breath. Although he should pull away before he did anything stupid, he moved in closer.

  At first, he wasn’t sure if she’d sock him or kiss him. Then she humored him. “Trevor.”

  “Fuck that sounds good.”

  “You’re drunk. You should go.” She pulled her legs around, stood, and brushed past him. The water began to run as she washed the two mugs, effectively ignoring him. What was he thinking? Even though he may feel a connection, she wasn’t attracted to men. It wouldn’t be any different than Conner expecting him to have an attraction for him. It wasn’t going to happen.