Page 50 of Ride a Cowboy

Janice sat facing him, naked as the day she was born.

She laughed lightly. “I think that should be sort of obvious, Hank.”

He narrowed his eyes at her use of his first name. That was Macie’s to use. And only hers.

“Get up and get dressed, Janice.” Hank struggled between pure fury and utter exhaustion. He was so over this shit. He had genuinely thought the woman had given up. She hadn’t stepped foot on the ranch in over a month. Not since he’d told her Macie was his girlfriend. Porter had assured him he hadn’t heard the last from her, but her absence had given him foolish hope.

“It’s time for you to stop playing around, Hank. Time?—”

“My name is Coop.”

“Macie calls you Hank.”

He wasn’t sure how Janice knew that, but he figured at some point, the Maris grapevine must have been light on material so that little tidbit had made the rounds.

“That’s right. She does. You don’t.”

He kept his gaze locked on her face, determined to make her see how fucking pissed off he was. “Get dressed now. And go home.”

“I guess you think you’re still sweet on Macie. Surely by now the bloom must be off that rose. She’s all wrong for you. Sharon?—”

“Sharon would have liked Macie. Hell, Sharon did like Macie.”

Hank recalled the one and only conversation he and his wife had had about Macie nearly a decade earlier. They’d gone out to dinner at Sparks Barbeque. Macie had just started manning the bar, and she’d kept them in stitches the entire night with her silly stories. As they left, Sharon remarked that she wished she had Macie’s energy and enthusiasm and how much fun it would be to be friends with her. He hadn’t remembered that until just this minute.

“Hank—”

He took a step forward. His menacing look must have finally sunk in as Janice quickly corrected herself. “Coop. Can’t you see that we’re a better fit? I’d be a good wife. I’d cook and clean and…”

She stood slowly, and to Hank’s horror, she leaned over the kitchen table. Facedown.

The same way he’d taken Macie the day Porter had walked in on them.

“And I’d welcome you—and Porter—into our bed.”

There was no way in hell Sharon had told Janice about that. Best friends or not, Sharon had confided to him that she’d never told anyone about their foray into threesome sex—and Sharon didn’t lie.

“How did you…”

“I saw you with Macie the other week. And I saw Porter standing there. If that’s what you want, what you need, I can give it to you.”

Hank’s stomach lurched at the thought of Janice watching them.

“Get up from that table.” His tone was deadly.

Janice’s eyes widened and she started to straighten.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Hank turned to the doorway to find Macie standing there, taking in the scene and repeating his opening words almost verbatim. She didn’t spare him a glance as she looked at Janice sprawled out facedown on his table.

His stomach lurched again, this time with pure panic and fear. God only knew what she thought she was seeing. “Macie—” he started.

Her gaze flew to his face as she lifted her hand to stop him. “No,” she said. It was just one word, but a solid dismissal. She wasn’t going to let him explain. Hank took a step toward her, but stopped when Macie turned back to Janice.

“Get your ass up from there, Janice. Dear God, what’s wrong with you?”

Of all the responses he’d anticipated, Hank hadn’t expected that one. “Macie,” he started again, determined to set things right. He couldn’t stand the thought that she might believe—even for one second—that he’d invited Janice here.

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