Page 32 of Taming His Brat

“I’ll take that as a yes, I guess.” He didn’t have the energy to laugh and what he did have went into removing the vibrator and the ropes.

He’d planned ahead and used knots that could be untied with one tug in the right direction and he was grateful for that now. His hands were shaking too much to struggle with a stubborn knot. With one sharp pull on each line, they released, and he unwound them so he could check her wrists. Then he started working on her ankles.

It took her a minute to gather the energy, but finally she shifted and pulled her arms up in front of her so she could rest her head on them. Once the last of the ropes had slithered away, she tipped over on her side and just sprawled there.

She looked well-fucked and there was nothing more beautiful than knowing he’d put that wrecked look on her face. He wanted to crawl up beside her and crash, but he couldn’t. Not until she was taken care of.

His body was reluctant to get up, but he managed. He stopped by the bathroom to dump the condom and clean up fast and then he went to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice for her, and water for him. If she was as drained as he was, she’d need something.

She was asleep when he returned, and he had to nudge her awake and help her to sit up so she could drink some of the juice. He held the glass to her lips. “Big sips, baby. Judging by the wet spot on the bed you’re about half dust right now.”

She wrinkled her nose when she tasted the acidic bite of orange; it wasn’t her favorite, but she obediently took a small sip. As though the liquid reminded her of how thirsty she was, she wrapped her hands around the glass and in under a minute had guzzled the whole thing.

“Want some more?” he asked as he set the empty on the nightstand.

She shook her head. “No, but can I have a sip of water to rinse the sweetness?”

He handed her his drink and didn’t complain when she finished off half of it, but he did chuckle as she gave it back. He drained the rest and then settled her down on the dry side of the bed. He threw a towel over the damp patch and sighed. “You know, one of these days we’re going to remember to put the towel down first.”

But she didn’t answer; she was already in dreamland. He barely had the energy to flop beside her, pull her into his arms, and then join her in an exhausted sleep until the alarm woke him up way too soon.

It had been worth it. Giving up sleep for that night had been an easy trade off to make and the extra tired was nothing that a long hot shower and a gallon of coffee couldn’t fix. But if he’d known the shitstorm that was about to hit him, he might have chosen to get the sleep instead.

Okay, probably not, but it was a thought that popped into his head later.

He left her curled up asleep in the bed and went to work. He’d considered waking her up and dragging her along because if she was working on the ranch then she wasn’t with Vicky, and that was a good thing. But she looked too peaceful there and he didn’t have the heart to shake her awake.

Besides he didn’t need her down there every day and she’d start to resent the time when she realized he was doing it to keep her out of her mother’s clutches. He had to work something out, but that probably wasn’t it. Later he’d question that choice too, but at the time it seemed right.

Sam was using one of the last good days to put some time into working with the black Devil horse. He had plans for putting him to stud but until he was tamed down a little that wasn’t going to happen. The stallion had tried to savage the first mare that they’d put in with him, but he was making slow progress on getting the wild horse in line.

Today though, it just seemed like the stallion wasn’t in the mood to behave and finally he gave up. He swept his hat off as he came out of the corral, wiping his forehead with a ragged, but clean-ish, bandana and leaned against the fence. “Damn horse,” he muttered. Maybe it was time to turn him over to one of his hands. Most of them had a decent amount of experience and more time than he did.

“Hey, Sam? Got a minute?” It was Mike, with a look that practically screamed bad news.

Figures.“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Well, uh, you know there’s a moving truck up at the main house?” The hesitant way he said it made it clear that he didn’t think Sam was aware.

“A … moving truck?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe they got lost? Took a wrong turn?” Sam sounded doubtful even to his own ears. They were way off the beaten track with a private road all the way back, and a big gate with a sign.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s parked outside the house and things are being loaded onto it from the house. I didn’t think much of it at first. I thought maybe Charlie was clearing out the clutter, but then I noticed she wasn’t up there. Vicky is though.” The last part was said in a different tone and it got Sam’s attention.

Well, fuck.The last thing Sam wanted was a confrontation, but he needed to check it out. It’s not like his mind jumped immediately to the idea that Vicky was robbing the house but … yeah, it was exactly that. “I’ll go check it out,” was all he said.

He strode up to the house double-time and sure enough he could see a steady progression of heavy old furniture being hauled out of the truck by several burly moving guys. He didn’t stop to talk to them, but stormed into the house yelling, “Vicky! You here?”

He heard a faint response from the downstairs bedroom, Jimmy’s old room, and he headed there. It was practically empty, and she was supervising the dismantling of the bed frame.

“Vicky, what’s going on?” He tried not to sound confrontational, he really did.

He failed.

She gave him a surprised look and then one of her well-practiced smiles. “I would think it was obvious. I’m getting rid of this old junk furniture. It’s much too heavy for the space, don’t you think?” She sounded cheerful and he had to grit his teeth to avoid snapping at her.

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