Page 7 of Tusks & Saddles
“Wha-wha-what did you even need?” She was spitting mad and embarrassed. Her face felt like she pressed it to the top of the stove and left it to char.
“It’s not important now.” He dropped his arms, twisting from the doorway. Will’s arms wrapped around her chest, roasting alive in her own body.Shit.She cleared her throat. When she glanced athim, his eyes were on her again. With a snap, he closed the book and turned away from her doorway. He shut the door behind him and she was left itchy in her clothes. She’d never ripped on the rest of her clothes so fast.
Was it just me…was I just imagining it… he wouldn’t…
But she could almost have sworn his lips were curled just an inch. His eyes took their sweet time traveling her and she wanted to pull her lower lip up and over her head.And fucking swallow because Boone basically saw me naked.A flimsy t-shirt bra, and leggings that were practically painted on did not leave much to the imagination.
However, once that overshirt was tugged onto her body, she bounced into her boots and flew out of the room.I’ve got to get a fucking lock on my door.
Chapter Four
Boone
Iwas going to ask her about leaving the money with Jacobus or her ma.But then he lost all sense. All his marbles just dripped out of his green ears and clattered to the floor. He heard his manners snap like cooked chicken bones because…gods, she’s sexy.Her full breasts bouncing in her bra, those leggings like a second skin on her; he was a horny bastard memorizing every inch of her. Boone learned a few things in that split second when she turned to face him. Willamina Jones had another freckle on the left side of her ribcage, a small brown dot. That he, Boone Larokson, was definitely thinking of closing the door behind him, instead of shutting it between them.What I wouldn’t give to be on the other side, peeling off everything she just put on.And he learned that Will needed a door with a lock on it.
That’s going on the list.Boone returned to Jacobus’ room and threw his book into his bag. The floppy haired guy beamed up from his bed where Boone left him. When the fool came back, dejected by his sister’s dismissal, Boone thought about the gold in his bag.
“Jacobus,” Boone grabbed his best friend by the shoulders and pressed into the meat of them. “We need to talk.”
“We are talking.” Jacobus blinked at him with confusion.
“I’m leaving you a list of things you have to do while we’re gone and the coin to do it.” Boone leveled his serious gaze on Jacobus.
“What?” Jacobus laughed at first before it sank in and his face fell. “You’re serious? I can’t hobble very fast, and you want me to do stuff?”
“Jacobus, the first thing you’re going to do is send for a healer.”
“Pfft,” Jacobus scoffed. “You got healer money?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh shit,” Jacobus blurted out.
“There should be one still on call in the Dreadflats. So, send a request to the cleric’s circle, use my name if they give you any flack. Then, when your leg’s fixed up, you’re going to get a lock and install it on Will’s door.” Boone pulled away from Jacobus and stalked to the other side of the bed. When he stayed on the Ranch, he always offered to sleep in the bunkhouse, but Jacobus demanded he stay with him in the big house. Thus, the stash of things in the bedside table. A journal with a pencil being some of it, he started to jot down his notes. When he was done, he tore the paper out and pinned it to the wall with one of the tacks Jacobus had still imbedded in the wood. Long, long ago, Jacobus decorated the walls in drawings.
Boone watched them steadily be pulled down until the walls were empty.
“Woah, woah, hold up.” Jacobus tried and failed to stand up. “Boone, what’s all this?”
“You’re always complaining that Will doesn’t trust you enough to take care of the ranch yet. Now’s the time to do something about it.” Boone tucked the pencil and journal away again before fishing out the bag of coin. When he turned back around to face Jacobus,his friend was already leaning a hand against the wall. Steadying himself, Jacobus read over the list quickly, eyebrows furrowed but lips curled in amusement.
“Boone, half this list is a three-person job! Two of them will take six bodies, minimum.” Jacobus leaned back on his good leg to smirk at Boone. “You got hirin’ people money or—what’s that?”
Boone held the sack aloft before setting it on the bed. Jacobus eyeballed it, slack-jawed. Boone cleared his throat before snatching up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He’d been up for a while, having spent the morning slowly getting ready in the quiet of the house. Tusks brushed, hair tamed, clothes changed, and even a little time for some light reading to wake up his brain.
“Boone, you’re doin’ too much.” Jacobus glanced up from the sack, a worried look on his face.
“No, I ain’t.” Boone would counter that maybe he wasn’t doingenough. However, Jacobus didn’t want to hear that. Something the Jones’ shared was their pride. They didn’t ask nobody for help even when it would fix something ten times faster. The late Herc Jones was the same way. A beacon for the community, that man wouldn’t ask a single soul for a single more coin than was necessary even if it would solve all his problems.
Boone pulled his spectacles off his face and tucked them away for safekeeping. He didn’t need them for anything but reading anyway. “Jacobus, do me one more favor while we’re gone.”
“Anything,” Jacobus took two shaky steps to the bed to hold onto the heavy, wooden post.
Boone cupped his shoulder, offering his best friend an apologetic smile. “Quit drinkin’.”
Jacobus’ face fell, but there was no hatred…just hurt. Just pain. Just dejection. “Boone…”
“If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Don’t make me bury another Jones because they drowned at the bottom of a bottle.” Boone wanted Jacobus to do it for himself. It would be better if the kid wanted to do better and be better, but Jacobus didn’t work that way. He did everything for other people. So, despite how horrid it was to do, Boone added salt to the wound. “Do it for Will who can’t lose another person.”
