Sophie Oak - One to Keep

Come on, Bobby and Will, the big Russian guy and I are going to teach you how to put the older kids on their asses—I mean butts.” Alexei paid his tab quickly and was rewarded with the twins’

shining faces, and Holly, who looked at him like he was the nicest man alive.

She could never know the things he’d done.

But maybe he could help a couple of kids out.

He followed Caleb and the boys out the door just in time to dodge two men in cowboy hats running for their lives. The large dog he’d seen earlier ran behind them.

“Sorry, mister,” one of them said. “We gotta move. Our wife’s having a baby.”

His English must be really bad, Alexei decided. It almost sounded like they shared a wife. He found that idea entirely entertaining.

“You coming, mister?” one of the young twins asked.

“Sure,” he replied and followed his new friends.

Stef strode through the double doors of Trio with one thought on his mind—get Jen and get home. He’d searched all over the fucking town for her. From the moment he’d realized she’d left the house, he’d been looking for her. He’d tried Stella’s, where he’d found out she’d had lunch with Callie and Rachel. He’d moved on to the Trading Post, where Teeny and Marie had admitted they’d talked to her for half an hour about everything that had happened in Dallas, including her unfortunate incarceration. Marie had made it plain that she blamed him. Jen obviously wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if he’d had enough of a brain to marry her. Laura Niles at the Stop’n’

Shop had said roughly the same thing.

How had she left everyone high and dry, but he was the villain?

“This place is new, Stefan. It used to be a hardware store.” And he’d done all of his roaming with his father riding his ass. He wasn’t sure how much worse the day could get.

“Mr. Weldon died back in ’05, and he didn’t have any kids. The place was empty until Callie’s husband decided we needed a bar he didn’t almost get murdered in,” Stef said under his breath as he looked around the little tavern.

It was filled to the brim with tourists. Stef wanted to growl when he remembered the damn Winter Festival started tomorrow. His brain went over all the things he’d promised Callie and Rachel that he would help with. It was a lot. He was supposed to host the final night’s dinner and call out the raffle prizes. Could he get out of that?

Shit. Rachel would probably get upset. A stiff wind was all it took to get her crying these days. He was stuck. That was just what he needed, his whole damn town overrun with strangers while he was trying to keep an eye on Jennifer. Despite what Nate had said, he would feel better when that damn painting turned up.

“Which husband is that? Nathan, or the large, ill-tempered character?” His father glanced around the place with the same enthusiasm he’d shown all day.

Yeah, that was a good way to describe Zane Hollister. “It was the big one, Dad.”

His father’s brows came together in a concerned V. “And you say that Maxwell and Ryan are involved with a single female as well?”

“Yes,” Stefan replied shortly. After the incident he’d started to mentally refer to as Anal Plug Armageddon, his father had all kinds of questions about the relationships in Bliss. He’d been shocked to discover that ménage was rapidly becoming a way of life in the little mountain town.

“But you aren’t sharing Jennifer with someone, are you?” Stef felt his face flush. He reminded himself that he was thirty-two years old, independently wealthy, respected in the art world, and responsible for himself. So why did talking to his father about sex make him feel like he was an eleven-year-old boy who had just gotten caught with a Playboy? Of course, he allowed, when he’d gotten caught with a Playboy, it had been by Stella, who’d given him a stern lecture about respecting women and taken it away. Max and Rye had been so pissed off because it was the only one they had. Two days later, Mel had replaced it. He’d given Stef a lecture, too, to always make sure the women in his pornography were humans.

He had to contain a laugh at the memory. “No, Dad. I’m not even dating Jennifer, much less passing her around to my friends.” And he wouldn’t. Not ever. He loved Max and Rye like brothers.

He felt the same way about Nate, and he’d gotten to where he was rather fond of that Neanderthal, Zane. But he would never understand how they could share the woman they loved.

And he didn’t love her.

A soft, twinkling laugh flitted through the bar. There were so many people talking and laughing, but that one sound had all of Stef’s attention. He could pick Jennifer’s laughter out of a crowd of a hundred thousand.

His father pulled at his coat sleeve. “So you just tie her up? You don’t date her?”

Stef’s back was suddenly ramrod straight as his eyes found her.

She was sitting at the bar with Callie on her right, accepting a glass from Zane. That wasn’t what had his back up. It was the cowboy sitting beside her, his hand possessively resting on her back, mere inches from her perfect ass.

James Glen. He was a rancher who had inherited an enormous spread from his father a few years back. He was twenty-five and a known playboy. He was smiling at Jennifer and leaning in like they were having an intimate conversation. He was tall, dark, and, to Stef’s mind, very much the asshole since he was busy trying to horn in on another man’s woman.

Damn it, he couldn’t think that way. Except that she was his. He’d signed a bunch of paperwork making him responsible for her. Yeah.

She was his. He just didn’t love her, and she wouldn’t be his forever.

He should remember that.

“Stefan,” Sebastian said, his impatience obvious in the tone of his voice. “I asked you a question. I’m trying very hard to understand this lifestyle you seem to have chosen.”

“It isn’t a lifestyle. It’s just who I am, and it’s private,” Stef said on a low growl.

“But I’m your father.”

“No, you are the one who provided the male portion of the DNA that created me.” Stef couldn’t quite keep the cruelty out of his voice.

“Mel was the one who taught me how to shoot a gun, and he was the one who told me about sex. Do you have any idea how difficult a conversation that was? He’s legally insane, but he did it. Stella made sure I had lunch on the weekends when the nanny took off and didn’t bother to bring in a replacement. Callie’s mom took me to the doctor when I was sick. You are not my father, and you have no place in my life. So back off.”

He stalked off. He didn’t look back because he was sure of what he would see. His father’s illness seemed to have brought on some need to bond with the child he’d left behind, but Stef didn’t have the time or patience to deal with him right now. His father had been sick, and he hadn’t bothered to tell him. Why should it mean anything at all to him? His father obviously didn’t need him in any way that counted.

His stomach was in knots. His hands were shaking with the force of his rage.

She thought she could ignore him?

He’d been the one to get her out of jail. He’d been the one to move heaven and fucking earth to get her out of that hellhole, and she was flirting with James Glen, who couldn’t tell a Klimt from a Jasper Johns because he spent all of his time knee-deep in cow crap. He had no interest in who Jennifer Waters was as a person or an artist. He liked her tits, and she was smiling at him. She was giving him her softness.

Stef pushed through the crowded bar. He plowed his way through the tourists and locals who called out his name. His vision tunneled down to just Jennifer. Her generous lips opened, and another long, sexy laugh came out of her throat. She put a hand on James Glen’s forearm as she said something low and seductive.

“Stef, are you okay?” Callie asked.

He barely heard her. He did catch Zane’s smirk.

“No fighting in my bar, Talbot,” Zane ordered.

He’d paid for the damn bar. He should be able to do what he wanted in it. And what he wanted to do was fuck up James Glen’s unlined, pretty-boy face.

“Hey, Glen, you want to move your hand off the girl’s ass?” Stef heard the challenge in his voice. He felt his every muscle go hard and his heart start to pound. Why was he doing this? His rational brain knew he needed a bit of distance between himself and the way-too-young-to-ever-settle-down girl, but the caveman in him wanted that fucker’s hand off his woman’s ass.

James Glen turned, his Stetson moving as though it always sat on his head. “You got a problem, Talbot? I was just welcoming a friend back into town.”

“You bet I have a problem,” Stef spat.

Jen looked back at him. “What’s wrong with…” She stopped, and a little smile curled on her lips. She forcibly removed James Glen’s hand from her waist. Her smile was wry as she looked back at him.

“Better, babe?”

The endearment did weird things to his heart. It was a term for equals, for partners. He shouldn’t take it seriously. “You need to come home with me. You’ve had a rough day.”

“Yes, I have. I could probably use a little stress relief,” she said as she brought the wineglass to her lips. “Can you think of anything that might help?”

His cock stuck up her ass? That might help. His cock fucking her tight little asshole would relieve an enormous amount of his stress.

Just like that, he was hard and ready to fuck. Damn, he was glad he’d left his coat on. He grasped on to the only non-sexual thing he could think to say.