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Authors: Lorelei James
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man possessed. At that point she realized the dark-haired man was her ex-boyfriend, Dante.
Dooce turned and glared at her. “What are you doing here? He doesn’t want you. No one wants you.”
The bound cowboy finally looked up and his cowboy hat slid off his head.
50
www.samhainpublishing.com
Rode Hard, Put Up Wet
Her heart stopped; the man was none other than Carter McKay.
Their eyes met and he said hoarsely, “I want you, Macie, in ways no man ever has. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
She closed her eyes at the heat in his eyes and the perfection of his quiet declaration.
She slumped against the chute, finding it soft as a pillow.
A pillow?
Macie’s eyes flew open. She sat straight up and looked around. She wasn’t in a darkened barn, but in a darkened camper.
Dammit. It was another dream, a variation on the dream she’d been having the past two months. Except, it wasn’t really a dream since the scenario was very close to the real one she’d walked in on in Dante’s apartment. Dante on his knees, Dooce jacking off as Dante fucked Dooce’s ass like a madman. It’d been rough, and raw, and unbelievably hot. She’d stayed hidden in the shadows of the hallway, ashamed she’d gotten off at the sight of Dante’s sexual synchronicity with Dooce—a synchronicity she and Dante had never experienced.
No wonder. She hadn’t been born with a penis.
So why did her subconscious place Carter at that scene? Because he was an artist like Dante? Because she wondered if Carter was gay? The last two times she’d experienced this dream, she was the one tied up and forced to watch the two men fuck like animals.
Was Carter’s presence because she was afraid the situation with him would turn out the same as every other past relationship —with her on the outside looking in?
A therapist would have a field day with that one.
She glanced at the clock. The red numbers flashed five a.m. No use going back to sleep now—the alarm would ring in another half hour anyway.
Macie cleaned up, dressed, and braided her hair before she hopped in her SUV and navigated her way to work.
Late yesterday afternoon, after she and her father finished their meal at the local diner, he’d sped off to Gemma’s ranch to set up the camper. She’d sensed he needed to be alone with his thoughts and to gauge his new responsibilities without her chattering at him. So she’d lingered in the booth, thinking of her best friend Kat, wondering how she’d managed to be a third wheel again. Then she noticed the “help wanted” sign by the cash register and asked the waitress about the opening.
www.samhainpublishing.com 51
Lorelei James
Velma—the sixty-something owner of the Last Chance Diner—needed a gal Friday to fill in part-time as a cook and waitress. The hours were sporadic, but the pay was decent for rural Wyoming. With Macie’s experience in restaurants, Velma seemed genuinely happy to hire her on a simple handshake.
Macie was glad her first day would be spent in the kitchen. Between the bizarre dream, and her father ignoring her, beating eggs and dicing veggies would be a productive way to channel her frustrations.
Inside the restaurant, the rich scent of coffee caused her steps to quicken and she poured a mug before clocking in.
Velma grinned. “Another caffeine addict, huh?”
Macie grunted.
“Well, I’ve already had four cups so I’ve shaken off the cobwebs and started the bacon.”
“What time do we open?”
“Six bells.” Velma dumped two packages of frozen hashbrowns on the griddle.
“Most of the early customers are construction workers. They like a big breakfast in a hurry. So I always have a bunch of potatoes and meat done ahead of time.”
“Good plan.” Macie donned an apron, lifted the metal press flattening the bacon to check on its doneness while downing her coffee. “Mostly egg specials?”
“Yeah. Some with pancakes, most with toast. You have any problems making
Dooce turned and glared at her. “What are you doing here? He doesn’t want you. No one wants you.”
The bound cowboy finally looked up and his cowboy hat slid off his head.
50
www.samhainpublishing.com
Rode Hard, Put Up Wet
Her heart stopped; the man was none other than Carter McKay.
Their eyes met and he said hoarsely, “I want you, Macie, in ways no man ever has. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
She closed her eyes at the heat in his eyes and the perfection of his quiet declaration.
She slumped against the chute, finding it soft as a pillow.
A pillow?
Macie’s eyes flew open. She sat straight up and looked around. She wasn’t in a darkened barn, but in a darkened camper.
Dammit. It was another dream, a variation on the dream she’d been having the past two months. Except, it wasn’t really a dream since the scenario was very close to the real one she’d walked in on in Dante’s apartment. Dante on his knees, Dooce jacking off as Dante fucked Dooce’s ass like a madman. It’d been rough, and raw, and unbelievably hot. She’d stayed hidden in the shadows of the hallway, ashamed she’d gotten off at the sight of Dante’s sexual synchronicity with Dooce—a synchronicity she and Dante had never experienced.
No wonder. She hadn’t been born with a penis.
So why did her subconscious place Carter at that scene? Because he was an artist like Dante? Because she wondered if Carter was gay? The last two times she’d experienced this dream, she was the one tied up and forced to watch the two men fuck like animals.
Was Carter’s presence because she was afraid the situation with him would turn out the same as every other past relationship —with her on the outside looking in?
A therapist would have a field day with that one.
She glanced at the clock. The red numbers flashed five a.m. No use going back to sleep now—the alarm would ring in another half hour anyway.
Macie cleaned up, dressed, and braided her hair before she hopped in her SUV and navigated her way to work.
Late yesterday afternoon, after she and her father finished their meal at the local diner, he’d sped off to Gemma’s ranch to set up the camper. She’d sensed he needed to be alone with his thoughts and to gauge his new responsibilities without her chattering at him. So she’d lingered in the booth, thinking of her best friend Kat, wondering how she’d managed to be a third wheel again. Then she noticed the “help wanted” sign by the cash register and asked the waitress about the opening.
www.samhainpublishing.com 51
Lorelei James
Velma—the sixty-something owner of the Last Chance Diner—needed a gal Friday to fill in part-time as a cook and waitress. The hours were sporadic, but the pay was decent for rural Wyoming. With Macie’s experience in restaurants, Velma seemed genuinely happy to hire her on a simple handshake.
Macie was glad her first day would be spent in the kitchen. Between the bizarre dream, and her father ignoring her, beating eggs and dicing veggies would be a productive way to channel her frustrations.
Inside the restaurant, the rich scent of coffee caused her steps to quicken and she poured a mug before clocking in.
Velma grinned. “Another caffeine addict, huh?”
Macie grunted.
“Well, I’ve already had four cups so I’ve shaken off the cobwebs and started the bacon.”
“What time do we open?”
“Six bells.” Velma dumped two packages of frozen hashbrowns on the griddle.
“Most of the early customers are construction workers. They like a big breakfast in a hurry. So I always have a bunch of potatoes and meat done ahead of time.”
“Good plan.” Macie donned an apron, lifted the metal press flattening the bacon to check on its doneness while downing her coffee. “Mostly egg specials?”
“Yeah. Some with pancakes, most with toast. You have any problems making
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