Rough, Raw, and Ready (Rough Riders #5)(21)

Those loose women—young and old—knew the score. One night as a no-holds-barred sexual plaything, not only for Trevor, but for whichever cowboy buddy Trevor invited along. Usually Colby volunteered as the third player. Occasionally Edgard bucked up for the fun and games. Adventurous women took on all three men at once. Their reputations as bad boys of the circuit were well earned. Partners and the positions might’ve changed, but the rules never did: get off, get out, and get moving to the next town.

Even back then Edgard realized Trevor chose only horny, shallow women who didn’t allow him emotional attachment, because every sexual encounter was temporary until Trevor found the woman who shared his longtime dream for home, hearth and a family of his own.

Chassie West fit the bill.

She was one hundred percent Wyoming cowgirl. Inquisitive, stubborn, knowledgeable about everything from livestock to environmental issues to up-to-date technology. Upon first glance, her pint-sized frame made her appear far younger than her twenty-five years. Up close she carried herself like a gunslinger, shoulders back, chin out, venom in her eye, ready to take on anything or anyone that crossed her in any way.

Chassie’s sunny personality and genuinely helpful nature were completely guileless, yet those shrewd brown eyes missed nothing. From the first time he’d looked into those soulful depths, he’d seen her sadness and knew she recognized the same in him. Even when Edgard doubted her sorrow could be attributed to her feelings for Trevor, like part of his unhappiness was. Yet, her unspoken sense of failure, disappointments and guilt had been a bond of sorts between them, as much as the way they both felt about Trevor was an odd connection.

But was it the hidden glimpses of her waif-like stature that had drawn Trevor in?

Chassie wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. No artfully applied makeup masked the ethnicity of her sharp facial features. Her long mane was stick straight, usually braided, not teased and shellacked into a perfect helmet. Her work-roughened hands hadn’t ever seen the inside of a manicure studio. Her curves were in her hips and in her smile, not on her chest.

All in all, Chassie West Glanzer was something very special.

And that sucked because she deserved better than the treatment she’d received this morning. When Edgard realized she’d witnessed the encounter between him and Trevor, he experienced guilt on a level he’d never imagined. Upon seeing the horror and pain on her sweet face, Edgard had the overwhelming desire to race to Chassie and wipe her tears, hold her close and murmur platitudes, which was damn stupid, since his damn stupid actions and words caused her distress in the first place.

What a f*cked up mess.

How could he make this right? For Chassie? For Trevor? And for himself?

Leaving wasn’t an option. Much as he liked Chassie, if the woman was foolish enough to walk away from Trevor for good, so be it. He’d be around to pick up the pieces. Besides, it wasn’t as if Edgard hadn’t warned her of his intentions.

So why did he still feel guilty?

Because he was. He’d done a stupid thing, which wasn’t really new when it came to his dealings with anything or anyone involving Trevor.

The far barn door slid open and Edgard tensed. Chassie’s truck had roared up the driveway not ten minutes ago. Knowing Trevor, he’d fly in, spewing accusations at him, tossing off hurtful remarks, doing his level best to goad Edgard into a physical confrontation.

Isn’t that what you did today? Pushed Trevor to see how far he’d go with you?

Yes.

Fuck, he was a selfish bastard. He and Trevor were used to each other’s antagonistic behavior, poor Chassie wasn’t privy to how they’d normally settled their differences. Nor was she aware that Edgard and Trevor had ended up in dozens of knockdown, drag-out fistfights in their years together.

The last time they’d fought, Trevor’s need to win had been particularly vicious.

Edgard’s surrender consisted of allowing himself to be tied naked to the slats in the horse trailer, standing, his ass level with Trevor’s erect cock. Trevor had f*cked him hard; hard enough bruises striped Edgard’s thighs. Trevor f*cked him twice like that, not letting Edgard come, making him beg. Then Trevor released the ropes and sucked Edgard off to the most explosive orgasm he’d ever had.

Thinking about Trevor sucking you off isn’t helping you stay neutral about this situation.

Edgard willed his dick to quit pulsing, determined not to give into Trevor’s need to provoke him.

Sex would be off-the-charts fantastic, a little voice prodded him.

No. The aftermath would suck. Not only would Trevor blame him for them f*cking like dogs, but the person it’d hurt the most was Chassie. And they’d both hurt her enough already.

But Trevor didn’t swagger in, full of fire. He merely walked to the far side of the stall, several feet away from Edgard and draped his arms over the top of the wooden partition.

Meridian was restless. She ignored her owner and flicked her tail in annoyance at nothing.

They didn’t talk; they didn’t fight. They didn’t fill the void with chatter; they didn’t hurl accusations back and forth. They just stared at the hay-strewn stall and skittish horse in hellish silence.

A solid twenty minutes passed. Edgard timed it in fifteen-second intervals so it stretched out like twenty hours.

When Trevor ran the back of his hand across his cheek where Edgard’s beard had abraded the skin, another punch of guilt tightened Edgard’s gut. “I’m sorry.”