“So for the last three years, you went to school full time and worked full time.”
“Pretty much, yes. That was just the beginning of the bullshit. That was the year that Dad made Marcus the ranch manager and let him more or less take over.”
“We don’t call him Marcus the Terrible for nothing,” Dale said.
“It’s because he really thinks of himself as a little tsar.” Parker shrugged and then gave her a sheepish smile. “You can understand why we were leery of working with family again, when we’d finally had enough and quit a few weeks before we came here.”
Jenny didn’t consider what they’d just told her to be a complaint. They were explaining where they were coming from. Both men wore expressions that told her they were worried what she thought of them.
“I don’t blame you for either—quitting or being leery. I do know one thing. The way the guys all treat each other here is with courtesy and respect. Well”—she grinned—“discounting that little thing called cousin-speak.”
“I kind of like that myself,” Dale said.
Parker nodded. “It’s more a war of wits than anything. It’s nice to work someplace where the intellect is a faculty to be celebrated rather than denigrated.”
That was how Jenny felt about working for Angela. Her boss never treated her as if she was “just a waitress,” and she knew that attitude wouldn’t be tolerated at the roadhouse whether it came from a fellow staff member or even a guest.
Knowing the difference, appreciating the difference, was a good thing to have in common.
* * * *
Parker and his brother made it a game. Jenny wanted to help clear the table and tidy, and they were just as determined she wouldn’t. Each time she picked up a plate, a bowl, or even the cutlery, one of them would snatch it from her and give her a short, sweet kiss.
By the time the kitchen was set to rights, they all three were laughing. That’s the best mood of all to set.
He took hold of Jenny’s left hand, and Dale took her right, and together they led her into the living room. He took a moment to turn on the sound system, using the remote control. Country music played, a nice just-above-a-whisper sound in the background. They’d already turned the lights on, and while they could have adjusted them to resemble candlelight, they hadn’t.
He and Dale had discussed what they wanted to happen on this “first date.” The first goal had been to discover if they had what they were calling the “sharing gene.” It seemed altogether possible they did—and those kisses outside earlier had confirmed it.
Parker took a moment to just look at her. Her blond hair, baby fine, fell to her shoulders and surrounded a sweet, slightly rounded face with sweet slightly pouty lips and a pert nose he wanted to kiss. Her eyes, hazel in color and close set, shone with intelligence. They often twinkled but always revealed her emotions. His fingers itched to stroke through her hair, to cup her face between his palms. His mouth watered with his mental image of tasting those lips, her closed eyelids, and her cute little ears. His heart pounded with anticipation, now that he knew he and Dale did indeed have that sharing gene. This moment was the beginning. Parker inhaled deeply and brought his focus back to the moment.
The second goal was to steep themselves in Jenny’s presence. That meant a few more kisses, most certainly, and doing what they could to make her feel good. But it also meant getting to know her better.
Their brothers back in Montana might be low-hanging fruit on the Neanderthal tree, but they weren’t. How a woman’s mind worked and what had influenced her attitude in life were at least as important to them as the physical chemistry between them.
Parker released her hand, and when they sat, Dale deftly managed to get Jenny onto his lap.
She didn’t look startled, but she did seem to worry about something else. Judging by the way she kept looking at him, Parker had a pretty good idea what that was.
“If you put your feet on my lap, Jenny,” he said, “I’ll give you a foot massage.”
Her smile was a little shy, but it was real. As was the way she lifted her legs and did as Parker had asked.
He slipped her shoes and socks off and set to work. He could only imagine what it would be like for her to be on her feet all day long. He’d asked, so he knew that some of her shifts lasted twelve hours. He could work a long day with the best of them, but he sure as hell wasn’t on his feet for the entire time.
It took about five seconds for Jenny to give a low, deep moan. Her muscles lost all tension as she damned near melted into his brother. Lucky bastard. But he was the one pleasuring her at the moment, so it was all good.
“You have about two hours to stop that.” Her eyes were closed, and the expression on her face assured him she appreciated his efforts.
“Just enjoy, sweet Jenny.” Her feet, for all she was on them, felt soft to his slightly calloused hands. They were small and pretty. Her toenails sparkled a brilliant red, but her fingers bore no polish.
Her toes could belong to a princess, and her hands—short, neat nails, competent fingers, and strong hands—could be those of a kitchen maid.
Their Jenny hid her more feminine, more sensual side. Did she do that as a matter of preference? Or had she done so as a means of self-defense?
There’s just so much I want to know about her.
“The weekends must be your busiest time,” Dale said. When Jenny had melted, he’d gathered her in. Now he was running his hand slowly up and down her arm, from shoulder to wrist.
The tiny little mews that kept escaping her throat hardened Parker’s dick.
“They are. So’s Monday, especially lunchtime.”
Parker used
