Title Page

Birches

Cowgirls & Angels

Spanking Erotica

by Lizbeth Dusseau

ISBN: 978-1-938897-55-9

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

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Chapter One

In Hot Water

Cissy Riverton was headed for trouble. Sauntering from the ranch house toward the stables of Grey Gulch Ranch, she cocked her head sassily and rolled her hips in a nonchalant manner, which suggested she hadn’t a care in the world. At that very moment, she didn’t. Unabashedly innocent, looking more like a sixteen-year-old kid than a woman of twenty—which she was—Cissy could be the poster child of untainted virtuosity when a prim attitude suited her fancy. Her short red mop of curls framed a petite face, great wide blue eyes, and a broad, happy mouth. The body below was shapely, her breasts small, her waist slim, and her ass quite generous—though not out of proportion to the rest of her. She could look gracefully demure or vampish depending on her mood; but, regardless of any pose she struck—for any reason, legitimate or devious—her body communicated exactly what she wanted. And since Cissy Riverton was a conniving schemer and a shameless flirt at heart, she used her body well.

At the moment, she was looking for Garth, who was visiting Jake—her cousin once removed. (The removed part was a bit of a joke between them—the rock solid Jake Colton might have been removed in theory, but he was hardly removed in practice, having played a very substantial role in Cissy’s life for the past five years.)

“Well, well, well,” she heard Jake’s familiar drawl, just as she ambled through the stable door. Though her eyes might naturally move toward Garth, the county’s dreamy young sheriff whom she’d been dating for several months, they settled on her cousin’s scowl instead. “Just who I was looking for,” he droned on. Something simmered beyond his cool exterior, and as the lanky cowboy pulled himself upright with his green eyes focused keenly on his redheaded cousin, he drilled her with the question, “Want to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Where I’ve been?” Though she was hardly ready for an interrogation, her brain worked fast—after all, she’d had lots of practice. Her eyebrows knit with puzzlement as a beautifully contrived blank expression filled her guileless features.

“The question is pretty direct, Cis, answer it.”

“Oh, hon, you are steamed,” she read him rightly, seeing his mood shift quickly from sarcastic to severe.

This was worse than Cissy had expected and her brain was in high gear.

“I’ve been around,” she quipped, in an attempt to remain clueless about the charges he might have against her. “When, exactly, are you talking about?”

“How about the middle of the night?”

Oops! She could hardly hide her surprise. He knows. Damn how could he? There weren’t enough gears in her brain to handle this overload.

“I’m sorry, Cis,” Garth stepped forward, his face so sorry-looking and sweet. “It’s a small town, you ought to know that. People are basically nosey.”

“It was just one night.”

“You’re on probation,” Garth went on, sounding rather grim for the mild-mannered young man he was. She’d always liked his gentleness, the way she could sweet-talk her way around him, run her hands over his sandy buzz cut, kiss his cheek, purr in his ear—he was so easy. But maybe not now. He struck a formidable looking pose, which was pretty enticing all by itself. Made him even more appealing—in a weird sort of way that only Cissy would understand. Garth Branch was as solid as her fuming cousin behind him, just shorter and stockier, his muscles bulging from his official sheriff’s short-sleeve shirt. Now, however, she wasn’t sure if there was enough sweet-talk in her to soften his forbidding stance. Of course, it didn’t help that Jake stood behind him like the original man of steel. “Driving without a license, violating your probation with midnight rides. You weren’t very discreet about it,” he shook his head, appearing both amazed and saddened by her foolishness. “I’m going to have to take you in.”

“What?”

“’Fraid so.”

“But….”

“But first, your cousin has a few things to say.”

Cissy turned her attention back to Jake, immediately thinking that she should turn tail and run.

Reading her mind like a book, Jake held her fast with his razor sharp eyes. “Don’t even think about taking off, Cis. I’m gonna blister that ass of yours before you get out of here, and running would only make it worse.”

“Now wait,” she turned to Garth, imploringly, unsure which man should hear her plea.

The Sheriff shook his head. “Take it, Cissy. It’ll go a whole lot easier for you with the judge.”

“The judge! You’re not going to tell the judge!”

“If he thought you had your cousin watching you a little more attentively, he might not revoke your probation. That is, unless you want to spend the next six months in jail?”

“You, you….” she seethed. Though her eyes were leveled on Garth, they quickly moved on, focusing directly on Jake. “You arranged this, didn’t you!” She bolted toward her cousin, only to have him capture her by the wrist. The way he towered over Cissy’s small frame and held her off, there was no way she was going to strike, kick, hit, punch, or do any of the other things that immediately came to mind. Actually, her anger short-circuited any reasonable response—as it usually did. If she’d been sane at all, she would have held off, taken her licking and been done with it, without the fight. As it turned out, she got more than a simple paddling—and this one would hurt for a lot longer than a half-hour afterwards.

“You’re getting punished by me, brat!” he grimaced. “Your promises are worthless. You give me the old song and dance about how you’ve reformed, how six nights in jail taught you ‘a lesson you’ll never forget’.” His eyes narrowed into tiny points of light, hardly a color to define them at all. “I’ve been played the fool for the last time.” With Jake pointing his index finger in her face, Cissy shrank back as best she could, though she had little space to maneuver. “Consider your freedom revoked. You may, just may, avert jail with this punishment, but you’ll think you’re in jail by the time your penance with me is done.”

“C’mon, Jake, please.”

“Get me the paddle, will you Garth?”

The lawman moved to the back of the stables where a strap and wooden paddle hung on pegs. They’d been hanging there for thirty years having blistered many a young behind—and a few older ones. As far as Jake Colton was concerned, they’d keep their place as long as he had anything to say about Cissy Riverton’s behavior. There’d never been a woman in his memory who needed it more than his bratty cousin.

Finally, letting go of her wrist, Jake gave her a gentle shove toward the old workbench. “Drop your pants.”

“Jake! But…” her face twisted dolefully—as though he were truly wounding the young woman.

“Now!”

“But Jake, Garth’s here.”

“He can see your ass, too. That way he can assure the judge that the punishment was done properly.”

Her glassy eyes pooled with tears that were about to drizzle down her cheek. Seeing the despondency in her face, the young sheriff was moved, and about to turn away.

“You can stay right here, Garth. Cissy plays a good game. The sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be.”

Pressing her forward toward the bench, the fretting Cissy was still searching for some means out of this catastrophe. Here she’d been trying to woo the Sheriff for two months, and now her bastard cousin was going to humiliate her right in front of him.

She toyed with the buttons on her blue jeans, thinking hard. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for manipulation here. Any plea she’d try would land with a hallow thud, and she’d only make Jake more pissed. She struggled for an answer, but none came in time to save her. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes—as though she could close out the entire ordeal—she pushed the denim off her hips and leaned over the unyielding wood. She was going to take this paddling ass-naked whether she liked it or not.

Jack Colton gripped the leather-covered handle of the punishment paddle with a firm resolve, determined that his cousin get the best of it. Three months before, the brassy tart sideswiped him with a lot of honey-coated nonsense. She’s sworn, pleaded and cajoled him with her flirtatious eyes and heart-rending pleas for mercy, getting him to lift the rules he imposed on her after the arrest. That had been a messy scene—and for some ridiculous reason, he believed she might just have seen the error of her ways and was ready to join the human race as a responsible adult. Obviously, he’d been hoodwinked by someone more masterful than he. It would be a cold day in hell before he believed a word that came out of her mouth.

“Let’s see if you can get through this without letting the entire world know,” Jake suggested as he swatted his own hand with the two-foot paddle several times, letting Cissy hear the threatening tone it made when it struck bare skin. He hadn’t used the paddle on her in well over a year; and this session would be a worthy display of just how far he’d go to correct her bad behavior.

Beyond the sound of the paddle striking flesh, the stable was still. At the other end of the building, one of the mares whinnied, and Clem, the old plug-horse pawed at the straw in his stall. A few sparrows flit in and out among the rafters and a nervous Sheriff Branch coughed quietly. Otherwise, the setting was eerily silent, and almost painfully calm until the first strike landed on Cissy’s behind. Her ass was a lovely, creamy, flawless sort of pale, which most men found delightful—clothed or not. Ready to be punished, her legs were tightly clamped together, which pushed out her flesh and raised it as though it were actually greeting the occasion eagerly.

There were many men who would relish the task of reddening that pale skin until it shone with red. If she’d been his lover, Jake might have as well. But there was no lust in his loins for this one. She was pure hell, a lot of work, and, despite her indisputable charms, a pain in the neck.

Settling back to the task of her punishment, Jake reared back and brought the paddle forward brusquely with a wide sweep of his arm.

Thwack!

The clear, sharp crack of hard wood meeting skin shook the entire stable as the restless energy of its force rippled through the boards and bricks. The strike landed squarely, covering both of Cissy’s cheeks, hitting hard and firm on the rounded centers of the brat’s behind.

Cissy’s grunted breath followed, while her jiggling ass struggled to absorb the shock, and her skin began to turn pink.

Jake’s second smack was equally as powerful; the first of two dozen, which would pepper her cheeks until the fire on her ass became so burning hot that she was begging for some compassion.

The methodical gait of Jake’s style was something Cissy Riverton knew well; though, the foreknowledge of what she faced in no way eased her distress. “Oh, for crissakes please!” she finally howled after the sixth sharp crack of wood. She was dancing enough that he had to pause for her to calm.

“Settle down, or I’ll just keep going,” he warned.

“Oh, but please…….”

Her plea fell short as another smack drove the words right out of her mouth.

Doing her best to bear up, Cissy gritted her teeth, held her breath, and clung to the sides of the dusty workbench so tightly that it appeared her hands would fuse to the boards.

While the poor girl battled with the punishment, Garth Branch looked on in sheer amazement. He’d been dating Cissy for three months, thought he knew her well, was even aware that the randy young woman was fair game for a good working over with Jake’s leather belt when she crossed him; but he never imagined that she would submit to this kind of treatment—or that Jake Colton could have so much influence on her. When she’d amused him with this little anecdote about her life, he thought of taking her luscious package of femininity over his lap and giving her a spanking with the palm of his hand, but he never imagined anything as severe as this. It was a sight he’d never seen before; and though he had his doubts about its true effectiveness, the effect on him was remarkable. A sexy, shocking, exuberant fire began in his belly and extended all the way to his rising penis. With his hard-on growing firmer with each strike that landed, he hoped the conclusion would be soon, because he was afraid he’d embarrass himself if his physical response became visible.

The punishment proceeded on cue from beginning to end. Jake didn’t waste time, he expected a reasonably compliant woman; and as long as he didn’t have to fight a defiant mutiny, he ended the session delivering exactly the number of strikes he decided on at the outset.

Cissy had her twenty-five, each a hellaciously miserable experience of pain for the distraught woman. But she did hold on. She had before. Cissy Riverton wasn’t about to let her cousin crush her spirit. And though she didn’t come up smiling afterwards, she’d managed to dispense with her tears so he wouldn’t see the evidence of the real hurt she felt.

Having finished, Jake laid the paddle down on the bench beside her face, and then stood back, shoulder to shoulder with the Sheriff. Silently waiting, the two watched the chastised brat slowly work her bottom back inside her blue jeans while trying not to wince so they could see. When she finally accomplished the task, she stood up straight, forced her mouth into a stubborn frown, and waited. She was quite a sight, red locks slightly frazzled, the stain of one errant tear painting a line down her pink cheek, and a dramatically sexual aura billowing about her aroused body.

Though the Sheriff readily acknowledged the stimulating picture she presented, Jake did not.

“You’re going with Garth,” he said succinctly. “You’re going to face the judge. And you can hope that after the Sheriff tells him how I’ve handled you, he’ll have some compassion. If not, I’ll bring you a few things from your room to make your stay in jail more bearable.”

“Gee, thanks for being so heartless,” Cissy sniveled.

“Oh, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the cause of your suffering. You brought this one on yourself. But hear me loud and clear, if you manage to weasel out of jail time again, once you’re home, you’re on a short tether—a very short tether. The changes around here are going to be swift.”

“Changes like what?”

“You’ll be lucky if I ever let you out of the house.”

Cissy bristled instantly. “Who says I’ll even come back here?”

“I do,” Garth gave her a decently stern look. “You can trust me on this, Cissy; the judge won’t let you go anywhere else, if he lets you off at all.”

Though Garth’s sudden, steely determination made her shiver, the redhead hardly acknowledged the depth of her arousal. She sighed. There was obviously no winning this one, and the resulting sadness in her eyes was so profound that even Jake was almost moved.

Of course, he’d been through this kind of scene before and he refused to be moved. Sincere regret or damn good theatrics—he refused to try telling the difference anymore.

“Go ahead, Garth, do what you have to do.”

The Sheriff nodded, and taking Cissy by the hand, he led her from the stables to the county truck.

“You know I should cuff you,” he said.

“Oh, no.” She whined well; and Garth was too soft to see beyond it. Giving her a gentle nudge, he pushed her into the front seat.

Jake watched from the stable door, leaning thoughtfully against the brick red post, wondering for the hundredth time in as many days if his cousin would ever be more than the reckless tramp her mother had been.

At twenty-eight, according to his sense of time, he was much too young to be raising a half-grown woman—just as at twenty, Cissy Riverton was much too old to be treated as a child. Would it ever end?

Chapter Two

Challenges

Sitting side by side, the two girlfriends dangled their feet in the creek. Hot day, the water was cool. They might stay here all afternoon if nothing else materialized. This was the first day in three weeks Jake had let Cissy out of his sight. He’d practically chained her to a chair in the newspaper office of the White Birch Review, sentencing her to the tedious task of proofreading every damn bit of copy he was ready to print. She wasn’t so sure that going back to jail wouldn’t have been easier than what she endured with her omnipotent cousin Jake looking over her shoulders every minute of the day. Why didn’t her cowboy cousin stick with herding cattle and breaking ponies? Oh, no, he had to be owner, publisher and editor-in-chief of the only local paper in a hundred miles.

“You really going to get a job, a real job?” Midge McKenna asked her. The voluptuous brunette had been Cissy Riverton’s best friend for a dozen years, making her the only person on earth Cissy could confide in.

“I have to. My sanity is at stake. I’m not going to keep house for my bastard cousin, and I’m certainly not going to read his damn paper anymore. He writes about stock prices and the cost of feed. The only juicy story I’ve seen is about the fistfight in the Lazy Bear Bar last Saturday, and how Horace Gilley’s planning to sue Bob Willets for starting it. Not that every blessed person in town doesn’t already know that!” She sighed despondently, wishing for better things, though she was still not sure what those things were.

“Hon, you’re just in a slump. There’s got to be a decent job somewhere.” Seems Midge was always consoling the hapless redhead—of course, she had a consoling nature, a softness about her that made her a natural friend.

Cissy perked. “Damn right. And I’m pulling myself out.”

“And what does that mean, no more family handouts?”

“Hummm. I’m not sure I’ll go that far. But I was thinking of talking to Amanda Plover about working in her stables.”

Midge’s brown eyes sparked—though she held back her real response. “You really mean that?”

“Why not? Nothing says I have to stay glued to my cousin’s ass all my life, is there?”

“I suppose not.”

“What’s the matter?” Cissy asked sensing that she wasn’t getting the whole truth.

“Nothing. It could be fun working together, but you know, Amanda’s not very easy to work for.”

“I really don’t care. Jake’s not easy to live with. It certainly would be better than being stuck in that damned newspaper office all day.”

“You know, you may think Jake is such a prick, but there are a lot of women in this county who would love to have him.”

“I know, you keep saying that. He may be a hunk in pair of blue jeans, but behind that handsome exterior and suntanned flesh is a real bastard!”

Midge chuckled—though she was worried. Being friends with Cissy Riverton wasn’t so tough, but working together? And around the best looking man to hit the county since Jake Colton was born—no, she wasn’t so sure she wanted her best friend complicating her plans to snag Birch Valley Stables’ new trainer, Hank Devlin. Midge was an attractive woman with a trim waist, billowing breasts, and a generous behind all packaged into a sensuous and alluring body. There were no eyes in the county as sweet as hers. But Midge was basically shy. She’d always taken a backseat to her more aggressive friend, and this was one time that she didn’t want to come up short!

***

Jake sat back in his chair, feet on the desk, staring absently out the window of the newspaper office seeing a rare sight indeed. There she was… hadn’t seen anything quite as pretty as Amanda Plover packed into a pair of blue jeans. She’d swept her blond hair into a pony tail, leaving a few bangs flying; though all the rest about her was curt and to the point from her polished boots, to those sexy jeans, to her clean, white cotton tee.

As she strode into the White Birch Review, she had a point to make, throwing the last Review edition on Jake’s desk, her lips pursed, her blue eyes glaring. She didn’t wear a speck of makeup, she didn’t need to—beauty like hers came from the natural blush on her suntanned cheeks, a pair of eyes as wide open as a meadow, and the classic line of her jaw, cut like the Western mountains.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing!” she snapped.

“Ooo, my, are we miffed?” Jake snickered amusedly. Damn, it was chauvinist to think so, but women sure looked good to him when they were all exorcised as though they would spit—he actually hoped she’d try that—give him good reason to work over that lovely ass.

“Sheeeseh! Jake Colton. Don’t you think what you print might just have one tiny bit of impact on real life?”

He swung his feet around and sat up straight. “Of course, it does. It’s supposed to. That’s why I keep the public informed.”

“And it doesn’t matter that you’ve invested money in Birch Valley Stables… you’re printing this?”

He stared at the opinion column, “Sure, that stuff is not easy to print—considering that I’m a prime investor in your stables. But those are opinions. When I started this rag, I told my readers that I support a free press and free speech. I gave the county a right to say what they want in my newspaper, and I wouldn’t edit it. I live up to my word.”

“So you print slander about the stables?”

“Is it slander? Or is there some mismanagement going on?”

“You vile beast! You know I’ve put my heart and soul into that stable and that it’s running well.”

“But does it turn a profit?”

“It could, if people like you would back off. It’s because I’m a woman in a man’s world… these old farts around here resent that.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so, Amanda. I think this has everything to do with results. Your track record stinks.”

“And what do you really know about that?”

“All I need. The profit and loss speaks for itself.”

“You actually read it as if you understand it?”

“I’m a Harvard man, remember.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

They both did.

Amanda Plover had attended Brown University the four years after Jake Colton graduated from Harvard. Two Ivy Leaguers in one tiny Western town was pretty strange. Stranger still why either of them insisted on returning to White Birch. But since they had—and for reasons neither one could fathom—everyone they knew automatically put them together—the kids with the fancy educations, as though that made them suited for more than the snappish conversations they were engaged in now. When Jake left for college, Amanda was just fourteen and a kid in his eyes—just as she’d been all his life. Although she was nearly four years older than his cousin, Cissy, and her friend Midge, he lumped Amanda Plover into the same kid category. She was still in braces and pigtails, awkwardly trying to grow into the body of a woman. She certainly hadn’t yet filled out as pleasantly as she was now.

Ten years later, after Amanda returned to White Birch from Brown and two years of graduate school, she was quite the woman. Jake had the usual response to any gorgeous creature who crossed his path—as did every man who laid eyes on her; but Amanda Plover was cold as an ice cube on a winter day—enough to shrivel any man’s dick. If she had a boyfriend, he certainly wasn’t from the area. Though, it was rumored that she’d been pretty steamy with a shipping magnate in Boston, talk of that died down quickly. Seems Amanda was mostly interested in resurrecting her family’s stables. She was an expert horse trainer—could take a stallion from the wild and tame it gently into a good riding animal. To get the stables going, she had obligingly taken some serious investment capital from local sources to add to what was left of her family inheritance. No one even pondered the possibility that she might fail considering her skill with horses, four-star education, and obvious determination. Turning a profit, however, was something Amanda had yet to do in the three years since she began the venture. Now, things were just a little dicey about the county when it came to the subject of Birch Valley Stables.

“You have any idea what kind of speculation you fuel with articles like this!” Amanda spat out. “I want it to stop!”

“My, aren’t we getting a little too big for our britches.”

“I’m only pointing out how foolish you’re being, Jake Colton.”

“Really? Well, I sure as hell don’t need you to tell me how to run my paper,” he leveled her with a sharp stare. “I’m doing a far sight better with my brainchild than you are with your stables.”

“You, you….” She stopped, her words tangling in her throat.

“And let’s get one thing straight, Miss Smarty Britches, you come into my paper again with so much spit and sass, I’ll take you right over my knee and paddle the daylights out of that fine ass.”

“You will not!”

“Want to try me because I’ll do it right now.”

“You lay a hand on me …”

He looked damned smug.

“Try all you want, Amanda. In this county things run pretty much the way they’ve run for the last hundred years. If a man takes a woman over his lap and spanks her, he’ll usually get a crowd to cheer. So, don’t try your politically correct, feminist Eastern hoity-toity bullshit on me. It won’t work in Birch County; it won’t work in White Birch; and it won’t work with me.”

Amanda was too stunned to speak. Having said his piece, Jack rose from his chair, brusquely brushed past Amanda, and proceeded toward the door, opening it in a mockingly gracious gesture, “If you don’t mind, I think you’ve worn out your welcome, Ms. Plover. I’m sure your time can be better put to use figuring out how you’re going to keep the bill collectors from knocking down your door. As for me, I have a lot of work to do.”

There was no telling the rage burning in Amanda Plover’s gut since she’d been rendered utterly speechless by Jake’s barrage of words, but it was certain that with one more comment she might just do something stupid. Not that foolish, the fair-haired beauty grit her teeth, clenched her fists, and stormed from the office.

Jake, utterly pleased with himself, returned to his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and staring out the window, took a deep breath of the good old country air. He thought it was about time for his afternoon nap.

***

Returning to Birch Valley Stables, Amanda Plover roared into the yard, halted the Jeep with a jerk, and jumped out, slamming the door; seconds later exploding into the stables like a thunderstorm, barking orders.

“Get this shit cleaned up now!” she shouted to whoever might hear her. “Doesn’t anyone do any work around here but me?” Midge McKenna and Cissy Riverton were brushing down the horses when they heard their fuming boss and popped their heads out to look.

“Something wrong?” Midge asked meekly.

“Yeah, something’s very wrong. I’m ready to take a shotgun to a certain newspaperman.” She looked past Midge, aiming her glaring eyes at Cissy. “Your fucking cousin better watch his step. He doesn’t know what angry is until he’s seen me on the warpath.”

Cissy gave her an “I didn’t do anything” shrug of her shoulders, to which Amanda only glared harder. Then, turning on the heels of her now dusty boots, she clomped into the stable office accompanied by the sound of papers, pens and god knows what else, flying everywhere.

“She always get like this when she’s mad?” Cissy whispered.

“Sort of. But I’ve never seen her quite so hot,” Midge whispered back.

“I certainly don’t need my cousin screwing things up here.”

“Aw, she’ll cool down.”

“Maybe she’ll cool and maybe she won’t,” they heard a voice behind them and both stopped and turned around. “Quit your jabbering and get back to work. She has a point.”

Midge instantly blushed seeing Hank Devlin target her with the comment. There was a sort of wicked light in his eyes. What a handsome hunk! All brawn and muscle, six feet three in his stocking feet; with a lock of sand-colored hair kept falling across his eyes, no matter how often he pushed it back. He was the devil with a sheepish smirk, but behind his self-effacing manner was pure steel. Um, hummm, just to look at him made Midge’s pussy clench and her panties wet. She loved it when he spoke with a little authority in his voice. She’d take orders from him all day. And if she were guessing right, Hank was finally reading her teasing glances for what they were. It had taken a few days of deliberate ploys to get him to really notice her; but once he had, she was sure that eventually she’d get the first date she’d been pining for since he came to Birch Valley Stables several months before.

“Damn! He is hot!” Cissy whispered as she followed the cheeks of Hank’s tight ass as they walked out the stable’s back door.

“Yeah, he is,” Midge agreed.

This was a tough one to read for Midge. She was seriously afraid that Cissy would go after the guy. While most girls could ward off the competing advances of a best friend, it didn’t work that way with Cissy Riverton. If Midge made her feelings known about Hank, that would only double the redhead’s efforts to nab him. Even if Cissy’s schemes were unintentional ones, she’d managed to go after every guy Midge had wanted since they were fifteen. Though she hadn’t been successful with most of her attempted conquests, she had screwed with Midge’s love life too many times to count. And she wouldn’t now! As long as Midge had anything to say about it. Unfortunately, seeing Cissy’s eyes go straight for that cute behind, she was immediately worried.

“I thought you were dating Garth?” she asked.

“Oh, I am, but you know… it’s nothing serious. I can always keep looking.”

“Well, if you want the guy, I mean Garth, you should stick with him. He’s pretty special and he’s very interested in you. Of course, if you don’t want him, I could always…”

“Like hell you will! He’s mine!” Cissy snapped. “I’d never do that do a friend.”

Sure, Midge thought, though she didn’t say a word. Even with them pointed out, Cissy refused to see her flaws, obvious or otherwise.

“I thought I told you two to get this place cleaned up,” Amanda was unexpectedly on them, “I can’t afford to pay you wages if all you do is gab.”

“Sorry,” Midge said and she went back to work.

Amanda strode out of the stable hardly more pacified than when she went in.

“Bitch!” Cissy seethed under her breath. “I can see why you hate her.”

“Shush!”

Cissy scowled and finally returned to work.

***

Midge came in early every day she could peel herself from bed by six o’clock. She figured being the early bird would only help her chances with Hank—since he was always in the stables by seven, usually by six, and Cissy never showed up until eight—and then, she often came wandering in just a few minutes late. Working in the stable, everyone was too busy to notice.

At seven every morning for a week, Midge met Hank in the ranch house kitchen where they shared a donut and coffee before they went to work. They traveled a lot of territory in their early morning conversations, covering all the details new friends share until all the basics are pretty much out of the way. Midge was fast moving to the second step of their relationship, tiptoeing around more personal subjects, like girlfriends, and opinions on love and life and aspirations. Hank was a great talker and pretty open for a guy. Though he didn’t make any bones of his cowboy nature. “I’m probably the last of a dying breed when it comes to women,” he told her.

“And that means?” Midge asked curiously.

“Old-fashioned.”

“How’s that? There are lots of old-fashioned guys around here, could mean all kinds of things.”

“Well…” he paused to think. He was never the type to jump right in, and Midge liked that kind of thoughtfulness. They were sitting on the ranch house porch finishing their coffee, staring out at the paddocks and stables, hearing the sound of their charges calling to them—though Hank had already fed the animals earlier that morning. “I guess it means that I’m a real man, not some meek little kitten who lets his woman lead him around. I couldn’t take that—in fact, I won’t. Truth is, I like the idea of being in charge….”

“And women submitting?” Midge jumped in when he hesitated to finish the thought.

“Yeah, submitting, that’s a good word, even though few women want it spoken anywhere near them. I’m surprised you said it.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Really?” he looked interested in her reply, enough to view the pretty brunette with a little more respect. “You’re saying you’re not some ball-busting bitch?” He looked toward Amanda Plover who’d just rode in from her morning ride, as if to suggest she was the prime example of ball-busting bitch.

“Ooo, never. My daddy would have whupped me pretty good if I had shown signs of that. Bred that headstrong steak right out of me,” she smiled demurely—speaking only half the truth. She was known to be as manipulative and stubborn as her best friend; just in her own way.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed.

“And when you’re grown up?”

“Oh, I imagine if I gave him cause even now, he’d paddle my behind.”

“Would he, now?” The edge of his lip drew into a sexy snicker. “So, you’d take that kind of treatment from a boyfriend?”

Her face broke into a rosy blush of embarrassment, “I might,” she conceded.

“How novel,” he remarked, though his further interest in the topic was abruptly cut short as Amanda called the trainer from the stable. “Are you planning to work or snooze today?”

“I’m on my way, boss,” he said jumping up. “You’d better get going, too,” he reminded Midge. Just as the two were getting up, Cissy’s truck pulled into the yard, her eyes immediately noting the cozy pair walking from the ranch house toward the stables. Midge was smiling broadly until she glanced at the odd look on Cissy’s face. There wasn’t a word said between them other than a hasty, hi, as they headed to separate buildings for the morning

***

Hank and Amanda sat across the desk inside the stable office going over ledger sheets, performance reviews, and evaluations of individual horses.

“I need to make these figures look a little better,” she announced with an exasperated sigh.

“Give me an evening with them, I can make them look a whole lot better,” he replied, a little light-hearted chortle in his voice.

“I’m sure you could,” she came back wryly. “But I am serious.” She stared down thoughtfully. “What about those two, Midge and Cissy. Are they even worth my time?”

“You need to get the job done, that’s a given. Whether it’s those two you keep on, I can’t say.” He thought a minute. “But don’t worry, I’ll make them worth your time or blow them out.”

“Good.”

“And the new mare you purchased? You sure that was wise?”

“Positive. I know good horses. She’s prime.”

“I need a few more prime animals around here.”

“Don’t look so somber. The world is not coming to an end.”

“Maybe yours isn’t.”

“Never thought you were a fatalist.”’

“I’m usually not…” she brooded, then shook her head. “Things are just getting to me.” She wouldn’t say what—like Jake Colton to be exact. Something about that conversation of a week ago she couldn’t shake. She’d never met a man who had the balls to speak to her the way he did. Was it admiration she was feeling? She was forcing back her feelings about that clash, afraid to really look and see what was there.

Hank was about to console her more, but there was suddenly so much commotion going on outside the closed office door that both of them bolted out to look.

“You friggin’, lying, bitch,” Cissy Riverton snarled, pushing Midge McKenna’s shoulder hard enough that the brunette stumbled off balance.

Midge recouped quickly and went after her, flying towards her head, grabbing a fistful of hair. “You conniving tramp!”

The two were tussling on the ground by the time Amanda and Hank pulled them off.

“What the hell’s going on!” Hank was furious. Holding Midge tightly at the shoulders, the angry young woman was struggling against a grip too steely for her to break.

At the same time, Amanda had a firm grasp on Cissy Riverton. “Let me go!” the young woman wailed.

“Not until you tell us what you’re doing,” Amanda snarled.

The two angry women refused to say a word, but glared, eyes shooting daggers.

Midge tried again to shake loose of Hank’s grasp, her temper moving her far beyond reason.

Hank, pissed-off, abruptly turned the young woman around, clutching her under his left arm, while his right hand pelted Midge’s denim-covered behind.

“Ouch! Ow, ow, yeeeeeeouch! No!” she cried.

“You don’t stop your hollering I’m not stopping,” the inspired Hank informed her tersely.

After another few swats, Midge finally eased. “I’m sorry, please.” Her struggling ceased, but not the nasty sting inside her pants.

Hank stopped, turned her around, but didn’t let her go.

“See what you get for being such a bitch!” Cissy sassed.

“Oh, I think you’re going to get exactly what your friend here got,” Amanda informed her.

“Like hell!” Cissy snapped back.

“You want your job, you get spanked, too.”

“But it’s her fault.”

“I don’t care who’s at fault. You’re both grown women and you know better. But, since you choose to act like children, that’s exactly how we’ll treat you.”

Amanda pushed her toward Hank, who, letting go of Midge, put the cocky redhead under his arm, and repeated the treatment he’d given her friend.

It was Midge’s turn to gloat.

“Make sure she feels it,” Amanda said. “I have a feeling this one started it.”

“I did not!” Cissy blared.

The comment only inspired the determined cowboy.

“Ouch, so, stop, pleeeeeessssss……” Hank’s broad flat palm packed a mean punch, his swats focusing on the round centers of Cissy’s cheeks making certain they burned, regardless of how well-padded they were inside her blue jeans.

She was soon apologizing as though her life depended on it, “Please, ouch, no, I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn right you are!” Hank added. He laid on another few meaningful swats. And when he finally stopped, both were out of breath.

“Now, I’ll see you in my office,” Amanda snarled. “We have a few things to discuss.”

Minutes later, Midge and Cissy, still glaring—though much less overtly—stood stock still in front of Amanda’s desk, Hank behind them just for good measure. His arms were crossed, his face as grim as an itinerant preacher’s on Sunday morning. There was no sheepish, sexy grin anywhere around. And there wouldn’t be.

“I should fire you both,” Amanda started.

“No!” Cissy immediately interrupted.

Amanda fixed her with a lethal stare. “I didn’t ask you to speak.”

“I’m sorry,” she backed off.

“I should fire you both,” Amanda started again. “I’ve never had any employee, ever, act so irresponsibly as you two have. I trust this is just an isolated incident. It will not happen again. And, if there is any intimation of another confrontation, you’ll both be dismissed. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” they both managed to rely.

“That is, yes, ma’am. I think I’m due a little more respect around here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Midge promptly corrected herself, while Cissy followed with a belated mumble.

“Hank,” Amanda looked to the man behind them, “you’ll keep an eye on these two. If necessary you can repeat the spanking—though if they need it again, be sure it’s with their pants down.” She eyed the two a moment longer. “Now get busy, you have a morning’s work to get done before you can take a break.”

Midge and Cissy fled the room fast, moving quickly in opposite directions. Brushing past Hank, an embarrassed Midge couldn’t even look at him she was so ashamed of herself.

Later that afternoon, Midge was tossing hay into a feed trough. Though there was no sting left on her behind—that had disappeared almost within minutes—her feelings were still smarting from the humiliatingly public scene with Cissy. She ran it through her mind a dozen times, trying to figure out what went wrong, but she couldn’t shake the truth that she’d been just plain jealous when she went after Cis.

That morning she’d arrived at the ranch, quarter till seven, sure she’d have plenty of time with Hank alone, only to find that Cissy had arrived first. The little tart was batting her eyelashes, sidling up to the cowboy as though the two were old friends. When Midge walked in on the scene, she felt like an intruder in the middle of an intimate moment. How could she! How could her best friend be so damned obvious?

Though she’d expected the move all along, knowing Cissy so well; it was still a shock to see her friend’s manipulative schemes right there before her eyes. She certainly didn’t waste any time.

Midge fumed, putting a good deal of emotional energy into pitching hay from one stall to the next, until she turned about finding Hank staring at her amusedly.

“Little pissed, are we? Thought I knocked some sense into you.”

She blushed, her anger having immediately disappeared seeing Hank’s handsome face replace the vengeful picture of Cissy in her mind.

“I’m so sorry; that was completely stupid.”

“You want to tell me what’s got you so riled.”

Oh, damn! This was bad. What could she say? “I-I, uh,” she stammered much too long. “Ah……we have a few differences of opinion.”

He nodded pensively as though he was thinking her upset might be something else. “Just wondered.”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“Have you?” He almost seemed a little surprised. “Cissy always try to take your boyfriends away?”

Her blush expanded until her whole face felt as though it was throbbing. Her ears were hot and she knew she was red as a beet.

“Am I wrong?”

“About her taking my boyfriends away? No,” she conceded.

“Well, you really shouldn’t worry, Midge. If I were choosing between you two, I’d certainly pick you over that package of trouble.”

“You would?”

“Hell, yes. You’re a hell of a lot softer than she’ll ever be.”

Midge’s heart responded happily. What an amazing man, that he could read the two of them so easily.

“Thanks for saying so,” she answered with a grin.

“No problem. And about the spanking?”

“Yes?” She drifted back toward embarrassment feeling a wild flurry of feelings suddenly appear—arousal, longing, and intense shame being just a few.

“I rarely spank a woman’s behind unless it’s as bare as a babe’s. Remember that.”

Another thrill of expectation darted through her system, and her pussy clenched as a result. But why would he tell her this?

“So you think I should be warned?” she asked.

“I’d say so.”

“And you’re warning Cissy, too?”

“No. But if Cissy earns another punishment, trust me, I will blister her behind until it’s raw, and you can’t do that over blue jeans.” His smirk was both playful and devious, and she wanted to laugh—though she kept that to herself. “Now, you’d better get back to work, or you’ll have Amanda and my leather belt breathing down your neck.” Without bothering to see her reply, Hank turned around and ambled toward the stable door.

The swoosh of excitement pulsing through the pretty brunette couldn’t have been more vivid and alarming. He was warning her, not Cissy, making so many suggestions she wanted to jump right on them, hoping with her whole heart that Hank Devlin wanted her. Was it really possible? And about the spanking? And his clearly dominant character? It seemed that if she really wanted a relationship with the man, she’d have to accept all that. Then again, would that be so bad?

Perhaps that was the real purpose behind his warning. She could only hope.

Returning to work, Midge let her mind roam free, going to all the places that a relationship with Hank would suggest.

She daydreamed of going over his lap, a careful hand pulling down her jeans; and then that hand stroking the skin of her naked ass with a tender touch until she was squirming like a fish gone aground. Would his cock respond? Poke against the fly of his denim? Press into her tummy or side? Would he be as aroused as she was now? Midge dreamed of his dominance, and that same startling, forceful command that had thrust her under his arm that morning and spanked her sassy ass. His power to subdue her was amazing—her mind working at a feverish pitch to understand why something so humiliating could be so wonderful. Her body was bursting with desire, her brain teaming with confusion; and the fact remained, there was no man she’d ever wanted more than this one.

At five o’clock that afternoon, just as it was time to finish for the day, Midge was surprised again to find Hank Devlin staring at her as she moved from the paddock back into the stable.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

“Yes, I think I finished everything.”

“Good work. Amanda piled it on today.”

“Her revenge, I’m sure.”

Hank chuckled and walked with her toward the rack on the wall where she kept her backpack.

“How about going out for a beer tonight?” he said.

Midge instantly frowned. “Oh, gosh, I wish I could,” she said despondently. “I have this family thing, my brother’s birthday. Maybe you could…” she stopped. No. Not yet. She couldn’t invite him home yet. “How about tomorrow? I’m free?”

“Sure.” His seductive grin seemed to blanket her with more lust. “We can go from here. Grab a hamburger at the diner.”

“Yeah. I’d like that very much.”

Midge had no doubt that he could read her desire. If he could figure out her relationship with Cissy so easily, certainly he sensed how much she liked him. But what should that matter? He is a direct sort of fellow, hasn’t pulled any punches about who he was, and apparently, he liked her.

Maybe she had Cissy to thank for this. Drew the guy right out of the water when it might have taken weeks before they would get to this point. Seeing him walk away, there was a self-satisfied expression on her face.

“What the hell has you so happy?” she heard Cissy’s caustic sounding question, and she turned about pleased to see that she’d noticed.

“Nothing, really? But I have to cancel our plans for tomorrow.”

“You aren’t carrying some grudge about this morning?” Cissy wondered.

“Oh, heavens no!” She smiled broadly. “I have a date.”

Refusing to elaborate, Midge pulled her backpack off its hook and took off toward her car, shaking her lovely behind as sassily as she could.

Chapter Three

Grimaces, Scowls And

Mischievous Grins

Cissy Riverton smoldered at a low burn all the way back to Grey Gulch Ranch. Hadn’t been her day. Between the stupid fight with Midge, that deplorable spanking, and Amanda Plover’s cheap shots, she was about to spit at anyone who tried to cross her. How the hell had she been picked to work with her boss all day? She was sure it had something to do with Hank and Midge—and what looked like a budding relationship between the two. What’s worst of all, she couldn’t figure how that could happen. All she’d done was come in early just so she could get a head start on her day. She had an innocent conversation with Hank, only to have Midge picking a fight, so she’d end up spending the rest of her day with a very disgruntled Amanda. All the while Midge was off on her own, no one to bother her.

Cissy took the stairs to the ranch house, letting the door slam shut as she marched inside.

“What’s eating you?” Jake saw his cousin grimace and sensed her upset.

“Bad day. Don’t ask,” she retorted.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all day.”

“But you’re one of them!” She opened the refrigerator door looking for something to eat, spying what was left of the ham they’d cooked for dinner two nights before. She grabbed it, a loaf of bread, and the jar of mayo.

“One of what?” Jake probed more.

After depositing the makings of her dinner on the counter, she turned to him with one hand on her hip and scowled, “A man—you know, two legs with a dick inside their pants.”

“Ooo. Trouble with a man?” he gibed.

“Indirectly. But like I said, don’t ask.”

“I thought you and Garth were moving along rather well.”

“Garth?”

“This isn’t about Garth?”

She looked at him surprised. “No, it’s not.” Cissy proceeded to make her dinner.

“Well, if it’s not about Garth, maybe you want to put a smile on your face before he gets here.”

“Gets here?”