Knockin' Boots Read online

He picked Kylie up in his arms and carried her to where Clint was still staring at the huge tub.

  “We all taking a bath?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

  Kylie gave him an impish grin. “You’ll thank us in the morning. Believe me. We got some incredible bath salts to put in there that work wonders on sore muscles. As soon as we get in the tub, Dan will turn on the aroma steamer. It’s got eucalyptus in it, and you won’t believe how soothing that is.”

  Clint frowned as if mulling it over in his mind then shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

  When the tub was filled completely, Dan climbed in first, then Kylie settled herself between his legs and Clint took his place last, facing them.

  “Amazing we all fit,” he commented.

  “We had it made for this purpose,” Kylie told him. “Relax. You guys did some hard work.”

  Dan flipped on the aroma steamer, and the fresh scent of eucalyptus floated out into the air.

  “After a while, Kylie will make us some dinner,” Dan told Clint. “Then I think we might all be ready for a good night’s sleep.”

  Clint frowned again. “Out of curiosity, where do we all do that?”

  Kylie laughed. “Why do you think we have such a big bed?”

  Chapter Four

  Clint had wondered if he’d be able to sleep with his two new friends. When he’d done his threesomes in hotels and apartments, they’d always spent so much time fucking, no one had bothered to think about it. And there were always extra beds and couches around if someone wanted to crash, but they never slept together, as a pair or a group. But Kylie and Dan made everything seem so natural.

  Dinner had been a long, relaxed meal. Kylie had heated up ribs she’d taken from the fridge along with a bowl of potato salad she’d obviously had waiting. Had they been expecting company, or were they always prepared like this? So many questions he wanted to ask, but the Franklins had rolled into an easy conversation over food, and they’d talked about everything else under the sun.

  Dan reminded Kylie he needed to be up early in the morning, although he didn’t explain why, and they all crawled into the big bed, Kylie in the middle. Minus their boots. He grinned to himself. He was surprised at how much room there was for the three of them and how comfortable he felt in the situation. Almost as if he’d been doing it forever.

  More fairy tales, he told himself.

  He resisted sleep as long as he could, listening to the two people next to him breathe slowly, feeling Kylie’s small, warm hand on his chest. He wanted to be damn good and tired when he finally closed his eyes. That way, he could be pretty sure he’d shut out the nightmares. They were the main reason he’d resisted spending the night at first, but Kylie and Dan were so kind and welcoming and sincere in urging him to stay. He figured he’d just pray this one night he slept all the way through.

  Finally, tired from all the physical exertion and relaxed from the tub, he closed his eyes and fell into darkness.

  Crack!

  The sound of the shot pierced the blackness of the night. One single shot followed by the rat-a-tat of a semi-automatic. Clint crouched behind their overturned Humvee, useless with its tires shot out. He was damn glad it hadn’t been an IED that did them in. Otherwise, none of them would be still breathing.

  He jacked another cartridge into his own semi and tried to see through the black of the night.

  “Reed? Reed, you there?”

  He held his breath, waiting for an answer.

  “Yeah.” The word finally floated on the darkness, but it was weak and thready.

  “What’s the sitrep? How’s Kevin?”

  The three of them had been on patrol, checking the road after night fell before a convoy tried to make it to a Forward Operating Base under cover of night.

  “Reed?” he asked again.

  “He’s hit,” came the reply at last. And, after a pause, “Me, too.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Okay, hold on. I’m coming to you.”

  He’d crawl over to the Humvee and find the rudimentary field kit every vehicle carried. You didn’t go anywhere in Afghanistan without something to take care of wounds.

  “No. Don’t move.” Pause. “Whoever shot us is still here. No sense all of us dying.”

  “No one’s going to die on my watch,” Clint snapped. “Can you do anything about the bleeding until I can get to you?”

  “Yeah. Did the best I could.”

  Clint hated it that Reed’s voice sounded weaker and weaker. Damn, he was so sick and tired of fighting people who played dirty, who killed the very people there to help them. Shoving his arm through the strap of his semi, he wriggled on his stomach over to the Humvee. If he could get to the other side where he’d have easier access to equipment….

  A bullet pierced the dirt inches from him, the sharp report loud in the inky blackness.

  Clint froze.

  “Not tonight,” an accented voice said out of the dark.

  Very slowly Clint rolled to his side and looked up to see a Taliban fighter a foot away from him, a handgun in one hand, a semiautomatic slung over his shoulder.

  “Tonight, I will finish off all three of you,” the man continued, “and anyone else who tries to destroy us.”

  Closer than he’d like, Clint heard more semi fire. He wanted to call out to his men, see if they were still alive, but he had to focus on his own situation.

  “Destroy you?” Clint was so furious he didn’t stop to weigh his words. “You fuckers are the ones out to destroy us and everyone else who doesn’t buy into your terrorist doctrine.”

  “Our beliefs are what will rule the world, American pig.”

  “Yeah?” Clint knew he should keep his mouth shut, but his rage was getting the best of him. “I’ll bet you’re afraid to take me on without that gun, or your friends up there in the rocks backing you up.”

  “You challenge my manhood?”

  The man did exactly what Clint hoped he would. He tossed his guns to the side, pride wounded, and came at Clint with his bare hands. Clint rolled with him until the man was under him, but they were clutching each other’s throats. If he could just off this guy and take his weapon….

  A shot split the night again.

  Fueled by rage, Clint smashed the other man’s head against the ground then yanked his semi around. Where were the others, damn it? He swung the gun left, then right, peering into the darkness. He had to save Reed and Kevin, had to….

  “Clint. Wake up, Clint.”

  “Save Reed,” he gasped, his fingers closing around flesh. “Save Kevin. Kill you, kill you….”

  “Clint!” The word was sharper.

  Someone grabbed his wrists and forcefully pulled his arms down.

  “Wake up.” Another voice close to his ear, too soft to belong in the scene. “Open your eyes, Clint.”

  A hand touched his cheek in a gentle caress.

  No, no, no!

  Frantically, adrenaline fueling his fear, he did his best to free himself from whoever was restraining him.

  “Clint.” This voice was sharp, authoritative, demanding. “Open your eyes. Right now.”

  With a heavy heart, sure they would all be dead in a moment, he did as commanded, eyelids heavy as if weighed down by rocks. The scene faded away, and he looked around, blinked, looked around again. Where the hell was he? In a cabin? No, that was wrong. He was in Afghanistan, in the foothills of the Hindu Kush Mountains.

  But then the soft hand caressed his face, and he realized, strong fingers were holding his wrists. Holding him in place. He looked around, discovered Kylie sitting on one side of him in a tangled mass of bedclothes, her face a study in concern. Dan was straddling him, holding his wrists.

  It finally registered where he was, and cold panic gripped him. Jesus Christ! What had happened? What had he done?

  Oh, damn. Shit and damn. He’d done it again.

  He’d known this was a bad idea. He should have insisted on leaving, but everything
was so warm, so exciting, so giving.

  “You okay if I let go of you, buddy?” Worry creased Dan’s forehead.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” He hauled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you think I could get a drink of cold water?”

  “Coming right up.” Kylie placed a gentle kiss on one cheek then scrambled over the mound of material to the refrigerator.

  “You can let go of my wrists,” Clint told Dan in a low voice. “I’m pretty sure I won’t kill anyone tonight, except maybe myself.”

  “Not even funny.” Kylie handed him a glass of ice water. “No one’s killing anyone, least of all themselves.”

  Clint drank the water down in a few swallows then pressed the cold glass against his forehead. After a moment, he pushed himself off the bed.

  “I’ll get dressed and grab my things. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I’m sure I can find a motel on the highway, or maybe some place to camp out.”

  “Hold it.” Kylie planted herself in front of him. “No one’s going anywhere. Period.”

  Clint shook his head. “You’d best just let me get out of here before I do any real damage. Truly. I thank you for everything but—”

  “But nothing.” She refused to move out of the way. “Why didn’t you say anything about having PTSD? Or some form of it?”

  He grimaced. “It’s not something you dump on the table for people, especially when…especially if….”

  “Especially nothing.” She looked at her husband. “Dan? Do something.”

  She blocked Clint’s path to his clothes while Dan stood there, studying him a little longer. Then the man gave a sharp nod of his head.

  “Kylie, put on some clothes and then make coffee. I think we’re all going to do a little talking. Clint, grab your jeans and let’s sit down.”

  The words were firm but said with a kindness Clint hadn’t heard in a long time. He sighed, pulled on his jeans, and sat down at the small table where they’d had dinner. Okay, he’d talk. But then he was leaving. He wasn’t going to put these people in danger because of his dreams or because he couldn’t get his shit together.

  He and Dan sat there in a silence a lot friendlier than Clint had expected while Kylie, dressed only in her husband’s T-shirt, made coffee and took three mugs down from a cupboard. He watched her move around the kitchen, remembering the feel of that lithe body under his hands, the sweet taste of her, the feel of her tight, wet cunt clasping around his dick like a hot fist. He touched his lips, remembering the soft feel of hers and the sexy way her tongue played with his. He was pretty damn sure he’d never find another woman he’d feel the same way about.

  And the three of them. Damn. They’d fit together so nicely, hardly needing any words to know what to do when. He’d been right about one thing. It really was a fairy tale, and everyone knew fairy tales didn’t come true.

  Kylie brought the mugs to the table, filled them, and sat opposite him. She took a sip of the hot liquid, set her own mug down, and reached for his hand. When he would have pulled it away, she tightened her small grip on it.

  “Stay connected,” she told him. “I’ve read a lot about it and seen documentaries about PTSD. They all say it helps.”

  “I never should have come here,” he told them again. “I deceived you both, but I’d hoped—”

  “You wouldn’t have an episode?” Dan asked.

  He nodded. “I don’t have them every night.”

  “Have you seen anyone about them?”

  “When I was back East, after I finished my last tour.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “But they kept saying it takes time, it takes working through. I got sick of listening to them.”

  “So you decided to get on your bike,” Dan guessed, “and find someplace where the nightmares might not follow you.”

  Clint gave him a rueful grin. “You see how well my plan worked out.”

  Dan sipped his coffee, watching Clint over the rim of the mug. “Why don’t you tell us about the dream? Is it always the same one?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think—”

  “Right. Don’t think. You’re among friends here, Clint. We may have just met, but I think I can speak for Kylie and myself when I say we feel as if we’ve known you a long time. So let’s have it.”

  Fortifying himself with the rich-roast coffee, Clint told them about his last tour, about the men he’d lost, about that last patrol, and what happened with Reed and Kevin.

  “I managed to kill those fuckers. There were only three of them. Then I radioed to the camp for help. I managed to save Reed, but Kevin was gone.” His throat tightened with tears, so he took another swallow of coffee.

  Kylie got up and brought the pot to refill his mug, giving him a kind smile.

  “I’m not in your shoes,” Dan said, “so I can’t pretend to know how you feel. But I do know carrying a burden by yourself makes it twice as heavy.” He looked across the table at his wife, who nodded. “I speak for both of us when I say we want you to stay, Clint. I think we can help you heal.”

  “Why in hell would you want to take the chance? What if I wake up and try to choke one of you again?” He shook his head. “I can’t take the chance.”

  “Yes, you can.” Kylie linked her fingers through those of his free hand. She looked at Dan, who nodded. “There’s something tying the three of us together, Clint. I know you felt it, too. We’ve searched for someone like you for a very long time. I think we can all help each other.”

  “Do this for us,” Dan put in. “Stay until tomorrow. I want to show you something. If that doesn’t persuade you, then we’ll discuss all the options. But I know we can be what you need, just as you can be what we want.”

  He sighed. How could he refuse? They offered something he wanted so badly, people who believed in him. Could he really take a chance?

  “Okay. We’ll take another look at things in the light of day. But for my own peace of mind, I’m spending what’s left of the night on the couch, okay?”

  “If that’s what will make you comfortable,” Dan agreed. “Let’s pack it in again. Despite the coffee, I think we’ll all be able to catch at least a few winks.”

  ***

  Clint barely slept during what was left of the night. The couch was long enough for his big body, but his brain wouldn’t shut off. Besides, he was afraid if he allowed himself to fall sleep again, the dream would return. He tossed fitfully, dozing off and on, glancing over at the bed occasionally, at Kylie and Dan, twined together. God, what he wouldn’t give to be part of that. The third to complete their situation.

  He wasn’t exactly sure how they’d all coexist in this cabin, but he figured if he did decide to stay, they could work it out.

  If. Big word.

  He lay there, watching the sun come up through the wide picture window, still trying to come to a rational decision.

  “We’re not letting you go.”

  Kylie’s musical voice broke into his thoughts. It startled him to realize he hadn’t even noticed her get out of bed. He looked over and saw Dan sitting up, watching him closely.

  “She’s right,” the man said. “We have something here, the three of us. Don’t lie and tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

  “You said you’d give us a chance,” Kylie reminded him. “Let us show you something, and then you can make a decision.”

  Clint looked from one to the other and saw both compassion and determination on their faces. What could he lose, really? Another few hours? He hated to admit to himself how badly he wanted this situation. How…settled…it made him feel.

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Sure.” Then he grinned. “But not without more coffee, okay?”

  “You got it.” Kylie leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

  He couldn’t resist running the tip of his tongue over hers, tasting them again. Yup. She tasted just as good this morning. He wanted to slide one hand between her legs and scoop some of her cream onto his fingers, but he was smart enough to know this
was not the right time.

  In less than fifteen minutes, they were all dressed, albeit hastily, and in the big cab of Dan’s truck, holding travel mugs filled with hot, delicious liquid. Dan drove down the narrow lane to the highway again and turned left. They had gone about a half mile when Dan turned onto a driveway and drove beneath an arch that said Broken Arrow Ranch. Rolling pastures spread on either side of him, defined by a split-rail fence. At the end of the driveway sat a low, rambling ranch house with a wide porch and a long, attached garage. Beyond it stood two large barns and other outbuildings. The early morning sun bathed everything in its golden light.

  Dan parked in front of the garage and turned off the truck.

  “Come on,” he urged Clint. “I want you to take a look.”

  Puzzled, he climbed down out of the truck then turned to help Kylie, but she jumped lithely to the ground. He stood with his hands in his jeans pockets, looking around. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the rich mixture of hay and grass and horses and cattle and earth. It reminded him of Wyoming, and a wave of homesickness swamped him, so powerful it stole his breath. What he wouldn’t give to stay here—or in a place like this.

  He turned to Dan. “Where are we?”

  “The Broken Arrow.”

  Clint huffed a sigh. “I know. I read the entrance sign. I mean, why are we here? Whose place is this?”

  Dan and Kylie looked at each other and smiled.

  “It’s ours,” Kylie told him.

  “Yours?” He froze in shock. “You own this place?”

  Dan nodded. “What do you think?”

  “Let’s show him around.” Kylie took his hand and tugged him forward. “Come on, Clint.”

  He felt as if someone else inhabited his body as she led him toward the house. Behind him, Dan chuckled. Clint walked stiffly up the front steps, waited while Kylie unlocked the door then followed her inside.

  And stopped. Dead still.

  If he didn’t know better he’d think he really was back in Wyoming. Same rambling house, same polished hardwood floors. Same comfortable furniture. Same large windows to let in the sunlight. Oh, the design and colors were different, but the feel was the same. He let Kylie urge him through the big kitchen and out onto the rear porch, where the ranch workday was beginning. Horses were being led out into the corral next to the first barn where they gamboled in the fresh air. In the distance, cattle lowed. Men in jeans and work shirts moved around, taking care of the early morning chores.