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Another successful robbery averted. But only barely. Kendall stopped and agreed to take pictures with several patrons in the area, but his mind wandered back to the last kiss he’d shared in the alley.
Casting his thoughts back to the intriguing Jocelyn, Kendall knew it was likely a bad idea, but his astonishing desire for her might need to be addressed soon. Perhaps she’d like to visit and participate in their afterhours activities.
He strolled back toward the sheriff’s office, stopping at the alley where he’d left them.
They’d already gone while he’d been dispatching robbers. He glanced at the timepiece in his pocket wondering where Logan would have taken her.
He turned and saw the sign for the saloon.
Surely not.
Logan would know better than to take her to one of the “rent by the hour” rooms upstairs in the saloon, wouldn’t he?
Kendall headed in that direction. Even if Logan hadn’t selected the absolute worst place in town to take her, he should check anyway. Logan had been acting particularly petulant about his lust for Jocelyn so far today. He’d taken risks with every opportunity explored.
Thinking about Logan’s actions, Kendall found it difficult to blame him as he also found Jocelyn intriguing. He simply wanted his best friend to wait until the appropriate time and place to explore her body.
Hell, he’d help him if only Logan would wait until afterhours and take her to their home.
Before he made it completely across the street, Cooper Mackay, another town owner and the manager of the saloon, stumbled backward out of the swinging doors and fell on his butt on the wooden sidewalk. He scrambled to his feet as sudden shouts, breaking glass, and several chairs scraping across the wooden floor could be heard from within the drinking establishment.
“Fucking asshole reporter,” Cooper muttered only loud enough to be heard by Kendall as he approached.
Kendall helped Cooper steady himself as they both quickly crashed through the doors and into the saloon. Once inside, the scene before him made him wish for a simpler life. As part owner and resident CEO of this town, Kendall was responsible for pretty much everything that happened. Today, he wished he didn’t wield so much power that could later be held against him. The only slightly good news so far was that he didn’t see Logan or Jocelyn locked in an embrace anywhere on the premises.
Unfortunately, the wayward blogger had somehow managed to prick the slow-burning anger of the typically very strong, silent, and completely calm town blacksmith, Nathan Talbot.
Nathan, toe to toe with Reggie, had pulled his authentic-looking Colt revolver from its finely tooled holster and pressed the weapon squarely to the forehead of the pesky blogger-slash-reporter and current pain in Kendall’s ass.
Kendall didn’t know what Reggie had asked, but Nathan’s response was a quiet, nearly whispered, “None of your effing business!”
Jocelyn wasn’t certain what had come over her, but she was on the way to paradise and didn’t plan on stopping. After being kissed like she was the personal possession of the town’s sheriff, Kendall, she’d missed him when he stepped away to serve as peacekeeper for the town. Meanwhile, the recent memory of being kissed by, and also sandwiched between, both Kendall and Logan made wicked thoughts form riotously in her head.
Kendall’s kiss had been every bit as aggressive and exciting as Logan’s. The same and yet different. The other thing she’d noticed was their forceful desire to pin her down and halt her movement. Thrust against a brick wall or sandwiched between them, Jocelyn discovered a deep-seated, before now unrealized desire to be overpowered by these men. So unlike her.
Once Kendall had disappeared from sight, Logan had pulled her to the end of the alley away from the gunfire now filling the dusty town streets.
“Where are we going?” Jocelyn asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he said and tugged on her hand.
The cocky, secretive grin only made her want him more. She couldn’t say no. She tried to think back to the last time she’d wanted to have sex or bothered to try. She realized the count was in years. Two plus a couple of extra months to be exact, but still a long time to ignore one’s libido.
