Free Cowboy Sandwich by Reece Butler Page B

buttermilk biscuits?”
    She shook her head. “Nope. But I’d sure like to learn.”
    “I don’t do sweets.”
    “Now, that’s something I can do. Squares, muffins, cookies, cakes, brownies, berry buckle, apple crumble…. Maybe you could give me an idea of what my new bosses like.”
    “We like anything and everything,” said Bryan, returning outside.
    “Now grab something and get inside before you freeze that cute little Cowboy Sandwich
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    ass.” He smacked her butt possessively and went to the truck for another load.
    She glared, rubbing her bottom. Last night’s introduction to three-ways followed by hours of sitting in a truck made her a mite tender.
    Johnny’s eyes lit up and he smiled, strong white teeth glowing against the dark skin. “So that’s how it is. Well, come on in, wash up and I’ll give you a lesson on how to make the lightest, fluffiest biscuits in the world.”
    Candy, having removed coat and boots in the mudroom, stepped into the kitchen and stopped, sock feet on polished cork.
    “Oh, my. This is perfect!”
    Her dream kitchen was huge, with stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances and a glass-front industrial fridge. Wooden cupboards rose to the ceiling, some with glass doors. A huge ancient harvest table with eight chairs, each with a different colored cushion, ran along one wall.
    Johnny pulled milk and eggs from the fridge.
    “You can’t mix biscuits too much or they won’t be light. Use a fork and stir it in just enough. Rolling pin’s in the far drawer.”
    She put on a cherry sprigged apron and, under Johnny’s guidance, rolled and stamped out the dough. She insisted the old man sit and point out everything so she could learn the kitchen. She set four places, clustering them at one end of the newly-washed table.
    Concentrating on pulling the pan from the oven, she didn’t hear the men enter.
    “That’s what I like to see when I come home,” drawled Bryan.
    “The business end of a woman, doin’ one of the things she does best.”
    Her back to him, she slid the perfectly browned biscuits into a basket lined with a checked tea towel. If she thought for a minute he was serious, she’d bean him with one. She heaped stew on plates, thinking up a good comeback line.

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    Reece Butler
    “I’d eat before I said something like that if I was you,” said Johnny with a snicker. “Might end up with hot pepper flakes all over your plate.”
    “Nah,” replied Bryan, washing in the sink. “She knows I’m playing around.”
    “You’re always playing around,” said Adam, entering the room.
    Cold air looked good on him. He rolled up his sleeves, watching her.
    Suddenly her chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the room.
    She picked up the basket and bent over to set it on the table. Large wet hands captured her breasts from behind.
    “What are you doing?” She jabbed both elbows back and Bryan let loose with an ‘oomph’.
    “Just staking my claim, woman,” he replied. “I drove the whole way while you two…” he flicked his eyes at the old man sniggering in the far chair, “…snored.”
    “I don’t snore,” declared Candy.
    “Nah, it’s more of a cute little snuffle,” said Adam. “And then you sigh and snuggle up, that sweet bottom right up against my…”
    “Hush!” Face heating, she shot a warning glance, tilting her head at Johnny.
    “Don’t mind me, I wasn’t born yesterday,” said the old man. He winked and picked up his fork. “You can do what you like long as you don’t mess with the bunkhouse.” He blew on a forkful of stew.
    “Be good to have a woman around.”
    “I’m just here for a few weeks.”
    Johnny looked from Adam to Bryan, then Candy. “Uh huh. Sure you are.”
    In between good-natured bantering, the men talked about what had gone on at the ranch during the few days they’d been away.
    Candy listened to them natter, just like Sue’s family when the two of them were children. She took a deep breath, held it