Free A Wild Red Rose by Lynn Shurr Page B

$150,000 a year fighting bulls.” Not counting interest from his trust fund and stock dividends, his prize money, some small endorsements, and gigs at bullfighting clinics. Clint raked a hand through his short, dark blond hair. He had no energy left to deal with Renee’s moods tonight. If she didn’t want his help, she could go, just go, and leave him to cope with his own pain. When he’d seen her all tricked out in those new clothes, flirting with another man in the stands tonight, he knew he’d never tame her, teach her the right way to behave. Bodey had pegged her as a man-eater, and she’d sure taken a chunk of out him tonight.
    “Clint, I saw how you saved that rider’s life. You aren’t paid nearly enough. I’ll take the clothes back tomorrow, all except the outfit I wore. I squeezed my soda cup when the bull hit you and sort of ruined any chance for an exchange. You must be sore. Come over here and drop those pants.” Renee patted the mattress.
    “Look, I’m a little tired and a lot bruised.”
    Still, he took off his shirt and dropped his pants. Renee usually enjoyed the revelation of his tight, shapely buttocks, but tonight a “Eeuwww” escaped her.
    “I had an eggplant in my refrigerator go bad one time. You’re that same color behind.”
    “I didn’t need to know. I don’t want to be on the top or the bottom tonight, okay?”
    “How about sideways? I’ll do all the work. You just enjoy.”
    “Well, sex does ease the pain—or at least takes my mind off of it.” Enjoying her one last time wasn’t really giving in, right?
    “Then let me take care of you.”
    Clint eased himself down on his side. Renee slid a slim hand deep between his legs and stroked. She cupped and massaged his balls, working her way upward until he sprang erect between her fingers. She rolled a condom down, stroking as she went, placed one leg over his thigh, and eased herself on top of his penis. Working those marvelous internal muscles of hers, Renee milked him dry. Once she finished him off and withdrew, Clint moaned and rolled over on his front.
    “I guess you didn’t get much out of that,” he said. He also guessed she’d be gone in the morning now that his thrusters were out of order. He almost wished for Renee to disappear so he could end the struggle and get on with his life.
    “I got all that I wanted,” she answered. “Go to sleep, Clint.”

Chapter Seven
    Sr. Inez got up from her place before the shrine to the Virgin with the use of her blackthorn walking stick. She helped Sr. Helen arise and handed her a brightly painted cane. They stretched, limped down the aisle of the nuns’ chapel at Mt. Carmel Academy, and exited into the thick, hot summer air.
    “I saw Prudence Niles at Rainbow Liquor and Groceries today. She was stocking up on booze for the week. Doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.” Sr. Inez shook her head sadly. “She said she had a postcard from Renee. She and her cowboy went to Casper, Wyoming, to help with a rodeo for special kids.”
    “That doesn’t sound like Renee. I was under the impression she only went to charitable affairs to meet rich men. Do you think our prayers for her are working?” Sr. Helen asked.
    “I’m positive, but I believe we need reinforcements. The BVM cannot handle this alone. Tomorrow after dinner, we should go into the pine woods and pray to St. Mary Magdalene at her statue.”
    “Ah, Nessy, I don’t think I can make it down that long and winding path anymore. With all the praying we’ve been doing in the chapel, even in the air-conditioning, my knees are killing me. I’m happy to offer up my pain to God, but if I collapse halfway there, you won’t be able to carry me back to the convent.”
    “I’ll ask the Mother Superior to borrow the golf cart. She does approve of what we are trying to accomplish—the redemption of Renee Niles Bouchard Hayes.”
    “Very well, then,” said Sr. Helen, her blue eyes twinkling, her white head nodding. “You