Date Night, Page 2

  When we step into the kitchen, I immediately stop and nearly buckle over in laughter from the “crime scene” in front of us. Laying in a pile of hay—that’s going to be “fun” to clean up—is Chloe’s giant teddy bear she got from one of Lauren’s obnoxious brothers with a small axe blasted right into the heart of its stuffing. For added effect, she pulled some of the stuffing out and colored it red.

  Damn, she’s good.

  It’s the little touches, like dying teddy bear stuffing, that puts my wife above and beyond the rest.

  Holding back my smirk, I drop to my knees and take the bear’s paw in mine. “Oh Carl, what happened to you?” Whispering, I ask, “Who did this?”

  “Please, Clyde.” Mary Sue shies away, arm draped over her eyes. “I can’t bear to see Carl like this. Cover him up.”

  With the blanket that’s neatly folded to the side, I shake it out and drape if over the bear, only to find initials spray painted across the fabric.

  Damn, I actually liked this blanket.

  I shake off the loss of sheep’s wool comfort and focus on the clue. “J L.” I glance up at Mary Sue. “What do you suppose it means?”

  Eyes wide, she says, “Do you think it’s the killer’s initials?”

  “That would seem too obvious, like the bastard wants to get caught.”

  “Maybe they do want to get caught.” Mary Sue scans my chest and licks her lips. For a good show, I flex and catch the way her eyes light with interest.

  I stand and stroll to her where I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in close. Her hands fall to my chest on a gasp, one still clutching her Nerf gun.

  “Clyde, what on earth are you doing?”

  “Keeping you close, darlin’. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you. There’s a killer in these here parts, and I’ll be damned if you’re next.”

  “You’re so brave.” Her hand roams my chest, playing with the stubble of my chest hair. “I know Daddy doesn’t trust you to be near me because of your virile sex appeal, but I don’t trust anyone else with my life . . . or my body.”

  I slide my hand down her back, to the lip of her waistband where I slip my fingers along her backside. My fingers connect with a smooth piece of fabric, and my mind starts cataloging the pieces of lingerie Lauren saves for special occasions. From the feel and texture, I can narrow it down to her purple silk cheekies or her red silky boy shorts that barely contain her perfect ass.

  “Did it get hot in here, or is it just me?” she asks, running her fingers across one of my nipples.

  “Hot,” I say on a squeak. “Very hot.”

  Maintaining eye contact, she lowers her hands to her shorts, undoes them, and pushes them to the ground until they’re a pool of denim at her feet. With her toe, she flings them to the side, and I peruse her lower half.

  Boy shorts.

  I’m a fucking goner.

  “That’s better.”

  Chapter Two

  ALEX

  Staring at my wife, wearing nothing but a crop top, a handkerchief around her neck, and red silky boy shorts, I ask, “Are you able to solve crime in that outfit?”

  “The jean shorts were holding me back. Now I can really think.” She playfully rubs her hands together.

  “Well, you’re making it hard for me to think, darlin’.”

  “Hard?” she asks in a cheesy tone while glancing at my crotch.

  Stepping forward, I take her hand in mine and lower it to my dick, where she cups me through my pants. “Yes, very fucking hard.”

  “Clyde.” She feigns innocence. “Are you saying you have feelings for me? After all these years of working for Daddy, taking care of the steed, and bringing in more money for the ranch than we could ever have imagined, you’ve been harboring feelings for me?”

  “How could I not? When you prance around the grounds wearing those tiny shorts and low-cut shirts?” I grip her ass unapologetically and pull her in close again. “Every day I watch you closely, the way the sun lights up your golden hair and how your smile grows wider than the sunset every time you hop on Old Bessy for a ride.”

  “Clyde.” She holds her hand to her chest. “I had no idea. Daddy won’t like this.”

  “I don’t give a crap about your daddy,” I grunt before tipping her chin up and capturing her mouth with mine.

  Warm, yet urgent, Mary Sue mirrors my demanding kiss with her own. Her hands float up to the nape of my neck while her tongue swipes across my lips, parting them with ease. She lightly moans into my mouth, as my grip trails down to her ass, slides under the boy shorts, and squeezes flesh.

  “Oh Clyde,” she moans in between kisses.

  I back her against the kitchen wall and quickly lift her up by the ass. Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, and I use the tan wall as support to hold her while she lightly starts to grind her center over my dick.

  She’s randy tonight, and the thought that she’s so turned on right now only makes me harder.

  I might have to dress up as a cowboy more often.

  “God,” she groans into my ear as my lips make work of her neck. “You’re so strong and burly. How many bales of hay do you toss every day?”

  “Fifty at least,” I say, not really giving my answer any thought. But now that I’m doing the calculations in my head, fifty is a lot, almost back breaking. But, we’re in our fantasy world right now, so I don’t give a flying fuck.

  But, if I was tossing fifty bales of hay around a ranch every day, I sure as hell wouldn’t have this dad bod. I would have abs like I had in college, sculpted man arms and shoulders, and my thighs would be tearing through these jeans.

  “Hey,” Lauren says, giving my cheek a little tap. “Your lips went dead fish on me.”

  “Oh.” I shake my head. “Sorry, was thinking about hay bales.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes widen. “Can’t hear that enough while I’m trying to be sexy with my husband.”

  “Not like, in a sexual way, just thinking if I actually did chuck around fifty hay bales a day what kind of body I’d have.”

  She frowns. “Uh, why does it matter? I love your body now.”

  All accents are gone and we’re both having a moment out of character. “It’s not what it used to be.”

  “But your heart is, and that’s all that matters. Plus, I like this side of you. Strong with a whole bunch of love.”

  With my fingers, I caress the side of her cheek and look her in the eyes. “I love you so goddamn much.”

  “I know.” She glances over my shoulder. “Now come on, cowboy, we have a murder to solve.”

  Clearing my throat, I set her back down on the ground. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to get out of control there. I hope your daddy didn’t see us, or else I’d be starin’ down the barrel of his shotgun.”

  “But you’re his best employee. Don’t you think he’d be happy that I’d fall for such a dependable and intelligent man?” Mary Sue asks.

  “He’s always warned me to stay away from his daughter. I’m not sure he’d ever think highly of the pairing, not after he caught wind of the rumors of my womanizing.”

  “But that’s all they were, rumors. You’re still a virgin.”

  Brow cocked, in my normal voice I say, “Still a virgin? Really? You want Clyde, this virile man who works with his hands day in and day out to be a virgin? I love you, babe, but that’s unrealistic. If anything, he’s been banging the cook for extra sides of cornbread after a long day under the sun.”

  “The cook is a man,” she deadpans.

  “Says who?”

  “Says this feminist.” She crosses her hands over her chest.

  Fair enough. “Okay, then he’s been banging Mary Sue’s mother.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Well, at least that makes her easy.”

  “Alex!” Lauren slaps me in the chest. “Don’t be disgusting.”

  Chuckling, I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “Well, then don’t make Clyde a vi
rgin.”

  Huffing, she looks to the side and says, “But I’ve always wanted to do it with a virgin. The fumbling hands, the uneasiness, not knowing where to stick it.”

  “So, basically you want to relive the first time we had sex.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No, I really don’t.”

  “But it was so magical.”

  “Uh . . .” I stare her down, blinking a few times. “Lauren, I stuck my finger in your ass thinking I was hitting your G-spot.”

  “Well, you hit a spot all right, but it didn’t start with a G.”

  I drag my hand over my face, hating that we’ve been out of character for so long. “We’re getting off track. I’m not going to be a virgin, that’s final.”

  “Ugh, fine.” She pouts. “Can you at least have only had sex with Daisy, the milkmaid? And have always wondered what it would be like to fuck Mary Sue with her giant tits rather than the little pebbles Daisy has?”

  “Yup, huge knockers. Got it. I can do that.”

  “Okay.” She shakes out her limbs and then her face morphs back into a damsel in distress. Scanning the crime scene, she asks, “What do you think J. L. stands for?”

  Rubbing my chin, I stare at her breasts for a good ten seconds, which brings a smile to her face. “It must be some sort of clue. Who on the ranch has the initials of J. L.?”

  “I’m so flustered, I can’t think of names, maybe we should keep searching.”

  “I think you’re right.” I take her hand in mine and man my Nerf gun to my chest. “Stick close, Mary Sue.” She pushes her breasts up against my back.

  “Is that close enough?”

  “Perfect,” I growl before moving around the stabbed bear to the heart of the kitchen, where I stop abruptly and point to a half-empty cup of tea and a trail of tea leaves scattered across the counter. “Look, Mary Sue, tea.”

  As if this is the first time she’s seeing the setup, she squats down so she’s eye level and examines the spilled tea leaves with a swipe of her finger and a sniff. “English breakfast, unmistakably.”

  “Who on the ranch drinks English breakfast tea besides Carl?”

  “From the tea party Coraline the horse whisperer held the other day, quite a few. This could lead us to any of the suspects.”

  “Well, do you have a list of the people who attended the tea party? Were you one of them?” I step back, observing Mary Sue with a trained eye. “Should I be worried that there is a gun in your hand?”

  She stands straight, insulted. “How dare you even consider me to be a suspect. I was born and raised on this ranch. I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this ranch. Why on earth would I murder someone on it, risking the press catching hold of this and labeling the ranch as murder row?”

  “Maybe you have something to gain from it.”

  She takes a step back. “How dare you. I have everything to lose and nothing to gain. And Carl was a dear friend.” She clutches her chest. “There were days where we would just walk around the ranch, hand and teddy bear paw taking in the beautiful landscape. If anyone has anything to gain, it’s you.” She points an accusatory finger at me.

  “I have something to gain?” I ask, flustered. “What on earth could I possibly gain from killing Carl?”

  Ticking off on her fingers, she says, “Revenge on my father for not giving you a raise when you rightfully deserved one. Or how about the outlandish jealousy you display whenever you saw me with Carl?”

  “Carl was gay, so there was zero chemistry between you two and no jealousy on my end.”

  “Carl was not gay,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “Sweet Mary Sue, you’re so naïve. You were merely treated as his beard. I caught Carl and Malibu Ken many times in the hayloft. They were a thing.” I snap my fingers, an idea popping in my head. “Was Malibu Ken invited to the tea party? Tainted lover seeks revenge?”

  “He had a scuba lesson that day, so he couldn’t make it.”

  “Damn.” With the edge of the Nerf gun I scratch my head. “I guess that brings it back to you.”

  “I am not a murderer, but if you keep saying I am, I might find the temptation to shoot my gun.” With a firm set in her jaw, she lifts her Nerf gun and points it directly at my crotch.

  “Hey-o, okay.” I back away, knowing how hard these things can pelt someone, especially up close. “You didn’t kill Carl. You’re crossed off my suspect list.”

  “Damn right I am.” Examining the tea again, she says, “Look, there are little footprints in the leaves, barely visible, but they’re there.”

  I bend at the waist and take them in. “Are those toe marks?”

  “Or claws.”

  I scratch my chin. “I think we need to keep moving.” I take her hand in mine and move around the island while counting off our clues. “Carl was murdered with an axe. The initials J. L. were conveniently spray-painted on the blanket used to cover up the deceased, and whoever murdered Carl, had a cup of tea and made a mess about it, leaving hand-claw prints. This means one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Mary Sue whispers.

  “You need to take your top off.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips to the side. “How on earth is me taking my top off going to solve this case?”

  I shrug. “Magic tits. If I tweak the nipples, I might have a revelation and be able to crack this case.”

  “That’s the saddest line I’ve ever heard to get a girl to take her shirt off. I thought you were smoother than that, Clyde.”

  “Desperation makes you do strange things, darlin’. Desperation and death.”

  “I’m not taking my shirt off. If you want to see my naked breasts, then you’re going to have to work for it.”

  “Did you have to put the word naked in front of breasts?”

  “Yes, because it means so much more. It means you get all the goods.”

  Studying her, I say, “You know, I never thought the shy, rancher’s daughter with the tight ass would be so forthcoming. After all the times you caught me staring, and shied away, I thought you’d have the same disposition.” I step forward, looping my hand to the small of her back. “But come to find out, you have a dirty side to you.”

  “Because I said naked breasts?”

  “That”—I smile—“and because you’re standing in front of me with no britches and an extremely low-cut shirt. You also cupped my junk.”

  She runs her tongue over her teeth and shrugs casually. “Maybe I have a little bit of dirty in me, but only because I’ve been lusting after you for so long, and you’re finally looking at me the way I’ve wanted you to look at me ever since you stepped your punchy-toed boots on this ranch.”

  She glides her hand up my chest to my neck. “Have you been lustin’, darlin’?” My hands snake up her back to the short hemline of her shirt, and I slowly start to peel it up. Her eyes widen briefly before she raises her arms and lets me peel it off completely, revealing a matching red bra that does nothing to conceal her breasts.

  Round and pillowy, all I want to do is bury my head in her cleavage and live there for the rest of the night.

  Her fingers dance across my chest, her nails scraping against my burning skin as the desire for this woman, my wife, intensifies.

  “We have a murder to solve,” I croak out as her hand comes to the button of my jeans. “Carl needs justice.”

  “My vagina needs justice first.”

  She undoes my jeans and lowers them just enough so she can stick her hand inside, once again cupping my cock, but this time, with only a layer of boxer briefs in between—I put them back on after a good chafing at the office. She fondles me playfully, stroking my length, pleased with how hard I already am. Doesn’t take much for this accountant to get it up. Just a quick look at his nearly naked wife and he’s ready to go.

  “Slow down, darlin’. You’re getting quite handsy when we have a murder to solve.”

  The corner of her l
ips fall south. “Why are you so intent on solving this murder, Clyde? I have my hand down your pants. The rancher’s daughter is giving you the green light. Why are you stalling?”

  “Because I can’t in good— Whoa.” My hips jerk up when her hand slips past my boxer briefs and straight to tip of my cock, where she grips tightly. Buckled over slightly, I rest a hand against the wall to steady myself. “Okay, I see what you’re trying to do.”

  “Do you?”

  I nod, hissing through my teeth when her finger plays with that special little spot underneath the head of my cock.

  Gulping hard, I say, “Yup, you’re trying to distract me from solving this case because. . . because you’re an accomplice.”

  In a flash of anger, her hand squeezes even tighter around my length, and I nearly shoot out of my boots.

  “Oy. Lady, watch it.”

  “What did I tell you about blaming me for this murder? Keep my name out of it, Clyde, or else you’re not going to like what happens next.”

  “If you’re trying to convince me that you have nothing to do with the axing to the stuffing of Carl, threatening me is not the way to do it.”

  “And if you want inside my loins, accusing me of heinous crimes is not the way to do it.”

  “Yeah, well, if you want me to put my dick inside of you, don’t refer to your vagina as your loins.” I lift a suggestive brow in her direction, which commences a full-on stare down.

  Her brown eyes to my blue, unblinking, unwavering.

  Her hand still gripping my dick like a vise.

  My hand still steadying me on the wall as my legs wobble beneath me with excitement and fear all wrapped up into one.

  To even the playing field, I drop the Nerf gun on the counter and reach out to grip her breast, tugging ever so slightly.