Wild West Hauntings, page 7
Chapter Seven
The shopping center within the Las Vegas city limits buzzed with life. Stores and restaurants in the plaza, springing back from the recession, had lots of people coming and going. The day had turned out to be a beautiful one for last minute gift buying and such—lots of sun, blue skies, above average temperatures. The weather woman on the news had been calling for inclement weather, and cold and snow were not what Bristol wanted to deal with when doing the last bits of wedding preparations. Especially after the last couple of days at the ranch.
Recalling the conversation with Marianne at the campfire and what happened to Rachel in the lodge, she shivered. The thought of that poltergeist or of any ghosts troubling her, her family and other people at the ranch disturbed her. She didn’t want anyone to come to harm. That went for her baby as well, if the books she’d read could be believed. Could the trickster come through while she and Damon were making love? Could it communicate and take over her child’s little body? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to chance it. Along with Damon physically harming the baby during sex, she was concerned about ‘being open’ and letting the poltergeist in. But she couldn’t share that tidbit with her fiancé or else he’d really make fun of her. So she kept him at bay by saying she didn’t want to give the infant a concussion.
Bristol was glad to be away from the ranch, even if it were only for a few hours.
Kent pulled the black SUV up to the curb in front of Roxy’s Bridal Boutique, depositing her and the girls in front of the double glass doors. Once she cleared the entrance, she gave Roxy a quick hand-up and pointed toward the restroom.
Roxy smiled her dazzling megawatt smile and continued gathering the dresses from the rack. “Hurry back, mama. We’ll be in the private fitting area.”
“Be back soon,” Bristol yelled as she made a beeline for the restroom. Forgetting the hinges were super loose, she slammed the bathroom door.
It sure would be nice when she could travel more than an hour without having to use the restroom. Baby Dougan had been resting on her bladder lately. Bristol waddled through the shop to the white and brass-trimmed, louvered swinging doors that led into the private room on the side of the shop. The large space had three white curtained areas where people could change into their outfits. A circular dais sat in front of a curved wall of mirrors trimmed in gold. Brass racks of beautiful clothes lined the wall opposite the dressing rooms. She loved the shop and the room. It reminded her of the upscale New York City stores that she used to shop in on a regular basis.
Cassie and Marianne stood in front of the mirrors wearing the fitted, full-length black dresses they’d ordered six weeks ago. Rachel gazed at them, a smile stretching her face in seeming approval. A complimentary glass of champagne rested in her hand.
They looked awesome in the outfits.
Roxy handed Bristol her white gown, and even though she wanted to burst into tears by how huge it looked—like a circus tent—she put it on and returned to the platform in the center of the floor.
I look like a cow!
A spotless white cow!
Oh. No. I’m not wearing this.
“I can’t wear this.”
Cassie came up next to her. Concern etched in her features. “You look beautiful, hun.”
Bristol gave her best friend—who she knew happened to be lying like a dog—a pointed stare. “Bullshit, Cassie. Look at me.” She smoothed both hands over the front of the dress and then plopped on the floor in the midst of a huge gasp. “I look like a white whale.”
Marianne’s brow furrowed. “You mean a sperm whale?”
Cassie, Rachel and Roxy glared at Marianne.
“What?” Marianne countered.
“She does not look like a whale,” Cassie promised. A second later she was on the floor with Bristol.
What the hell was up with Miguel’s girlfriend? All the progress she thought she and Marianne had made in getting along and becoming friends seemed to have hit a hitch. Bristol wanted to beat the shit out of the blonde, cry, and then run from the store. Preferably in that order, but instead she studied her image in the mirror. She looked like a blob of whipped cream dolloped on the light brown carpet.
“Seriously Bristol, you look radiant. A lovely mother-to-be and wife-to-be,” Rachel whispered the words, making sure she didn’t remove her gaze from Bristol.
“I’m not wearing this.” Bristol’s tone was curt. She wanted everything to be perfect and so far it wasn’t. Might as well try something different, something to match my mood. “I’d like to see all of the black dresses you have in stock, Roxy.”
“Sure sweetie, I can do that. I’ll be back.” Roxy patted Bristol on the shoulder and headed toward the stockroom.
Marianne stood beside Bristol and did her best hovering. “You do realize that the wedding is in two days. You’re very pregnant, and Damon’s tux was designed to match your dress.”
Marianne’s scolding tone shifted Cassie’s gaze from her smartphone to Marianne. “And?”
The blonde popped the top on her diet soda. “I’m just saying, change this late in the game isn’t a good idea.”
“This is Bristol’s day. If she wants to change her dress, she damn well can,” Cassie voiced her opinion with steely precision.
Roxy returned without any dresses. “I’m sorry Bristol. I’m going to have to order the dress special. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’ll make it happen. Now, let’s get you measured and a style picked.”
Bristol rubbed her eyes. Why wasn’t anything going smoothly? “Okay. Let me call Damon and let him know.”
Lo and behold she didn’t have to phone her man. He barreled though the swinging doors carrying all kinds of panic on his face. “You are not wearing black to our wedding, darlin’.”
Cassie glared at Marianne. “I wonder who called lover boy.”
Marianne tucked her hair behind her ear. “Someone had to tell him. I mean he does have to order a new tux and time is wasting.” She admired her hourglass physique in the mirror, then turned to Cassie. “Right?”
Damon grabbed Cassie’s arm before she had a chance to move. “It’s okay,” he said.
“It’s really not a big deal if Bristol wants a black dress. Black is elegant.” Cassie made her point. She helped Bristol up from the sitting position on the floor in front of the mirror, and swinging an arm around Bristol’s right shoulder, she pulled her close.
Damon put his arm around Bristol’s left shoulder sandwiching her between him and Cassie. “Black is for funerals, baby. Do you really want to marry me wearing black?” he whispered against her ear.
“My girls are wearing black.”
“Baby, they’re attendants.”
“I don’t want to look like a white sperm whale. And I do in this dress. I mean look at me.” Bristol’s pleading tone was making her sick. Dang, she sounded like a spoiled kid.
Cassie kissed Bristol on the cheek. “You’re beautiful. The only sperm whale in here right now is Marianne,” she whispered, and then took off leaving her in Damon’s arms.
“Baby, you are beautiful regardless of the color of your clothes. You can march down the aisle naked for all I care just as long as you walk the aisle to me.” Damon took her by the hand. “Come on.”
They stepped off the circular riser and disappeared into one of the dressing rooms. As soon as the floor to ceiling curtain closed, he pulled her into his arms and covered her lips with his.
Fire, red hot and blazing, ignited a pulsating warmth pushing through her veins, and everything that had happened today—the dress fiasco, Marianne’s rude comments, and the vision of how she looked in the white wedding dress she still wore—slipped from her mind.
Only the power in Damon’s touch, the careful way he cradled her head as they kissed, and the gentle yet forceful way his body pressed against hers as he stepped forward and backed her snug to the wall was what mattered.
Even though she didn’t want to, she broke away from his kiss. “Oh Damon… I’m being a pill, right?”
He appeared to suppress a smile and kissed her nose. “We could say that is so, Miss Ashcombe, but then again, that spunk is what I so adore about you, darlin’.” His lips moved to her neck. “I want you so badly. I say let’s get naked right now.”
Oh, Damon.
Everything south of the border on her screamed ‘yes,’ but then her inner diva squelched that idea with one thought—baby. Followed by—head, brain damage, poltergeist. With the accompanying visuals to go with her paranoia, she pushed Damon to arms’ length against his desire to stay put. “The baby. We can’t.”
“Another fallacy; yes, we can.” Incredulous, he stifled what appeared to be a teasing smile. A sexy one at that. The man had sex appeal all over. “But I know the whole brain damage thing that you’re afraid will happen if we do.”
“What are you smiling like that?” Bristol tilted her head to the side, and Damon smirked a little wider, his eyes dancing with some hidden secret.
“Well, first off, I’m honored you think my cock is that massive. Damn woman, for me to hit the baby’s head, I’d need to be well over ten inches. And second, ah hell, it’s just plain damned funny.”
Bristol shook her head and gave him a big, long, drawn out tisk. “Give a pregnant woman a break. I mean even setting the baby hurting possibility aside, look at me. I’m not feeling the sexiest these days.”
He shook loose of her arm’s length game and pulled her against him. “Perhaps. But baby, you are sexy. He stared into her eyes, and the blue in his gaze darkened with desire and need. “I don’t know how many more cold showers I can take before I gently tie you down on the bed and love you the way I want to.”
Just the thought of his want sent her spiraling. Her body heated several degrees. Burning, raw yearning laced every syllable in his words, gluing her in place.
“Tie?” Remembrance of his gentleness the first time he’d done exactly that to her surfaced in her thoughts and she swallowed against the lump of need practically strangling her.
“Gently. Ever so gently with you darlin’.”
He slanted his lips over hers once more, only pulling away when her stomach growled. Concerned, he arched a brow. “When did you eat last?”
Uh-oh. Well hell. With all of the wedding drama, she’d actually forgotten to eat. Marianne had them dressed and out of the house so early that food was the furthest thing from her mind.
“Well?” he pressed.
“Last night.”
Damon’s lip’s twitched with disbelief and a bit of anger. “Not the answer I wanted to hear.”
“I know. I know. I’ll eat as soon as we’re done here.”
He shot her a daring look and then shook his head. “Nope. You’ll eat now. Dress shopping can wait.”
“But—”
“No buts about it. Get dressed. I’ll tell Kent to drive the girls, and they all can meet you, me and the guys across the plaza at Johnny Rockets for lunch.”
She really wanted to get this dress stuff finished. Frustrated, she changed her tone to a whine with the hopes of playing on his emotional side. “But—”
It didn’t work.
“Do it.” Damon stopped short of the dressing room exit. “Before I put you over my knee and spank you into submission.”
Shocked at his reply, she stood glaring at him for a few seconds. He wouldn’t really spank her. Although he did mention on several occasions that after the baby was born she might enjoy a sexual spanking. She wasn’t quite sure what that entailed, yet anything that had the words Damon and sex in the same sentence she’d walk over hot coals to try. She seemed to recall a paddle in the box of gifts Damon had given her. Would that toy be what he used on her bum?
“Woman, snap out of it and get your fine behind dressed.” He pinched her ass.
“Hey, wait a—”
She didn’t get the last word out because he nipped her other butt cheek.
“Oh baby, are you going to keep talking?” Smirking, he rubbed his palm. “This palm here is twitchin’ something fierce.”
She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion for his benefit. “Oh fine. I’ll be out in a second.” She hesitated, and then added, “It may take me a bit longer.” Actually it would if she didn’t ask Damon for help unzipping the dress. “Would you mind unzipping me before you run out of here?”
Damon unzipped her, kissed her cheek, smacked her ass and was gone before she could open her mouth in protest at his last course of action or ask for help with the buttons on the dress.
A few minutes later Roxy emerged. “Thought you might need a hand with your clothes.”
“You’re a life saver. My bossy, soon-to-be husband forgot that I’m somewhat harnessed into this dress. And now that he’s seen me in it, I will definitely need a new one.”
Roxy’s soft sophisticated laughter filled the small room as she went about the business of helping Bristol out of her dress. “In fact, he sent me in, pronto, and I have plenty of other dresses you can try on.” She stopped what she was doing and shook her head in disbelief. “As for bossy. Yes, I do agree.”
Bristol considered the words and her man’s personality. Sure, he was domineering and sometimes overbearing, but he was one of the most caring men she’d ever known and protective, too. He’d love her and their little one forever and keep them safe. She smiled and hurried to dress. The man she treasured waited for her.
Chapter Eight
The cute as a button waitress set the last plate of food down on the table in front of Damon before asking if she could get them anything else. The smells wafting off the burger platter in front of her hubby sent saliva pouring into her mouth.
Why didn’t I order that?
Bristol gave a hard look at her chef salad and then a second and third glance at the luscious burger. She’d just about psyched herself into eating the salad—was in the last stages of acceptance of the greenery, convincing herself it was good for her and the baby—when Damon leaned in to her. “You want to share our lunches?”
Alleluia. Yes, yes. He had a big, juicy burger and fries. How could she possibly resist the greasy, fatty temptation? Wasn’t even an option. Perhaps overzealous at the suggestion, but just the same, she spooned a big helping of rabbit food on her appetizer plate even in the midst of excessive chuckling from Damon and handed it to him.
Hesitation and a slight shift of embarrassment stopped her from reaching over and cutting Damon’s burger. “I’m a bit overtly excited. Right?”
With the smallest curve of his lips, he waited as if he was thinking deeply about his reply. “I’d say hungry, darlin’. The anxious part is fueled by that desire.”
Suddenly without so much as a subtle warning, Damon’s gaze shifted to smoldering need. That look was enough to heat the entire inside of her body.
“Go ahead.” He gave his burger a glance. “Cut it. Take what you want.”
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. If there wasn’t an entire restaurant full of people and she wasn’t close to popping a baby out, she’d have already dragged him under the table, stripped him to his last stitch of clothing and had her way with him. His generous nature, sultry expressions and voice had her hormones raging. Yet, instead of acting on her visions of what she’d like to do, she cut into his burger.
He gave her a slow, appraising look as she lifted the burger from his plate, licking her lips in the process. At the same time she took a huge bite, he let out a soft groan.
“Is it good?”
She chewed and swallowed the bite. “Very,” she whispered and then stuffed the burger into her mouth for another bite.
The air around the two of them crackled with desire. Was it for the food that she’d craved, or had the food concept disappeared when her knife sliced into his burger? Yeah, they were definitely talking about meat, but it wasn’t about the type she had just chewed and swallowed.
“Looks like everyone decided to abandon us.” Damon chuckled as he glanced around the now empty table. “We must have been making the gang uncomfortable with our sexual undertones and raw lust for each other.” He winked.
She rolled her eyes in an overly exaggerated manner, but he was right. The table guests had relocated to the bar during the smoldering desire stage of the lunch. And the lust phase hadn’t halted completely.
Her man bit into his burger, sending ketchup oozing from the side of his mouth. With a careful, long and sensual swipe of his tongue, he licked the small red line before it had a chance to drip to his chest. Bristol pinched her thighs together in the hopes that the warm sensations dancing in her stomach didn’t end up with her peeing her pants.
“Dang, woman. This is one luscious burger. Don’t you think?”
The words to the Ohio Players’ one hit wonder song ‘Fire’ let loose in her head. If he kept eating this sexually, she’d soon need rescuing, as in being doused with gallons of water.
She glanced at the bar and was relieved to see that their friends hadn’t noticed her and Damon’s last scene. Surely she had looked like a panting dog when Damon stuck that burger in his mouth and then licked his lips.
“I’m a slight bit embarrassed.” Even through her discomfiture, Bristol couldn’t waste a good piece of food, so she shoved the last piece of salad on her plate into her mouth.
“For what?”
Giving him a dubious look, she peered down her nose at him. “Making our friends and family feel uncomfortable.”
He shrugged and then downed the last of the beer in his glass. “They don’t, darlin’. They were just giving us space to ogle each other in private.”
She gaped and touched the back of her hand to her head. “Damon!” From the look of repressed laughter on his face she knew she’d just pulled an acting move on him. Sometimes it was hard for her to leave that part of her life on the stage, being that it was a huge part of who she’d been prior to meeting her cowboy.
Before she could protest his movement, he had her, chair and all, snug against the front of his chair, both of his arms enveloped around her. “Oh my beautiful Broadway actress, let’s go have a drink with the crew so we can make nice and go home sooner to fondle each other in private.”
