Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

Was that true now? Was that all I desired now? Even after a few short hours, things had changed. No, I had changed. I liked the way they looked at me. Touched me. Spoke with me. I liked the way they made me feel, and not just when I was naked and they had their hands on me. They didn’t belittle how unladylike I was. They didn’t shame me. They didn’t hit. Quite the opposite, in fact. They put me first. Honored me. Valued me. Fuck, they truly wanted me.

“Do you want us to get down on bended knee or do you want a shoot out, sweetheart? Pick the right one because it’s a story you’ll tell our grandkids.”

God, was I really considering marrying them? Fuck, I was. No, not considering. I wanted to marry them. But I didn’t want to outright say it either. They were running roughshod all over me, and I was not going to stand for that. I refused to go from one house to another where two men bossed me about.

The waited for my answer. Two handsome men. Virile, rugged. One dark, the other with lovely red hair like fire. Solid, sturdy, stalwart. They were also good. And they wanted me. They wanted me, flaws and quirks and all.

They somehow knew me, because… a shootout? He knew I could hit a target. I’d never seen either of them fire a weapon before. Did I want the romantic gesture or did I want to beat their pants off?

I smiled, for they really did understand me. A whole life with Father and my brothers—my oldest one, Tom, had been shot and killed in a robbery a few years earlier—and they barely paid any attention to me, knew my wants, my dreams. They knew nothing about me except I was a woman and I served them food and cleaned their house. I wanted a real home, a real family with Hank and Charlie. “Shoot out. Definitely a shootout.”

8

HANK

I’D BEEN SO DRIVEN, so focused on capturing my father’s killers. Ever since I received news he’d been shot, point blank and in cold blood, I’d wanted justice. I’d even taken the drastic step of taking over as sheriff. It had meant time away from Bridgewater, staying in town and sleeping at my father’s house, the one I’d grown up in. Without him there, it had felt empty, and it had made me realize my life was empty, only filled with the justice I wanted so fucking badly.

I hadn’t appreciated my father’s interest in defending the vulnerable until he was gone. Only when we lowered the pine box in the ground had I felt vulnerable myself. My mother had died birthing me, leaving my father to care for a newborn alone. It had been just the two of us ever since and he’d done a good job. But one bullet and I’d become alone. I’d become victim to men who ruthlessly and without any morals killed a lawman.

I wanted retribution and revenge. I wanted the Grove gang caught.

And now, we had two in custody. I should have felt elation. Felt that justice was a little closer to being served. I did. Fuck, yes. But it wasn’t bringing Father back. He was still dead. Still gone. I was satisfied to know they wouldn’t be hurting anyone else.

Marcus and Travis Grove would have been dragged back to Simms by now, sitting in the jail cell. The doc would have patched them up enough to live until they were sentenced and hanged, probably gave them each a bottle of whiskey to dull the pain.

They had a week, I guessed, until they were dead. As sheriff, it was my job to see it done.

I’d follow through, but without the judge in the area, there was nothing to do but wait for him to stop at Simms on his circuit. I had no interest in waiting in town, sleeping in my father’s house. No fucking way. I had something else to fill my time. Someone.

Grace.

Perhaps it was Father looking down on me and laughing. Just when I’d gotten exactly what I’d wanted, the long-awaited justice, I got something else I wanted more. Was I a kid deciding which sucker candy to choose at the mercantile? Could I be greedy and want both?

Fuck, yes.

The Grove men would hang, not because it was what I wanted to avenge what they did to my father. It was because it was what they deserved. Did that mean I deserved Grace, too?

Our paths had crossed when she saved us, and in that instant, she became mine.

Ours. There was no question. No doubt on my part. Or Charlie’s. We had completely different backgrounds, growing up on two different sides of the world. And yet here we were in the same place together. Wanting the same thing.

Grace.

I still didn’t know her reasoning behind shooting those men. There was a story there, and we hadn’t given her much opportunity to share it. We’d get it from her. She’d have no secrets with us.

We’d made it plain as the sun in the sky that we had claimed her.

Obviously, based on what I’d heard of her conversation with the other women, she hadn’t known what that meant exactly. I’d have thought Charlie’s mouth on her pussy would have been informative enough.

Obviously not. But I wasn’t fucking her until the vows were said. She’d just have to believe our words.

What I had learned about the wildcat who had claimed me… yes, she’d claimed us in return, was that the more I told her what to do, the more she rebelled. Even when getting her to marry us. We gave her a choice, albeit one where we were content with both outcomes. Us on our knees asking for her hand in marriage like a man who wooed a woman, courted her. Or a shootout.

Of course, Grace chose the shootout. She wasn’t used to romance and fancy words. She wasn’t used to being wooed. We’d cherish her, adore her. Give her everything she could ever want, but I didn’t think it would ever be a fancy straw hat with lace and ribbons.

Dinner, of course, was delayed. Everyone wanted to watch since Charlie and I had shared the story of how we met, of how she’d saved our lives. It wasn’t often a wedding occurred depending on who was the sharpest shooter.

Mason and Brody set a long line of potatoes on a fence a distance away. They were small targets, but I had little doubt she’d miss. I knew her to be that good. Her targets on the Grove men weren’t random. She’d chosen them intentionally. Aimed and hit her mark. Both times. I didn’t know why she chose them, there and then, but I would. For now, I was content to watch her do it again. Because oddly enough, it was hot as fuck. It was going to be difficult to keep from tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her to the stable and taking her virginity with a nice hard fuck. I’d claim her nice and dirty and deep like I wanted. Like I knew she’d love. Then I’d watch as Charlie gave her even more cock, more pleasure.