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Tri-Tip: Grade-A Beefcakes Series - Book 3 by Vanessa Vale (1)



Easy, boy. I won’t hurt you,” I murmured, trying my gentlest voice.

I stared down some kind of brown mutt who looked like he was about to bolt. There was nowhere for him to go out on the prairie like this. Just open fields and then beyond those, even more empty expanses. He seemed like a nice dog and was probably hungry. Glancing about, I wondered where he could get water. A creek? There were cottonwood trees in the distance which meant water, but still. Some loser must’ve dumped him on the side of the road.

His brown eyes met mine, his body still, muscles tense and quivering.

“You want a sandwich? I’ll share.”

I backed up slowly so he wouldn’t run off—I couldn’t leave him out here, and I didn’t want to chase after him—and pulled out my wrapped ham sandwich from the center console.

Taking out half, I tossed it toward him. He jumped back, then sniffed.

I went to the back door of the cruiser and opened it up, tossing the other half on the plastic seat. He wasn’t a prisoner, but he needed a bath before he sat up front.

I leaned against the side of the SUV and looked away so I didn’t spook him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him debating before tiptoeing—if dogs did that—toward the sandwich on the ground and gobbling it down. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. He was no dummy and knew exactly where the other half was. I just had to hope he was smart enough to climb in to get it.

He was. He hopped into the back to get the rest of his snack. I shut the door and went around to the driver’s seat, settled behind the wheel.

“Pam, I’m out on County Road Seven and picked up a stray dog. Hungry. I think he should be seen by a vet,” I said into my police radio.

“There’s a place on Fourth, two blocks off of Main,” she replied, her voice tinny through the speaker.

I glanced into the back where the dog was licking his lips, clearly having enjoyed the sandwich more than I would have. He sat his butt down on the seat and stared at me, cocked his head to the side. Part lab, part basset hound, part… what did I know about dogs other than this one was tan? I’d never had one growing up. He seemed content in his spot, as if he’d ridden in a car often enough and knew he was going somewhere. And that he wasn’t alone.

Yeah, I could relate, buddy.

It felt good to be wanted, to have someone take care of you—and by that I meant pressing me up against the door or bending me over the bed when I came home from work and making me forget about every single call or court appearance. I wanted him to help me out of my bland uniform and get me naked. To take control so I could submit. Let go. Give over.

God, yes.

And by him I meant two guys because one wasn’t enough for me. I needed the extra helping of dominance, the constant potency my high-revving libido needed.

I wasn’t neglected—my vibrator saw to that—or abandoned on the side of the road like the furry guy eyeing me. I was back in my hometown, had a new job, my mom was nearby and I had plenty of batteries for the well-used sex toy… there was nothing to complain about. But while I wasn’t alone, I—make that my pussy—was definitely a little lonely.

Dick would be nice. Double dick, preferably, because I had a lot to offer. I had a feeling I was too much for just one guy because I had a lot to offer. Momma called me big-boned. I considered myself more Amazon than anything. At just under six feet, I towered over most guys in town. And those big bones? Yeah, on top of them I had muscles and a fair amount of padding. Big boobs, big butt. Not too many men were interested in all that I came with. I’d had boyfriends—I was far from a virgin—but it had been a while. I was discriminate and was definitely picky when it came to who got in my bed. Or pressed me up against the wall.

Then there was the fact that I was the sheriff of Raines County and that came with a utility belt, a set of handcuffs and a uniform shirt that had me looking more man than woman. I wasn’t the soft, timid type. I wasn’t dainty. Petite. Most men wanted to wear the pants in a relationship and my job didn’t call for skirts. Jeans, boots and the uniform shirt. Even a utility belt with more gadgets than Batman.

I sighed. The job picked me and here I was. Raines, Montana, in a sheriff’s SUV with a stray dog. I doubted I’d find one man, let alone two, at least while I had the job. I made a mental note to add more batteries to my shopping list. I was going to need them.

“Ten-four,” I replied, putting the radio away and starting back toward town. Every day on the job was different. Paperwork, time in court, traffic stops. Hell, even a dog rescue. For being a small town, the job wasn’t boring. So far, not too bad. Back in law school, I never would have imagined myself back in my hometown. Gone ten years, back two months.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and eyed the dog. I wanted to go and track down the fucker who’d abandoned him, but parked in front of the small vet office instead. “I’m going inside for a leash,” I told him as I glanced at him through the metal grate between the front and back. One ear pointed up as if he were listening carefully. “No way am I chasing you all over town.”

I climbed out, went inside. A little bell above the door signaled my presence. There was no one at the counter, but a guy came down a long hallway.

Not just any guy. Holy shit.

Gus Duke.

We’d dated—if eighteen-year-olds called it dating—right after high school graduation and most of that summer. First love. First everything. We’d been hot and heavy most of the time, especially when he’d popped my cherry in his pickup truck down a dusty side road late one night. I’d popped his, too. It had been intense—the feelings, the desire we shared that one hot summer. God, I’d needed what Gus would give me, loved every minute of it, of that steamy summer.

But as I grew older, I realized what we’d done wasn’t enough for me. I was different, had unusual sexual desires. It was almost as if I were wired differently. Vanilla wasn’t for me.

Thinking back, I had to wonder if we’d had more time together we might have done more than fuck like rabbits. Hot, hard and heavy. Come August, we’d both gone off to college and never looked back. Oh, I’d thought about him often enough. The sex, especially. We’d been horny teenagers interested in getting off and not the nuances of how to do that. It had taken years for me to understand it was better when it pushed all the right hot buttons. I had to wonder if Gus would know how to push mine… or if he’d want to. Especially when I realized, even staring at his gorgeousness now, he wouldn’t be enough.

At eighteen, he’d been cute. Hot. Sexy, even. But now, he looked amazing. He’d always been tall—that was one of the things I’d liked about him, making me feel almost short—but at twenty-eight, he’d filled out, added about thirty pounds of lean muscle that couldn’t be missed in his snug jeans and the cut of his shirt.

I’d seen him once since I’d been back. There had been an incident at the Duke ranch, a trespasser, and they’d called it in. Gus’s brother, Tucker, now ran things, but the whole family had been there for a picnic. I’d been on shift and shown up with a deputy who’d been ready to take the guy down if necessary. It hadn’t been since the asshole—I could confirm he was one based on the filth he’d spewed the entire time he was in custody—had been trussed up like a Christmas goose when we arrived. So I’d done nothing more than give Gus a small wave of greeting—and he’d offered me a wink in return—before we took the guy away. I hadn’t had a chance to look my fill.

But now I could. And did.

Dark hair, dark eyes that were eyeing me as closely as I was him. The beard was new—I doubted he’d had more than a few whiskers at eighteen. Close-cropped, even from across the lobby I could see hints of red in it. He wore a flannel button-up and jeans. Sturdy leather boots. All he was missing to complete his full cowboy look was a hat, but I knew he had one since he’d had it on when I saw him at the Duke ranch. He didn’t look like a veterinarian, but a calendar model for Sexy Cowboys of Montana.

“Parker,” he said and nothing else. His deep voice crept into me and made my nipples hard. God, one word and I was in trouble here.

Ten years just fell away and I was that girl who had it bad… really bad for the sexy Duke boy. There was a decade worth of things to say, but I had no idea how to start.

Want to pick up where we left off? If I remembered correctly, I was naked and in the back of your pickup and you’d been happily between my parted thighs. Maybe a bed this time? And bring a friend!

That was my pussy thinking and she wasn’t in charge. At least not right now, so I thumbed over my shoulder. “Gus. I… um, found a stray dog. Got him in my car. Thought maybe you could take a look at him.”

He went over to a hook on the wall with a few rope leashes and took one down. “Sure. Let’s go get him.”

He escorted me out of the clinic, leaving the door open behind him. The weather was dry and warm, considering we were sliding into fall. I went to the SUV and he followed. When I opened the back door, I spied him eyeing my ass. He grinned, not the least bit ashamed at being caught. Yeah, he hadn’t changed all that much.

Before Gus could get the leash on him, the dog jumped out, trotted up the walk to a small shrub, peed beside it, then continued right inside the vet office.

Gus watched and gave a little head shake. “Guess she’s not going to be a difficult patient.”

“She?” I asked, staring into the vet clinic as if I could still see the dog. “I thought she was a he.

He glanced at me, the smile still on his full lips—the lips I remembered kissing me oh so well—and arched one dark brow. “She squatted to pee. Didn’t lift a leg.”

That made sense. “I didn’t take time to check out her… undercarriage.”

The dark brow went up higher and his full lip curled in that sexy way I remembered so fondly. “I remember your undercarriage.” He took a step closer and I could smell him. Soap and outdoors and that familiar scent that was pure Gus. “Tell me, pixie, still got that little mole on the inside of your right thigh? Right up by those pretty pussy lips?”



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