by Em Petrova
She hitched her round ass onto the stool and folded her coat across her lap. Thank Christ—at least she’s covered up.
The bartender stopped before them. His smile was all for Esme. “Whattaya drinkin’?”
“I’ll have tequila.”
My kind of girl, Zayden thought, even as he was shaking his head.
“What do you mean no?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“She means a double,” he said to cover his action. “I’ll have a draft.”
The bartender moved off to fetch their drinks.
“I don’t know if I can handle a double,” she said over the music.
“Then don’t drink it.”
“I need something to make me forget what happened this evening.”
I can think of a few things besides alcohol. He leaned closer to hear her and caught a whiff of her perfume. His cock stirred behind his fly.
Their drinks were placed before them, and too late he realized she hadn’t eaten and was drinking on an empty stomach. He pushed a basket of pretzels her way, and she nibbled one while he studied her.
Her curls cascaded over her shoulders, and some were trapped behind the shell of her ear. Two sets of gold hoops clung to her lobes. In the hollow of her throat, he watched her pulse flicker for a few beats before he tore his gaze away.
She tossed down half her drink and turned to him. “You wanna hit the dance floor?”
His lips quirked at one corner at the eagerness on her beautiful face. “Yeah, let’s go.”
She laid her coat over the barstool and swayed her hips as they cut through the crowd.
Hell, this was a terrible idea, but Zayden never shied away from a good mistake.
* * * * *
Everyone was watching Zayden, including her. Call it the tequila talking or her decision to have a good time after Owen stood her up, but she felt more and more infatuated by Zayden’s hot body on the dance floor.
The man ground his hips, and she twisted around to present her own, knowing his gaze was latched onto her ass. He clamped his hands on her hips and swayed with her in time to the beat. When she felt his erection grind against her cheeks, a soft moan escaped her lips.
One hand wandered up her hip to knead her waist, shooting sparks of excitement through her. The song ended, and he whirled her to face him. Shamelessly, she hooked a thigh around his hard leg and rocked.
His gaze bore down into her, and she couldn’t look away as they found the rhythm. The haze of alcohol began to dim after a half hour of dancing, but it felt as if the drops still worked through her empty stomach and fueled her actions.
Gripping his shirt front, she pulled him down ‘til her lips reached ear level. “You’re a good dancer.”
He flashed a grin and twirled her, their bodies still touching so her breasts brushed his front, and then suddenly her back was plastered to his hard torso again. He wrapped his arms around her middle and tugged her back while thrusting his hips with hers.
Dear God, the man was smoking hot.
He was also a criminal, according to the ladies at work.
Well, she wasn’t marrying him, so who cared?
When the music toned down to a slow song, she expected Zayden to take her into his arms, but instead he caught her hand and led her off the dance floor. At the bar, their drinks had been cleared, and her coat was slung over the end of the bar to make room for more patrons.
Zayden grabbed this and unfolded it for her.
Seeing he expected her to put the garment on, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and clutched the open front closed.
“Where are we doing?” she asked over the noise.
“Takin’ you home.” The hooded look he gave her carved a slick path of warmth through her lower belly and down between her legs.
Did he plan to get lucky? Did she want him to?
Outside, everything was covered in a fresh dusting of snow. The cool wind felt good on her hot face as they made their way to the truck. Zayden helped her inside, and she watched him circle the front.
By now, the alcohol burned out of her system, and she felt sober enough to realize that things could escalate between them. Her decent relationship with Owen ended terribly, resulting in her lack of trust. But she trusted Zayden.
We’re just friends. He came to my rescue again, and he doesn’t expect payment. We just danced.
Danced like we’d screwed a hundred times and knew just how to turn each other on.
Even being keyed up after all that, was she ready for more?
“Stop by the steakhouse so I can get my car,” she said.
He swung into the parking lot and she remained seated a moment, looking at him. Was he thinking he should follow her home too?
She climbed out, and he followed, walking her to her vehicle. Standing next to her car, she looked up into his eyes.
He gave her that quirk of his lips she was coming to know so well. “You didn’t get dinner. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to my rescue a second time.”
His smile vanished, and his expression intensified to that dark look she had seen on the dance floor. Her heart beat faster. She leaned in.
He did too…then he brushed his lips between her brows and stepped away. “You good to get home on your own?”
Surprise catapulted the last of her sexual fog out of her body as she realized he had no intention of coming home with her or taking things to another level.
She managed to nod.
“Good. See ya again sometime, Esme,” he tossed over his shoulder as he returned to his truck and jumped behind the wheel.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Was he rejecting her?
No, she hadn’t asked for more than dinner. He’d given her dancing. Nobody mentioned sleeping together.
As she watched him drive off into the night, she could only shake her head. For all the rumors about Zayden Moon, she sure didn’t see that side of the man. To her, he was nothing but a gentleman.
Chapter Six
The noise of tires on gravel brought Zayden’s attention from the saddle he was oiling, and he looked up toward the grimy barn window. Through it, the world remained but a blur. He’d need to take the polishing cloth to the glass next.
He dropped the cloth and walked out. Tugging his hat brim lower to shade his eyes from the blinding sun on snow, he spotted the unfamiliar truck coming to a halt in front of the house.
Might be one of Mimi’s Ute relatives. If so, it was about time he met them.
After starting toward the vehicle in long strides, he was surprised when a tall man got out of the truck and turned his direction.
“Moon,” the man said.
“Sorry, do I know you?” He drew up before the man.
“Knew you when you were a young’un.”
That meant he knew his father, which couldn’t be good. Anyone who claimed to be friends with Chaz Moon turned out to be a motherfucker just like their pa. And anyone else hated the man—and his sons by proxy.
Zayden hooked a thumb in the pocket of his jeans. “I’m Zayden. What can I do for ya?”
“Think we could go somewhere and sit down?”
He eyed the guy and couldn’t see a single reason to make him more comfortable. “It’s a nice day and looks like you spend too much time sitting as it is.” He dropped his gaze to the man’s paunchy stomach rolling over his gold belt buckle.
The man’s brows shot up, but he composed himself. “All right then, I’ll cut to the chase.”
He waited.
“I belong to a coalition of local ranchers. Our goal is to stroke each other’s backs when we can, by providing help if someone needs it, and that includes loaning money.”
Ah, here it is.
Zayden wasn’t going to make it easy on the guy and offered no encouragement to continue.
“About five years back, your father came to us looking for aid. He was at the end of his funds and about to lose the ranch. W
e pooled together and offered him a private loan, to be paid back in—”
“Lemme guess—five years,” Zayden cut across him.
He nodded.
“Am I supposed to believe this? I haven’t seen any paperwork or proof of a private loan debt.” He hadn’t exactly gotten around to digging through his father’s boxes of junk, where it could be hidden, either. But he had to be cautious—lots of scams happened after people died.
“I’ve got the papers here in my truck. Let me get them.” He turned to his vehicle again and fished around inside. When he returned with a couple sheets in hand, he gave Zayden a hard look, which he returned. He’d sized up better men than this one, and he wasn’t going to be cowed because the guy had known him when he was a young’un.
Zayden glanced at the paper and back at him. “Is this legally filed anywhere?”
“You can see right here that your father’s name is listed as the borrower.” He poked a thick finger at the page.
Zayden gave him a bland look. “I can read, thanks. What I’m asking is how do I know you didn’t cook up a scheme to wring money from me after my old man died, and this is a falsified document?”
“The others in the coalition can vouch for it. Every one of our signatures is there.”
Skimming the paper again, he saw one number with too many zeroes behind it.
Ten grand. The old man owed ten grand? If he’d borrowed that amount years ago, no evidence existed it had been put to good use. The buildings needed work. No new equipment was stashed away in the garage. Which meant he either drank it up or actually purchased items for the ranch, which he later sold.
Mimi might know something, and he would ask as soon as he got this jackass back into his truck and off his property.
“I’ll call my lawyer,” he said, brushing past the man on his way to the house.
He didn’t bother to glance back to see if the guy was leaving, but he heard the engine start and then the crunch of tires again.
Walking into the house, he glared at the papers he held. Then he slammed the door behind himself and read them proper. No less than ten other ranchers, most names he recognized as lifers in these parts, had signed the document, and so had his stupid father.
Groaning, he walked into the living room. In the bright sun of the day, everything looked shabbier and he was beginning to think it would all look better as ash after he burned it to the ground.
The old desk stood along one wall. Their father always warned him and his brothers to stay out of the drawers, and they were scared enough of him that they obeyed. But dear old pops was dead, and no wonder if he’d pickled his liver with ten thousand dollars’ worth of booze.
When he opened the bottom drawer, several bottles clinked as they rolled to the front. Disgust twisted his lips. He thought he’d purged all the empty whiskey bottles in the house, but he had a feeling he’d be finding them for years to come—if he stuck around.
He tossed these on the carpet and dug out the rest of the drawer’s contents. After ten minutes, all he found was garbage. Junk receipts from two decades ago for things like oil filters and spark plugs. Back when their dad gave a crap about keeping things up.
After working his way through two more drawers, he lit upon a file folder. When he flipped it open and saw the matching paper the rancher had given him, Zayden released the angry growl he’d been holding back.
“Oh dear. Was that man who was here Frank Branch?”
He looked up at Mimi’s frail voice.
“Didn’t catch his name.”
“I thought I recognized him, but my eyes are old and I wasn’t entirely sure.” Dropping her attention to the folder Zayden held, she nodded. “He was here to collect on the loan, wasn’t he?”
“I’m not surprised you knew about it. Nothing gets past you, Mimi.” He sighed and tossed the folder onto the desk, then rubbed a sore spot between his eyes where a headache began to form. “How much more debt is there, Mimi? Do you have any idea?”
“Your father only took the loan from the coalition to try to get a fresh start.” Was she defending the drunk bastard?
Zayden pushed out a rough laugh. “I see it worked. That ten grand fixed up the house”—he waved a hand at their worn surroundings—“and the barn. Hell, that herd of healthy cattle is testament to my father’s good business sense.” He kicked one of the bottles at his feet, and it struck the other with a loud clank.
“You’ve got a right to be angry, Zayden. Your father didn’t do right by any of you, but a few years ago, he saw that for himself. He woke up one day and realized his boys didn’t come home or want anything to do with him, so he decided to get clean, stop drinking and make this ranch something again.”
“Looks like he did a fine job o’ that. All he left us with—me with—is bills and debt and no way to keep this place afloat, let alone profitable.”
He moved his stare from the threadbare carpet to the battered furniture that had borne the brunt of more than one of Chaz Moon’s fits of anger.
“How have you been managing all these years, Mimi?”
The woman’s age appeared on her face when she met his gaze. “It hasn’t been easy. I have a bit of money I inherited from my mother’s family. And my Ute relatives always help when they can, even if it’s to bring me a haunch of venison. I also do some sewing work for people in town, and that provides a bit of pocket money.”
“In other words, you’re funding this ranch, and my deadbeat father took advantage of you all those years. Jesus.” He tore off his hat and scrubbed a hand over his face. Just when he thought he couldn’t hate the son of a bitch more, he discovered another good reason to.
“I’m not sure you boys ever understood.”
“Understood what, Mimi?”
“This ranch is my home too.”
The lump in his throat was too hard to swallow, but he got it down as he stepped up to take her in his arms. She hugged him back, patting him the way she always did.
“You’re tough, Zayden. You did things at a young age that no boys ever should have to, but you did it without complaint. You hired the ranch hands. You paid them in cash. You organized cattle sales and hired me to come here and help you all.” She turned teary blue eyes on him. “I like to think you’re the true owner of Moon Ranch, and now it’s going to take some digging to get out of the hole we’re in. But it’s not impossible, boy.”
He gave her a sarcastic grin. “Isn’t it?”
She stepped away. “Not with your drive and determination.”
“You aren’t just saying this because you don’t want to leave the ranch? That you have nowhere else to go?” It hurt him to think of Mimi on her own here all these years. How selfish he’d been to not see her cared for before taking off.
She smiled, a real one compared to his moments ago. “I can leave anytime I want. Like I said, there’s a small amount of money from my mother’s side, and it’s enough for me to have an apartment in town. And my great-nephew’s been asking me for years to come live with him and his family. They don’t like the thought of me down here alone.”
He stared at her for a long minute. “Christ, how did you ever put up with my father? Or any of us, for that matter? We weren’t the best kids growing up, always in trouble in school and sometimes with the law.”
Reaching up, she cupped his jaw like a mother would a son’s. She searched his eyes. “Don’t you know? It’s because I love ya, boy. I love all of ya, and I would have laid down my life for you if necessary.”
“Thank God it never came to that.” He shook his head, and she dropped her hand from his face. “You’re the best, Mimi. I’m sorry for so much.”
“Time to turn that corner, Zayden. Take what’s yours and make it right again.” The power in her voice lifted him on a sail of hope.
But the sensation was fleeting, because he still had a hell of a lot of debt and decisions to make.
“Remember that side business you and your brothers had going when you were fif
teen?” she asked.
He scuffed his knuckles over his jaw. “The tree cutting service?”
“Yes. I’ve heard a few people in town could use some work done on their properties. The old neighbor up the road too—Sutton. Maybe it’s time to sharpen that old chainsaw in the garage.” With that, she returned to the kitchen, to do whatever Mimi did to pass the time.
He wandered to the window and gazed at the white world outside. February wasn’t an ideal time to start up a tree trimming service, but plenty of people still needed firewood cut at this time of year, especially when their wood-burning stoves were devouring logs as fast as they could feed them to keep the house warm.
Having a small income and side work would take some of the load off Mimi, and she could start using her money in ways beyond pouring it down the money pit of this ranch.
If he got that equity loan too, he’d be able to pay off the ranchers coalition and the vet, but the amount of money he needed to give this ranch the boost it needed wouldn’t stretch that far.
First things first. He drove to the Suttons and offered his services. The older man remembered him and his brothers and showed him right to a pair of pines overhanging the house roof that he feared would fall under the weight of the snow, and it was late in the season for such work, but did Zayden think he could cut them without much trouble?
Eyeing the leaning trunks and the angles over the roof, he said, “You got a tractor and some chains to put tension on the trees so they fall in the other direction?”
Sutton nodded. “Be happy to do it.”
“Today?” He eyed the man.
“No time like the present.”
Zayden walked around the trunks, assessing the angles and where to place the cuts. “Do you want the wood cut up afterward?”
“Don’t have need of it. We use a pellet stove for heating the house. But if you could use it, you’re welcome to carry it off.”
He could sell it. Being fresh cut, it wouldn’t be useful for burning this season, but people bought wood to stockpile for later in the year. “I’ll clear it away for you. The branches too.” Pines were a mess to clean up, but hard work never killed anybody.