Wild West Promise

by C. R. Moss

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 C.R. Moss & R.M. Sotera

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-513-6

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To us—A toast to the Wild West and writing memories.

  To our dear readers—enjoy the wild times!

  … May the saga continue.

  Cheers!

  WILD WEST PROMISE

  Double D Ranch Tales, 3

  C.R. Moss & R.M. Sotera

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Kent Samuels stepped into the dining hall of the main lodge. Excited screeches echoed off the golden planks lining the walls. He paused in the doorway to survey the surroundings. A group of women, who cheered not for his arrival but something else, surrounded the head cook, Miguel, and his rolling cart.

  Ah, the special cake. Kent never imagined he’d live to see cock-shaped cakes as the star attractions at the Double D Ranch. But as he’d learned over the years, on the homestead anything was possible. Who’d have thought during his tenure as a wrangler the spread would go from a private working ranch to a guest one? Not him. Yet it had, which led to events such as the bachelorette party in full swing before him. No one complained of the change, though. Group gatherings brought a playful happiness back to the place, creating an easygoing atmosphere. Like in the past when Duke and Meredith ran the business and the boys were young. He smiled at the thought.

  Remembering another get together where a soon-to-be bride had a similar confection on display, a wider smile inched across his face. Bristol’s exclamation, “It’s a penis. A penis cake. I want my own penis,” from that night rang through his mind clear as the filtered water in the pitchers on the tables. Damon’s astonished expression had been priceless. That’d been one wild weekend. She and her friend had come to spend some time with each other and ended up roping the two Dougan brothers. Bristol, the siren from Broadway, snagged Damon, and Cassie, an old friend of Dakota’s, lassoed her way back into his life. Their presence and love had turned the men’s stringent, workaholic ways around, made them pleasant to work with again.

  Basking in the thoughts of the couples and the contentment the Dougan boys had discovered with the gals, he scanned the room for Dakota, then fought his way through the large group to cross the area. Not finding his boss in the dining room, he headed into the living and recreation space.

  Three of the four people occupying his thoughts sat on stools at a tall round table. Cards littered the shiny wood top. He gave Damon and Bristol a nod and then tipped his black Stetson to Cassie. Halfway to the heavy wooden oak doors leading from the main hall to the outside, he turned toward the fireplace.

  A person standing in front of the stone hearth caught his attention.

  But it wasn’t Dakota, the cowboy he called boss. Nope. Gazing back at him with eyes the color of bright emeralds was a woman he’d never seen before.

  Seconds passed.

  Without a blink on his part.

  The intensity of her gaze siphoned the air from his lungs and turned his feet to lead weights.

  Immobilized him.

  The woman tilted her head to the side and scanned his body from head to toe. A cascade of dark red hair slipped across her shoulder. Ringlets dangled against the generous eyeful of cleavage rounding up out of the low, curving cut of her tight, dark green shirt. Body-hugging jeans encased her hips and long legs, ending at a pair of shiny brown boots.

  Gams going on for miles. Creamy white breasts. Nice, ample tits at that. Damn.

  It’d been a long time since a woman caught his fancy, and, boy, had Red snagged it. Even his cock twitched as if to say, I like her. Let’s get to know her…if you know what I mean, nudge wink nudge. Cutting off his thoughts before they caused him trouble, he broke her intoxicating stare, turned and walked swiftly to the door.

  “Kent. Hey, wait a sec,” Dakota called from the office doorway. “I need to speak with you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the dark haired man. Dakota pointed to the door leading out of the lodge. Kent nodded once, understanding the silent command and the reasoning behind it. With the inside overrun with gales of female laughter and loud voices, they needed a better place for conversation. He continued on his original plan to get outside.

  Get away from the bewitching woman and her piercing stare. The cool air will be a plus, too.

  Out on the wraparound porch and free from the feeling of holes being bored into him by green-eyed scrutiny, Kent leaned over and rested his forearms on the weathered wood rail.

  Dakota stood by him, propping his ass against a post. “I wanted to check with you about Cheyenne before I turned in,” he stated in his deep, rolling voice.

  “Yup. Was coming to find you, too, ’bout her. All’s good so far. The mare’s waxing along with showing other signs of the upcoming labor. Goin’ off the records we have of the last time she birthed, I reckon we have another twelve to twenty-four hours before she foals. I’m headin’ back to her stall to look in on her. I’m gonna call Doc Stinson to come up. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks, Kent. She’s in good hands with you and the doc.” Dak slapped him on the back. “Good night.”

  “Night, boss.”

  Kent surveyed the property stretching away from the lodge. A full moon lit the landscape with a silver glow. A concrete path outlining the perimeter of the building branched off in different directions. One led to a gravel parking lot down a small hill, then another to an Olympic-sized pool. A third trailed to the stables where Cheyenne prepared to welcome a foal. Behind the barn and riding rings, a row of four cabins lined the top of a hill amongst the trees. After those landmarks, pavement gave way to dirt and rock trails. Kent loved the ranch as if it was his own and wouldn’t trade working or living in the mountains for anything.

  The big wooden doors squeaked open then shut a handful of seconds later with a loud thunk. Believing he was alone, he straightened, welcomed the cool breeze blowing over him and the peace and quiet of the high desert. Needing to get to the stables and finish out his long day, he hastened the few feet to the steps.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” a soft voice whispered.

  He glanced to the right, and there stood the tall redhead from earlier. Dang. She must have slipped past Dak when he went back in the lodge. How could he have forgotten about a fine gal like her? Work and horses. The only two things that usually occupied his mind.

  “Not in a hurry, ma’am. Just a man with a mission.” Not wanting to be rude to a guest, but short on time, he smiled, tipped his hat and stepped toward the stairs.

  “Really?” She strolled into a beam of moonlight illuminating the porch and partially blocked his path. “And what does a man like you have to do tonight?”

  Her silky voice and sexy curves twisted his nerves, set his blood boiling and had his cock jumping to be touched. How could a mere slip of a woman affect him when nothing else ever rattled him?

  “Well?” The tips of her lips curved up in a sultry grin.

  God. He swallowed hard and hoped she didn’t see his Adam’s apple jerk. Older than most of the party attendees, sh
e radiated beauty like a Celtic goddess with her long, curly locks and curious but penetrating gaze. He’d had every intention of answering the fine lady’s questions but found words scarce.

  She snuck closer. “You know, I can be an asset to a man with a plan.”

  Plan? Yeah. Right. My mission. The mare. Finally, my brain resumes normal functioning capabilities. “Forgive my rudeness, Mrs…”

  “Maggie.” She stretched out her hand. “I’m Margaret O’Hurley minus the Mrs. But my friends call me Maggie or Mags.”

  Her grin turned into a dazzling smile, sending his manhood to half-mast and starting to push against his jeans. He shifted his weight never once breaking her gaze and shook her hand. “Maggie O’Hurley. Sounds very Irish.”

  “You’re correct. I’m one-hundred percent Irish woman. Are you scared?”

  Maggie’s lyrical chuckle brought a smirk to his lips. As if a woman could unnerve me…usually. He decided to play along with the flirty beauty, see how daring she could be. “I don’t know. Should I be?” He lifted his chin toward the barn. “I need to check on our pregnant mare Cheyenne. You wanna join me?”

  “Love to.” She slid her hand around his upper arm.

  The redhead fascinated him. At, first he figured she’d turn down his invite to the stables on account of her outfit and the fact of him being a stranger. But her acceptance kept him guessing in regard to her nature. Who’s this woman? What’s she made of?

  It’d seemed like it’d been forever since he’d flirted with a woman. And when was my last date? He scratched the stubble along his jaw with his free hand. At least a few years.

  A thick beat of awareness pulsed in his muscle beneath her palm. Enjoying the moment and her touch, he left her hand where it lay and led her to the barn.

  It didn’t take long for him to assess Cheyenne’s status. The mare stood on top of fresh clean straw, cuddled against the side of her stall, sleeping. Her breathing was slightly labored. He quietly stepped beside her. “It’s alright, Chey. Your baby’s coming soon, ol’ gal.”

  The mare’s eyes fluttered open. He gently ran an open palm against her face. The mare let out a soft whinny and drifted back to sleep. Shifting his weight, he intended to leave the stall only to bump into Maggie. At some point she’d snuck up next to him.

  “Darlin’, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fine.” She hesitated. “You know, you never told me your name.”

  Shit. She was right. He hadn’t told her his name. “Sorry. Kent.”

  A playful grin rearranged her features.

  “What?” Kent tilted his head and raised a brow. The woman looked like she had a juicy secret.

  “I knew that. I’d asked the ranch hands your name a few days ago.” A delicate chuckle escaped her, and she lightly brushed up against him. “Found out other information, too. Single. Never married. Intelligent. Some say workaholic. Respectful. I kept wanting to talk to you. Hoped you’d be one of the trail guides on our rides. Come by the lodge during an event before tonight. But you’re one busy man.”

  “Oh, really?” Her revelations sent sparks through his body.

  She nodded and trailed the tips of her fingers along the side of his arm. “Kent. I am intrigued by you.”

  Liking her looks and flirtatiousness, he smiled. Kent pictured the two of them in compromising positions. His dick stood at attention. Yep, been much too long. “Feelin’ is mutual, Maggie.”

  “So, what should we do about it, cowboy?”

  Her self-confidence and assertiveness ensnared him. His cock strained for a new length, pushing further against the sturdy denim material. How’d she gain control over his libido so fast? Distressed that thoughts of her could muddle his mind and stir up sexual urges, thus distracting him from what he should be doing, he scrambled out of the stall. Kent bustled through the rest of the stables, checking food and water bowls, a couple small haystacks, and then safely tucked away the last of the day’s riding gear. The focus on his duties didn’t help to get his thoughts off the woman.

  She followed him around. “Well, Kent?”

  Her presence had his whole being humming like a live wire. For a moment, he wondered if she would entertain the idea of climbing his body like a mountaineer dominating Mount Everest. But with a shake of his head, he tossed the thought to the side. His attention couldn’t be allowed to be diverted from work. She was a guest. There were rules.

  Whatever they decided to do, he’d have to make sure there was some distance between them. This way he could talk to her with a clear mind and not one reverting back to the age of a horny teenager. They’d have to do something that would be on his terms—an activity he’d have the upper hand in. “Would you like to go ridin’ with me in the mornin’? Sunday’s usually my day off. I should have some time free before Chey foals. There are a lot of great sights on the Double D I could show you.”

  “I’d love that. The bridal party is heading back home tomorrow afternoon, but I’ve rented a cabin for an additional night. I’m not leaving until Monday morning.”

  “So it’s a date?” Kent pushed the stable doors open and stepped to the side allowing her to pass, mentally kicking himself for putting the word ‘date’ out there. He wasn’t one for flings, didn’t have time for relationships, and most days felt too old for them anyway. But she bewitched him and was hard to resist.

  “Yes. I’ll meet you back here at seven a.m.” She reached up on her tiptoes, laid her palm on his chest, and planted a kiss on his cheek, startling him. “I’ll see you bright and early. Night, cowboy.” Her hand lingered for a second longer than probably necessary, then she turned and walked away.

  Though he claimed he had no time, was too old for such foolishness and didn’t want to be attracted to the busty redhead, he couldn’t help but push all that nonsense aside. He desired her like Chey fancied sugar cubes and would become filled with a manic need for them if he hadn’t offered any in a handful of days.

  The sway of Maggie’s hips and view of her tight ass fired up his lust. A smile stretched his face until she was out of sight. If she could ask around about him, he’d do the same. Someone was bound to know something about her, with how the party group had been gossiping during their stay. Once he had his intel, he’d have fun corralling the green-eyed beauty.

  “Maggie O’Hurley. Mmm…”

  Chapter Two

  Fresh jasmine and earthy scents sifted through the open window. Maggie breathed deeply, basking in the fragrance. She could get used to mornings on the ranch—the quiet, the sereneness…the hunky cowboy she planned to go riding with. Very excited about what she hoped would soon transpire with the sexy cowboy, she pulled the patch quilt snug against her chin and sighed heavily. Thoughts of last night, seeing the outline of his chiseled features from across the room and his tight body in the moonlight, sent a flood of warm sensation through her body. How could just the thought of him make her body react? Anticipation flooded her. Soon it would be morning. Soon she’d see him.

  Rousing more from her sleep, white light permeated her eyelids. She opened her eyes to a bright room. A glimpse at the clock had her vaulting from the bed. Shit! The digits read 6:45, meaning she had less than fifteen minutes to dress, brush her teeth and get to the barn.

  Without a second thought or even a wave of panic, she set in motion, and her mind went into overdrive. The alarm hadn’t gone off. What if she hadn’t woken and missed the appointed meeting time? Would her chances with him be ruined? She couldn’t—rather wouldn’t—think about that now. Maggie slipped into her bra, snapped closed the front clasp, then grabbed a black, v-cut, tank-top and pulled it over her head. After a glance at her boobs and ample cleavage, she put on her long sleeve, dark green blouse and low-rise stonewashed jeans. She made a mental note to finish buttoning the blouse on the way to meet Kent. Before heading toward the door, she gathered her hair into a loose ponytail and slipped on her hiking boots.

  At six-fifty five, she closed and locked the door behind her.


  When she reached the stables, Kent leaned against an open barn door. He had both thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his faded jeans and a smile indenting his cheeks in all the right places. Black and silver hair peeked out from beneath his cowboy hat in thick waves. Bushy, matching brows sat over a rugged face. Some may call him tall and beefy, but she believed under his long-sleeved, plaid shirt, jeans and chaps, he was all muscle.

  Gorgeous man.

  “A minute to spare.” He stole a glance at his wristwatch with a pair of Dutch chocolate colored eyes.

  “Hey, I’m a gal who keeps her word.” Determined to keep the mood light and carefree, Maggie winked and headed toward the opening. “Do we need to get the horses ready?”

  “Nope. I saddled Riley and Coda. They’re ready to roll. Also packed us a hearty lunch. Hope you like leftover pulled pork sandwiches and the famous Dougan slaw.” His deep, questioning voice sifted through her.

  Dang. Even the sound of his words made her want to jump him immediately. Her libido revved, almost red lined.

  “Penis cake in that array of goodies?” It wasn’t really cake she thought about. Perhaps he can take a hint.

  His face flushed slightly.

  Thinking it cute that an older man could still get embarrassed and blush, Maggie choked back a laugh.

  “Sorry, the crazy women devoured that cake last night.”

  Perhaps I will get the real thing instead. “It’s okay. You are a man after my own heart with leftovers. I love them.”

  “Shall we?” Kent inquired in a monotone voice and waved his hand toward the entrance.

  Maggie moved passed him. In a bold move, she pulled his hand into hers, and he willingly accepted it and followed. So far, so good.