by Gemma Snow
Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
The Lovin’ is Easy
ISBN # 978-1-78686-260-0
©Copyright Gemma Snow 2017
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2017
Edited by Rebecca Baker
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2017 by Totally Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.
Triple Diamond
THE LOVIN’ IS EASY
Gemma Snow
Book one in the Triple Diamond series
At the Triple Diamond, good things come in threes…
Madison Hollis never expected to find anything at the Triple Diamond Ranch in Montana, a surprise inheritance left to her by an uncle she’d never met. With her career as an event-planning manager for the Silicon Valley tech titans, a job that has pushed her straining engagement to the breaking point, she doesn’t have time for soul-searching.
But, out in the Montana summer sun before putting the ranch up for sale, Madison finds herself distracted by Triple Diamond’s sexy and oh-so-tempting ranch managers. Christian Harlow and Ryder Dean are best friends and total opposites, rebel country boy and pretty boy cowboy, and both are hot as hell.
Intent on loosening her reins, Madison gives herself permission to dive into an affair, surrendering to her desire for both of them. As she gets to know both Ryder and Christian and grows all too familiar with the feeling of them on her skin, Madison wonders if it will be as easy as she’d hoped to go home and leave them behind. But when an ugly secret comes to light, it might just send her running—if something, or someones, can’t convince her to stay…
Dedication
To Mary, for being as excited about a Montana ranch series as I am. Always to my family, always to Robbie. I couldn’t do any of this without you guys.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke AG
Ford: Ford Motor Company
Harley-Davidson: Harley-Davidson, Inc.
Holly Golightly: Truman Capote
Jack Daniel’s: Brown-Forman Corporation
Jeep: Fiat Chrysler Automobiles N.V.
L.L. Bean: L.L. Bean, Inc.
Post-it: 3M Company
Stetson: John B. Stetson Company
Vera Wang: Vera Ellen Wang
WWE: World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc.
Chapter One
“A what?”
Against the din of the ancient window air conditioner chugging into the room, Madison’s voice had a tinny, almost petulant sound. But of all the things she had expected from the impromptu meeting with some family estate lawyer she’d never heard of, this wasn’t it.
“A ranch, Ms. Hollis,” Mr. Sidney replied, the tone of his voice indicating that he’d picked up on her confusion and ensuing frustration with the afternoon’s events and that, frankly, he didn’t care. “The Triple Diamond Ranch in Wolf Creek, Montana, to be exact.”
Madison rubbed her hands over her face and tried to make sense of everything. Mr. Sidney had contacted her a week prior about a will left to her by some uncle on her mother’s side, an uncle she’d never heard of, from a mother who’d been gone some eighteen years now. She took a deep breath, trying a different tack.
“Are you certain this is my uncle”—she glanced at the stack of legal documents two inches thick on the desk before her—“Mason?”
Mr. Sidney peered down at her over the wire rim of his thin glasses—a remarkable feat, given that she had at least two inches on the man, who sat short and boney in the chair across the desk.
“Mr. Mason Westerly King first arranged this inheritance with Sidney and Sidney nearly two decades ago,” he replied. “We’ve had ample time to determine and confirm your identity, Ms. Hollis.”
Madison resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but only just. Mr. Sidney’s attitude came on the tail of what had already been the week from hell. She sighed, her heavy breath spilling out of her mouth like a deflating hot air balloon. It’s only Wednesday.
“Mr. Sidney, I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand. What am I supposed to do with a ranch”—she gestured with her hand—“I don’t know, eight, ten hours away from here?”
He gave a slow blink. “My advice, Ms. Hollis, is to go inspect the ranch yourself. You have all the information on the mineral rights and past financial records. Once you get the lay of the land, you can determine whether you wish to sell or keep the property. But otherwise, after I get your signature on these forms, I’m afraid there’s not much else I can help you with.”
Madison did scowl that time, but with her head bent over the stack of papers while signing the requisite lines, he couldn’t see it. She was perfectly pleased to be done with Mr. Sidney for good, but he was wrong about one major thing. She wasn’t going to decide whether or not to keep the ranch—she had decided the very first time he had mentioned the word inheritance. No, the second she got out to Montana, she would sell the damn thing and be done with it. Maybe then everything would go back to normal. Ha. Yeah, right.
Chapter Two
Ryder Dean took the steps to the kitchen two at a time, tugging his worn gray Ford shirt over his head as he did. When he reached the landing, he beelined for the coffee pot and inhaled the rich, inviting flavor that hit his senses when he poured a generous cup. Only after he had downed half the mug did he lean back against the counter to look over at the island, where Christian switched between leafing through an old Harley-Davidson catalog and peering up at him with a sardonic expression.
“When did Caleigh take off?” Ryder asked. He plucked a piece of bacon off the pan on the stovetop and popped into his mouth.
Christian shrugged and hid his face behind his dark hair, glancing back down at the magazine.
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br /> “I’ve been up since four and she was gone. Probably right after you passed out like a drunken donkey.”
Ryder rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault she left. You know how she is—never stayed the night, never will.” He was reaching for another piece of bacon when both of their phones buzzed at the same time, signaling an incoming text. Ryder dug his cell out of the back pocket of his worn jeans and slid the screen awake. Sure enough, it was from Caleigh, in a group message to him and Christian.
Just wanted to say thanks for last night. I did a lot of thinking and I’ve decided to go for it—booked my plane for New York, leaving Sunday. If you ever make it that far east, look me up. X – C
Ryder sloshed more coffee into his mug and re-read the text message, pursing his lips in amusement when the words sunk in.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Guess we were too good at being shoulders to cry on.”
He typed out a quick response.
Don’t forget us when you’re famous. Best of luck.
Christian let out a low chuckle. “She’s going to be an actress one way or another, Ry, just never in Montana.” He took a long swig from his own coffee cup. “I will miss her, though.”
It was funny, that. Christian didn’t look like the kind of guy to admit to feeling something unless he was under the knife. With long dark hair that nearly reached his shoulders, spirals and stories of ink covering both arms, shoulders and much of his back, he was rebel country and riding the highway to hell. Ryder would know—he’d seen most of the journey from the front seat. But between the two of them, Ryder had always been the first to lock up anything sticky, emotional or rough, not Christian, the resident bad boy. But what the hell, they’d been surprising people near twenty years at this point. There was no reason to stop now.
“That’s ‘cause she liked you more than me,” he shot back, turning to the coffee pot and finding it empty. He glanced at the clock. It was already quarter after five, not enough time for another pot, so he soaped up the coffee mug in the sink instead.
Christian laughed out loud at that. “Only ‘cause I’m better at eating pussy than you.”
Ryder lobbed the wet sponge at him. It landed with a soapy plop a good two feet away from where Christian sat. Damn it.
“I’ll let you think that,” he said. “But next time we bring a girl home, be sure to ask her.”
Christian chucked the sponge right back at his head and Ryder dodged. This time, it smacked into the picture window, leaving a soapy trail as it slid to the countertop.
“I know you’re not being a prick ’cause Caleigh took off after we spent the whole night telling her to follow her dreams, so what’s up your ass today, Ry?”
Ryder pursed his lips. They’d caught Caleigh Sullivan at McLean’s Bar the night before, three shots of top shelf whiskey deep. Caleigh had gone to the same middle and high schools as Ryder and Christian and they’d known her almost as long as they’d known each other. That was just the way of Wolf Creek.
When they’d finally got her talking, Caleigh hadn’t stopped—her fears about becoming another townie, about never pursuing her dreams, about what might happen if she failed. They had returned to the house Ryder and Christian shared on the Triple Diamond Ranch and, apparently, convinced Caleigh that it was the right idea to go to New York. There hadn’t been much talking after that, just stripping down and showing her all the best parts of Wolf Creek. But it wasn’t the impromptu threesome with Caleigh that had Ryder’s nerves running high. He and Christian had traversed that territory before and they would again.
“New owner’s coming around today,” he said after a moment, walking over to the window that looked out across three thousand green and blue sprawling acres of horse ranch and farm. “Who knows, maybe we’ll be on a plane to New York this Sunday, too.” Not that either of them would fit in in the big city—any big city.
Trepidation crossed Christian’s expression and Ryder nodded. Ever since they had found Mason in the barn a month before, the knowledge that their future was uncertain had remained a heavy weight on Ryder’s shoulders. Of course, it was nowhere near the guilt he felt at not having been there to save the life of the man who had become a surrogate uncle to him these past fifteen years, but it was there all the same. Would the Triple Diamond go to the state, or some relative they’d never met?
None of that changed the fact that he and Christian were less than four weeks short of buying part ownership in the ranch—at a heavily reduced price—a promise Mason had offered them both when they turned eighteen, if they’d agreed to get college degrees and come work for him for five years. Twelve years later and they were just a few grand lean of the agreed price—and a few weeks too late. Now, the fate of Triple Diamond, Mason Westerly King’s legacy and their jobs hung in a very delicate balance.
Christian came over to the window and slipped his mug into the sink. Then he, too, stared out over the vastness of Triple Diamond, many of the same thoughts in Ryder’s mind likely crossing his own.
“Any idea when he’s coming?” Christian asked. The weight of the reminder settled a physical tension on the room. Will this even still be our kitchen tomorrow?
“No clue,” Ryder replied. “Estate lawyer just said the new owner would be arriving today.” He took one last long, lingering glance out at the familiar scene, then clapped Christian on the back. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” And wasn’t that just the way of it—the harder things got, the harder they worked. That was how they’d always survived and it sure as shit wasn’t about to change now.
* * * *
It was fucking hot. Ryder had been in the barn for half the afternoon with three pregnant mares that were all ready to pop. Two of the pregnancies were coming along well, but the third mare, a beautiful Tennessee Walker named Sasha, had acted agitated and uncomfortable. Given that it was the first really hot week of the year, he’d examined her out of an overabundance of caution, but a closer look had shown signs of an infected placenta, which had caused their horses to lose foals in the past. He had put her on a strict regimen of antibiotics and she had seemed to calm a little, which was a good sign.
But, since life never stopped, he’d made his rounds through the barn for minor ailments and injuries, then joined Christian who was out in a nearby field looking over their irrigation ditches. It was late June and it was hot, but in Montana summer came late and ran high then left town without so much as a by-your-leave. Though they’d planted almost everything for the season, Christian hadn’t finalized the last section, and he was standing peering out over the land when Ryder approached.
“Any last-minute changes?” Ryder kicked up dirt with every step. Damn. They could use at least one good rain before planting, but as the old saying went, if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.
“I’m considering switching Zone Four and Zone Two.” Christian looked down at the large blueprint he held. “We sold better on nightshades last year, right?”
Ryder shrugged. If anyone would know the answer to that question, it was Christian. The guy’s head for numbers boggled Ryder’s mind, so he didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the wooden fence and wiped the sweat off his brow. Damn, it’s hot in the barn. The industrial ceiling fan had broken at the end of fall and there hadn’t been reason to fix it. Now, it was priority number one. He rubbed the rest of his face with his shirt then recoiled.
“Damn, I smell like horse,” he said. Groaning when the muscles in his back popped and stretched, he pulled the soiled shirt off his head. What he needed was a shower to get some of the stench of pregnant, ticked-off horse out of his hair and skin, but there were several fences on this line alone that needed mending and he had inventory to run in the barn and tool shed. It was officially past spring-cleaning.
But before he got the chance to tell Christian where he was headed, he caught sight of something in the distance. The Triple Diamond Ranch was only accessible by private road, a road visible from damn near anywhere
on the three thousand acres. The driver was making good time, given the wave of dust kicking up around the white speck of car. At that speed, it wasn’t any of their hands—those guys knew way better than to drive that fast on the dirt road. Which could only mean…
“Damn,” Ryder muttered. He chucked the dirty shirt over one shoulder. “There’s no way I have time to shower before that speed freak gets down here.”
Christian chuckled. Even with the Jack Daniels tank, oversized belt buckle and Stetson, Christian was all biker—from the tats winding up and down his arms to the aviator sunglasses low on his nose. Speed freak was one of Ryder’s favorite nicknames for him.
“Fuck it, man.” Christian folded the blueprint and pocketed it. “When you inherit a farm, workers smelling like horse shit are part of the bargain.”
Ryder glanced over at the approaching car, then slapped Christian on the back.
“You’re right,” he said, “Let’s go see what’s in store for us.”
They made their way out of the fields and past the barn and walked the short distance to Holmwood Manor. It had been Mason’s house—a mansion, really—though Ryder had always thought it a little depressing that Mason had lived alone in such a large place. It was like a reminder of just how alone he’d been and that he’d never married or had any kids, at least as far as Ryder knew. Still, Holmwood was gorgeous. Tucked away under several large maple trees, it was the kind of place a guy went to escape the troubles of the world. Hell, all Triple Diamond was.
They reached the driveway before the car, though judging by the encroaching dust storm, it wasn’t by much. Ryder leaned back against the wooden fence that lined the drive and breathed in the sweet, rich scent of summer in the mountains—fresh water and pine and turned-up dirt from the crops. He couldn’t leave the ranch. Triple Diamond was the only place he’d ever really belonged.