by A. J. Wynter
WARNING: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY
Please ensure this e-book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by underage readers.
Copyright
Copyright 2018 by AJ Wynter - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Author's Note:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third party websites or their content.
Cover Design by JT Enterprises
Editing by Teresa Banschbach www.icanedit4u.com
Table of Contents
Disclaimer
Copyright Page
FREE BOOK
Dedication
Forgetting the Rancher | A.J. Wynter
Chapter 1 – Sydney
Chapter 2 – Russell
Chapter 3 – Sydney
Chapter 4 – Russell
Chapter 5 – Sydney
Chapter 6—Russell
Chapter 7 – Sydney
Chapter 8 – Russell
Chapter 9 – Sydney
Chapter 10 – Russell
Chapter 11 – Sydney
Chapter 12 – Russell
Chapter 13 – Sydney
Chapter 14 – Russell
Chapter 15—Sydney
Chapter 16 – Russell
Chapter 17 – Sydney
Chapter 18 – Russell
Chapter 19 – Sydney
Chapter 20 – Russell
Chapter 21 – Russell
Chapter 22 - Sydney
Chapter 23 – Russell
Chapter 24 – Sydney
Chapter 25 - Russell
Chapter 26 – Sydney
Chapter 27 – Russell
Chapter 28 – Sydney
Chapter 29 – Russell
Chapter 30 – Sydney
Chapter 31 - Russell
Chapter 32 – Russell
Chapter 33 – Sydney
Chapter 34 - Russell
Chapter 35 - Sydney
Chapter 36 – Russell
Chapter 37—Sydney
Epilogue
Also By A.J. Wynter
Connect with A.J.
FREE BOOK
Two Powerful Executives.
One Risky Takeover.
Will it be hearts or careers that are broken?
Click on the cover to get the first book in “The Billionaires of Torver Corporation” Series, One Perfect CEO.
Spoil Yourself Today
xo
Dedication
Jenny S. & Lori W.
I couldn’t have written this without you.
Forgetting the Rancher
A.J. Wynter
Forgetting the Rancher
Copyright
FREE BOOK
Dedication
Chapter 1 – Sydney
Chapter 2 – Russell
Chapter 3 – Sydney
Chapter 4 – Russell
Chapter 5 – Sydney
Chapter 6—Russell
Chapter 7 – Sydney
Chapter 8 – Russell
Chapter 9 – Sydney
Chapter 10 – Russell
Chapter 11 – Sydney
Chapter 12 – Russell
Chapter 13 – Sydney
Chapter 14 – Russell
Chapter 15—Sydney
Chapter 16 – Russell
Chapter 17 – Sydney
Chapter 18 – Russell
Chapter 19 – Sydney
Chapter 20 – Russell
Chapter 21 – Russell
Chapter 22 - Sydney
Chapter 23 – Russell
Chapter 24 – Sydney
Chapter 25 - Russell
Chapter 26 – Sydney
Chapter 27 – Russell
Chapter 28 – Sydney
Chapter 29 – Russell
Chapter 30 – Sydney
Chapter 31 - Russell
Chapter 32 – Russell
Chapter 33 – Sydney
Chapter 34 - Russell
Chapter 35 - Sydney
Chapter 36 – Russell
Chapter 37—Sydney
Epilogue
Also By A.J. Wynter
Connect with A.J.
Chapter 1 – Sydney
Sydney woke up covered in sweat. She’d been having the same dream over and over since her last exam – that she was sitting in the exam hall, a dotted Scantron sheet in front of her, filled out in the shape of a unicorn – and she was naked. She sat up, exhaled, and pushed her blonde hair from her forehead. She padded to her bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. Looking into the mirror, she saw that the whites of her green eyes were bloodshot and sunken, making her look like she had aged five years in the last week.
Her best friend, Lainey, thought that she was crazy. She had a 4.0 GPA going into exams and she had practically lived at the library, subsisting solely on coffee. Sydney sank down onto the cold tile floor of her bathroom and cradled her forehead in her hands. If she didn’t get into medical school, her parents would be so disappointed in her. Her dad had been the state’s top oncologist, and her mom was still a practicing surgeon. Before that, her grandfather had been the town’s chief pathologist. Medicine was in the Strachan blood, and if she didn’t get into medical school she would be letting the family down. Everything that she had worked so hard for, the endless hours of studying, the years in exclusive private schools, the expensive tutors, it would have all been for nothing.
Sydney took a deep breath and peeled herself off the floor, thankful that all the dorm rooms at Glenfern College had their own private bathrooms. She knocked on Lainey’s door and heard her friend’s voice croak, “Come in, Syd.”
If Sydney thought that she looked bad, Lainey looked – and smelled – worse. She was in bed, her brown hair rumpled into a giant rat’s nest. She patted the duvet beside her and Sydney sat down beside her friend.
“The naked unicorn dream again?” Lainey asked.
Sydney nodded her head. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get into med school.”
Lainey sighed. “Syd. First of all, you’re going to get in. You’ve been on the Dean’s list every year. Your extracurricular activities are off the charts and you’re the star of the equestrian team. BUT, if for some freaky reason, you don’t get in, you will be okay. Your parents will get over it and you will figure out something bigger and better to do with yourself.”
“Bigger and better than med school? Better than not embarrassing my parents?” Sydney could feel the tears welling up and grabbed a tissue from Lainey’s bedside table.
“Yes,” Lainey said emphatically. “You’re the smartest person that I know. You will figure it out.” Lainey reached around Syd’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s six a.m. Why don’t you go back to bed, dream about one of the Branfern guys, and try to wake up on the right side of the bed? I
got in at four and I plan on sleeping in until at least noon. You missed a good kegger.”
“Whew. I can tell. It smells like a brewery in here,” Sydney sniffled and good-heartedly wafted her hand in front of her nose. “I’m actually a little surprised that you don’t have someone in bed with you this morning.”
Lainey smiled deviously. “He left an hour ago.”
“Ha, I knew it,” Syd said and tossed a throw pillow at her friend. “Get some more sleep and when I come back I’ll bring you the hangover cure.”
Over the years, Sydney had learned that Lainey’s hangover could only be cured if she brought her toast cut into strips, a.k.a. soldiers, with a side of extra crispy bacon.
Lainey sank back down under her covers and murmured, “You should’ve seen how hot this one was.”
“I’m sure he was,” Syd said and tucked her friend back into bed.
Lainey had been badgering Sydney to go to one of the Branfern College frat parties since they met in their freshman year. Branfern was the boys’ college located on the other side of town. It was a forty-five-minute drive around the lake on a good day, but only a short twenty-minute canoe paddle, as the crow flies, across the lake.
Syd was an early riser and knew that she couldn’t go back to sleep. After she left Lainey’s room, she pulled on her barn clothes, hopped in her vintage Volkswagen Cabriolet, and headed off to the stables. She spent three hours there, mucking out the stalls and brushing both of her horses, a pair of sleek black Oldenburgs. She started with her favorite, Cowboy. She called him that because he was a touch unpredictable, and always kept her guessing. Cowboy nuzzled into her neck as she brushed out his dark mane, then she moved on to Dorito, the goofier of the two, giving him a hug, his warmth a comfort to her. Being around horses was the only time that she truly felt like herself. These two animals knew her better than anyone, even Lainey. Cowboy and Dorito weren’t their real names, Cobalt Anthem and Dutch Ombre were what everyone else called them, especially whenever her dad was around. He had given her the pair when she was accepted to Glenfern with a full scholarship. Not that she needed it, the Strachan family were an old money family going back several generations. Syd didn’t know exactly where her family stood in the hierarchy of the wealthiest families in Connecticut, but she knew that they were up there.
The early morning mist started to dissipate as the sun rose higher in the sky. Her exam results and the fate of her entire life was going to be posted today and she knew that she would be back for either a celebratory or consolatory ride. She told Cowboy and Dorito that she would be back, kicked the dirt off of her boots, and headed back to get her dorm neighbor some bacon and toast soldiers.
Chapter 2 – Russell
Russell pulled a red bandana from the back pocket of his Wranglers and wiped his brow. It was eight a.m. and the temperature had already surpassed one hundred degrees. He had been up since dawn and was making slow progress with the fence repairs.
He heard the rumble of Floyd’s diesel pickup before the old man’s truck crested the hill. Floyd came to a stop beside Russell and hopped out. For a man pushing eighty years old, Floyd was surprisingly spry and could still out ride men half his age.
“There was more damage than I thought,” Floyd said, surveying the fence line.
The spring washouts and subsequent windstorms had done a number on Blackgum Acres’ bison fence. The other ranch hands were off rounding up the bison while Floyd and Russell worked tirelessly repairing the enclosure. Blackgum’s bison were notorious escape artists, and if there was a way out of the pasture, they would find it.
“These washouts are the worst I’ve seen since I’ve been here,” Russell said, hammering the barbed wire back into place.
Floyd shook his head, “They almost rival the floods of ‘98 – them were the worst I’ve seen in my days.” Floyd had been born on Blackgum Acres and had taken over the ranch when his parents died, and other than trips into Claystream, the closest town, he never left. Floyd’s parents needed him to work on the ranch, so he dropped out of school in the sixth grade to help out.
Russell longed to be part of the crew that was out rounding up the bison, but Floyd always assigned him to fence duty. He said it was because he was the only guy who knew how to do it right, but Russell knew that Floyd was trying to save his back.
“Keep on going, Russ,” the old man said, clapping Russell on his shoulder. “But don’t miss lunch today. Mary’s got somethin’ special slow cookin’ and by the smell of it, you don’t wanna miss it.”
Mary was the cook that Floyd brought in when the guys were really busy, she was a crusty old lady from Claystream, but the woman knew how to BBQ. Russell’s stomach growled just thinking about her brisket and he regretted rushing out of bed without breakfast.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I could smell Mary’s brisket when I headed out this morning. I’ll be there with bells on.” As he turned to smile at Floyd, Russell’s back tweaked and he flinched. He hoped that Floyd hadn’t noticed his discomfort, but from the look of concern on his face, it was obvious that he did.
“Flarin’ up again?”
“Nope. I’m good,” Russell lied.
Russell’s rodeo career had ended when Boda the Bull bucked him off and broke his back. When his doctor had ordered him to quit the rodeo at the age of twenty-one, Russell thought that his life was over. He had been a star, traveling with the rodeo, making some decent cash, and catching the eyes of all the rodeo groupies across the south. With his injury, he lost everything. That was five years ago, and Floyd had been the only rancher who would hire him. He missed the spotlight and the traveling but accepted that his life was here, on Blackgum Acres, helping Floyd keep the ranch afloat.
Floyd couldn’t pay much, but he helped Russell out in other ways; he gave him free room and board, and access to any of his horses. Russell worked tirelessly for the old man, and at the end of the day, he hardly had any energy to go into town. When he was feeling good, he would take one of the horses out and run it hard until his back started to ache. The rides had been getting longer, and he could now ride for at least three hours before he had to get off and stretch out his back.
Claystream was a thirty-minute drive from the ranch, and on payday, Russell would ride his favorite horse, Buttercup, the feisty Appaloosa, into town to have beer and steak at the Country Kiln. Sometimes, he’d get drunk and go home with Sherry, the waitress. She wanted more from Russell than a random night here and there, but Russell didn’t have the energy or desire to give it to her.
Freckles, Floyd’s Australian Cattle dog watched Russell work, and when Russell mounted his horse to ride to the next section of fencing, Freckles was hot on his heels. The physical labor felt good, and even though he was sweating like a pig, Russ loved being in the open fields with Buttercup and Freckles. As he finished up a section of damaged fencing, he heard the cowbell ring out from the main house signaling lunch. His stomach growled, and he mounted Buttercup, clicked his tongue, and she ran as fast as her hooves could to carry him toward the smell of barbecued brisket.
He tied Buttercup up to the post out front of the house and saw a massive cloud of dust barreling down the long laneway. As the dust got closer, he saw that it was a pickup truck hauling a huge horse trailer. He jogged up to the house, his brown cowboy boots clomping on the worn floorboards of the old porch and yelled through the door, “Hey, Floyd.” Through the screen door, he could see Floyd sitting at the table. “Floyd,” Russell said a little louder. No response. Russ sighed, the old man’s eyesight had been going, and now it looked like his hearing was shot too. “FLOYD,” Russell shouted and banged on the door. Floyd looked up, startled. “A horse trailer just pulled up.”
Floyd pressed his arthritic hands into the table and walked over to the door and smiled. “I bought me some horses,” he said, grinning.
Russell looked at Floyd questioningly. In all his time at the ranch, Floyd only ever had enough horses for each of the ranch hands to get their work done
, and even then, they were often a horse or two short.
“You go get some lunch, boy. I’m going to go help unload my new ponies,” Floyd smiled and strode off to meet the driver of the truck. Russ felt his stomach grumble but turned and followed Floyd. He couldn’t let him do it on his own. Russ caught up to the old man and asked, “Do we need more horses?”
“Can always use more horses,” Floyd replied. He was practically running down the lane and Russ couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Floyd so excited about something. “But can we afford them?” Russ asked.
Floyd stopped dead in his tracks and Russ knew that he had crossed the line. “You let me worry about what Blackgum can and can’t afford, you hear me, Russ?”
Russ nodded his head yes, and took his cowboy hat off to apologize, but Floyd flashed him a huge gap-toothed grin, “And don’t worry, these were a steal.”
Russ looked up and saw the trailer rocking and swaying. “Floyd... are those... mustangs?” he asked.
“You got it, Russ. And you’re going to break ‘em.”
Russ stood staring at the trailer. There had to be at least ten wild horses in there. It would take months or even years to break those horses if they were even breakable. It had been done before, but it wasn’t easy. He smiled and strode confidently toward the trailer to meet his new project. His simple ranch life just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
Chapter 3 – Sydney
Sydney’s hand was trembling, but she couldn’t bring herself to press the ‘submit’ button to receive the grade from her final exam. The grade that would determine her entire average for her college career. A few points down, could mean that the best school would be out of her reach. More than a few points down could mean that even the ‘B’ schools would be off the table too.
She stood up and walked across the hall to Lainey’s room. Her door was ajar, and she was sitting at her desk in a towel applying her makeup. Sydney noticed that the plate she had brought her was empty, save for a few toast crumbs. “Glad to see you’ve got some color in your face other than green,” she said as she knocked on the open door.