Bought by the Lone Cowboy

by E. Walsh

  “Good morning, Mr. Beyer,” she said as she turned to face him.

  “Good morning, Miss Ennis,” he said in answer, the words rough-edged as though he was still half asleep. But his eyes were open, his expression intent.

  “I wanted to let you know,” Laurel said, wiping her hands on her apron and turning back to the range to pour batter onto the griddle. “That I think it is best if I leave.” She was proud to hear her voice come out even. “It is nothing against you, please understand. It is only that I know you-You aren’t looking for someone to share your life, and I am afraid I have let myself become a little too invested in such fancies. I will, of course, remain until you can find someone else to watch the children. I would not simply run out on you, you understand.”

  For a moment, there was silence except the sound of the food and the fire. She brushed a stray curl back from her face with her wrist, and turned, slowly, too look at the man she was sure she had fallen in love with against all common sense.

  He was standing much closer than she had expected. Laurel took a startled step back, her hip bumping against the edge of the stove, and he reached out and caught her hand, drawing her away from it before her skirts could get too close to the flame. When she moved to slide her fingers from his, the hold tightened, just slightly.

  “Don’t go,” he said.

  Her heart beat faster in her chest.

  “You do not want me to stay,” she said, and this time the words caught in her throat.

  Joseph shook his head. His other hand lifted to take hers, and he tugged her gently closer, until they stood within inches of each other.

  “I have wanted you to stay since the night I brought you home.” He smiled like he could not help himself. “You were sitting at the table with the lamp light in your hair, and when you looked up at me I thought of what it would be like to come home every night to that smile.” His own faded. “But I was afraid, Laurel. I was afraid that loving you would take away from Rachel, that giving in to our emotion would trap you here with a man twice your age.”

  “I don’t care about your age.” The words started, and she couldn’t seem to stop them. “I’ve never cared, Joseph. And I-I love your children. I know they are not mine, but I have always found myself treating them as if they were. Loving them as if they were, even though I knew I should not.”

  She dropped her gaze, and he caught her under the chin with two fingers, the touch tender, and lifted her head so that she looked at him once more.

  “What changed your mind?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Would you believe me if I said it was Rachel?”

  “Rachel? How?”

  “In a dream,” he said quietly, a sad smile crossing his lips. “She told me not to forsake love for memories.”

  The hand on her chin moved up, thumb stroking along her jaw line, palm against her cheek.

  He drew her in until she could feel his breath against her lips, and Laurel went easily with the gentle pull.

  “Missing my second chance at happiness?” he said. “Well, that would be sad, indeed.”

  His lips met hers.

  Laurel’s arms slid around his shoulders, and his free hand dropped to her waist.

  The kiss itself was almost chaste, warm and gentle and then gone as they pulled apart.

  Joseph tucked the curl that had fallen loose again back behind her ear with the tips of two fingers.

  “Stay,” he said again. “Please, Miss Laurel Ennis.”

  She nodded before she could speak. “Yes. Yes, Mr. Joseph Beyer, I would very much like that.”

  The smile that broke out across his face lit the entire room. Almost before she had realized he was moving, he’d wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her, spinning her around once.

  Giddy laughter spilled from them both. He set her gently on her feet again, and for a moment they just stood close, feeling the warmth of each other’s nearness.

  “Daddy?” inquired a small voice from the doorway behind her. Laurel startled, turning to find David there still in his night shirt. “Do you smell smoke?”

  “Oh.” She spun around. “The pancakes!”

  The pancakes were indeed burning. But standing there in the sunlit kitchen with the man who loved her laughing behind her as she scraped the blackened remains from the griddle and pulled the too-done eggs off the heat, Laurel couldn’t bring herself to mind.

  Accidents, she thought as she dumped the scorched pancake out of the skillet and poured another, were such funny, unexpected things.

  Such a small word… to change the course of a life.

  She looked down at David, who had wrapped himself around her leg, and up at Joseph, still wearing the smile she had never seen on his face before today, and knew she had made the right decision.

  It seemed the golden state had brought her riches after all.

  The End

  34. One Night with Aleksey

  By: Ally Nelson

  One Night with Aleksey

  © Ally Nelson, 2016 – All rights reserved

  Published by Steamy Reads4U

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Warning

  This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.

  If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.

  * * *

  Chapter One

  One more day to go until the annual Shakespeare Festival started, and Natalya Bernard was already a nervous wreck.

  The guest companies were supposed to arrive today, composed of directors, actors, and students from England, Russia, Germany, and France.

  Natalya hadn’t slept in days, the tasks that awaited her every day kept her awake. Although she was only an assistant to the director of the Royal Theatre, she felt the constant need to impress her boss with her work ethic and passion for the arts, especially since she was not an actress herself.

  Natalya loved her job and put it before everything else, even her own pleasure. The Royal was internationally renowned and was the launch pad for a number of now-famous actors and actresses. Working there was a dream-come-true, and she hoped her passion and dedication wouldn’t go unnoticed, especially during the most important week of the year.

  *

  Natalya rolled out of bed on wobbly legs. She sat on the toilet for a minute, peeing, yawning, then stood at the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  Even though she was exhausted, she looked cute, in a tired sort of way, she thought. She leaned in for a closer look.

  She didn’t understand why she was still single. There was nothing wrong with her, after all, quite the contrary.

  She had bobbed, wavy blond hair, the smoothest skin, iridescent blue eyes.

  Her mouth was small and soft and her lips a light pink. Stroking her hair and face, she tried to remember what it felt like when a man did this to her.

  She missed the touch of strong, big hands that made her feel even more tender and feminine than she already was.

  She took off her nightgown, went to the big mirror in the living room and looked at her body.

  Silky skin from head to toe made ev
erybody go crazy when they first touched her. Her breasts were large for her frame, a full C-cup. Perfect size for her taste and as far as she knew, men loved her breasts.

  A small waist and round hips, little belly. Long and slender arms and legs. Perfect firmness, thanks to her hobby - she loved to dance and practiced regularly.

  She took a deep breath as she felt the tears well up. She missed the gaze of a man who looked at her in excitement.

  “Stop it, now,” she scolded herself. “Breathe and focus. You need to concentrate on your work now. Romance will have to wait!” She dried her eyes and hurried to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee and get ready for work.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  She arrived late, of course, but thank God nobody noticed. In the cafeteria, she bumped into one of the dramaturges (theater workers) -- a flamboyantly gay stage hand named Carlos – who was already going crazy. Not because of the festival, but because of all the students who were set to arrive, particularly the young men.

  “Natalya!” he said he saw her. “Just imagine, the theatre will be full of hot guys from all around the world! I’ve seen the pictures online! I’m in love with a dozen of them already! I’m going to call dibs!”

  She bit her tongue to keep from smiling. She gave him a scolding look instead. “Oh my God, Carlos, are you serious? How can you think about sex when the festival is about to begin and there’s so much work left to do?”

  Carlos shot her a sly look. “I know there’s still a lot of work to do. Doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize, does it?”

  He pinched her cheek and laughed.

  “Come on, Natalya, enjoy!” he said, clapping his hands merrily. “That’s the best part of a festival like this. You get to meet new people and have a great time with them and everyone goes home happy! So relax!” He gave her a funny look. “In fact, I think you could use a good roll in the hay yourself. You’re so tense… When was the last time you got laid?”

  “None of your business!” she said, slapping at him. “Go on, find something to do before you get us both in trouble!”

  Natalya smiled as she watched him go. She loved Carlos. He was probably her best friend in the theater. He was so carefree, so unafraid to dream, and so unashamed of who he was and what he wanted out of life.

  She had made friends with him her first day there and now she tried to pick up on his good mood and positive energy.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe she should relax a little and just look forward to seeing all the amazing shows and meeting a bunch of amazingly talented artists.

  And maybe Carlos was right. Maybe she should scope out the guys and have a little fun during the festival. You never know, she told herself. Still, she was skeptical.

  She was also worried a fling might get her fired if the theater director found out.

  What would it look like if she, a mere intern, got involved with one of the guests at the festival?

  No way, she thought. It’s just not worth the risk.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  Natalya ran to her office and found a note from her boss that he would meet her at the reception. She sat in her desk chair, switched on her computer, and pretended to work on the event schedule, but all she could think about was what Carlos had said.

  The students and guests would start arriving at 1pm. She glanced at the clock on the wall. She just had time to freshen up a bit before having to leave for the reception.

  Again, her thoughts turned to Carlos’ comments. “You get to meet new people,” she heard him say. Maybe he was right. Maybe she would meet someone and have a wonderful time.

  Or not. Natalya had learned to never get her hopes up too high.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  Natalya didn’t relax until the visiting theatre companies arrived, finally. There were actors, directors, dramaturges, stage hands, lighting technicians, sound and video people, and the studio was as full to bursting point.

  Natalya retreated to one of the corners of the room to watch the procession. She was kind of disappointed.

  The group didn’t look as spectacular as Natalya had imagined after Carlos’ outburst with excitement.

  But then she noticed one guy who looked like he didn’t belong. First she caught sight of his leather jacket, then of his red hair.

  He looked somewhat older than the rest.

  Who could he be?

  Natalya studied him carefully. He stood near the entrance, smiling politely, but didn’t speak to anybody.

  The others were chattering, screaming, laughing, improvising, showing off. Yet, he just stood there, with his well-worn leather jacket and beautiful red hair.

  Natalya couldn’t take her eyes off him. She wondered if he was a student, though he looked to old. Maybe he was a stage hand, or maybe even a director or teacher.

  No, for a teacher he was too young.

  Or an actor, maybe? That was it. He had the intense look of a great actor.

  He was so different, so calm. And still he had a presence that captivated Natalya and wouldn’t let go of her. He reminded her of Vincent Cassel in one of his shadier roles.

  Natalya tried to imagine who the redhead was, which language he spoke, where he lived, and if he had a girlfriend.

  He probably didn’t have just one girlfriend, she guessed. Many women would be attracted to such a man. He was the lonesome cowboy-type she always fell for.

  Natalya was still caught up in her thoughts when the theater’s marketing director’s shrill voice tore her from her daydream. Angela, was her name, and boy, was she bossy!

  “Everybody, everybody listen!” Angela shouted, clapping her hands to get their attention. God, how Natalya hated the sound of her voice. Angela was a type AAA and a clear overachiever.

  She always got what she wanted, always got her way. Angela was the complete opposite of Natalya: self-asserted, precise, dominant and overbearing.

  She greeted the students and press people and introduced the director, who then gave his speech.

  He welcomed them, told them about the theater and its history, and explained why this festival was so important, what luck they had to be able to meet interesting new people and artists and what that meant for their future.

  Natalya was too distracted to listen. She looked for the redhead, but couldn’t find him at first. When she caught sight of him, she motioned towards Carlos, who was standing in the corner, bright-eyed with excitement.

  “Carlos,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked without looking her way. He stood there with his lips slightly parted and Natalya wondered if he would start drooling soon.

  “Look over there, to the left. Black leather jacket. Red hair. Do you have any idea who he is?”

  Carlos narrowed his eyes to focus in on the guy. He obviously was not his type as he didn’t show any form of interest and didn’t make one of his usual lewd comments.

  “No idea, why?”

  “I was just wondering if he was one of the students or maybe a crew-member.

  “No idea, honey,” Carlos said, his eyes going around the room like a fat man at a buffet. “Red heads aren’t my thing. Are they yours?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he flitted away to talk to a tall German with blonde hair.

  Natalya looked for the red headed stranger again and when her eyes found him, she said, “Maybe red heads aren’t your thing, Carlos, but they just might be mine.”

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  On the other side of the room, Aleksey Andropov, the redhead that Natalya was fixating on, listened intently to the director’s speech, though he had no clue what the man was saying.

  Aleksey smiled and nodded when the others did. He assumed this to be the correct and polite thing to do.

  Aleksey had worked hard to build his muscles and his mind, though for the life of him, he couldn’t grasp English or French, no matter how hard he tried.

  He was a boxer in h
is youth and had been able to maintain his body in excellent form, though his boxing days were far behind him now.

  He trained with weights every day, ran five miles, watched his diet, all to keep his body in peak condition; and to fight the aging process, which seemed to get harder with each passing year.

  He knew he looked better than most men half his age, and his confidence needed no boosting. That’s why there was no need for him to try and be the center of attention in situations such as this.

  People came to him without invitation, women noticed him even when he just stood somewhere quietly by himself, and he never had to beg for anyone’s attention or approval. Rarely was he without the company of a beautiful woman. Getting sex was easy. It was finding someone he would commit to that was hard.

  Aleksey turned into a man early in his life, as he had to. He grew up in a small village in the Ural Mountains, close to the Kazakh border.

  His father was an unemployed drunk who liked to beat up his wife and children. Until one day when Aleksey had had enough. He was thirteen years old when he decided not to let this happen anymore.

  He trained in a rundown boxing camp on the outskirts of his village. He trained every day, often imagining his father’s face on the punching bag he was beating to a pulp.

  When his father came home drunk in the middle of the night and attacked Aleksey’s mother, the boy was more than willing to show his father everything he had learned. His mother and brothers had to pull him off his father before he killed him with his bare fists.

  His father left the same night and never came back. God only knows where he had ended up and if he was still alive.

  Aleksey thought his family would be able to live in peace now that his father wasn’t around. Little did he know his mother would make his life a living hell for scaring away her husband whom she loved deeply, despite the abuse she suffered at his hand.