Ride Me, Cowboys_A Reverse Harem Forbidden Romance

by Alexa B. James

“Ah, okay,” I said. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll start using spreadsheets. And I’ll back it up to the cloud, so you’ll never have to worry about your data being lost.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “Just show one of us how it works once you got it set up.”

  A swell of pride rose up inside me. They were trusting me with a lot, not just to know how the ranch was doing financially. I knew would hurt their pride to let me know it was in trouble. But they were also letting me in on the plans to fix it. Plans that could take years, and would definitely take a lot longer than the next six weeks. They were making a place for me in their lives.

  Before I could think too deeply about it, my emotions welled up, and I threw my arms around Waylon’s neck. He looked so shocked I almost laughed. The guy had told me things that made my ears turn red, was the first man to give me an orgasm, and was intimately acquainted with my lady-bits. But a hug around the neck made him look like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket.

  “Thank you,” I said, standing up on my tippy-toes to plant a loud smack on his cheek. “I appreciate your trust.”

  Waylon grunted, and I was pretty sure I saw a bit of color rise to his cheeks. If seeing a stoic cowboy blush wasn’t the cutest thing I’d ever seen, I didn’t know what was.

  “You’re sexy when you’re uncomfortable,” I said, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

  His arms wound around my waist and he gave me a quick squeeze. “I hope so.”

  Surprised, I pulled back, but Waylon turned before I could get a good read on him. I caught his hand, all calloused and work-worn. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever touched his hands before, and a pang of longing went through me when I pictured them all over my body. If I stayed, I’d have lots of time to get to know his hands, and everything else about him that he was still holding back from me.

  “Your mom must like country music,” I said.

  Waylon gave me a wary look. “Most folks around here do.”

  “Do most folks name their sons after country singers?”

  Waylon scowled.

  “I don’t really listen to it,” I admitted. “But I think it’s cute that you’re named after singers. Hell, maybe I’ll give it a shot. You know, impress your mom.” I winked at Waylon, who narrowed his eyes like he was trying to figure out my game.

  “Let one of us know if you need a hand with figuring all that out,” he said, his eyes dropping to the ledger in my hands. His gaze raked back up my body, sparking a tremble of desire between my thighs. Even a simple look from him could get me started.

  I was going to need a hand with something if he didn’t stop looking at me like that, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be figuring out a budget.

  7

  Holden

  I didn’t know what to think about bringing Amber to my show, but it was too late now. My brother had gone and opened his big mouth, so here we were, loading all the canvases into the back of a horse trailer to be dragged into town the next day and set up for the show. The gallery downtown sold local art, and they’d keep whatever didn’t sell at the show. Sometimes, I’d see my work in the window when I walked by, but eventually, it all sold. I just hoped none of the women I’d used for inspiration saw their likeness in the exaggerated paintings.

  “You don’t have to help with this,” I told Amber as she joined us in my bedroom.

  “I don’t mind,” she said, picking up one of the wrapped canvases. “They’re not heavy.” There was something in the set of her mouth that told me she was a little upset about something, though I didn’t know what. I figured she’d come around and tell me when the time was right, if I needed to know.

  Turned out, Amber wasn’t one for holding in her thoughts. Guess I could have told you that already.

  After setting her canvas down in the trailer, she stepped back and dusted off her hands. “Well, that’s one less reminder of that skank in our house.”

  Sawyer whistled. “Tell us how you really feel.”

  “Oops, did I say that out loud?” Amber asked, covering her mouth in a less-than-convincing manner.

  I guess the woman had a point. Maria was all over us, her ghost hanging in the house even if her portraits weren’t. Her ghost haunted the cabins, too, and for the first time I wondered if there was more to Amber’s pushing the rentals than just thinking it was good business. It couldn’t have been easy to step into our house with that shadow hanging over her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as we headed back inside to get another load. “I’ll get rid of them.”

  “That would be nice,” Amber said, not pretending it was all fine and good. “If I’m going to be sleeping in your room sometimes.”

  “I’m counting on it,” I said, following her up the stairs. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her tight little ass swaying in front of me.

  “Then it would be nice not to have your past lovers hanging out in your closet.”

  “Duly noted,” I said. “I’ll sell them all. Except the one of you.”

  She stopped at my door, turned, wrapped her arms around my neck, and rewarded me with a kiss. “Thank you.”

  8

  Amber

  I stared at my phone, blinking at the screen as if I’d never seen the name Mom before. In reality, I’d seen her name plenty of times—all over the news, magazines and TV. But she hadn’t called more than a couple times since I’d arrived, and both times, it had been from her office. Mostly, she wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting into trouble and had money if I needed anything.

  I guess the fact that I wasn’t appearing in any gossip columns was suspicious to her. Or at least suspicious enough to cause her to call and check in, then pass the phone off to her secretary so she could buy me anything I wanted.

  But what had I done to warrant a call from her personal cell?

  It wasn’t my birthday, and her and dad were already divorced, so I couldn’t think of a valid reason for her to call. Which put me on edge just a bit.

  “Mom?” I answered. “Who died?”

  “No one died,” she said, laughing in her fake, forced way.

  “Oh,” I said, sinking back against the counter in one of the guest cottages. “Then…why are you calling?”

  “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she said.

  I could tell something was up. She was acting weird. Or rather, she was acting normal, which was weird. “I’m okay,” I said slowly. “How are you?”

  “The campaign is going great,” she said. “We’re cautiously optimistic. But what about you, Amber? How are Senator Westling’s sons treating you?”

  Senator Westling? Seriously? She’d married the guy, and she still couldn’t call him by his first name.

  “They’re great,” I said. “They work most of the day, and I’m helping around the ranch. Being all responsible and shit, like you wanted.”

  “Amber,” she scolded. “There’s no need for your anger.”

  “Anger? Oh no, Mom. I’m not angry. You were right. This has been just the best thing ever. In fact, I might just stay.”

  “Stay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You know, move in, live here with my brothers. Wasn’t that what you wanted? For us to be one big happy family?”

  “Well, yes, but there’s college to think about…”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve been thinking I might take some online courses.”

  “You can’t really be thinking about living on a farm,” she said.

  “Why, because it’s so lame? Because it’s such hard work you didn’t think I could do it? I know you were trying to punish me, but I meant it when I said it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  I was enjoying this conversation way too much. It seemed I’d grown a spine when it came to my mother. Getting pissed did that to me sometimes.

  “Amber,” my mother said, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing, Mom,�
�� I said. “I’m cleaning out a cottage, getting ready to rent it to some tourists. You know, the usual farm work.”

  “That’s not you,” she said. “You’ve never shown any interest in that kind of work in your life. Are you just saying that to get back at me for sending you out there?”

  “How does finding something I enjoy mean I’m trying to get back at you?”

  “It won’t last,” she said. “You’ll get tired of it.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. But thank you. I mean that. I would never have found out I liked this if you hadn’t forced me to come. I’m actually pretty good at riding the horses now. Remember when you got me lessons but gave up because the nanny had to drive so far out of the city to get me to the stables? Now I’ve finally mastered it.”

  “Well,” she said, sounding perplexed. “That sounds…nice. Maybe I’ll come visit sometime. We could all get together and have a family Christmas out there. Senator Westling mentioned it just the other day, but I thought you’d be anxious to get home.”

  “That’s nice of you both,” I said. “But I don’t think I do.”

  “You know,” she said slowly. “You sound really healthy, Amber. I’m proud of you for working so hard and having such a positive attitude.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, absently rubbing my toe at a spot on the tile floor.

  “In fact,” Mom said. “I’m looking at my calendar right now. And I think Christmas might be a little busy. So many dinners, and then there’s the New Year’s ball… You know how it is.”

  “I sure do,” I said, bending down to have a closer look at the spot I’d been rubbing. It was roughly circular, about the size of a dime. And it wasn’t going anywhere.

  “But you know, the week of Thanksgiving might be open,” Mom said.

  I popped back upright so hard I nearly lost my balance and fell in the sink. “Thanksgiving? That’s next week.”

  “I know,” Mom said. “Won’t it be exciting to have the family together for the first time? You can show me all the little chores you do. And afterwards, since you’ve handled this so well, maybe you could come home.”

  “Mom,” I said, sandwiching the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “Didn’t you hear me? I like it here.”

  “Yes, well,” she said. “That could change. And don’t you think you really belong in New York? I’m sure you miss all your friends, and you’ve proven that you can handle the situation like an adult. There’s no need to prolong things.”

  “Oh, I see. So now that you know I’m not being punished by this, you want me to come home. What punishment do you have lined up for me there?”

  “Don’t be snippy with me,” she said. “I just thought you’d like to come home. And yes, I do like being able to keep an eye on you.”

  “Lucky for you, now you don’t have to. The Westling boys are taking care of me just fine.” I made sure to drag out the last two words real slow, let them sink in a little. Then I pretended I’d lost signal and hung up. Let her think on that for a while.

  9

  Amber

  “We’re probably the first truck to ever head into town with nude western paintings in one side of the trailer and a cow in the other,” I said as we bumped along the dirt road out of the ranch.

  “It’s actually a heifer,” Sawyer said, shooting me a grin from under the brim of his chocolate brown hat. It set off the glow of tan lingering on his skin from summer, and his bright blonde hair peeked out from under the brim. As usual, looking at him made my mouth water. Especially when I remembered the taste of him.

  I twisted around in my seat to make sure Waylon and Holden were comfortable in the back seat. But if I’d expected it to be cramped, I was in for a surprise. Even Holden had extra room for his long legs.

  “Wow,” I said, running my hand along the ceiling, which was miles above my head. “This thing is nice. I mean, it’s bigger than a freaking limo!”

  “It’s the farm truck,” Holden said. “It’s got to be big enough to pull a trailer full of cattle. And it’s a diesel.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I admitted. “But it’s definitely an upgrade from the truck you picked me up in at the airport, Sawyer. Not that there was anything wrong with your little old truck. But this thing is like a luxury vehicle.”

  A rumble of laughter came from Sawyer, so I guessed I hadn’t offended him or insulted his truck. “I don’t know about luxury,” he said. “There’s a lot of work and cow shit that comes with owning it.”

  “Well, I feel like a princess,” I said, leaning toward the window to look down at the road below. “I feel like I’m in a freaking airplane. This thing is so high up!”

  “You’d think you’d never ridden in a truck before,” Waylon said.

  “I haven’t,” I said. “Except for Sawyer’s.”

  “You’ve never ridden in a truck?” Holden asked, his eyes wide.

  “There’s a lot of things I haven’t ridden,” I said, twisting around to smile over my shoulder at him. I was rewarded with a low intake of breath from Waylon’s side of the truck. His dark eyes fixed on mine, smoldering with desire.

  “There’s lot of room in this truck to remedy that,” Sawyer said with a wicked grin. He reached over and pinched my thigh. “What are you doing all the way over there?”

  Excited about the invitation, I unbuckled and slid across the seat, snapping myself into the middle seatbelt instead. “Better?” I asked, smiling up at him.

  He put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me to his side. “Much better, Princess.”

  “I think so, too,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

  Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he grinned and moved his hand a little, his thumb brushing across my nipple. It instantly hardened under his touch, and my knees clamped together.

  “Perfect, in fact,” Sawyer murmured, feeling my hardened nipple through my bra and squeezing it gently.

  By the time we got to town, my panties were soaked through, and I was glad I was wearing thick jeans so I hadn’t soaked those, too. My nipples was throbbing and tender, swollen from his attentions.

  But I was soon swept up in the charming town. One long street ran straight through the middle of town. On either side, there were businesses. I’d only been in one time before, and I felt like I’d stepped back into the Wild West when I saw it again.

  A hotel stood across the street from an old-fashioned diner that Sawyer said served “the best burgers around.” There was a hardware store, a feed store, a garage that fixed both cars and tractors. On the other side there was a farm supply store, a little gallery where Holden sold his work, a laundromat, and a few other shops. We turned off and delivered the cow to the auction barn before pulling to a stop in front of the gallery.

  While the guys went around back to unload, I took a spin around the gallery. It was small, really just an old white house with hardwood floors, emptied of furniture. A middle-aged woman sat reading a paperback behind a desk that looked like an old teacher’s desk at a school except instead of being piled with papers, it had a computer, a cash register, and a candy jar.

  The walls were covered in art, mostly paintings of the local area, trees, prairies, and the mountains. Not too different from Holden’s, except for the lack of naked ladies, of course.

  “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

  I spun around to see the lady studying me from above her lowered paperback.

  “New York,” I said, glancing down a dimly lit hallway behind her, where the back door stood open. Holden was carrying a painting into a room off the hall.

  “That’s a change,” the woman said. “What brings you all the way out here?”

  “Oh, just visiting family,” I said. “My mom married Senator Westling.”

  “I know,” she said. “Everyone in town knows.”

  “Right,” I said, remembering it was a small town and people were likely to gossip. They probably all knew I was staying up at Coyote Ranch
by now.

  “My daughter’s been dying to get a look at you,” the lady said, then leaned back in her chair and yelled down the hall. “Natalie! Come out here.”

  I hadn’t expected to be a coming attraction, so I just stood there unsure what to do for a second, until a figure appeared in the hallway. She tromped down to the big gallery room, her cowboy boots clomping under her weight, which was not inconsiderable. Natalie was what you’d call big-boned. She was nearly six feet tall, with wide hips, a buxom chest, and thick thighs. She looked a little older than me, probably late twenties, and sported a wild mop of flaming red hair.

  I was pretty sure I’d seen her before…in one of Holden’s paintings.

  “Well, you’re a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” she asked, looking me up and down. “Not much to ya, though. A good gust’ll blow you right over.” With that, she gave me a shove that was probably meant to be gentle but nearly knocked me through the front window.

  I figured if Mrs. Grimes could kick my ass, I stood no chance against her. So I played nice. “Nice to meet you, too,” I said. “Holden’s mentioned you before, I think. Natasha, was it?”

  “Natalie,” she said, giving me an appraising look. “So you’re the gal that’s going to tame the Westling boys?”

  “What?” I asked, my jaw just about hitting the floor. “I’m not trying to tame anyone.”

  “I’m just joshin’ ya,” she said, knocking me in the side with an elbow. “It’s about time they had a woman around there to class things up.”

  I was pretty sure that elbow would leave a bruise. Or a fractured rib.

  Just then, Sawyer sauntered down the hall and into the gallery room. “Oh, hey, Nat,” he said, then tipped his hat to the lady behind the desk. “Mrs. Wisenbaker.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Nat said, sidling over and wrapping an arm around his middle. “Where you been hiding out? I haven’t seen you down at Boots and Spurs in ages.”

  “I been around,” Sawyer said, extracting himself from her clutches and shooting me an embarrassed grin.

  “Well, get your dancing shoes on and come kick it with us again sometime, won’t ya?” Natalie said.