Wiley Johns

by Ciana Stone

  Copyright 2018, Ciana Stone

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone

  Cover by Syneca Featherstone

  All rights reserved.

  Wiley Johns

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Wiley Johns Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication July 16, 2018

  Print book publication July 6, 2018

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Syneca Featherstone

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Dedication:

  For my honeyman—I’m gonna love you forever.

  And for some very special friends who help me spot the

  "oops" before I send a book out into the world. I love you all!

  Jennie, Mary, Penne, Andi, Tammy, Sue, Debra and Jeanne

  Chapter One

  "Forget the horse and the cowboy"

  Molly drained the last of the water and set the bottle on the step beside her. Tired didn't begin to describe how she felt, but she couldn't afford to do more than take a short break. She had a mountain of work to do and was burning daylight.

  Sweat rolled down her back, neck, arms, and legs. Hell, even her butt was sweating. That's what three hours of ass-busting yard work did for you. The improvement in her yard gave her reason to ignore the fatigue.

  A pile of weeds, trimmings from bushes, trees, and dead plants lay piled three feet high on the driveway as a testament to her hard work. No doubt, the sore back she'd have tomorrow would serve as another testament. Not only to what she'd accomplished in the yard but how long it'd been since she put in a day of exhausting physical labor.

  She shoved aside thoughts of whether she'd be able to get out of the bed in the morning, stood and pulled on her gloves. The white wooden fence bordering the yard boasted of one of the biggest honeysuckle vines she'd ever seen. It probably smelled divine when in bloom, but it was so out of control it was spilling over onto the sidewalk. She could barely find the wooden fence rails, they were so buried in the tangle.

  Molly planned on digging up some of the vine and planting it on the fence bordering the back-yard. She wanted the front yard to look neat and uncluttered and ripping out the vine would help achieve that goal.

  Two hours, three bottles of water and several wheelbarrows of ripped up vines later, she'd successfully cleared off half the fence. One particularly thick vine sunk deep into the rock-hard packed dirt. She used her pick to loosen the soil since she'd had no luck digging it up with the shovel.

  Once the dirt was loose, she climbed the fence, wound the vine around both hands, propped her right foot against the fence post for leverage and pulled. "Come on, you bitch," she mumbled, groaned and threw all her weight into it.

  She leaned back and felt the vine give. What she didn't anticipate was it giving entirely. One moment she had her foot on the post and her body canted almost horizontal to the ground. The next she was flat on her back on the sidewalk, with vine and dirt all over her.

  Molly spit and sputtered, wiped at her face with her dirty glove, and that's when she saw it. A shadow. She turned her head and suddenly all the blood in her body pooled into one spot. And it wasn't her brain.

  Holy mother of god.

  A man stood two feet away, looking down at her. Smiling.

  She'd guess him to be around six, two or three, lean but with muscles in all the right places, maybe one eighty and eyes such a cool shade of gray they should not be able to ignite such a fire. Yet that's what happened. She felt it the moment their gazes connected.

  Molly quickly moved her gaze. Mistake. It drifted down, taking in the strong angles of his face, his oh-so-kissable lips and firm full chest on which a t-shirt was stretched, bearing the words "forget the horse and the cowboy."

  She was toast. One nasty, dirty, sweaty pile of female hormones lying there on the ground unable to do anything but imagine what that line of text implied.

  The object of her desire spoke, giving her yet another element to lust after. His voice was low. Not a whisper but spoken like someone who didn't have to be loud to command attention.

  "Need a hand?"

  At least one and several other body parts, please. Why was her mouth not working? Molly squinted her eyes tightly, counted to three, then opened her eyes and stood.

  She still had to look up to meet his gaze, and when she did, another jolt of pure lust rocketed through her. "Sorry. I lost that round, but the fight isn't over."

  "Looks like you'll end up winning the war."

  "I hope so. Do you live around here?" Please God, let him say yes. I know I need to borrow a couple hundred cups of sugar.

  "No, actually, I don't live here at all. Pardon my manners. I'm Wiley. Wiley Johns. And at present, I'm staying over at Clear Springs Ground Training Center."

  That explained the fatigues he wore and the boots. "It's nice to meet you, although a bit embarrassing as well, Mr. Johns. I'm Molly Little Fox."

  "It's a pleasure, Ms. Little Fox. Or is it Mrs.?"

  "Nope, Ms. And please, call me Molly." Or honey, baby, sugar or whatever the hell you want. Just call me.

  "If you call me Wiley."

  "Wiley." She said and felt a curious thrill at the feel of his name rolling off her tongue. Damn what was it about Wiley Johns that made her get all hot and bothered? Sure, he was fine in all capital letters, and his smile could probably charm the devil. Not to mention the vibe he had about him, promising he knew all the right things to do to take a woman where she wanted to go the most. Sexually speaking.

  None of it changed the fact she didn't typically have this strong of a reaction. So why now?

  "If I may ask, is Little Fox a married or maiden name? I knew a man from Oklahoma by the name of Little Fox. Charlie Little Fox."

  "Small world. Charlie was my uncle."

  "Was?"

  "He died a few years ago."

  "So, you're Cherokee?"

  "Half. My mother is white."

  "Well, you obviously got the best of both worlds, Molly."

  The hot ball of lust rolling around in her lower regions jacked up a couple of degrees, then it hit her. He was just being polite. She was nasty. As in covered in grime, wet, stinky and her hair was probably a mass of tangles even pulled back in a ponytail.

  "You're kind."

  "Not really."

  "Oh? Then what?"

  "Honest. You don't think a little dirt's gonna change anything do you?"

  "Why Mr. Johns, are you flirting with me?"

  "Baby, if you don't know then I've lost my touch."

  Molly laughed. Wiley was sexy as homemade sin and could probably charm a preacher
's daughter out of her panties in two seconds flat. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

  "No?"

  "Nope."

  "Well, in that case, what're my chances of taking you to dinner one night?"

  "I'd say excellent," she agreed, then added. "But in the spirit of total transparency, I have to tell you something."

  "Transparency. That word does things to a man, Molly."

  She smiled. "Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. But seriously, I have a daughter. Kaylee. She's five. Right now, she's with my grandmother, but they'll be arriving in a week, and I have to get the house ready for them, then get her all settled in and enrolled at the local school into the kindergarten program."

  "Your grandmother's moving in, as well?"

  "Yes. I've been living with Elisi ever since Kaylee was born and it would be horrible to separate them. They're like two peas in a pod and completely devoted to one another."

  Wiley's smile lit something new inside her, and it came as a surprise how much it meant to have someone look at her like she had worth. "I think it's pretty remarkable, Molly, so how about this? When you get your family all settled in, we'll all go out for dinner."

  "How about when I get this house put together, you come have dinner here?"

  "Can you cook?"

  "Well, I'm not going to win any awards, but my grandmother's cooking is so good it'll make a hound-dog break his chain."

  "And after dinner will you invite me to sit on the porch swing with you?"

  "That's a very real possibility. As long as you're the one doing the swinging. That thing makes me feel vertically challenged, and there's not enough chain to lower it."

  Wiley laughed. "How can a man refuse?"

  "I'm hoping you won't."

  "I won't. You have a phone number?"

  "I do. Do you have a phone?"

  Wiley reached into his pocket and produced his phone. Molly rattled off her number. After a couple of seconds of one-fingered poking on the phone, he looked at her and smiled. "I'll be in touch, Molly, but for now, I'll let you get back to your War of the Roses."

  "Honeysuckle."

  "Right. I'll be seeing you."

  "Bye, Wiley." I'll damn sure be seeing you. In a whole lot of fantasies.

  She watched him walk away then let out a breath, long and slow. What the heck had just happened? Her last date was well over a year ago. Now, a week after signing the papers to buy the house in Cotton Creek, she'd been flirted with and asked on a possible date.

  Maybe moving to Cotton Creek hadn't been the dumb-ass idea everyone told her it was after all.

  Chapter Two

  "My preference is often"

  Wiley stood at the fence and watched as Trina worked with the wolf pup. "She's a pretty good trainer."

  He looked around at the voice and saw Deacon approach. "Yeah, she is. How're things working out for Brody?"

  Deacon shrugged, propped one foot on a fence rail and rested his forearms on the top. "Remarkably well, considering he's not accustomed to staying in one place for too long."

  "Or being sidelined."

  Deacon looked over at him. "Yeah, that has to sting."

  "I'm sure. But he has Trina, and that makes all the difference."

  "Let's hope so, for both their sakes. And speaking of being in one place, have you decided what you're going to do?"

  "Can't say I have."

  "If you want to make a switch, you have a place on staff at the training center."

  "I appreciate that, but I'm worse at being in one place than Brody."

  "Don't I know it? Still, with Linc here now, maybe it's time for us to work on being a family again."

  That surprised and pleased Wiley. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

  "Too long. And since it looks like Mica is pregnant, the family will be growing."

  "A child? At your age??"

  "I'm not that much older than you, brother."

  "True, but it's still late in the game for either of us to be thinking about raising a family. Hell, by the time the kid is out of high school you'll be–"

  "Yeah, I know and believe me, I never planned on it, but I'm damn happy about it."

  "Then I'm happy for you."

  "Thank you. And about the position. Think about it."

  "I will."

  Deacon straightened and gave him a clap on the back. "You want to come over for dinner?"

  "Sure. Thanks."

  "You bet. Seven sharp."

  "I'll be there."

  Wiley turned his attention back to Trina as Deacon walked away. She walked over to him with the pup following.

  "Looks like you've made real progress with the little fella."

  She smiled and leaned down to rub the pup's head. "He's smart and eager to learn, so it's easy. Are you going to their house for dinner tonight? Mica said Mathias is coming to help cook."

  "Yep. You and Brody gonna be there?"

  "We are. But what brings you by?"

  "Nothing. Just wanted to see your smiling face."

  "And what else?"

  He shook his head. "Should've known better. We're too much alike. I met this woman in town, yesterday."

  "Oh? Do I know her?"

  "I don't know. She just moved in. Her name's Molly Little Fox."

  "Is she Native American?"

  "Yeah, Cherokee—or half."

  "Interesting. Why did she move here?"

  "I don't know. But I do know she's got a hell of a lot of work to do on her place, and since she's alone and doesn't know anyone here, I think she could use a hand."

  "And you want me to offer that hand?"

  "No, I'll offer. I'd just like to bring more than me to the table."

  "Then why not bring the A-Team?" She grinned.

  "The A-Team?"

  "Okay, the SEAL team. Me and Brody and I bet I can get Etta and JJ and Mica and Deacon to pitch in. In fact, let's talk to them about it tonight."

  "Well, there's the rub. How about we make it your suggestion and not mine?"

  Trina stared at him for a few moments then her eyes widened a bit. "You like her, don't you?"

  "I don't know, I just met her."

  "Oh, you just want to sleep with her?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No. What kind of man do you take me for?"

  "The kind that has half the single women in Cotton Creek trying to wrangle a date."

  "Bull."

  "No, it's not."

  "Sure, it is. It's more like two-thirds."

  Trina laughed, and Wiley smiled. "So, it'll be your suggestion?"

  "Yep, on one condition."

  "What?"

  "You buy me lunch at the diner today, and then we go over and meet Miss Little Fox. That way I can honestly say I've met her."

  "Deal. What time?"

  "Meet me at the house at eleven?"

  "I'll be there. Thanks, honey."

  She smiled, blew him a kiss then turned and called to the pup. Wiley gave her a wave then headed for the training facility.

  *****

  "Maybe we should just wait until after lunch."

  "Why?" Trina challenged him. "We're early, and it's only a block out of the way, so let's stop, and I can introduce myself and see if she'd like to have lunch with us."

  "Fine." Wiley knew when to surrender and now was one of those times. He made the turn and in under a minute pulled up in front of Molly's house.

  "Wow, it's really looking good, isn't it?" Trina asked.

  "You've been here before?"

  "No, but I went with Mica to meet Mrs. Nellie Mae and Mrs. Netta for lunch one day about two weeks ago, and Mrs. Netta said someone had bought the place. She lives next door and is all kinds of eager for someone to get the place cleaned up."

  "Aren't those two big town gossips?"

  "Past tense. Mrs. Nellie Mae offered up her life to save Mica. Surely, Deacon told you about it?"

  "Isn't it about time you started referring to him a
s Dad again?"

  "I just feel strange doing it in front of you."

  "Honey, you don't have to. I know who I am to you, but a label isn't important, and it'd hurt him for you to stop calling him that."

  "I love you, you know that, right?"

  "I most certainly do. Oh, there she is."

  "Then let's go say hello."

  Before Wiley could say another word, Trina was out of the truck, walking up the sidewalk, waving and calling out. "Hi, there!"

  Molly looked up from the act of pulling her keys from her purse. "Hi." Her smile was a bit hesitant until she looked past Trina and saw him.

  "Hello, again." She greeted him and stepped down from the porch to the sidewalk. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

  "Oh, it's my fault." Trina jumped in. "Wiley told me he'd met someone new in town and since we were coming in for lunch, I browbeat him into stopping by, so I could meet you. I'm Trina Johns Judge. Wiley's my uncle, and I live with my husband Brody over off county road 104. We have a little place on Clear Springs Lake."

  "Well, it's nice to meet you, Trina," Molly's smile brightened into one that seemed filled with genuine happiness. "I'm Molly Little Fox."

  "What a beautiful name but—and tell me to hush if I'm too curious, but is Little Fox a Native American surname?"

  "Yes, Cherokee."

  "Oh, I see. And Molly?"

  "Non-Cherokee. From my mother's side. I'm only half Cherokee."

  "Were you headed out?" Wiley asked while he had a chance.

  "Yes. I spent all morning in the yard and realized I needed to go to the store if I want to eat."

  "How about joining us for lunch at the Diner and you can shop after?"

  "You don't have to ask me twice," Molly replied. "Let's do it. I'm so hungry I could eat the south end of a north-bound cow."

  Trina laughed as Wiley gestured for her and Molly to precede him down the sidewalk.

  "Have you met many people since you arrived?" Trina asked and fell into step with Molly.

  "Just my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bloom and her friend Mrs. Baker. They're two older ladies and so sweet it'll almost give you cavities. I get the feeling they like to gossip, but since I haven't done anything yet to talk about, I'm a bit of a bore."