by Marla Monroe
The Wranglers of Bear Mountain 2
The Wranglers’ Sexy Fugitive
On the run and always looking over her shoulder for the vicious killers on her tail, Shelby struggles to survive and is always aware of her surroundings. The Bear Mountain Ranch soon becomes a home for her, but is she putting down roots too soon?
Dalton and Bo are Native Americans who have a past between them that has interfered with them ever settling down before. When they meet Shelby, both men realize they want her as their wife, but can they move beyond their own past?
When danger finds her once again, Shelby runs to protect those she’s come to care about at the ranch. Bo and Dalton can’t let her get away and refuse to let her face her life alone any longer. Can she trust the two men who promise her a future or will she run from them, too?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 61,827 words
THE WRANGLERS’ SEXY FUGITIVE
The Wranglers of Bear Mountain 2
Marla Monroe
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
THE WRANGLERS’ SEXY FUGITIVE
Copyright © 2014 by Marla Monroe
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-345-1
First E-book Publication: September 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
THE WRANGLERS’ SEXY FUGITIVE
The Wranglers of Bear Mountain 2
MARLA MONROE
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Shelby Flint sat back in her chair and looked around the office. She’d only been there a little over three months and had grown to love it. Her bosses, Laredo and Laramie Marshall, were good men who had taken a chance on her without any work history. She had plenty of it, but it was all under her other name, and she couldn’t use that name anymore. They would find her and her life would be over. Even now, she was afraid that they would find her again and she’d have to leave her new home.
She loved it there, living over the top of the main house of the Bear Mountain Ranch. Until recently, she and the chef lived on the second floor. Now she was alone up there again. The ranch was a unique combination of vacation ranch and breeding ranch with a family-type atmosphere. Now that the two brothers had married their chef, Billy Jean, she was taking over the restaurant and turning it into a full-fledged restaurant that would be open to the public as well as for the guests at the ranch.
Shelby sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck, where tension had taken up a permanent residence of late. Her entire body ached from head to toe with it. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t completely relax anymore. The first place she’d ended up after everything had happened she’d settled in with the false belief that she was safe and no one would ever be able to find her. That hadn’t ended well at all, and now, four moves later, she knew better than to believe she was safe. This last move had been off the grid totally, no one back home keeping tabs on her, and she’d changed her entire life history. It should have worked.
A soft knock at the door had her tensing up all over again.
“Come in.”
Billy Jean Marshall walked in with a smile stretched wide across her face. It was good to see her so happy. She and the twins, Laredo and Laramie, had just gotten married a week ago in a small ceremony with just their immediate family and the ranch hands. Shelby had been her maid of honor and the quaint celebration afterward had brought tears to her eyes. They’d ridden off in a horse-drawn carriage, which was a huge deal for Billy Jean since she was deathly afraid of horses.
“Hey. Got a few minutes?” the new bride asked.
“Sure. Come on in. I was just about to take a break anyway,” she said, plastering a smile on her face.
“Good. Because I brought coffee and cake.” She grabbed something then stepped into the office carrying what looked like a picnic basket in her hands.
Setting it on the edge of the desk, she pulled out two coffee cups and a thermos then two plates with utensils and one of her famous cinnamon streusel coffee cakes. Shelby’s fake smile turned real. She loved sweets.
“That looks and smells divine. Wh
at’s the occasion?” Shelby asked.
Billy Jean grinned as she served a piece of cake to Shelby. “Does their have to be an occasion to take a break?”
“For you? Yes.”
Billy Jean sighed. “I wanted to butter you up to ask for a favor.”
“Butter me up? More like streusel me up,” Shelby said with a laugh as she took a bite and moaned in rapture.
“Not too much cinnamon is there?” the other woman asked with a thin smile.
“No! It’s perfect, as always!”
“Look. You know I took over the restaurant and that I’m expanding it to serve outside customers. The thing is, I need someone to handle the books for it. I can’t pay anything really to begin with and I was hoping we could work out a deal of some sort,” Billy Jean said.
“Of course I’ll help you. You don’t have to worry about paying until you get on your feet. The initial setup of your books I’ll charge until you can pay me and the maintenance I’ll take payment in the form of meals. How about that?” she asked with a smile.
“Um, that would be perfect except you already don’t pay for meals here, Shelby.”
Shelby sighed. “Well, maybe you could agree to furnish me with snacks every day. How about that?”
Billy Jean laughed and shook her head. “Ditto, Shelby. I’ll think about it. You think about it, too. Are you sure you have time to fool with me?”
“I’ve got plenty of time. I don’t do anything during my spare time anyway. I’d love to,” she assured the other woman, hoping she wouldn’t be deserting her in the middle of the night soon.
“Thank you so much! I don’t know anyone around here and really didn’t want a stranger knowing about my personal business and all. I mean the guys are already floating a loan for me to do this. I hate it because the entire reason for setting up the guest ranch was to save their land and be able to continue breeding horses. They assure me they have the savings to handle it, but it worries me, and I want to keep costs as low as possible until the restaurant is paying for itself.” She rubbed her hands up and down her jean-clad thighs as she bit her lower lip.
“Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. With the income you’ll immediately be getting from the ranch for catering their meals and the word of mouth from the ranch hands and guests, your business will be smoking before you know it,” Shelby assured her.
“About the ranch part. Can you do me a favor when you set up the books and put twenty percent of their payments into this account for me?” Billy Jean handed her a slip of paper with an account number. “I set up a separate account to start putting money aside to pay them back. I want to start at the very beginning using it.”
“Smart idea, but do you think you can afford to do that right from the start? You really don’t want to cut corners before you even get going good. How about making it ten then move up to twenty later, once you’re on your feet and all?” she suggested.
“I suppose you’re right. I just hate owing them money.” Billy Jean sighed and sipped her coffee.
“It will be fine. Now when will you have time to go over your business plan and what I’ll need for keeping the books?” she asked.
“How about tonight right after dinner?”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in here and we’ll get started.”
Shelby knew better than to ask her if she wanted help washing up after the dinner crowd had left. She wouldn’t let anyone help with cleanup but the people who worked with her or her new husbands.
“Great. I really appreciate your help, Shelby. Anything you need or if you just want to hang sometime, let me know. Oh! And I’ll cater your wedding for you when you have one,” she said with a grin.
“You’re too funny, girl. I’m not even dating anyone, much less contemplating marriage. Not in the cards for me right now. Now go, so I can earn my living here.” Shelby helped her quickly gather up the leftover coffee cake, plates, and cups then watched the other woman close the door behind her.
The thought of marriage was so far out of her mind that it was ludicrous to even think about it. How could she marry someone when she was on the run? Hell, she couldn’t even afford to date in case she had to leave out of the blue. She didn’t want to hurt someone like that. Nor did she want to hurt herself, and it would if she fell for someone then had to run again. She wouldn’t ask them to run with her. It wasn’t a good life to always have to look over your shoulders.
With a sigh, she returned to answering e-mails concerning bookings. They were getting a lot more now that they had a few weeks of guests under their belt. Word was spreading, and with nothing but excellent reviews on Ranchweb, she anticipated they would soon be booking more than a couple of months in advance soon. The guys were going to be very happy to hear that bit of news. She’d keep Billy Jean’s business to herself though. With a smirk, she settled in and got back to work.
* * * *
Dalton Crazy Bear shook his head at Bo “Enkoodabaoo” Cotu, his best friend. Sometimes the other man drove him crazier than his name. Why couldn’t he move on and stop living in the past? He didn’t deserve the kind of life he lived. It wasn’t his fault, none of it had been, but the damn Indian continued to punish himself as if it were.
“Well, I’m tired of spending every night we get off doing nothing but talking to the damn horses and my hand is tired of all the quality time we’ve had of late. I’m going to town.” He pulled off his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of one arm.
“I don’t understand why you stick around in the first place. I’ve told you to stay away. It’s not my fault your love life consists of your hand and a bottle of hand lotion. You’re not my keeper, and I’m not your partner. Go.” Bo waved him away before continuing to whittle on some wood.
Dalton sighed. “What are you making this time?” he asked, deciding it wouldn’t hurt him to sit for a while before taking a shower.
“Don’t know yet. The wood hasn’t told me what it is yet.”
“The eagle you gave the twins’ father was amazing. You really should sell your work instead of giving it away,” he said.
“I thought you were going to town,” Bo said without looking up.
“I am. Just cooling off before I shower. You know, as many of those things as you have in your room, you could have a showing in town and get rich, off of ’um,” he said, trying again.
Bo just grunted this time. Dalton gave up and stood, brushing off the dust from the back of his jeans before unstringing his chaps. They needed a good beating before he took them inside. They were covered in dust after the last ride. Once he had them off, he threw them over the metal line they had strung across one side of the porch for that reason and proceeded to beat them lightly with a small broom.
The dust flew out toward the trees instead of back on them as it was intended to, but for once, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if it had drifted back toward the porch and covered his friend in it. With one last whack, Dalton set the broom down and pulled his marginally cleaner chaps off the wire to carry inside with him.
“Don’t forget your boots,” Bo said.
“I won’t.” Dalton gave the other man the finger behind his back before toeing the worn boots off and setting them upside down over the boot rack to keep anything from crawling into them during the night.
“Back at you, D,” Bo said without looking up.
How in the hell did he always seem to know what Bo did behind his back? The man had to have some shaman inside of him somewhere. He always seemed to know about something beforehand. Dalton could never manage to pull anything off around him.
They’d grown up together as young bucks despite there being two years’ difference in their ages. Back then, there were so few children living in the area, that if you were anywhere close to age, you hung out together. To seal the deal, Bo’s grandmother had treated Dalton like her own, always feeding him and making sure his clothes were mended. His own mother was a drunk and rarely noticed if he was a
round or not unless she wanted him to do something for her.
No one treated him any differently since almost everyone in their community had drunks or gamblers in their families. It was a sad family tradition that few were able to break. He’d done it by enlisting into the marines after Bo had. Bo had been injured and ended up stateside near the end of his first tour while Dalton had remained in until everything went to hell. He should have said something to his friend before he’d shipped out that last time, but hadn’t had the guts to bring it up. Instead, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind and fled like the coward he’d been and told himself he’d do it the next time he was home. Only he’d never gotten the chance and later, when he had finally gotten out, Bo was gone.
The hot water did wonders to soothe his aching muscles and the added soap cleaned his body up just fine, but nothing could soothe his miserable soul or clear the guilt he felt over his failure to talk to Bo before he’d left that summer. Now they were at odds with each other, loosely connected as only blood brothers could be when one of them no longer cared. He could sever their connections and go on with his life, leaving Bo to drift, but that just wasn’t right and he missed his best friend and brother by choice. If there was some way he could ease Bo’s torment, Dalton was going to keep trying.
He didn’t want to leave his friend alone, but he needed to get away for a while. Enkoodabaoo, one who lives alone, described Bo to the hilt. Only he hadn’t allowed his friend to do that for the last seven years. It had taken him a while to locate him after his tour of duty had been up, but once he had, Dalton hadn’t left him alone again. If anyone had a right to wallow in misery, it was Dalton, not Bo. It had been Dalton’s wife who’d committed suicide, not Bo’s, though his friend had loved her as well.