by C. R. Moss
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2011 C.R. Moss and R.M. Sotera
ISBN: 978-1-926950-82-2
Cover Artist: LF Designs
Editor: Emma Shortt
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my friend and writing partner, RM– It was such a pleasure working with you on this project! I’m looking forward to continuing the DD Ranch tales with you.
To my love, CJM–Thanks for all your support!
~ C.R. Moss
This book is dedicated to my writing partner, CR Moss. I’ve totally enjoyed building the Wild West World with you. Looking forward to the continuation of the stories and the new characters entering the fold. Voi mi ispirano! (You inspire me!)
~ RM Sotera
WILD WEST WEEKEND
Double D Ranch Tales, 1
C.R. Moss and R.M. Sotera
Copyright © 2011
Part One
Damon’s Dream
Chapter One
New York City Theater District
“Another fantastic show,” Bristol Ashcombe belted to nobody particular. Touching the metal bars, she pushed down once, then swung the backstage doors of the Marquis Theater open. The aroma of day old hotdogs and urine permeated the dark New York street, but she didn’t care. Tonight she said goodbye to Broadway—for the weekend.
Looking down, she sidestepped the loose Annie Get Your Gun playbills scattered on the street. Cool air swept across her face. She pointed her chin into the humid night breeze just in time to glance a handbill donning her picture. The refreshing jolt of air heightened her excitement about the upcoming trip. She really needed this getaway, and she really needed to see her friend.
Tomorrow she would be in Nevada, at the Dougan Ranch for her vacation, and John’s ultimate betrayal would be the furthest thing from her mind. A wave of calmness wrapped around her body. Thoughts of experiencing a dry climate, seeing red mountains, and spending time with Catherine, also known as Cassie, made her want to run all the way to Blue Diamond. But instead of running to the small town near Las Vegas, she broke out into a slow jog toward the cab pulling up at the end of the street.
Safely inside the black and yellow checkered vehicle, her head fell back against the seat. She wished they could have stayed in one of the resorts on the strip, but Cassie had a point about getting out of the public eye and meeting in a secluded location. They needed a quiet spot to reconnect. The long distance between them after Cassie graduated high school and took off had taken its toll on their friendship. Sure, through college and for a while after, they used to talk on the phone at least once a month, see each other in December over the holidays, but the past several years had gone by without much communication and no visits. But they had the kind of friendship where no matter the miles or years that separated them they fell right back into being like sisters.
Bristol took a quick look into her oversized black leather purse to make sure she grabbed the outfit she needed for horseback riding, and whatever else people did on a ranch. The brown suede vest peeked out from the bag. Contentment hugged her tightly.
I can hang out on a ranch. Piece of cake. I’m Annie Oakley five nights per week. Cowgirl is my middle name.
Chapter Two
Dougan Ranch—Nevada—Friday
“Four more hours and I’m out of the upcoming hormonal jungle,” Damon murmured as he finished documenting the last debit entry into the Dougan Ranch financials, drank the remainder of his Coke, and stepped out onto the porch. That was his first mistake. The second one, without a doubt, was noticing the outstretched, dancer’s style leg emerging from a black stretch limousine. His cock hardened slightly. Interested in the view, he hooked a thumb in his jean’s pocket and stared in amazement as a petite woman, with hair as black as the night sky, fully emerged from the car.
His gaze drank in her red pumps, and the sexy way she struggled to gain footing on the unpaved driveway. City girl. Great. She should’ve stayed on the strip. He shook his head as she surveyed her many bags, picked up two, tried to take a step, wobbled and dropped both. A grin crooked his face.
On second thought, this could be entertaining.
A chuckle to Damon’s left had him turn to see his older brother, Dakota, also watching the miniature train wreck. She tried gracefully a second time to pick up two more suitcases, wobbling like a weeble. When Dakota mouthed the words, let’s go help her, Damon wanted to run back into his office and barricade the door. His brother knew this was the weekend he planned to slide away from the ranch—bachelorette party coming in or not—and enjoy some quality time alone. Not to mention he was finally off the freakin’ clock. What was Dakota thinking, a pretty woman would make him forget what this weekend meant? Never.
He took another look. His fascinated gaze traveled from her full lips, across her ample breasts to her well-toned legs. On second thought… maybe. Before he could wrangle his thoughts back to the situation at hand, Dakota slipped past him, nudging his side with an elbow to follow. Sighing, he headed down the driveway to help the damsel, with a huge suitcase collection, in distress.
The closer he stepped toward the beauty the prettier she became. And when he finally stood in front of her, well she was a downright looker. A small manicured hand extended in his direction.
“Hello, I’m Bristol Ashcombe. Here for a vacation.” She articulated every word, dramatized every sound. Basically, announced her arrival, as if she were royalty, or better yet, Queen Elizabeth.
He glimpsed her light blue colored eyes, which were mind-blowing gorgeous, then he looked out toward the brown and red mountain sides with dark green bunches of foliage blanketing the property, then back at her. “Hi Bristol, I’m Damon.”
“Well, Damon, do you think you could give me a hand with my bags? I mean you’re the bellman, right?”
He raised an eyebrow. Tweaked, in a humorous way at her assumption that he was hired help, he crooked his head to the side and allowed his very interested gaze to assess her like a piece of property he was about to purchase. “No ma’am. I’m not the bellman. Just a helper around here. As a matter of fact, Bristol, you look very capable of making a few trips in and out of the lodge to get your bags to your room. The clerk is inside. Why don’t you skip on in and get the settling in part of your trip pushin’ forward.”
“Excuse me?”
Ignoring her ire over his not so subtle hint, he snickered. “Out of curiosity, what makes you think I’m the hired help, anyway?” He surveyed the five overstuffed red suitcases now scattered around her. “You realize that this is a ranch. What’s with the luggage? You plan on movin’ in with us?”
Dakota cleared his throat, pinned Damon with an incredulous look before addressing Bristol. “We would be more than happy to assist you with your bags, Ms. Ashcombe. Forgive my brother. I believe he’s forgotten his manners in the presence of such a beautiful woman.”
She giggled softly, appeared to study Damon, her gaze rolling up and down his body. “I just assumed you were the bellman because you look like an employee. Look at the way you’re dressed. A little raggedy. And no, I’m not moving in. My western clothes and accessories take up three of those bags.” She pointed to the suitcases around her, then started swatting the sma
ll gnats in front of her face, like she was conducting an orchestra.
Even the bugs seemed enamored with her presence.
Five freakin’ bags. Damn city chick’s high maintenance.
He should’ve run. Far, far away. But something about her held him in place like glue. All of a sudden he didn’t want to leave the ranch as quickly as he’d planned. Perhaps he should stay around for a few days longer. His anniversary camping vacation to the wilds of Zion National Park could wait. Something he’d buried deep inside him, a dull steady aching to be near a woman, but not just any woman, surfaced. It was a surprising need for the woman before him. He knew without another thought, she would be worth postponing the trip.
He glanced at his attire. Okay, maybe I do look a little scruffy. His thoughts shifted. Western clothes? A smile creased his face, and he pointed to her shoes. “And what about you, missy? Do you think those are practical?”
“I’m a professional Broadway actress. Of course they’re practical. Besides, I can’t be seen looking like a bum. With paparazzi always on the prowl, I need to look my best in every situation. I can guarantee that the crazy camera men are probably already camped out on this ranch somewhere, just waiting for the perfect shot.”
“You think I look like a bum? Paparazzi?”
His chuckle raised one of her dark brows. “Well no, only you look like you work here, that’s all.” She proceeded to slide her purse to her shoulder and pick up two more bags. This time, instead of taking a few tiny steps, she dragged her feet as she attempted to walk toward the porch.
Damon sighed, while her determination was attractive, they would be out here for lord knows how long if he didn’t step in and take control. He swept the back of his hand against his brow, not sure she was going to take kindly to what he contemplated. Dakota’s cell phone rang. His brother excused himself and headed toward the lodge. Since Dak wasn’t much help in the current situation, it didn’t faze him when he gestured he needed to leave.
Bristol continued to struggle for another few minutes until Damon decided he had witnessed enough.
“You know, I believe I can help you with this bag dilemma.”
She smiled at him and her face lit up like an angel. “Oh, that would be great. I have a few more bags inside the limo.”
He held back a chuckle. “Really? More bags, darlin’?”
She swatted a fly buzzing around her nose. “Yes.” Bristol stared at him like he had antlers growing from his head. “Seriously, Damon, what women do you know who travel with a single bag?”
Not waiting for a reply she walked back toward the limo, asked the driver to remove the rest of her bags and stood by the door arms folded.
He probably shouldn’t have done what he did next, but when the limo driver dropped another three stuffed bags at Bristol’s feet, and she began loading them into her arms ranting something about her two hundred dollar shoes, how this god forsaken place was ruining the leather and heels, and what woman travels with only one bag, he lost it.
“Bristol, drop the bags, darlin’.”
Obviously perturbed from the way her shoulders squared, she glanced at him as a stray black hair stuck to her face. “What?”
“Drop the bags.”
With a frustrated breath, she continued to disobey his request. He’d considered roping her, and had he been carrying his rope on his belt, he just might have. Instead, he inched closer until he could smell the sweet perfume seeping from her pores.
“Here let me take those from you.”
He placed his hands over hers. And the softness of her skin sent a jolt of heat through his body. He’d prepared to clutch her hands tighter when she released the handles and the suitcases dropped. With a weary sigh, he gazed into her big blue eyes and pushed her up against the car.
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Makin’ your life easier.” Without saying another word, he kept one hand cupped around her waist, reached down with the other and removed her shoes. Full of wide-eyed concern, she continued to observe him.
“I’m really not fond of walking barefoot outside. A few years ago I was stung by a bee and ended up in the hospital. It took a week for the swelling to subside from my foot. I was so poofy I had to wear bedroom sleepers on my feet the entire week.”
If he didn’t take his hands from around her waist, other things would be swelling very soon, too.
“And, how does removing my shoes help with carrying luggage anyway?”
“It doesn’t, but this will help.” He snapped both heels from her shoes and tossed them to the ground.
A squeak, sounding like a stifled scream, left her lips. “What was that for? Those are eight-hundred dollar Gianna Quelo shoes. They cost me a week’s salary.”
He placed the newly styled shoes back onto her feet. “Now they’re sensible, darlin’. No need to thank me now, you can thank me later with a hospitality drink when I pick you up at your cabin. I’ll be your campfire escort.”
She continued to gawk at him in disbelief. With her mouth slightly open, it only enhanced the image of her sweat-drenched body flashing across his mind’s screen. In the vision, he caressed her perfect tits, pinched the hard pink nipples. Breathless, she moaned with need, calling out “Damon,” over and over again. As he bent to take a bud in his mouth, she raked her fingers through his hair. And then as fast as the dream sucked him in, her high pitched whining snapped him back to reality.
“Damon, Damon… snap out of it.”
His hot, fast attraction to her surprised him. But not for reasons that made sense. I’m really in trouble now.
She stepped away from him. “I can’t believe you just ruined my shoes. Are you insane?”
Yeah. Temporarily. Appear to be losing all my marbles.
“I am not going to any bonfire with a crazy man. No way, buddy.”
He had no time for a rebuttal. In a blur of black hair and with only her purse, she swept passed him, crossed the driveway, onto the porch and disappeared through the open front door.
He laughed. What a fireball she was. Damn sexy, too.
By this time Dakota had made it back toward the lodge but had obviously decided to stop and take in what was happening between him and Bristol.
“I believe the stage princess didn’t appreciate my answer to the luggage problem,” Damon joked to his brother.
Dakota gave a low steady chuckle, tipped the brim of his black cowboy hat.
“It’s not that funny.”
“Sure it is. I think you’ve found the woman of your dreams.”
Had he found the woman of his dreams? “You know big brother, you may be partly right. The woman of my dreams for this weekend anyway. I better go apologize.”
“Yeah, you better little brother. I mean, if you plan on getting any of that you best.”
“Shut-up.”
“Just remember, big brothers are always right.” Dak tilted his head toward the lodge.
“Yeah. Right.” Damon laughed, kicked a pebble toward Dakota and headed toward the stables.
Chapter Three
Still aghast, though ever so slightly turned-on at the treatment she received from Damon, Bristol slung her Gucci purse onto the table where sign up lists for horseback riding were taped to the surface. She tapped the right toe of her recently destroyed expensive shoe on the wood floor and cleared her throat just as a bottle blonde woman walked behind the table.
“Hello. Welcome to the Double D Ranch. I’m Marianne. How I can help you?”
Bristol thought about her question for a second. How about you fire that man who just ruined my shoes. And went into some sort of weird like dream trance. And was kind of cute in a stable boy sort of way.
Just the thought of him sent heat coursing through her body and sweat beading on her forehead. Reaching up, she slid the back of her hand across the moisture, then wiped her hand against the side of her denim skirt. “I’m checking in. I’m here on vacation. Supposed to meet my friend Catherine Harding.”
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br /> The woman gave her a once over. “How long have you known Damon?”
Caught off guard by the question, she hesitated. “I met him a few minutes ago, when he broke the heels off my eight-hundred dollar shoes. By the way, I want to talk to his supervisor. I believe he owes me a new pair of shoes.”
Blondie studied her, chuckled, then strolled into the office.
Bristol followed, watched the woman busy herself pulling together the paperwork for check-in. “What so funny?” She slipped a hand into her bag, pulled out her wallet, flipped through the small leather compact until she found her Visa. “Here you go.”
“Damon is one of the owners. He’s the younger of the two sexy Dougan brothers.”
Shocked, her eyebrows knitted together in amazement. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.”
She turned to walk away, but stopped mid-circle. “Wait. Do you have a bellman who can deliver my bags to my room?”
“Bellman?” Marianne snickered. Again. “I believe you met him outside and from the looks of it scared him away.” The office manager turned her back to her, pulled a folder off a precarious stack of papers.
“Well, Ms. Marianne, when Damon returns would you have him deliver my bags to the cabin?”
“Sure thing.” Marianne handed her a key and a packet of information.
The slight groan to the office woman’s voice and her cold expression reminded Bristol of other times she’d heard and seen the same things—signals, people were thinking she was a snob. But she couldn’t help it sometimes. She was used to a certain lifestyle, being treated like royalty. People always yielded to her. That was in New York. Here though? She’d have to try harder to make sure she wasn’t getting her diva on and getting along with people better. The last thing she needed was Marianne or the others on the ranch getting the wrong impression of her and complaining to the tabloids.