First Time Train Wreck

by T. S. Joyce

  FIRST TIME TRAIN WRECK

  (BATTLE OF THE BULLS, BOOK 4)

  By T. S. JOYCE

  Other Books in this Series

  Two Shots Down (Book 1)

  Dead of Winter (Book 2)

  Quickdraw Slow Burn (Book 3)

  First Time Train Wreck

  Copyright © 2021 by T. S. Joyce

  Copyright © 2021, T. S. Joyce

  First electronic publication: February 2021

  T. S. Joyce

  www.tsjoyce.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. 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 author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Editor: Corinne DeMaagd

  Cover Model: Jose Barreiro

  Photograhper: Wander Aquiar

  Contents

  Other Books in this Series

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Up Next from this Author

  Newsletter Sign-Up

  More Series from this Author

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  About this Author

  Chapter One

  Two Thorns Ranch was a scam.

  Oh, it might have had a history of being run by the books, but Sloane Brander had inherited it from his father and turned it into something dark.

  First Time Train Wreck could tell just from the smell brought in on the western breeze.

  “Excuse me, sir?” a pretty voice asked from behind him.

  He twisted around, and when he saw the lady, he removed his cowboy hat out of respect. “Yes ma’am?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m probably younger than you. I mean, you don’t look old. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just—” She cleared her throat, and her cheeks turned pink as she looked down at the ground. She inhaled sharply and tried again. “You’re with the tour, right?”

  Oh, yeah. Shit. The tour. That’s what he was doing on Sloane Brander’s ranch. He’d snuck off from the group fifteen minutes ago to sniff around. “Yes, I sure am. I took a bathroom break and seem to have lost the others.” All lies. He still had to piss, and he knew exactly where the others were. He could hear those loud-ass humans from two barns down.

  She smiled brightly and just stood there. Pretty girl. Curvy as hell, big ass in those Wrangler jeans, a denim button-up shirt that showed off the upper curve of her boobs. Her skin was dark, and her cascading hair was pitch black, but her eyes were a soft green. He had no guess at her ethnicity. He’d never seen a woman like her. Those eyes—big and light, searching his face with curiosity. She probably gave away every emotion she ever had with them.

  “I’m Amber Williams.” She stuck out her hand that was shaking.

  With a frown, he took it. “I’m—”

  “First Time Train Wreck. I know,” she said excitedly.

  Well, hell, he was glad she’d interrupted him because he’d been about to lie about his name, too.

  “I recognized you from TV. Your bull is charcoal gray with cream points. Oh, and a black nose. And you like to buck to the right when you come out of the chute. I have a T-shirt with your bull on it. They only had XXL though, so I use it as a sleep shirt. I sleep with your bull on my tits. Ha. That was a weird thing to say. I shouldn’t say ‘tits’ to a total stranger.” An uncertain smile was plastered across her pretty face.

  Huh. She was kind of funny. Train Wreck looked around and lowered his voice. “Yeah, listen, I just wanted to see Mr. Brander’s setup for his holding pens. I bought a piece of land two hours north of here and plan on training riders up there. I need a good herd of bulls, but I only know about bucking chutes. Not holding pens.” It wasn’t a total lie. He had just bought a little ranch out near some of the other top bull shifters, and he had considered training riders. For a hefty fee. He definitely wasn’t here to spy on holding pen designs, though. “When I saw there were tours here, I figured I would get some studying in.”

  “You mean spying?” She was still wearing that bright white smile, and he could practically feel the excitement rolling off her.

  He chuckled. “Busted.”

  “Well, we should maybe keep your identity a secret. I bet if the other people in the tour knew who you were, they would shit themselves. Shoot. I mean…crap themselves. Soil themselves.” She scrunched up her face. “My grandmother would be appalled at my manners. She taught me better, I swear.”

  “You were raised by your grandmother?” He surprised himself with that question. He wasn’t generally a man to be overly interested in human women, and she was definitely human. She could turn around and twist her ankle and get an infection and die that easy. Humans were fragile little things. And not for him. He cleared his throat. “None of my business. I should get back to the tour.”

  “This is my second day on the job. My grandmother is Mr. Brander’s mother. I’m his niece. And I know that’s the only reason he gave me this job. I grew up in Boise and only just moved to this area. I’m still getting used to everything. I don’t really know anyone here yet.”

  “You know Mr. Brander.” That was a test. How far in was she with the Brander family.

  “Not really. I’ve only met him a few times at holiday parties over the years. He didn’t get along with his mother too well, and I was under her wing…so…I didn’t really get to know much of the family until recently. I’m still trying to find my place with them.” Her eyes went round. “Oh, my gosh, I don’t know why I just told you all of that! You didn’t ask. Ummm…” She looked around. “I can probably help you find the tour again. My lunch break is almost over, but I still have enough time left to help you look for them.”

  Losing his damn mind, Train Wreck reached forward and grabbed her hand, studied her soft palm and smooth fingers. No callouses at all. “What do you do here?” he asked curiously.

  “Oh,” she murmured, a blush in her cheeks as she pulled her hand away. “I’m just a numbers nerd. They needed a new book keeper, and I majored in accounting, so…here I am.” She uttered a nervous giggle.

  “You know how to ride a horse?” he asked.

  “I mean…I’ve ridden one before. On vacation. On the beach.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Those horses do the same thing every day. You probably didn’t even have to steer it.”

  Amber pursed her lips and shook her head. “I rode a horse named Whinny, and she ignored every command I ga
ve her and did her own thing. I just held on and posed for pictures.”

  He would’ve teased her, but she was blushing again. “Well, did you get good pictures?”

  She nodded.

  “And did you have fun?”

  Another nod.

  “Then that’s all that matters. I better get back. I think they’re looking for me. I can hear them calling.”

  A frown took her pretty dark brows. “I don’t hear anything.”

  Train Wreck tapped his temple. “Shifter hearing is the tits.”

  “Ha!” she belted out as he walked away.

  He walked backward a few steps and then stopped. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, since we’re new friends and all.”

  “Ask away,” she told him.

  “What’s out there?” He pointed in the direction of the barn holding the Hagan Bulls that he knew were there. He watched her face carefully. It would tell him how much she knew.

  Amber frowned out at the pasture in front of them and looked utterly stunned. “Trees? Maybe a huge pasture to put the cows in the summer?” She wrung her hands in front of her. “I don’t really know. They didn’t give me much of a tour on my first day. I’ve mostly only seen the office. It has a nice picture window, though, with a gorgeous view.”

  She’d told the truth. He could tell from the clear tone of her voice. She didn’t know anything about the Hagan holding pens. “What view?”

  “Directly into the holding pens for Uncle Sloane’s favorite bulls. They poo a lot. I swear every time I look up from my computer, one is lifting his tail and staring right at me as he makes a dookie. I thought the parking lot view at my old job was bad, but this one might actually be less savory.”

  Train Wreck chuckled. Okay, she was really funny. He liked a sense of humor on a pretty woman. She’d said “dookie” with a straight face. Nice.

  “Do me a favor,” he said.

  “A favor for a stranger. What is it?” she asked.

  He tossed a frown at the empty pasture that separated them from the pain and anger and abuse of the Hagan holding pens. “Don’t get caught up in the shadows of this place.”

  Amber canted her head, and the sun hit her eyes just right. That pretty color was glowing in the saturated light. “What do you mean?”

  How could he warn her without giving too much away?

  “If you see something that doesn’t make sense to you? Don’t try to make it make sense. Just…stay clear of it.”

  Even her frown attracted him. He had an intuition about people, and she was good. She was a good person in a bad place.

  “Okay,” she murmured in an uncertain tone. “Train Wreck,” she called as he walked away. “Can I call you Train Wreck?”

  “Sure. That’s what the fans call me for short.”

  “What do your friends call you?”

  He lifted his chin higher. She wanted something from him. Something big. “I don’t just give something for nothing.”

  “Tell me what they call you, and I’ll answer a question from you. A gift for a gift.”

  “Wreck. They just call me Wreck. It suits me. I’m not very put-together most days.”

  She nodded and searched his eyes with an unreadable expression on her face. “Now you go.”

  “Why did you get a T-shirt of me?”

  “The short version or the long version?” she asked.

  Bodey Decker, the cowhand who was leading the tour, whistled a shrill sound and called out, “Anyone seen the tall one?”

  That was his cue to fall back into the act. “Better gift me with the short version.”

  “I don’t know much about this place,” she said, looking around. “But I grew up knowing my family was into breeding bucking bulls. So, I studied bull riding to feel some kind of connection. And when the PBSRC came along, well…I studied the shifter bulls, too. You do interviews.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I like the things you say in interviews. You’re a good bucking bull, but the things you say when you’re a man are even more interesting.”

  He wanted to ask what she meant. As far as he could remember, no one had accused him of being a good man, but she saw something in him from interviews, and he wanted to know what. But Bodey was jogging this way. Train Wreck could hear his spurs hitting the dirt with each step.

  “Ma’am,” Train Wreck said, tipping his cowboy hat.

  “Wreck,” she said, giving the cutest damn curtsy he’d ever seen a woman do.

  He liked the way she said his name. Only a few people called him that, and now Amber was one of them. He would never see her again, but it still felt good to hear his name roll off her lips like that. It felt good to be in a strange place and, for a moment, not feel like a stranger.

  “There you are. Boy, where you been?” Bodey asked, waving him back toward the biggest barn.

  Train Wreck jogged toward him. “Sorry about that. Was looking for that bathroom and met a nice lady on the way back.”

  “Always a lady’s fault us boys run late,” the old man mumbled. He couldn’t talk very well on one side and walked with a deep limp. A stroke, Train Wreck reckoned.

  “Especially a pretty one. I bet I know what nice lady you’re talkin’ about. Only one of ’em here now. The woman who’s training Amber is meaner than a hungry rattlesnake and more stubborn than a hair in a biscuit. Got a nasty mouth on her, too. Can’t wait until she gets that girl all trained up and leaves this place the hell alone.”

  “Why’s she leaving?” Train Wreck asked him. “New job?”

  Bodey shook his head. “Best if I don’t say. I’m not in the habit of lying when you can tell I’m lying.” He offered him a crooked smile. “Shifter.”

  Shit. Well, he’d been made.

  “The boss wants to talk to you,” Bodey told him. “He radioed from the house.” He pointed a gnarled finger up at the corner of the roof where a camera was aimed right at him.

  Oh, Train Wreck had known that camera was there. He knew where all the cameras were. He’d only felt comfortable talking to Amber by the fence because it was a blind spot.

  “Well, I guess the secret is out,” Train Wreck said as he followed Bodey toward the gigantic log and stone cabin.

  “Nah, I reckon you meant to get caught. You’re too smart. You wouldn’t show up here in your usual getup, right in plain sight, and think you wouldn’t be recognized. You’re famous, after all.”

  Behind him, a bull bellowed from the Hagan holding pens. It sounded like it was in pain. He fuckin’ hated Sloane Brander but, hey, he was about to get the chance to tell the sumabitch that to his face.

  Old Man Bodey had been right.

  Train Wreck had meant to get caught.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re three minutes late on your lunch break,” Helena griped, glaring at Amber Williams as she walked into the office.

  “Um, no ma’am,” Amber said, checking her phone for the time. “I’m five minutes early.”

  Over her horn-rimmed glasses, her aunt’s favorite eyebrow lifted in a disparaging look. She made that face a lot at her. “I don’t have all day.”

  But you work here, so technically you do. The words were right on the tip of her tongue, but she held them in. Aunt Helena was a bully, and to handle a bully, one did not argue. One simply ignored. Or punched them in the face, whatever. Amber needed this job, and punching wasn’t in her nature. She was more of a love and peace-time kinda gal.

  “Let’s finish inputting these numbers. I expect you to understand which ones can be deemed tax write-offs after we finish. I won’t be explaining the business a second time. Understand?”

  “I understand.” Amber rushed to the computer chair and pulled up the files and the finance program they’d been working on before lunch. They were only a quarter of the way through with the expenditures for this week, and they’d been at it all morning. So much went into a business like this. She’d had no idea!

>   “This company supplies us with hay and grain,” Aunt Helena said, pointing to the screen at Chippers Wholesale Feed. “All feed, water, supplements, growth hormones, anything to do with muscle recovery…those invoices are all tax write-offs. Mark them.”

  So Amber did, and as Aunt Helena explained more write-offs, Uncle Sloane’s number one bull, Western Center, stared at her through the window. And lifted his tail. And…yep, ploppity-plop. What possessed an animal to hold eye contact while doo-dooing?

  Through the metal fence slats, movement caught her eye. First Time Train Wreck was walking beside Bodey, but it didn’t appear like the older man was taking Wreck back to the tour. One of the wranglers from the big barn had taken over leading the dozen tourists around. Bodey was leading Train Wreck to the big house where Uncle Sloane lived.

  Huh.

  Wreck was somehow even hotter in person than on television. Honestly, she’d never seen a man like him. He was tall as an oak, and just as strong. He looked cowboy-tough from his scuffed boots to his worn Wrangler jeans. His belt buckle was polished, and it contrasted with the faded blue T-shirt that was tucked into his jeans in just one spot over his right hip. The thin fabric hugged his broad shoulders so tightly she could see ever muscle in his back ripple as he walked. His beard was silver. Silver! But his face looked young. His hair that peeked out from under his white cowboy hat was a gray a few shades darker than his beard, and his eyes were a piercing blue. His skin was tanned like he worked in the sun all day, and tattoo ink curled down his arms from under the sleeves of his shirt. She was pretty sure she could see a perfect six-pack of abs through his shirt. And his butt… His perfect…fine…muscular—

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” Helena demanded.

  Amber jumped in her seat, startled, and fumbled on about, “Oh, yes, the muscle machines that you put on the bulls with the electrodes…and you turn them on…and we write them off.”

  “Not even close. You know, just because you’re family doesn’t mean you can just skate by on this job. I actually hate that we hired you.”