The Merman's Kiss

by Tamsin Ley

  The final message in Grandfather's will looped through Renee's mind as she drove.

  The ranch holds a treasure deep under cover

  Toliman's secrets are yours to discover

  Guard it with care, and love it with spirit

  Once you gain their trust, you'll no longer fear it.

  Her father would’ve said it was more of the old man's voodoo or something, putting a poem in a will. But then, Dad hadn't been invited to the reading, had he? An age-old bitterness rose in Renee's throat. After Mom had died, Dad had shunned Grandfather's "heathen" ways. Something or other about shaman ceremonies and cloven-hoofed devils causing Mom’s cancer. The moment Renee'd turned eighteen and inherited Mom's trust fund, she'd run away, thinking only of escaping her father's hysterical recriminations.

  Steph thought the poem meant there was buried treasure, and insisted they go check it out before Renee got rid of the place. She'd booked the first available tickets out of La Guardia on Renee's behalf, posting memes about treasure hunting to Instagram and posing for lurking paparazzi with a tiny shovel from one of her previous escapades. "Does it look like I'm ready to dig? Maybe I should shoot a music video while I'm there."

  Glancing in the rearview mirror at what was obviously a reporter's car keeping a discreet distance, Renee wondered what fodder they'd end up feeding the ever-hungry press this time. Sometimes she felt like no more than a fictional character of her own life, following Steph around. But living in the rock-star’s shadow at least provided an itinerary in Renee’s discontented life.

  Beneath a gnarled tree in the distance, a herd of dun-colored animals lifted their heads at the SUVs approach. Renee nudged Steph. "Look, elk." At least, she thought they were elk. Maybe deer?

  Steph glanced up from her phone, then back down. "Cool. Are we almost there?"

  "Soon, I think." Every fencepost they passed along the sage-dotted plateau made Renee's stomach grow tighter and tighter. Why was she so nervous? She felt like something huge was looming on the horizon, a choice she wasn’t prepared for, even though her decision to sell had already been made.

  The arch of the head gate came into view, Toliman Ranch scrolled in wrought iron along the lintel. She pulled to a stop and opened the car door. A blast of dry heat flooded the air-conditioned cab, along with the far away scent of horses and sunbaked sage brush. She took a deep, appreciative breath, noting the guy behind them hanging from his car window snapping pictures with a telephoto lens. Quickly opening the gate, Renee returned to the cab and the relief of the air conditioner.

  "How rustic," Steph said, eyeing the gate as they drove through. "I suppose we have to do that every time we come or go?"

  Renee shrugged. "Not so bad. Gave your paparazzi boyfriend an opportunity to flirt with me."

  As if in territorial response, Steph rolled down the window and stuck her torso through, offering the cameraman a shot of her ample cleavage. Renee calmly drove past the gate and then hopped back out to shut it behind them. Steph could keep the limelight for all she cared. Renee was a nobody anyway.

  She drove another several hundred feet around a hill that blocked most of the house from view of the road. Sunlight danced through motes of dust as they pulled to a stop in front of the wide covered porch. Almost expecting Grandfather to emerge from the house to greet them, she cut the engine.

  Steph flung open her door and glanced at Renee with her nose wrinkled. "Whew, what's that smell?”

  "Horses," Renee replied, recalling a younger self who'd also wrinkled her nose. Today the smell stirred something in her, as if a trembling bud was about to bloom in her chest. She squashed it down, reminding herself she was only here to hand everything over to the real estate agent. Hopping out, she gazed at the fancy log-frame house with its high windows and country décor. An old rusty wagon wheel hung from the wood shake siding, and the front door fixtures were made of black wrought iron, right down to the old-fashioned knocker shaped like a horse shoe. Two square planter boxes on either edge of the porch steps held nothing but wisps of dry brown grass.

  Behind her, the metallic rattle of the barn's bay door opening made her turn. A very tall blonde woman emerged, pointed toes of her cowboy boots impossibly shiny for a ranch worker. The woman raised her chin, as if smelling them as she approached. "Which one of you is Renee?"

  Renee stuck out a hand to the giant of a woman, at least giant compared to Renee's five-foot-one frame. "I am."

  The woman gripped Renee's knuckles with uncomfortable firmness. "Name's Lori. I've been running the place since your grandfather's death. Sorry for your loss, by the way."

  Steph pushed forward, her hand out. "Good to meet you, Lori."

  Lori took her hand, eyebrows high. "And you are?"

  A look of irritation passed over Steph's features. "Oh, sorry. I'm just so used to being recognized. Steph Bilmore." She cocked her head coyly. "You might have seen one of my music videos?"

  "Ah. That would explain the fellow at the gate taking pictures. Hope he knows people in Montana carry guns." The woman turned back to Renee. "How long you planning on staying?"

  "Uh," Renee automatically glanced at Steph for validation. "A few days, probably? I've got a realtor coming out tomorrow."

  "We're on a treasure hunt," Steph added. "Plus I want to ride a cowboy. I mean a horse." She held up her camera for a selfie next to the wagon wheel on the siding.

  Lori's nose flared. "A realtor? I see. Well. The housekeeper's inside. He'll show you your rooms. I'll be in the barn." She spun and strode off without looking back.

  Steph sniffed as if unimpressed. "Amazon woman there acts like she owns the place. I suppose we have to get our own luggage, huh?"

  "You were a little bold with that cowboy thing,” Renee said, feeling strengthened by the Montana air. “We don't even know her."

  "This is your property. You can do what you want. She needs to get over herself."

  Self-assurance dwindling, Renee nodded and wandered to the fence near the barn, allowing Steph time to sort through her usual mountain of luggage. Leaning against the rough wood rail, Renee surveyed the pasture. Beyond the green, irrigated section within the fence, the rolling hills were calico-spotted with patches of yellow broom and silver-green sagebrush. A shirtless man in a cowboy hat knelt next to one of the sprinkler boxes inside the fence. She admired his broad, tanned back as he picked up and discarded tools and parts. A baby horse with zebra-striped legs pranced around him while its mother grazed placidly nearby.

  The man reached a hand behind him while he continued working, wiggling his fingers until the baby nosed them and darted away in delight. The pit of Renee’s stomach danced with butterflies watching his obvious affection. The man's throaty laughter floated across the field as he rose and dusted his hands against the front of his jeans. He crouched and did a playful football shuffle, taunting the tiny horse, who kicked up its heels and ran back to its mother.

  Momma horse flicked her black tail and continued grazing without concern.

  Gathering up his toolbox, the man glanced in Renee's direction, sending the butterflies in her stomach into overdrive. He adjusted his hat off his forehead, letting the sun hit a fine, straight jaw with a haze of stubble. She fluttered her fingers at him, a little thrill chasing down her spine when he lifted a well-muscled arm in a reciprocal greeting. God, he’s hot. Looking over her shoulder, she realized Steph hadn't yet spotted him. Renee never got the jump on her, often due to her own hesitancy. Well, not today. This was her ranch, and she was going to own it for as long as she could. Heart beating in her throat at her own boldness, she called, "Dibs."

  "What?" Steph abandoned the luggage and crunched across the gravel to stand beside her. "Aw, not fair! There'd better be more delicious cowboys around."

  Renee grinned. Wow, that felt good. Most of the time, Steph picked the targets and left Renee to play wingman, which meant spending the night fending off the target's wingman. Not this time.

  Setting her chin atop her forearms, R
enee leaned into the fence, watching the rancher stroll toward the barn. His jeans hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs in exactly the right places, and his muscled abdomen flexed with his gait. He didn't look at her directly, but she could feel his attention igniting her core.

  Face heating, she looked away.

  Steph turned back to the car. "If you don't seal the deal before tomorrow, all dibs are off."

  Her previous thrill of confidence crumbled. "Hey! I called dibs!"

  "Dibs are first shot, not exclusive. So don't screw it up. Just screw." Steph smirked and rattled her wheeled suitcase across the gravel into the house.

  Yanking her own suitcase from the jumbled pile of Steph's castoffs, Renee scurried after her.

  hapter Two

  Black's ears rang from the conversation between the two women as he entered the barn. They had no way of knowing he could hear them that far away—no human could, at least not clearly. The tiny brunette with the pixie face looked damned sexy peeking over the top fence rail at him, and she smelled amazing even at this distance, like wind coming off a cherry orchard in bloom. The other one wasn't bad, either, but she had a hard scent about her that reminded him of a predator.

  He set his toolbox just inside the barn, safely away from little Ivy-Jane's curious mouth, and, now that he was out of sight of the ladies, he adjusted his fly. How long had it been since he'd had a woman? According to his hardening dick, too long. There weren't a lot of options for a centaur living on a remote ranch. To the herd he was a misshapen monster, unable to assume full equine form, and to humans, a monster of myth. Centaurs had no place in either world.

  He headed to the back corner stall where they stored extra parts and equipment for the hinky water system that served the ranch. Parts of the system dated back over a hundred years. The water outlet had been clogged with rust, and he hoped they had a spare O-ring.

  Should he approach the brunette or let her come to him? Young stallions from the herd hooked up with humans at the local bar occasionally, but that outlet had been quashed when Lori took over. She enforced strict rules over who left the ranch and for what purpose, minimizing what she called "frivolous" interactions with humans.

  The image of the little pixie, small breasts pressed against the middle fence rung while she watched him, wouldn’t leave him. Oh, how he'd love to get frivolous with that. To nuzzle into the warm curve of her neck while she wrapped both legs around him. His dick hardened even more at the thought. Good thing there was no one around right now.

  He dug through a plastic bucket of miscellaneous-sized O-rings, comparing the old one from the spigot for size. Lori wanted the ranch—the entire plateau, for that matter—as a haven for shifters. No humans at all, even though Old Man Toliman had known about the herd and provided things like medical assistance and winter forage. With him gone, the herd was on shaky ground.

  The scuffing of feet against the dirt floor behind him made him look over his shoulder. The Lead Mare leaned against the doorway, one boot crossed over the other. "I have a job for you, soldier."

  He went back to digging through the bucket, dick thankfully shriveling at her presence. He hated her nickname for him, as if he only lived to follow her orders, not be part of the herd he protected. "I'm already working on something."

  "You heard we have visitors."

  He shrugged one shoulder noncommittally.

  "The midget is Toliman's heir. I need you to marry her. The sooner the better."

  Bristling, he shoved the parts bucket back onto its shelf and turned. "Marry her? I thought you wanted nothing to do with humans?"

  Lori lowered her chin, brown eyes flashing with authority. Sometimes he wondered if her sire had been a wild cat instead of a stallion to give her the kind of command she seemed to wield. She spoke in a sultry tenor that brooked no argument. "She's got a realtor coming. One of us needs to marry in, take ownership. Keep her from selling the place or turning it into a tourist trap."

  "Why me?" He exited the storage stall, brushing uncomfortably close to her when she refused to step aside.

  "You're here at the barn more than any of the others. And it's not like you fucking a human could pollute the bloodlines any worse than you already have." She followed at his heels, her voice close to his ear. His skin crawled as if she might nip his flank any moment. He hated it when she tried to pull herd rank on him in human form. "You're probably already half-hard thinking about mounting her, anyway. Do it. I'll tell the other stallions to back off. Just watch out for that friend of hers. She's a piece of work."

  "Mounting's one thing. Marrying's another."

  Did she think Toliman's granddaughter would simply marry a strange ranch hand and sign things over? He bent to pick up the toolbox. "Old Man Toliman kept our secret for decades. Why don't we just tell his granddaughter?"

  Lori stepped so close to him, their boots touched. "Not one word. Our secret died with that old man and it better stay that way."

  A direct order? How was he supposed to build trust strong enough to propose marriage to a human, yet keep that kind of secret? He dropped his gaze, lip curling with distaste at Lori's nearness, and backed up a step. "You expect me to just drop to one knee and propose out of the blue? I have a feeling she's smarter than that."

  "I've seen you in action at the bar, soldier. I know you'll make her swoon. Convince her to be your bride, and I'll ensure you have a place in the herd. A real place, running the wind with the rest of us."

  The idea took hold of him like a lover's hand cupping his balls. He'd dreamed of running with the herd since before his first shift at seventeen. Unlike other equine shifters, he'd been born to his mother while she was in human form—a human baby—and had endured his long childhood waiting for his first shift to join his grandmother’s herd. As time wore on, and he'd shown no sign of the ability, everyone assumed it would never happen. He'd tried so hard to make it happen, when it finally did... Well, he'd nearly killed himself shifting over and over in an attempt to "get it right."

  He never could.

  The herd hadn't exactly shunned him—they didn't dare when his grandmother was the Lead Mare. But the indulgence they'd once shown the poor human boy, like bareback rides across the plateau, had quickly turned to disdain and dismissal. The entire reason he'd gone to vet school was to give himself worth to the herd. But even that hadn’t increased his rank. Being a vet was a human thing.

  He licked his lips, regarding Lori warily. "How do you propose to make the herd take me in when I can’t even run with them?”

  She lowered her chin to stare him down. "What I say, goes. You know that. Once we own the ranch, you'll be free to roam like never before. And if you don't do it, I can find someone who will."

  His heart palpitated in an uncomfortable rhythm. He'd never considered himself marriageable. But to belong to a herd, he'd do almost anything. And either way, Toliman's granddaughter was a tempting treat. "If I pull this off, and she becomes my little ranch wife, how're you going to hide our secret then?"

  Lori's grin was feral as she retreated into the barn. "Believe me, she won't stick around."

  Black was suddenly sick to his stomach as he considered what Lori might mean.

  Renee stared at the huge barn door and swallowed. Steph was in the house, tied to a wall phone so she could talk to her agent. Cell service apparently didn’t reach the ranch. But this gave Renee an opportunity to find that cowboy without Steph's watchful judgment or a teasing recap of her clumsy flirting later.

  Why does it have to be so damn hot? She held her arms away from her body, hoping for a cooling breeze. Despite a reapplication of antiperspirant, her underarms were already stained with sweat.

  Taking a deep breath, she ventured into the barn, hoping she'd find him there. She peered down the length of stalls, refamiliarizing herself with a layout she faintly remembered from childhood. The stalls to the right were simple, chain-link cubicles, while the ones to the left were enclosed in solid wood. The empty barn echoed, the
sweet scent of warm hay and dust permeating the air. A bare-bones wooden stairway climbed into the hay loft, while several bales of straw formed a more solid looking stairway of their own at the other end of the building.

  What if he's not here? Or worse, what if he's already involved with that Lori chick? She clutched what little confidence she had left tightly within her and ventured into the barn's cool, dim interior. "Hello?"

  The man in the cowboy hat appeared from behind the straw stairway, now wearing a dark, form-fitting tee shirt. What a shame. At least his shoulders and biceps stretched the fabric in all the right places. An arrow of sweat darkened the shirt’s neckline, pointing down between his sculpted pecs.

  He strolled toward her, well-worn cowboy boots scuffing against the hay-strewn floor, each step sending quivers through her core. He had a strong jaw dusted with five o'clock shadow, dusky blond hair curled slightly over his ears, strong, straight nose, and sensual lips. Under his mahogany gaze, her pussy felt anxious, hot, and undeniably wet.

  "You must be the new owner." His voice was as low and sexy as she’d imagined.

  If she wanted to beat Steph at dibs, she'd need to play like Steph. Say something sexy. But all she could think of was riding a cowboy. Totally inappropriate. Instead, she smiled and stuck out a hand. "Howdy partner!"

  Howdy partner? Really? That was the best she could come up with? She shook her head and said a small prayer that her blush was invisible in the dim light of the barn. He accepted her handshake, his large, work-calloused grip firm but in no way uncomfortable. In fact, the contact sent a delightful shiver up her arm as she imagined that hand touching other parts of her skin.

  She cleared her throat and tried again. "My name's Renee. What's yours?"

  A tiny smile twitched at one corner of his mouth, and she was drawn into his warm brown gaze. "Black."

  "Black? That's your first name?"

  "Yep." His gaze flicked down to their still-clasped hands.