Sweet and Wild (Winchester Wild Book 1)

by Carmen Jenner

  “Maybe you’d prefer to be the one wearin’ them,” Wade crows.

  “Oh, that’s real original, asshole. Did you think of that line all by yourself?” Wyatt folds his arms over his chest and leans against the front porch railing. “I tell you what, when you’re ready to start dressing like a man, you come see me and maybe we can actually find you a real live girl to date. I know your hand must be gettin’ kinda tired.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

  “Alright, y’all, that is quite enough.” Mama ushers me up the walk to the stairs. “I, for one, am glad to have another female in this house. It’s been overrun with overgrown men for far too long.”

  Mama and I head inside as the boys carry on about carrying in my things. This old farmhouse looks exactly the same as it did when I left. It hasn’t changed one bit in thirty years. Well … there is one noticeable difference. Daddy’s armchair sits in the living room … empty. I stare at that faded tan leather which has seen a lifetime of dust, sweat, and love. I burst into tears all over again. I feel like I haven’t stopped crying since I got the call.

  I hadn’t shed a single tear over Brook and Stavros, not one, but I fell apart completely when Wyatt called me from the hospital with horror and devastation in his voice. I had to come home. I needed to be here for my family. Part of me wishes I’d never stayed away so long. I might’ve been able to say goodbye. I might’ve seen my daddy and told him I love him one last time. Although, after my encounter with Colt and enduring the frosty reception from my two older brothers, I’m starting to wish I hadn’t come home at all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lemon

  Sunlight streams through the lace curtains of my childhood bedroom and I squint and roll over. What kind of sick torture is this? People in the south need to invest in black-out blinds. I stretch and wince at the ache in my bones and muscles after several days in my tiny car. Stumbling into the bathroom, I brush my teeth, and then I throw on a light sweater before heading downstairs. The grandfather clock says midday, and I rub my eyes and stare at Mama plating up lunch.

  “Mornin’, sleepyhead.”

  “Mornin’. Why did you let me sleep so long?”

  “Well, you had a long drive.”

  From the back door, the boys all push and jostle to get into the house and be the first to the dinner table. It’s like feeding time at the zoo around here.

  “Mornin’, sis,” Wyatt says.

  “Hi.”

  “Howdy, Lemon.” A man embraces me. I’m taken aback because he clearly knows me, and I’ve never met this guy in my whole life.

  “Hi?”

  My brothers chuckle and Wade says, “You have no idea who he is, do you?”

  I pull away from the man and take in his square jaw and bright green eyes. His blond beard is rugged with hair to match, but the way his lips quirk into a cocky grin and the dimple in his chin give him away. “Oh my God. Cash Williams, is that you? Last time I laid eyes on you, you couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds, soaking wet.”

  “It’s all Mama’s good cookin’.” He winks, and pecks Mama on the cheek. Then his eyes roll over me from head to toe. “It’s mighty nice to see you again, Lemonade.”

  “Still our sister, and you’re still never hittin’ that,” Wyatt warns, glancing at Cash.

  “Wyatt Winchester, you bite your tongue at my table,” Mama admonishes.

  My little brother hangs his head, thoroughly scolded. “Sorry, Mama.”

  “It’s just Lemon now.” I sit in the seat I’ve always occupied at this table, my eyes darting to the empty head of the table where my father sat.

  “Since when?” Mama asks.

  “Since I was eighteen.” I glance at her as she sets a plate in front of me. It’s piled high with roast-beef sandwich and potato chips. I wouldn’t eat this much food in two meals back home in New York, but I know better than to tell her that.

  “Since you moved to New York,” West corrects as he finishes washing up in the mud room and enters the kitchen.

  “Oh my God, it’s alive.” Wade, the perpetual joker, grabs my bird’s nest of hair and makes it stand on its end. I elbow him in the ribs, and he moans. “Damn, woman. You’re so skinny, you practically speared me through with your bony elbow. We gotta put some Texas meat on them bones.”

  “My bones are just fine the way they are, thank you.”

  I glance around the kitchen, praying for coffee but knowing I won’t find any now. The pitcher of sweet tea on the table confirms my suspicions. Mama slips a plate in front of each of the boys and they all stare like dogs salivating over a bone. I pick up a potato chip from my plate but before I can draw it closer, Mama gives me a pointed glance and I drop it just as fast. You do not mess with Lucille Winchester at mealtime.

  “We haven’t said grace, Lemonade. And you know we don’t do grace unless everyone’s at the table.”

  I glance at the five other bodies occupying the table and frown. “Who are we waitin’ on?”

  “Sorry I’m late, Mama. I had a gelding in the stable as stubborn as Lem—”

  “Uh-oh,” Wade says, biting his bottom lip like a coy little schoolgirl.

  I involuntarily smooth my hand over my hair and scowl. It’s one thing for Colt to be working here, but to be eating at the family table for every meal and still calling my mama … Mama? Oh, hell no.

  “What was that you were sayin’, Colt?” Wyatt asks.

  “Lemon,” Colton says through his teeth. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite so …” I stand and pick up my plate.

  “Lemon Emersyn Winchester, you will sit your skinny ass down and eat lunch with your family.”

  “But Colton isn’t family, Mama,” I hiss as I set my plate back on the table and sit heavily in my chair.

  “He is too family. Just like Cash and anyone else who’s been helping to keep this ranch working. Especially with your daddy gone, God rest his soul.”

  “Yep. We’re all just one big, dysfunctional family. Only, Lemon was never makin’ plans to marry Cash,” West says.

  “Maybe she hasn’t made plans yet, but give her time.” Cash smirks. “All ladies love Cash.”

  “Okay, that’s disturbing. Please never say that in my presence again.” I blow the hair off my face and stare at the ceiling. Daddy give me strength.

  Colt’s eyes meet mine. “I can leave if this is too difficult—”

  “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Colton Hayes.”

  “That is enough, from all of you,” Mama chastises. “Now, we’re going to eat a nice meal, as a family, and we’re damn sure going to say grace before we do it. So, Colton, why don’t you sit on down next to Lemonade and join hands while West says grace?”

  Colt hesitates and meets my gaze, then he glances at Mama and nods resolutely. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The chair scrapes against the floorboards as he pulls it out, and I swear you could hear a pin drop everyone is so quiet. Colt sits beside me and places his palm faceup on the table. I stare as if his flesh has the power to burn me, and when I slip my small hand into his much larger one and lace my fingers with his, my chest tightens. He squeezes my hand—crushes it, really—and slides his other arm across the table to join hands with West.

  My brother says grace, but I don’t whisper, “amen” at the end like everyone else at the table. I can’t. My heart is too broken from that little touch, from all of the memories his hand in mine drudges up.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter and climb to my feet before racing out of the room.

  “That went about as well as I expected,” Wyatt says.

  I take the stairs two at a time and shut my bedroom door, then I lean against it. This room holds too many memories—too many nights of Colt sneaking in after Mama and Daddy went to bed, too many stolen kisses took place under those covers, and too many tears soaked my pillow when our whole world shifted off its axis. I’
d told Colt not to flatter himself, that I could handle lunch with him just fine. But all of the feelings I’d been running from since I was an eighteen-year-old kid came slamming back at once, and it’s clear I’m pretty far from fine. In fact, we left fine behind twelve years ago, and I’m not sure I’ll ever make my way back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Colt

  Twenty years old

  I exit the arena, a sweaty shaking mess. Holy shit. That bull about killed me, but coming in first place in my heat division was totally worth it. Hell, it was worth it just to see the look on Jameson Fort’s face when he saw I’d beaten his time.

  “Congratulations, son.” Some old cowboy slaps my back as I pass, and I tip my hat. I’m busy looking backwards when I should be looking ahead, so I almost don’t see the two pretty girls who barrel into me until I’m nearly knocked off my feet.

  “Nice work, cowboy!” Lemon shouts as she throws herself into my arms and squeezes me tightly.

  “Lemon? What are you doin’ here?”

  “We came to see you ride.” She smiles up at me, her hands still wrapped tightly around my neck. Sweat soaks my shirt, and I know she can probably feel it. I just don’t know why she isn’t so grossed out about it she doesn’t pull away.

  “Zadie.” I tip my hat in her direction and glance between the two of them. “How did you girls get here?”

  Lemon bites her lip. “Um …”

  “Lemon,” I warn, taking the tone her father and brothers so often use with this little fireball.

  She leans up on her tiptoes, her breath washing across my face and smelling too much like whiskey as she whispers, “Don’t worry about it, champ.”

  “Have you two been drinkin’?”

  “Oops,” Zadie says. “Busted.”

  Lemon giggles, throws one arm wide, and proclaims, “Tonight we’re Winchester Wild!”

  “Oh, Jesus. Do your mama and daddy know you’re here?”

  “Nope,” Lemon says. “We snuck out.”

  Fuck. I am a dead man. I may not have had anything to do with this, but I have no doubt they wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.

  “Oh my God,” Zadie squeals. “Could you imagine if they knew we’d hitchhiked?”

  “You …” I pinch the bridge of my nose, my high from the ride and from having Lemon throw her arms around me vanishing, and replaced almost instantly with dread. “Your daddy’s gonna kill you, and then West is gonna kill me.”

  Lemon rolls her eyes. “Daddy and West need to lighten up.”

  “Lemon, promise me you’re never gonna do this again? Not the sneaking out, not the drinkin’, and definitely not hitchhiking. What the hell were you thinkin’?”

  “We wanted to see the champ in action.”

  “Then you wait until you’re old enough to drive yourself or better yet, ask your brother to bring you.”

  “Can we go? I’m starvin’,” Zadie says.

  “No. I’m taking you girls home.”

  “Okay, but can we eat first?” Lemon asks. “I could really murder a funnel cake right now.”

  “Oh,” Zadie crows. “And cotton candy.”

  “You two are gonna be eating burgers. You need something’ to soak up all the alcohol. Where the hell did you get it anyway?”

  “Daddy’s liquor cabinet.” Lemon frowns and then shakes her head as she says, “Well, the whiskey came from there. The beer I bought with a fake ID.”

  “You got a fake ID? And who the hell would buy that you were over twenty-one?”

  “I get by with a little help from my friends.” She toys with the collar of her plaid shirt, popping one button too many so her cleavage and the black lace of her push-up bra are visible. I swallow hard as I try not to look. She strokes her finger along her collarbone and down the swell of one breast and my dick is pulsing. Jesus. This girl is diabolical. God help every man on the planet when Lemon Winchester comes of age. “I like to call them boobs.”

  I bury my head in my hands. “Come on. Before you girls kill me.”

  “I don’t think your friend handles her whiskey too good.” I tilt my head toward Zadie, who’s wrapped in a blanket in the bed of my truck, drooling on the metal floor.

  “I know. Who’d have thought she would be such a lightweight?”

  “I still can’t believe the two of you did what you did. Why? You have some hot cowboy you had to meet up with?”

  “Yep,” she says without elaborating. I regret the words instantly. What the hell am I doing? Fishing for compliments? She’s sixteen years old. I shouldn’t be encouraging her. Lemon Winchester don’t need no encouragement.

  Still, empty food wrappers litter the floor around us and the girls are sober enough that we should be on the road already, but I can’t bring myself to move. Not while Lemon’s cuddled up to my side, a blanket over our outstretched legs and the field of stars above us.

  “What about at home? There ain’t no boys your own age beating down your door for a date?”

  She makes a pffting sound. “No one is even looking in my direction, Colt. Not with the Winchester boys breathing down their necks.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I look at you all the time.”

  A coy smile lifts the corners of her lips, and my heart skips a beat it has no right to be skipping. “And you’d be dead if West ever caught you. Not that someone like you would ever look at me the way I want you to.”

  “Maybe you’re just not seeing things clearly.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and her brows pinch together. I’m on dangerous ground here. Lemon wasn’t exaggerating. If West knew I was here with his little sister, he’d beat the shit outta me. He’d never let me near her again.

  She leans forward and presses her lips to mine. She tastes like whiskey and cherry-cola lip gloss and I can’t get enough. I cup her cheek, and she clambers into my lap.

  “Whoa.” My hands frame her hips, but even I’m not crazy enough to touch her when she’s straddling me like this. “Lemon … I—”

  “I think about you.”

  I press a chaste kiss to her lips and smile. “I think about you too, but, darlin’—”

  “A lot.” She grinds her hips.

  Jesus. I groan. “Lemon, darlin’, stop.”

  “I want you, Colt. I want you so much it hurts.”

  “We can’t do this,” I say, but I ain’t convincing anyone. Fuck. I know exactly how she feels because I’ve been looking at this girl for years, just aching to touch her, to hold her in my arms, and kiss her like this.

  “Do you touch yourself when you think about me? Because I do.” She nibbles my neck, her hips rocking back and forth, sliding her pussy against my dick. “I think about you all the time, Colt. When I’m at school, when I’m doing my chores around the ranch, and when I’m alone in my room at night. I want you all the time.”

  “Lemon,” I beg, her grinding obliterates all my self-control. “Fuck.”

  I grip her hips and move her back and forth, bucking my own up to meet hers, and drive us both closer to the edge. Lemon wraps her arms around my neck, and I shove her tiny shirt over her breast, leaning forward to suck her puckered, rosy nipple into my mouth. She throws her head back and moans, and as much as I love that sound, I have the good sense to remember we’re not alone. Zadie’s only a foot away and we’re parked in a field just off the main road where anyone could find us. The last thing I want is the police driving by and having to explain why I’ve got two underage girls in my truck after midnight. I cover her mouth and Lemon’s eyes widen, but she darts out her tongue to lick my fingers and I lose all control. I blow my load in my jeans as if I was seventeen again. My thrusting must push her over the edge because her lips part in the most delicious “O” and I feel her pussy convulse against me.

  Lemon takes a beat, eyes closed, euphoric in her orgasm. I remove my hand from her mouth and trail it down her chest, pulling her shirt as I cup her perfect tits underneath. Her breaths are beau
tiful and ragged, and there’s a wet patch soaking the front of my jeans from our combined orgasms, but I don’t care about that. Her auburn hair falls around our faces as she leans forward and kisses me, and I can’t help it—I roll us so that I’m on top, and I settle my weight between her legs as I kiss her so deep and so hard that I know the only thing she’s breathing is me.

  Am I the first she’s done this with? I can’t see how anyone else could have gotten close enough with her brothers acting as bodyguards all the time. But I sure hope I am, because it’s not just the fact that I may have to kill some other guy if I’m not—it’s the fact that I want to be her only. I want to drive her just as mad as she’s been driving me all these years.

  Jesus. I’m an asshole. I’m sick. Lemon is so much younger than me. She’s my best friend’s little sister, and now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t let her go. It’s killing me to imagine her with someone else. This is wrong, in so many ways. All the Winchester men would be well within their rights to castrate me like a young, wild bull. My daddy too. Going down this road ensures I just sharpened the knife for them, but I can’t stop. Now that I’ve had a taste of Lemon Winchester, risking my life is worth it for just one more.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lemon

  When the hum of ATVs roar to life and I know the boys are gone, I open my door and head downstairs, a little embarrassed at my outburst. I don’t know what it is about Colton Hayes that turns me into a teenager again, but I never could think rationally around that boy, and I sure as hell can’t think rationally around the man.

  “Mama?” I say to her back as she stands cooking at the stove. From dawn to dusk, that woman prepares meals for this household and for the bed-and-breakfast guests. “I’m sorry I ran out on lunch.”

  “It’s alright, darlin’. I mean, you know I have rules about anyone leaving my table before their plate is clean, but I understand why you needed to get away. I’m sorry I pushed.”