Cowboy 12 Pack
Page 125
TJ bit her lip to keep from screaming at him. She wouldn’t ruin Christmas Eve because of her father’s callous treatment of her. After a few minutes of wrangling with her temper, she went back into the great room too.
Her father was just announcing that Santa had arrived. It didn’t quite register with her until she realized she was staring at her father and he wasn’t dressed as Santa. He always dressed as Santa.
Instead, a tall stranger was weaving his way through the kids in his merry red outfit and bulging bag of gifts. The kids were all scampering around, trying to see inside the bag, and Pablo’s daughter Maria was hanging on his leg as he walked. Then he laughed.
TJ almost stumbled. She knew that laugh. Her heart began to pound in earnest. It sure as hell sounded like Hank.
No, she must be hearing things. He was back home in Texas somewhere. He couldn’t be in California.
Santa made his way to the big chair by the fifteen-foot Christmas tree that sparkled and shone. She couldn’t quite see him for the children packed tightly around him. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to budge them until he’d given out gifts, she waited, albeit impatiently, by the table with the cookies and punch.
Each child received a gift and went squealing away with it clutched in his or her hands. Within five minutes, they all had a box and Santa’s bag was empty.
That’s when he looked up at her. That’s when she saw the familiar blue eyes of Henry Beltane. Her stomach fluttered and her heart was singing. Oh, God, it was Hank.
“I have one more gift!” he yelled. The children all stopped to stare at him. “This one is for Tessa Jean Maguire.”
She heard a few of the kids ask who Tessa was. TJ looked at her father, who smiled and shrugged. This was what he meant by making it up to her. He was the one who had brought Hank here. Who had brought her future back to her.
“What did you do?” she asked her father.
“Took some time but I finally tracked down your man.” He kissed her forehead. “I want you to be happy.”
“Come on, then, Tessa Jean, come get your present!” Hank shouted over the din of the little ones.
The children started chanting her name and like a sleepwalker, she walked toward him. Each step something on her body began to cry, weep, or jump like a jackrabbit. When she finally reached him, real tears were leaking out her eyes.
He pulled the Santa beard and mustache off with the hat. His beautiful blond hair was in a braid tucked into Santa’s suit. His mustache had bits of white fluff stuck to it. He was sweaty from wearing that getup.
She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.
He took her hand and pulled her down onto his knee.
“What do you want for Christmas, Tessa Jean?” His shaking hand held a diamond ring. His eyes were full of love, hope and joy. She knew the answer now.
“A cowboy.”
TJ threw her arms around her Christmas present and kissed him for all she was worth. She didn’t even bother to listen to the screeches and squeals behind her. Santa had brought her what she had always wanted.
The End
About the Author
Beth Williamson, who also writes as Emma Lang, is an award-winning, bestselling author of both historical and contemporary romances. Her books range from sensual to scorching hot. She is a Career Achievement Award Nominee in Erotic Romance by Romantic Times Magazine, in both 2009 and 2010, and a semi-finalist in the 2014 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest.
Beth has always been a dreamer, never able to escape her imagination. It led her to the craft of writing romance novels. She’s passionate about purple, books, and her family. She has a weakness for shoes and purses, as well as bookstores. Her path in life has taken several right turns, but she’s been with the man of her dreams for more than 20 years.
Beth works full-time and writes romance novels evening, weekends, early mornings and whenever there is a break in the madness. She is compassionate, funny, a bit reserved at times, tenacious and a little quirky. Her cowboys and western romances speak of a bygone era, bringing her readers to an age where men were honest, hard and packing heat. For a change of pace, she also dives into some smokin’ hot contemporaries, bringing you heat, romance and snappy dialogue.
Life might be chaotic, as life usually is, but Beth always keeps a smile on her face, a song in her heart, and a cowboy on her mind. ;)
Website:
http://www.bethwilliamson.com
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http://www.facebook.com/bethwilliamson
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http://twitter.com/authorbethw
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The Real McCoy
Sabrina York
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Text Copyright © Sabrina York 2015
All Rights Reserved
Discover more titles by Sabrina York at sabrinayork.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my Decadent Divas, Erin Simone and Jenn Kacey, and of course to my Crystals: Crystal Benedict & Crystal Biby!
The Real McCoy
By Sabrina York
When Crystal Wilson gets roped into a wild, girls-only weekend at a rowdy “stud” ranch, the last thing she wants to do is tangle with a bunch of half-naked men pretending to be cowboys. But when she meets Ford McCoy, she can’t help but be attracted to his dark, dominant, gruff appeal.
What she doesn’t know is that Ford isn’t a stripper. He’s her friend’s overprotective brother, there to make sure his little sister doesn’t get into any trouble. She’s surprised at the passion that flares between them. In fact, what she has with Ford might just be what she’s been looking for all along.
It’s a pity the sexy rancher isn’t in the market for a city girl.
Chapter One
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“WELL, THIS LOOKS nice,” Crystal Wilson murmured to her friend, Jenn, as they stepped out of the car. It was a lame comment and she knew it. It hardly reflected the emotions roiling through her as she studied the ranch—the whitewashed main house with the broad porch, the enormous barn and the bunkhouse over to the left. It was comfortable, welcoming and warm.
Everything about it reminded her of home—the sounds of chickens, the occasional moo, the snuffle of a horse. And the smells…the smells nearly brought her to her knees.
Erin sidled up to them, hefting her suitcase. “So this is a B&B?” She studied the bucolic scene. “I’ve always wondered what they look like.”
“You’ve never been to a B&B?” Jenn asked, though surely she knew better. Erin was hardly a B&B kind of gal.
Erin grunted. “Vegas is more my style when it comes to vacations. But hell. This is what Porsche wanted, so…here I am.” When Porsche had announced she was taking them all to a rustic ranch, three hours outside of Dallas, to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, Crystal had been surprised. She’d expected her to go for something less restrained. But this? This was a pleasant surprise.
Porsche levered herself from the car and shot them all a grin.
It was Porsche, and it was her trademark grin, so Crystal’s belly clenched.
Shit.
She should have known better. Something was up. She sighed and went around to the trunk and pulled out her suitcase and her computer case.
Porsche frowned. “Did you bring your computer?”
Crystal shrugged. “I thought I might want to check sales.”
“This is a vacation—”
“It’s a weekend—”
Jenn curled her perfect nose. “You don’t bring work on a vacation.”
“I do.” Besides, she could work from anywhere with Wi-Fi. She often did. Her job was her life. It was her everything. As her business partners, they should understand this by now.
“Gawd.” Porsche flicked back her ponytail. “You are so anal.”
Crystal didn’t demur. She knew it was true. “Someone has to be.” Erin, Jenn and Porsche were all brilliant women and creative as hell. B
ut creative types didn’t seem to understand that someone had to keep the wheels turning. And that someone was Crystal.
Erin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I love that you’re anal,” she said, and then she winked. “Because then I don’t have to be.”
“Thank you,” Crystal said with a sniff. Porsche just rolled her eyes.
A handsome young man with sandy hair and waaaay too many muscles emerged from the ranch house and bounded from the porch, jogging over to them with a broad smile on his face. He threw out his arms and warbled, “Welcome to the Double Stu—” His gaze lit on Porsche and he stumbled to a halt. His eyes widened, nostrils flared. He went an odd shade of green. “P-P-Porsche. What are you doing here?”
The expression on Porsche’s face was far too wicked. “Hello, Cody,” she purred.
He winced. “You-you-you can’t be here,” he burbled, raking back his hair and glancing around madly as though seeking asylum.
Crystal crossed her arms. He wasn’t finding it here.
Porsche cracked her gum. “It’s a free country.”
Cody leaned in, a fierce expression on his handsome face. “Porsche, you’re a kid. This is an adult establishment.”
Acid scudded through Crystal’s gut at that. An adult establishment? What the hell did that mean? And what the hell had she agreed to anyway?
Again, Porsche issued her evil, spine-chilling grin. “I’m twenty-one,” she said with a smirk. “Today. Happy birthday to me.”
Cody’s lips flapped. “What?”
“Wanna see my ID?”
“You can’t be twenty-one.”
“Well, I am.” She waggled her hips. “All grown up.”
“Jesus.” Cody raked his hair again. It was beautiful hair. It did not deserve the abuse. “All grown up? When the hell did that happen?” He blew out a befuddled breath. “Where does the time go?”
Which was funny, because he was just a kid himself. Crystal and Erin exchanged an eye roll.
Porsche blew a bubble, underscoring, perhaps, that she was all grown up. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
Cody blanched. Reared back like a spooked stallion. His lips flapped. “Porsche. You can’t stay here.”
Her brow lowered. “We have reservations.”
“I don’t care. Jesus, God. Your brother will flay me.”
Porsche leaned in. “Then don’t tell him.” A hiss.
“Porsche!”
Crystal’s belly lurched again as something in Cody’s wail hit her. Why would Porsche’s brother care if his sister stayed at a B&B? Granted, from everything Porsche said, he was overprotective and domineering, having raised her after their parents died. But this was a freaking B&B. Sweet, charming—she flicked a look at the ranch house—homey.
A whoop from the bunkhouse captured her attention. She stilled as a herd—an actual herd—of half-naked men, wearing jeans, cowboy hats, unbuttoned shirts…and little else, poured from the edifice, running toward them, chambray flapping.
Oh, yeah.
There it was.
The other shoe.
Dropping.
“What kind of B&B is this?” she asked, her eye twitching only ever-so-slightly.
Cody’s attention whipped to her. “Is that what she told you? That this was a bed-and-breakfast?”
Crystal set her teeth and nodded. The hunk herd neared.
“Ma’am, this ain’t no B&B. This here is the Double Stud.”
She gaped at him, unable to form a single word. Then she leveled a fulminating glower on Porsche, the mischievous imp who had lured her here with the promise of eyelet curtains, leisurely teas and sedate rides in the countryside.
Porsche popped her gum. “Strap in, Crystal,” she said. “We’re going to have a helluva weekend.”
Crystal tightened her fists. “What kind of place is this?”
“A dude ranch.” Porsche smirked. “For strippers.”
“I like the sound of that,” Jenn murmured.
“Holy God. A what?” Something acidic tickled at the back of her throat.
“You know,” Porsche said. “A strip ranch. Like a strip club, but all weekend long.”
“Oh, excellent,” Erin cooed, her attention locked on the rippling throng.
And then it hit them, the wave of manflesh. A tsunami of testosterone.
“Do you know what you need?” Crystal growled. “A keeper. That’s what you need.”
Porsche merely fluttered her lashes.
She was an evil, evil woman.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE she did this,” Crystal said as she dropped her overnight bag and computer onto the bed by the window. The bedspread was, incongruously, an intricately hand-stitched quilt. Hardly what one would expect in a den of iniquity.
Jennifer rolled her suitcase next to the antique dresser and left it there. No doubt she wouldn’t even unpack it. Jenn was like that. She liked to live on the edge. She flicked her long, inky-black hair over her shoulder. “Come on. It’ll be fun. All four of us? Together? All weekend long? Away from the worries of the business?” Her frown at Crystal’s computer was pointed.
Yeah, it would be nice to kick back and relax with her business partners. The four of them rarely had a chance to play. But this? Not her style. Not at all. She’d much rather be working.
She, Jenn and Erin had met in college and been friends for years. They’d started Bling Babes, an online jewelry store, to augment the salaries from their crappy jobs. They’d never expected the company to explode as it had. While Crystal took care of the business end—the accounting, marketing and managing the web store—Erin and Jenn were the creative soul of the company. They’d brought Porsche on as a designer when the business started to boom. Even though she was a lot younger than the other three, somewhat flighty and a little naive, she had an extraordinary work ethic and was brilliant at her job. Aside from that, she had her finger on the pulse of their customer base.
“Besides…” Jenn’s smile held a tinge of pity that made Crystal wince. “You needed a break.”
“Not a break with strippers.” The last thing she needed right now was to be surrounded by smarmy, slicked-back men pretending to be cowboys. She’d had enough of that with Blaine… Again, she cringed.
“You can always hole up in the room. Just look at this place. It’s charming.”
Obediently, Crystal glanced around, taking in the muslin curtains wafting in the breeze, the stuffed bear on the rocking chair in the corner and the clearly hand-done paintings of meadows and mountains festooning the walls. She wrinkled her nose. “It looks like my grandmother’s house.”
“Exactly.” Jenn unzipped her suitcase and riffled around. “Charming.”
Charming? Crystal brushed at her sleeve, attempting to slough away the body glitter one of the “cowpokes” had infested her with, but it clung. His cologne clung to her as well. It was hideous. Probably something with pheromones. She hated to change, because she’d only brought a couple outfits, but the stench was giving her a headache.
“I don’t know about you,” Jenn said, “but I can’t wait for tonight. Hot, steamy cowboys. Stripping for our lady-pleasure.”
Seriously? Lady-pleasure? “That sounds so gross.”
The look Jenn shot her was acerbic in the extreme. “You only say that because you haven’t been laid in far too long.”
Well, hell. There was nothing she could say to that. She hadn’t. And for damn good reasons.
And she wasn’t getting laid this weekend. The thought made something unpleasant curl in her belly. While the strippers they’d met on the way in had elicited squeals and giggles from Erin and Porsche and Jenn, Crystal hadn’t been terribly impressed. For one thing, they’d been very young. Too young. For another, they’d been soaked in cologne. Their hair had been slicked back with goop they’d probably bought at some mall and their chests were shaved smooth. And yes, it was easy to tell, because their identical checkerboard shirts had all been undone.
Crystal liked m
anly men. Men with chest hair. Who knew how to do up their own buttons. Who didn’t reek of body spray.
Preferably not the same age as her baby brother.
And probably, if she were being honest, who didn’t strip for a living.
Jenn ceased riffling and pulled out a bottle of tequila. She pawed about some more and then pulled four shot glasses out of her bag. She was like Mary Poppins with that bag. She set the glasses on the dresser and filled each one. “Are you ready to cut loose?” She sat on her bed with a shot glass in each hand. She held one out to Crystal, who shook her head.
“None for me. I’m dieting.”
A frown. “You’re always dieting. Come on. It’s a special occasion.” She thrust the glass again; Crystal took it and set it on the bedside table. And yes, she ignored Jenn’s frown. She was dieting. And things were going well. Kind of. “A crazy weekend with the hottest male strippers Texas has to offer? Great friends…” Jenn glanced meaningfully at the shot glass making a ring on the bedside table. “Excellent tequila… Besides, Porsche will expect you to play along. This is a milestone for her.”
“And who chooses a stud ranch for a twenty-first birthday party?”
Jenn chortled. “Porsche, apparently.”
Crystal frowned. She loved Porsche, really she did. But the girl was clueless. She’d come to Dallas a wide-eyed, innocent lamb seeking adventure. More than once she’d wandered into dangerous territory. More than once Crystal had had to leap into the fray to yank her from the jaws of doom. She knew it wasn’t her job to protect Porsche from her wild-ass adventures, but she felt an affinity for the girl.
Not too long ago, she’d been that girl. She’d been hurt and hurt bad when she’d come to Dallas thinking small-town values translated to the big city. They didn’t.
“Oh,” Jenn squealed as the door opened and the other half of their quartet burst in. “Speak of the devil!”
“You talkin’ about me again?” Erin’s grin was wicked.