Finding Them [Riverbend, Texas Heat 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

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Finding Them [Riverbend, Texas Heat 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 1

by Marla Monroe




  Riverbend, Texas Heat 6

  Finding Them

  Sierra is in over her head. She has more responsibilities than she can handle, two sisters in college, and a ranch under foreclosure. All she’s been able to do for the last eight years is take care of everyone else.

  Rollan and Thorne are new to the area but are instantly attracted to Sierra, with her quiet strength and sensual beauty. More than anything, they want to see her happy. When they find out she’s being blackmailed with her ranch, the men come up with a plan where they can spend more time trying to convince her that they are meant to be a family.

  Sierra’s unexpected attraction to the two men is baffling. She’s afraid to trust her instincts where they’re concerned but accepts their offer of help, putting herself close enough to get burned. Are Rollan and Thorne the answer to her prayers, or will they be her downfall?

  Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 62,657 words

  FINDING THEM

  Riverbend, Texas Heat 6

  Marla Monroe

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  FINDING THEM

  Copyright © 2014 by Marla Monroe

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-684-1

  First E-book Publication: December 2014

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Finding Them by Marla Monroe from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Marla Monroe’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Marla Monroe’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  About the Author

  FINDING THEM

  Riverbend, Texas Heat 6

  MARLA MONROE

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Sierra Jane Wensel kicked the tire with enough anger to have made a field goal if the tire hadn’t been attached to the beat up old Ford truck. Instead, she cursed as pain shot through her foot and up her ankle so that she hopped around on the side of the road like an idiot.

  “Damn stupid tire. I’m going to be late now, and God knows that won’t go over well with Mr. Punctuality.”

  She limped to the back of the truck and let down the tailgate, praying the entire time she had a spare in the back. The sight of the tire had her smile back in place until she realized that it was just as flat as the one on the front of the truck.

  Hell fire and damnation! What did I ever do to warrant this mess? Never mind. I’d rather not think about it.

  Climbing down from the back of the truck, Sierra forgot about her injured foot and landed on it first. The next thing she knew, she’d hit the ground on her ass. That wouldn’t have mattered except that for once in her life, she was wearing a dress. Since she didn’t wear them as a rule, she had no clue how to actually act in one.

  I guess I know now that I shouldn’t be kicking tires or climbing in and out of the back of trucks in one. Hell, even if I do get to town before the bank closes, I look like a ragamuffin instead of a lady.

  Tears burned in the back of her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. She didn’t have time for them, and they wouldn’t help anything anyway. There was nothing for it. She would have to start walking back toward the Causey’s house and hope someone was there who could give her a ride to town.

  Just as she started getting to her feet, another ratty old Ford truck pulled off the road in front of her. When the dust settled, she’d gotten up, and the driver’s door to the other truck had opened. One long, booted leg slid out, followed by the rest of its owner. The man had to be six two and weigh close to two sixty. He was built more like a linebacker than a rancher, but his strut as he walked back toward where she stood was all cowboy. He even had a slight bow in his legs.

  The worn leather boots looked to be well broken in, much like the beat up blue Ford he’d slid out of. The jeans weren’t in much better shape with torn places over both knees and worn spots at the base of both pockets where keys, tools, and spare parts usually ended up by the end of the day. She bet that if she could see his ass, there would be a worn spot where he wore his wallet, and if he dipped, the Skoal would be outlined as a white ring on the opposite pocket. Sierra didn’t miss the whitened area at his crotch, but she was too much of a lady to think on it overly much.

  Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I checked it out even before I bothered to look at the rest of him. I might be about to humiliate myself, but I’m not dead.

  She finally forced her gaze north to see that the r
est of him wasn’t half bad either. Broad shoulders rested on top of an equally wide chest, but other than a strong square chin, Sierra couldn’t see the rest of his face with the sun in her eyes and the hat pulled down low on his face. She did know that she’d never seen his truck before and doubted she’d seen the man either, just from what little she could see. Having grown up in the little community of Sagebrush outside of Riverbend, Texas, she prided herself on knowing pretty much everyone within twenty-five miles. She would have recognized that walk if the man had been from the area. She didn’t, so he wasn’t.

  “You okay, ma’am?” the man asked in a soft, deep Texas drawl.

  “Yes, thanks. Flat tire, but the spare’s flat, too,” she explained.

  The stranger just nodded and turned to look back at the front tire. When he bent down to look at it, she wondered what he was doing. Then he ran a hand around it and down the back as well. He grunted and shook his head before standing up again.

  “Tire’s been cut.”

  “What? Someone deliberately cut my tire?” she asked with a gasp.

  “Looks that way.” When she walked over to check the tire herself, he stopped her with a hand out.

  “Don’t dirty up your pretty dress crawling around on the ground. When you get it changed, they can show you. Are you needing to be somewhere?” he asked when she stopped in her tracks.

  “Um, yes. I’m supposed to be at the bank in Riverbend.” She checked her watch and sighed. Even if she left right now, she’d end up being late.

  “You can hitch a ride with me. Once we get to town, you can arrange to have someone bring out a tire and change it for you,” the stranger suggested.

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate the ride.” She walked back and opened the door of the truck to grab her satchel. “You must be new around here. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

  He chuckled before guiding her by the elbow over to his truck. When he opened the door and helped her in, she was surprised to find the inside just as clean as hers was. If one of her brothers used the truck for the day, it would be full of food wrappers and empty cans. She’d never met a man who kept a clean truck.

  Probably isn’t even his in the first place. That would explain why I’ve never seen it before.

  Once he’d walked around and climbed up into the cab, he snapped the seat belt on and nodded pointedly at hers. She quickly pulled it over and popped it into place as he put the truck in gear and carefully eased back onto the road. Once he’d gotten back up to speed, he looked over at her before returning his gaze to the road.

  “I’m new. Partner and I just bought a spread off to the west of here. Needs a good bit of work, but that suits me fine.” He didn’t say anything more, just drove on in silence.

  She realized that they were pretty much neighbors then. The only thing for sale out there had been old Mr. Reed’s place. The man had died not long ago with no living relatives, so the place had been put up for sale to pay the taxes. It had been in worse shape than theirs was now in. She felt for him and his partner. Tackling that place would be a lot of work.

  Sierra didn’t feel the need to fill the empty void with useless conversation. She had enough on her mind to keep her occupied without making small talk. Besides, she’d never been very good at it to begin with. Now that they were inside the truck, she could see more of his face below the sunglasses. The square jaw tapered up to wide, chiseled cheekbones and a full, sensual mouth. He kept his light brown hair cut close but already sported a brushing of whiskers. She doubted it was more than a day old though.

  She wished she could see his eyes. She could tell a lot about a man by looking at his eyes and the lines around them. Lines belied stress, smiles, or squinting from constantly working outside and staring up at the sun.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked, slipping a glance her way.

  She hesitated but decided there wasn’t any reason not to tell him. “Sierra. Sierra Wensel. What’s yours?”

  “Thorne Barringer. It’s nice to meet you, Sierra,” he said, glancing in her direction before returning his eyes to the road. “Whereabouts in town should I drop you off?”

  “The First National Bank, please.” She couldn’t stop the butterflies acting more like bucking broncos cutting up in her stomach at the reminder of her destination. She hated this.

  “No kidding. That’s where I’m headed. Works out well then.” He didn’t elaborate, so she didn’t either.

  This wasn’t her finest hour, and by the time she was finished, Sierra would be grateful if she didn’t end up on the floor groveling at Dexter’s feet. It was what he wanted, and if she was going to continue to take care of her family, she’d do it.

  The problem was that groveling at the man’s feet wasn’t the end of it. If he had his way, and it looked like he would, she’d end up tied to the bastard for the rest of her miserable life. At least her family would be safe and have a roof over their heads. She shouldn’t mind selling herself if it meant food on the table and a warm place to sleep each night. But she did. It rankled her that things had gotten so far out of hand before Pa died. If she’d just known, maybe she could have prevented it all coming to this. Pa would roll over in his grave if he knew what she was planning to do.

  “Looks like we’re here,” Thorne announced as he pulled into an empty slot directly in front of the bank. “Hold on, and I’ll help you down from the truck. It’s a good drop for the heels you’re wearing. I’d hate for you to fall.”

  Before she could say anything to the contrary, the big man had jumped down from the truck and hurried around to open her door. She bit back the refusal on the tip of her tongue and allowed him to help her down. He was probably right. More than likely she would have fallen trying to get down on her own with the way her luck was running.

  “Thanks, and thank you again for the ride. I couldn’t be late for this meeting. I have a lot riding on it,” she said, then turned and marched up the three steps to the very large and very wealthy bank that held the future of her family in its hard, cold vaults.

  As much as she didn’t want to do it, Sierra knew she didn’t have a choice. They were depending on her to make things right with Dexter, her ex-fiancé. The ranch had been in their family for generations, and even though it was much smaller than its original twelve hundred acres when her grandparents had been alive, it was the only home they’d ever known. Now they only had three hundred acres of good grazing land that they were going to lose if she didn’t find a way to make Dexter happy.

  She kept that thought foremost in her head as she stood outside the door to his office. No one knew how much strength it took for her to lift her arm and knock on the solid wood door. She hadn’t expected it to be quite this hard, but it was. Everything inside of her screamed that she should run far and run fast.

  She was vaguely aware that Thorne had walked up behind her to knock on the bank president’s door. Dexter was only a vice president, but he was over land loans. Unfortunately, Sierra’s problem dealt with her family’s land.

  She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door. A reedy voice called for her to come in, and Sierra’s world stood on the verge of capsizing the moment she stepped through the door. As she walked inside, Dexter turned his chair around from where he’d been staring out the window. The knowing smile that pulled at his thin lips did nothing for her. In fact, she felt a little nauseous at the idea she was probably going to be kissing those lips at some point in the near future.

  Any future for that is too near. I’d as soon kiss a possum and wrestle a bull than feel those reed-thin lips touch mine.

  “Well, Sierra Jane. What brings you here to visit this morning? How is your family? Everyone is well, I hope.” He stood up and circled the desk to take her callused hands in his soft, limp grasp.

  “You know why I’m here, Dexter. Why are you foreclosing on our home? We aren’t that far behind and are actively paying everything we can,” she said, fighting the tears that had lingered just behind
her eyes all morning long.

  “Now, Sierra, it’s nothing personal, sweetheart. It’s just business. When a customer’s loan becomes a liability with no hope of recovery, then we have to cut our losses and recoup the money as best we can. Namely, we foreclose and offer it up for auction. You know how it goes,” he said in a sugary sweet voice that grated on her nerves.

  “No. That’s not how it goes. We aren’t behind enough to warrant this big of a step. We have some excellent horses this year. We’ll be able to make enough money to pay all the back payments and fund the next three or four months’ worth as well. We just need another month, Dexter.” Even as she begged, she could see the refusal in his eyes even before it left his lips.

  “I’m sorry, Sierra. Really, I am. If there was anything I could do, I would,” he assured her.

  Like hell he would. He wants me groveling at his feet and knows he’s going to end up getting it. Bastard!

  “You told me once that if I’d become your wife, you’d release my family’s loan. Is that offer still open?” she asked.

  Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but she willed it down and kept her face free of any of the gut-wrenching disgust that simmered just beneath the mask she wore. How she would handle sharing a bed with the man, she had no idea. If she puked on him one night, she had no doubt he’d kill her.

  “Are you offering to marry me, Sierra Jane? After all this time playing hard to get, you’re finally ready to step out and become my wife. It seems a bit too pat to me. It makes me think that the only reason you would marry me is to clear the debt over your ranch,” he said, squeezing her hands painfully between his.

 

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