Rocky Mountain Heat: Six Pack Ranch, Book 1

by Arend, Vivian

  Travis knew enough to sense Blake’s patience was gone. He turned and raced up the hill without even complaining that it was someone else’s fault. The other kid. He didn’t seem to know it was time to stop fighting and start running.

  “You ain’t my boss.” Eyes narrowed, chin jutting out as he glared up at Blake. It would have been funny if they both weren’t dripping wet and filthy.

  “I am now, Slick. Get on up there. My ma will see to those welts before we get you home. Unless you’d prefer I take you home now and let your folks deal with you?”

  The skinny little thing didn’t look more than five years old. Pale wisps of hair stuck up where the mud had washed off, but the dirt seemed permanent on other portions of the creature. “They ain’t there. My mom’s gone to town for grub. I can take care of myself.”

  Blake counted to ten. There was no way he could go home and tell his mom he’d let some little tyke wander off without his folks—wasp-stung, filthy, and pounded from fighting Travis.

  Even though it looked like the little beast had gotten the better of that particular deal.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Jax.”

  “Jack?”

  He was given the you’re-too-stupid-for-words look. “J-A-X. My name is Jackson, but Momma and Daddy call me Jax.”

  “Well, Jax, you gotta come home with me for a bit. If your folks are gone, you could probably use a little dinner. We’ll hose off the mud and get something to eat. I think my ma’s got leftover chicken around we could nab. Deal?”

  Blake knew the second he mentioned food that it would work. The kid was skinny as all get out. Jax scrambled up the embankment and trotted next to him, little legs working double time to keep up with Blake’s wide stride.

  At seventeen Blake was getting into his full growth. He was tall enough already that this little guy seemed awfully short.

  “How old are you, Jax?”

  “Seven.”

  That was surprising. Jax couldn’t be any bigger than the twins.

  “I’ve never seen you around before. Did you just move in?”

  “The blue trailer on the edge of the road. Ma said it’s a dump, but I think it’s okay.” Typical kid, he kept stopping to check out the grasshoppers and spiders that scurried off the trail as they quickstepped toward the house.

  Must be the new renters that he’d overheard his parents talking about. The dad had signed on with one of the local hauling companies. Hard work. Jax’s dad would be gone for days at a time. Blake took another look at the kid. His little face and arms were covered with swelling welts, but he hadn’t made a noise of complaint about them.

  “So you wanna tell me what happened down at the swimming hole?”

  Jax looked up at him in surprise. “I ain’t one of your brothers. You gonna let them tell you what happened, right?”

  Blake frowned. “I figure you can tell me just fine. You won’t lie to me, will you?”

  Jax stopped dead. “Lying is for babies and cheats. I ain’t no baby and I ain’t no cheat.”

  “So, tell me. What happened?”

  “Me and Joel and Jesse were swimming and playing a game and Travis came and said he’d make me eat a frog. So I told him that frogs were a delicat-zee and only the really important people could eat them so I thought that was a really fine thing.

  “Then he said I had a stick up my butt and he was going to teach me a thing or two. So I said he was too stupid to teach me anything. Then Joel tried to tell him something and Travis pushed him into the mud. Of course Jesse tried to help Joel and Travis pushed him down too. Then Daniel started yelling at Travis and Travis said some bad words and then he tried to push Daniel into the mud and Joel and Jesse were trying to jump on Travis and then…”

  Blake stared in amazement. Usually when he asked his brothers what happened he got “he looked at me funny so I hit him” as an answer. Not a five-minute nonstop detailed play-by-play.

  They’d reached the house, and there was no sign of any of the rest of the culprits except for a pile of filthy wet shorts lumped by the still-running hose. Blake pointed Jax toward the pile.

  “…well, I slipped and fell in the mud and I thought maybe that could be the end and we’d just play for a while. You know, we were all dirty, so why not, but Travis came over and pinched me…”

  Yeah, that was Travis. He fought dirty.

  Blake stripped off his wet things and turned the hose on himself. Ma put up with a lot, having six boys around the house, but he knew better than to enter the house covered in river water and mud. Even if he went through the basement door straight into a shower.

  “…but when I climbed the tree he called me a coward.” Jax finally stopped talking and put his hands on his hips. “I ain’t no coward. So when I spotted the nest I thought it would be a good idea and—”

  “Jax. Talk while you take off your stuff. I’ll hose you down.”

  “Oh. Okay. So I pulled off the nest but I kinda fell and when I landed I must have made a funny noise because Travis called me a ‘pig in the wallow’ and it made me really mad so I walked up to him and told him at least I wasn’t an ass without a barn and then I pulled that nest apart and things kinda just happened after that.”

  The shorts dropped quick like and Jax turned in the spray to let Blake rinse off his back. Welts rose everywhere, and Blake turned down the pressure on the hose. It had to hurt like the blazes.

  Then the kid turned around and Blake noticed for the first time what he probably should have figured out sooner.

  Jax was a girl.

  About the

  Vivian Arend has hiked, biked, skied and paddled her way around most of North America and parts of Europe. Throughout all the wandering in the wilderness, stories have been planted and they are bursting out in vivid colour. Paranormal, twisted fairytales, red-hot contemporaries—the genres are all over.

  Between times of living with no running water, she home schools her teenaged children and tries to keep up with her husband—the instigator of most of the wilderness adventures.

  She loves to hear from readers: vivarend@gmail.com. You can also drop by www.vivianarend.com for more information on what is coming next.

  Look for these titles by Vivian Arend

  Now Available:

  Granite Lake Wolves

  Wolf Signs

  Wolf Flight

  Wolf Games

  Wolf Tracks

  Forces of Nature

  Tidal Wave

  Whirlpool

  Turner Twins

  Turn It On

  Turn It Up

  Pacific Passion

  Stormchild

  Stormy Seduction

  Silent Storm

  Xtreme Adventures

  Falling, Freestyle

  Rising, Freestyle

  Paradise Found

  Black Gold

  Coming Soon:

  Rocky Mountain Haven

  Rocky Mountain Desire

  She wants it. He’s got it…and a whole lot more.

  Turn It Up

  © Vivian Arend

  The Turner Twins, Book

  Maxwell Turner considers his stubborn and resourceful attitude a plus. After all, it usually gets him what he wants—except for Natasha Bellingham. The long-time family friend may be ten years older than he, but so what? He’s plenty old enough to know they belong together. Now all he has to do is convince her.

  Over the past few years Natasha’s love life has degenerated into a series of bad clichés. Her biological clock is ticking—loudly. As a proven architect with her own house-design company, she’s financially ready for a baby. Who says she needs a permanent man in her life for that? She just needs a “donation”.

  When Max discovers Natasha’s future plans include artificial insemination, he’s outraged. She wants to get pregnant? No problem. He’s more than willing to volunteer—no turkey basters involved.

  But there’s one non-negotiable clause: He wants forever. And he int
ends to do everything in his power—fair and unfair—to make it happen.

  This title contains one younger man ready, aimed and hell bent on giving one woman everything she wants. Includes interludes against the wall, in a Jacuzzi, on a car hood and even—shockingly enough—on a bed or two. Oh, and about that porch swing? Yup…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Turn It Up:

  He stepped closer, not giving her time to continue her protests. Last night he’d shown more control than any man should ever have to. Today his ability to manage the urges driving him grew a little shakier. “My family thinks the world of you and would be thrilled to be involved with your child—again meaning more love and attention. That’s not the biggest reason to marry me, but it’s a bonus.”

  “Like a prize in the cereal box?”

  Max laughed out loud, the expression on her face driving him crazy. Sarcastic wench. “God, you are so freaking cocky. I love that. And that’s the real reason this makes sense. I would definitely choose to be in a long-term relationship with you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak then swung her hands in frustration, pacing away to stand in front of an empty window opening. Fists planted on her hips, she stared out at the backyard.

  He waited patiently.

  Tasha turned and shook her head. “You can’t know that. You’re too young to—”

  “Don’t.” That was the one argument he would not accept. It made his blood boil. He rapidly crossed the room to her side. “Don’t you dare say something trite like ‘You’re too young to know your own mind.’ This is me, not some random person off the street. We’ve spent tons of time together over the years.”

  “Not one-on-one, not in a sexual relationship.”

  “Because you’ve never let us go there. I’ve been your friend. I’ve helped you move and fixed your car. We’ve played games together and watched bad movies. When I make a decision I stick to it. If I say I want to be involved with you, trust me, I’ve given it a ton of thought. I’ll not only keep my commitment, but be the best damn father possible.”

  Her face grew redder as she waved her hands in the air and shouted at him, “You can’t propose to me just because I want to get pregnant.”

  It was his turn to stare in disbelief. “This from a woman who plans on making a baby and having to deal with wet diapers and colic and all the rest of it alone for the next twenty years? Don’t talk to me like I’m the only crazy person in the room.”

  They locked glares, neither one blinking or willing to back down. The wind picked up and blew in the open window, ruffling her hair around her face and something inside him tightened. Was he in love with her? Hell, yeah. He’d admired her forever, her body and her character, and love seemed to have snuck in as a natural progression, but that’s not what she needed to hear, not yet. She’d spent too long keeping him at arm’s length. He’d have to start somewhere they could agree. Max took a step closer, dropping his gaze to her lips. She licked them nervously, crossing her arms in front.

  “What are you doing?” She shuffled backward, coming to a sudden stop against the raw wood of a two-by-six wall stud, flinging her hands out to catch her balance.

  “Proving we’ve got a physical attraction between us.” One more pace put him in her personal space, their feet alternating on the floor, torsos brushing, hips close enough the heat of her body bled against his.

  She leaned harder against the wood at her back, her breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt as she tried to widen the space between them, and he refused to give way. “What does that have to do— I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Max sank his fingers into her thick mane of dark hair and let his satisfaction escape in a low moan. God, he’d wanted to do that forever, and last night refusing her sexual advances had taken him to the breaking point. He needed this so badly he felt raw inside, aching with need for a taste of her. He tugged until her face tilted toward him, the smooth curve of her cheek shining in the midmorning sunlight. “Just in case you get some screwy idea of accepting only part of my terms. I don’t want you to imagine for even a moment we’re going to use any kind of turkey-baster method to get you pregnant.”

  Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, probably to lambaste him. He took advantage of the opportunity and clamped their mouths together.

  Stone cold sober.

  Suddenly, that’s what she was—the blood pounding through her carrying more than enough oxygen to reinvigorate her dusty brain cells. He was kissing her. No, that was wrong. A kiss was something your granny gave you, something innocent and calm that made you slightly sleepy. This was a different beast altogether, like a flash fire rolling through and consuming everything in its path, and before she realized what she was doing, Tasha had wholeheartedly joined in.

  Maxwell Turner wasn’t only kissing her, he had his body so tight against hers there was no doubt remaining that various parts of his anatomy had increased in girth, and she wasn’t talking about his pecs anymore. His tongue swept into her mouth, the lingering hint of coffee vanishing as her taste buds switched to take him in. Clean, warm, and oh my God, the boy could kiss. Heat flushed from her core outward, her breasts grew hot and heavy, and damn if she remembered why she’d turned him away all these years. Strong fingers curled around her neck as he deepened their contact. She responded, her tongue brushing his, lips and teeth getting into the act. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging into the firm muscles under her fingertips. He ate greedily at her mouth until her head spun, senses shifting to overload.

  He snuck a hand around her torso, fingers spread wide as he slid under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her lower back. Warm palm in full contact with her body, he pulled her even tighter against his groin, and his rigid erection dug into her belly. Her breasts were crushed between them, nipples tight and aching. Max fastened onto her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, a flash of ecstasy shooting through her core and setting her on fire. How long had it been since she’d felt like this from simply kissing? She scraped her fingernails down his back and he dragged his lips from hers, groaning loudly. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she shoved her fingers into his back pockets and yanked him forward. The leg between hers nudged her knees farther apart before sliding closer to connect with her sex.

  His assault on her senses continued as he worked his way along her jaw to press kisses and nips to the tender skin below her ear. The need inside escalated to the point she was ready to peel off her clothes and go for it right there. She was empty, and aching. Their combined breathing carried loud on the air, echoing in the hollow spaces of the unfinished room.

  Max returned to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the rocking motion of his hips, and she whimpered. It was too much and not nearly enough. He released his grip on her hair and cupped her ass instead, dragging her up his body until she rode the solid ridge of his erection. Tingling, flashes of heat, pleasure—all of it washed over her in waves and she clutched him tighter. Good Lord, she was going to climax like this, rubbing him like a cat.

  He lifted her left leg higher and looped her knee over his elbow, forcing her back hard to the wall. Spread wide open, she was defenseless as he ground against her, the seam line of her jeans making contact with her clit through the thin layer of her thong and she panted hard. So close.

  He opened his home. She stole his heart…and his money.

  Trespass

  © Meg Maguire

  Many would envy veterinarian Russ Gray’s life in rural Montana’s wide-open spaces. Russ calls it lonely. In a country with more cattle than eligible females, he doesn’t envision his seven years as a widower ending anytime soon. Until a mysterious woman lands at his door in the dead of night, riddled with buckshot.

  Sarah Novak hates lying to such a kind, handsome man, but if an upstanding citizen like Russ finds out why she’s been three weeks on the run, he’d surely turn her in. Yet she can’t refuse his offer to let her stay until she heals, no questions
asked.

  From the start they fall into an easy companionship, then teasing flirtation flares into an unexpected intimate connection. But no matter how right it feels in his arms, guilt tugs at Sarah’s heart. Russ doesn’t deserve what she must do next.

  When Russ wakes up with an empty bed—and an empty wallet—his first instinct isn’t to call the cops…it’s to catch her and find out why his urge to protect her overshadows all reason. Because he’s had a taste of real passion, and he’s not letting it slip away without a fight.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Trespass:

  Sarah rose first and cleared Russ’s yolk-stained plate. He let her do the dishes and start a fresh pot of coffee, turning back to his newspaper while she puttered. She did an overly thorough job of wiping down the counter, watching him through the open space in the wall that separated the kitchen and den. He had a dab of yellow at the corner of his mouth, sleep-mussed hair glowing gold at the edges from the morning sunshine. She glanced at the pocket watch before her on the ledge and the antique medicine bottle beside it, its thick, cloudy glass the same gray-green as Russ’s eyes.

  “Tonight,” she began, gaze still locked on the glass.

  He looked up, attentive. “Yeah?”

  She remembered how he’d felt when he’d slid in behind her on the couch, that comforting, forceful combination of need and demand. She felt prematurely like a cad. “I need to sleep alone tonight.”

  His attention shifted to the window and he nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

  She set the sponge down and rinsed her hands, drying them on her jeans as she walked over to him. “I don’t mean I don’t want to…you know. Mess around.”

  “No?” That look again—adorable, desperate hope.

  She shook her head, stepping close enough to put her fingertips to his shoulders. “No, I’d like that, if you would.”