“Tamara's Spirit”
by Nicole Austin
There’s nowhere to run and no place to hide from old wounds and demons for the vulnerable woman behind the bawdy attitude.
How ironic to be captured by an Indian when not one of the Shooting Star Ranch cowboys is available to race to her rescue.
City girl Tamara Dobbs lives on the ranch to be close to her friends and even closer to her gorgeous cowboys, but still she feels discontent, fragmented. From the minute she runs into the new guy—sexy, unflappable equestrian, Dakota Blackhawk—she runs from the intense emotions he evokes.
On first sight, Dakota knows nothing will stop him from claiming the brazen little princess as his own—heart, body, and spirit. He’ll accept nothing less. While he would gladly take on the fight for her, she must face her own battle to become whole. Taking her out of her element is the only way he can help the sexy, stubborn woman.
Tamara may survive the emotional roller coaster ride, but she still must conquer the ultimate challenge…forgetting what others want her to be and becoming true to herself.
Warning, this book contains lots of steamy, explicit sex told in contemporary, graphic language!
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
512 Forest Lake Drive
Warner Robins, Georgia 31093
Tamara’s Spirit
Copyright © 2007 by Nicole Austin
Cover by Anne Cain
ISBN: 1-59998-451-2
www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2007
Tamara’s Spirit
Book Two of the Corralled Series
Nicole Austin
Dedication
To NJ Walters. Thanks for helping me find a name for Tamara’s bookstore. Your input, as well as your friendship is greatly appreciated.
To my family. As always, thank you for the support and encouragement.
Prologue
“What’s eating you?”
Well, certainly not any of my cowboys, as they should be.
Stephanie’s question was a good one, but one Tamara wasn’t about to answer with any real honesty. Instead, she mumbled something noncommittal and was glad when Cord’s sister took the hint and left her alone.
Being forced to endure so much beauty, bliss and wedding day happiness made her want to puke. She stood at the reception and kept glancing outside, wondering how much she had to suffer through. How long she should stay before making her escape? She needed to get the hell outta there.
The majestic mountains, ever present guardians of all that lay below, wore an incandescent patina of amber, garnet and amethyst. Jagged spikes of aged gray rock soared upward into the vast, endless blue Montana sky. Lush, emerald green grasses covered the valley. It had been a picture perfect day for the ceremony, and was turning into a gorgeous night.
Without question, the Shooting Star ranch lands held regal beauty. And everyone who had gathered around the blissful couple fit together with both the land and each other, like pieces of a puzzle forming a complete picture.
Everyone excluding Tamara. They were all blind to the reality she was like one of those stray puzzle pieces which never seemed to fit in anywhere, no matter how you struggled to make it conform to the mold. The picture was complete without it being there, and when you tried to force it to fit, you created an obvious flaw within the beautiful design. For some reason, she was the only one who saw this apparent truth.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she moved farther into the tent where the reception was already in progress and stood off to the side taking everything in.
Before the festivities, Savannah had sat all of them down and with calm, quiet assurance explained how she thought of them like family. Her goal was to keep them all together. She then handed sealed envelopes to each of the cowboys, the bookkeeper and Tamara. Inside each packet was a deed for ten acres of Shooting Star ranch lands.
What the heck Van thought Tamara was supposed to do with ten acres of ranch land was beyond her comprehension. The crazy woman said they should each build a house, start a family. Tamara had almost choked and spewed her coffee everywhere at the suggestion.
Speak of the devil, Savannah wandered over to her side. Her friend looked gorgeous in her white gown, natural. Van belonged here. In fact, she was in her element. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Watching Cord courting Savannah over the past few months had ignited a fathomless hunger Tamara had managed to keep subjugated within the deepest recesses of her soul. It had created an insatiable yearning for some nameless, but vital element which had long been missing for years, leaving her incomplete. While the cowboys were able to ease her burning sexual ache, they were unable to fill the void. Yet focusing on sex with her boys was much more pleasant than dwelling on an anonymous ache she had no hope of fulfilling.
Of course, she didn’t dare bring up her relationship with the cowboys now. It was bad enough everyone knew about their group sex activities after Savannah had caught the five of them in the act.
“They’re not worth that much.” She knew the reply was flippant, but was running out of forced good humor. “My mind is just wandering a bit today and I’m a bit antsy.” Truth of the matter, Tamara was totally out of sorts.
In retrospect, moving to the ranch had not been such a good idea. Daily exposure to the loving couples in residence had begun to erode her sanity and increased the ache. If only she could put a name to the elusive missing facet, she’d be able to embark on a search.
Or maybe not. Even if she did name it, capture it—was she worthy enough to keep it? Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have it, even if she did know what it was. Some things were best left alone.
Watching her friends celebrate the marriage and happiness over the gift of the land was torture. They were all in such high spirits.
“You can talk to me about anything, Tam.” Van’s expression was encouraging, but there was no way Tamara would bring her friend’s spirits down on her special day.
Oh, how she hated weddings, no matter how elegant or tastefully conducted. They made her think too much. While Cord and Savannah Black’s wedding had been divine, it still sucked to have to attend.
A single tear had escaped Tamara’s bright, jade green eye as the joyous couple had rode off toward the mountains before everyone made their way to the reception. Watching them ride away together stirred emotions she did not want to deal with. Not in this century.
“Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.” Savannah persistence wore on her, but there was no way she’d speak this particular internal soundtrack out loud.
Tamara really needed to get out of there before her bad mood darkened Van’s happy day, but it was too soon to leave…wasn’t it?
The festivities at the reception were abject torture, but they’d barely gotten underway. She would have to suffer in silence through the obtuse, jubilant nuptial rites yet to take place. How laughable the only single women fighting over the bouquet would be her, an eight year old girl, and Stephanie. The implied meaning of catching the flowers made her shudder with revulsion.
As expected
, the available men would then fight over the garter flung over Cord’s shoulder. Then the real absurdity would begin as the lucky winner was bestowed with the dubious honor of sliding his prize as far up the lady’s leg as she allowed.
Tamara breathed a heavy sigh. “You know I hate this kind of stuff, Van.”
While the dancing was enjoyable, in the end it would leave her needing to be fucked, and all the drinking would render the cowboys useless to slake her thirst. Once again she’d be left aching.
Savannah enveloped her into a warm hug. “Aw, hon, I’m sorry. Get out of here if you need to. I’ll try not to worry about you sulking the night away alone in your cabin.”
Oh great, rub it in and hit me with a major guilt trip why don’t ya, pal.
“One day soon a man will come along who can see past the Barney badass attitude to the beautiful soul you struggle so hard to hide.”
Tamara had to wonder if Van was making a general statement or if her friend had actually had a vision of the future, but decided she wasn’t real anxious to know which it was. Tamara pointed across the tent at Cord, who watched them closely. “Your husband is waiting for you to dance with him.”
Her friend’s smile brightened when she looked over at the big cowboy. Savannah patted Tamara’s forearm, then scurried off to Cord’s side. Whew. At least Van had been easy to distract.
She didn’t understand why Van went and married Cord. They had a great thing going, and marriage would probably only screw it up. Hell, her beautiful friend could get any man she wanted. Why did she want to restrict herself to just one? Tamara frowned, unable to imagine tying herself to one man when there where so many waiting for her attentions.
While not on the same level as gorgeous, curvy Van, Tamara still thought she looked pretty good. And there was never any shortage of men available for her to sleep with. Lots of men liked small women and, in her estimation, at five-five she wasn’t too short, she was perfect. It was all the huge men around the ranch making her feel tiny. Okay, so maybe she’d like her not quite B-cup breasts to be a little larger, but overall she felt good about her looks.
She’d learned long ago not to get attached to any man. The typical life cycle of her relationships was about four months before the guy began to cling. In most cases she was long gone before then, the one exception being the hunky Shooting Star cowboys. Zeke, Jesse, Brock and Riley had shared her for several months now with no annoying signs of possessiveness. Yeehaw!
Although the sex was fabulous, it was starting to become boring, taking more and more for her to reach satisfaction. Much like a drug addict, each time requiring more to achieve their high. The same was true for Tamara. Each sexual encounter took a bit more in order for her to get off.
As if he’d sensed she was thinking about him, Zeke ambled over, grabbed her arm and swung her around. “Dance with me, beautiful.”
The words weren’t slurred too badly, and he still seemed to have a good deal of coordination left, but she had no desire to hit the makeshift dance floor.
“No thanks, cowboy. Why don’t you go ask the sister of the groom? She looks ready to boogie.” The bitch in question was currently batting her eyelashes at Riley. Tamara wasn’t sure she liked Steph paying attention to her cowboys. Especially since the guys were taking notice. However, using Steph to distract Zeke worked in her favor now.
Zeke smiled, tipped his hat, and sauntered off toward where Stephanie stood, tapping her foot and swaying in time to the music.
Maybe what I need is a drastic change.
Leave everything behind and set out on an adventure. She’d always wanted to travel, but wandering the world alone? Somehow she knew the experience would leave her feeling even more restless and unsettled. Hell, she hated to be alone anyway. There was nothing worse than quiet solitude. It’s when all of her demons came out to play.
She shook her head. Damn, what was she thinking? She couldn’t leave Savannah anyway. Her friend would need her support during neighboring rancher Wyatt Bodine’s trial. Cord would be supportive, but she’d want Tamara by her side to face the vile man who’d terrorized both Savannah and Mandy Morton, the ranch bookkeeper’s young daughter.
Soon her friend would be wrapped up with the growing ranch, her new husband, and the birth of her baby, though. Tamara wouldn’t be missed anymore when that happened. Then it would be glaringly apparent she didn’t belong on the ranch and there would be nothing to keep her from drifting away.
Right now she needed to get through the wedding frippery. She’d be so relieved when the happy affair was over. Her cheeks were sore from efforts to maintain a counterfeit smile. Would the fabricated cheer be obvious in the pictures? Did it even matter? Most likely no one would even notice if she left the party early. Van had already given the okay for her to get out of there.
“What’s eating you?” Brock asked. The way too serious cowboy appeared at her side, his lips thinned with concern beneath the sable mustache she loved to feel caress her tender skin.
“Nothing. Can’t you tell how fandamtastic I’m feeling?” Was it so obvious she was completely uncomfortable?
“You look great, babe.”
“Are you trying to be obtuse, Brock? I guess I should make it crystal clear. I have PMS and a handgun in my clutch,” she lied. “If I were you, I’d stay far away.”
He gave her a startled look and made a quick getaway to the bar. Smart man!
A black cloud of depression descended on her. Maybe she needed medication. Those commercials with the sad face which ended up bounding after a butterfly always made her wonder. All the symptoms they listed fit. Feeling sad, anxious, restless, having no interest in activities. At times she felt intense urges to flee, felt trapped, heart pounding, palms clammy, nauseous…
She shook off her mental wanderings. No, drugs were not the answer. No feel-good medication would wash away her restless needs and jaded senses.
Riley and Jesse decided on a tag team effort in approaching her. In her peripheral vision, Tamara caught sight of the two fools attempting to sneak up on her. What was with these guys? Why didn’t they get the obvious? She didn’t want company. In fact, she was perfectly happy with her misery as a companion.
“Don’t even think about it, boys!” The words were spoken in a deep, menacing tone which sent the two men scurrying off in different directions.
The material of the large white tent, erected to contain the reception, began to waver in the gentle breeze, giving the impression it was closing in on her. Tamara’s chest tightened in apprehension, and she decided now was the time to make her escape.
She stepped out into the balmy evening and took in a deep lungful of crisp, clean air. “Ah, much better.”
Torches provided an amber glow to light the way through the dark night. The spiked heels she wore sunk into rich earth as she moved toward her cabin.
Making her way over the rustic terrain required all her attention when the meager light ended, leaving her in the inky blackness of a moonless night. She moved with focused determination and haste while closely watching where she trod, head down. If she stepped in some steaming pile of horse shit with these expensive shoes on…
When she turned the corner of the main house, she walked right into a large object, driving much needed oxygen from her lungs with a whoosh. She lifted her hands and pressed her open palms against the obstacle, giving a firm shove. The solid mass never budged.
“Whoa. Hello there, gorgeous. Are you all right?”
If he hadn’t already knocked the air from her lungs, the stranger’s sexy drawl would have taken her breath away. She looked up into compelling eyes, which drove all coherent thought from her mind.
Oh God, what was wrong with her? She’d always had the ability to come back with some cocky crack. For some reason, nothing came to mind other than how mysterious and dangerous the big man looked in the low light cast from the porch lamp. His dark appearance gave her the impression of a rakish bad boy, but there was also something inherent
in his presence that created a calming affect.
Warm hands held her hips in a firm grip. It was a good thing too, because her legs felt rubbery and ready to give out. Her nostrils flared, drinking in his masculine scent. She smelled leather, sun-warmed flesh and hot man. Tamara swayed, feeling dizzy.
“I’ve gotcha,” the stranger declared.
The world whirled around and dipped in a wild motion. Cold chills raised goose bumps on her arms. Damn it, she wasn’t the kind of frail woman prone to fainting. What the hell was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she’d been drinking at the reception.
When things settled again, she found herself planted tight and secure against a wide torso. Muscular arms held her snug as steel bands around her back and under her legs. She threw her arms around the thick column of his neck, clinging to him. Then the big stranger carried her to the porch steps, only instead of putting her down as she expected, he sat with her held captive on his lap.
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