Country Roads 2
Pole Position
As a child, Princess imagined a fairy tale ending. As an adult, she envisions a satisfying conclusion to a storybook romance years in the making.
Abandoned as a little girl, Princess Sterling met Brant Levy and Colt Manning in the mountains of Kentucky. Thanks to Colt and Brant, Princess is adopted. She becomes the pampered child of racing royalty and enjoys a life of luxury.
As Princess matures, she realizes something is missing. With a successful racing career of her own, Princess longs for love and dreams of one day reuniting with the cowboys who saved her from homelessness.
Years later, Brant and Colt drive to Bristol with every intention of locating Princess while she’s in town for a race. As soon as they see her, they know they’re in trouble. They aren’t just hooking up with an old friend. They’re about to seduce the woman they plan to love.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 29,176 words
POLE POSITION
Country Roads 2
Natalie Acres
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
POLE POSITION
Copyright © 2011 by Natalie Acres
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-715-3
First E-book Publication: August 2011
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2011 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
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“You won’t see me running in the back…”
—Kevin Harvick
POLE POSITION
Country Roads 2
NATALIE ACRES
Copyright © 2011
Prologue
Southeastern Kentucky was always known as a poverty-stricken area of the state. Some people, particularly the older folks, often described Harlan County as Bloody Harlan. Back in the thirties and forties, Harlan residents earned quite the reputation for being quick to anger, and even quicker to draw a gun and shoot.
If a person paid attention to small-town babble, a dark cloud loomed high above Harlan. Natives continued to pay for the crimes of the past. Unfortunately, in Harlan, the innocent caught the brunt of bygone times. The sins of the fathers were bestowed upon the children.
Locals believed Harlan’s ghosts damned the once-corrupt area. There was nowhere to hide or run from the ancestors who tainted those mountains with their former unscrupulous behavior.
Colt Manning thought the county was surrounded by too much natural beauty for outright condemnation. He decided to visit the region right after Thanksgiving. He wanted to ride in an ATV parade called The Jingle Bell Ride. With the promise of great fishing on Martins Fork Lake, Kentucky called to him in a way he couldn’t ignore.
Colt invited his buddy, Brant Levy, to join him on a road trip. They anticipated a restful weekend and a good time enjoying one of the best ATV adventures a man would ever find.
In the early morning hours, they packed up Brant’s Ford truck with camping supplies, loaded up two brand-new four-wheelers, and off they went. They were Kentucky-bound before daybreak, and left behind plenty of farm work certain to be there when they returned.
The men made the drive from Morristown, Tennessee. Somewhere along the way, Colt began to think something substantial awaited them in the Bluegrass State, maybe even something life-changing.
By the time he spotted the remarkable ridges of the Pine and Black Mountains, with their peaks painted white from a recent light snow, Colt had a true uneasy feeling. This vacation wasn’t just another road trip.
Five minutes after he arrived at his destination, Colt met a little girl who would soon change their lives. His future was left forever changed from the moment they were first introduced.
PART I
Chapter One
“What’s your name?” she asked in a small voice. Dirt dotted her forehead and cheeks, neither of which seemed to bother her. “My name is Princess.”
“Is that right?” Colt asked, squatting next to her. She looked more like a mud-soaked orphan than a child destined for a jewel-encrusted crown. He’d easily spotted her in the large crowd. Apparently, the folks around there either shunned her because she was a filthy child of meager means or they left her in the clearing on purpose, perhaps to showcase the hopelessness experienced by the locals.
Carnival-style tents and vendors cluttered a designated area rich with tall trees and plenty of dead shrubs. The grounds buzzed with endless commotion. Princess seemed lost, only she didn’t appear bothered by the fact.
“Yes, just like Cinderella,” the little girl replied, giggling. “Will you be my prince?”
Brant reached inside the front pocket of his denim jeans and pulled out a few one dollar bills. “Here, kid. Scram.”
The bright light in the little girl’s blue eyes dimmed. She stared at several crisp ones crumpled in Brant’s hand. Addressing Colt once more, she said, “You’ll need to drink tea
in the queen’s court before I can accept your friend’s money.”
Brant grumbled. “We have a lot to do, Colt. Participants are required to register for the ride.”
Colt ignored him and focused on the child. “And where might we find the queen’s court?”
“Over there.” She pointed. “I have a table set up with the best silver in the land,” she said, waving her arm extravagantly toward what looked like an empty box. “It’s right under the big oak tree. Don’t you see it?”
“All I see is a big piece of cardboard and a couple of crates,” Brant replied.
“Be a sport,” Colt told Brant, straightening his back and reaching for the child’s tiny hand. “Tell you what, if you’ll let us join you for tea and tell us a little bit about Harlan, we’ll pay you for the information you provide. You can be our travel consultant.”
Her eyes twinkled from under the dirty blonde locks. Her hair resembled loose strands of yellowish-brown straw rather than well-maintained bangs. “I don’t know what that word means, but okay. I sure could use the money, sir.”
The little one skipped ahead of them and Brant said, “You can’t go making friends with these kids, Colt. Times are tough and out here, folks face desperate days. Adults in these parts have been known to use their children in order to find ways to put food on the table.”
A lump moved down Colt’s throat. He and Brant had been friends for a long time. They’d gone to the same schools, lived on neighboring farms. He’d always thought of Brant as a good guy. Typically lighthearted, Brant wasn’t the kind of man to give a child a cold shoulder. What had gotten into him?
After they followed the little girl through the growing crowd, Colt located the tea party. Old newspaper had been used for cut-out placemats and dinnerware. In the middle of a large box, an arrangement of weeds, wild flowers, and hay provided the illusion of a centerpiece.
“Have a seat,” she instructed, turning to Brant and adding, “You’ll find a better view of the party from over here.”
Another grumble followed a grunt. “Colt, we don’t have all day.”
The child was unaffected. “Colt is your name?”
“Yes.”
“I like that name. I asked you for it when we first met,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You didn’t answer me. Is it because you don’t like your name?”
“No, I was too interested in finding out more about you. Princess is an interesting name, too, ya know.”
She laughed aloud and then slapped her knee, cackling all the more. “You silly cowboy you, that’s not my real name.”
Brant twitched his nose, sat down, and quietly observed. He suddenly looked more intrigued.
“Why do you think I’m a cowboy?”
She pointed at his hat and then the one atop Brant’s head.
“You’re an observant little woman, aren’t ’cha?” Brant asked.
“Of course, a good princess always pays attention to folks around her.”
“I thought we were having tea with the queen,” Colt said, quite impressed by the child’s imagination and her quick wit. She would certainly go far in life with her personality.
“I am the queen.”
“You told us you’re a princess,” Colt reminded her.
She sighed dramatically. “Would you be disappointed if I told you something?”
Brant arched his brow. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulders. “All of this is make-believe, silly. Don’t you know how to pretend?”
“In other words,” Brant explained, “the fairy tale can change at any point.” A beat later, he added a smile and said, “See if you can’t try and pay attention.”
Colt studied the large, round circles adorning the cardboard box, noticing they didn’t have plastic cups or anything to suggest drinks—imagined or real—would soon be served. “Tell you what, since you were kind enough to offer us a little hospitality, I have an idea. I’ll be right back.”
Colt started to walk off and Brant jumped to his feet. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“She’s a child, Brant. She’s not a loan officer at the local bank. She won’t bite. Wait here.”
Brant had warned Colt on the way to Kentucky. Harlan County was rich with natural character and offered plenty for the outdoorsman, but where the area’s county leaders and officials failed, they failed their community miserably.
Many citizens in the area struggled. Families couldn’t feed their children. Schools weren’t provided with enough funding to offer adequate education. Jobs were scarce, some said practically nonexistent. And homelessness was the norm.
Was Princess Exhibit A? If so, where were her parents? Did they understand how dangerous it was to leave a child unattended in this day and age?
Colt wandered through the park area until he found a vendor selling hot chocolate. He ordered three cups and headed back to the large oak tree. He stood at a distance for a few minutes, observing the way the child tried to manipulate Brant. She apparently longed for his acceptance.
She was telling what appeared to be a grand story, complete with arm movements, dancing, and a solo march around the table fit for an imaginary king. When she didn’t gain the reaction she evidently desired, she swooned at Brant’s feet.
Colt rushed to the table and quickly set the Styrofoam cups on the flat surface. Brant dropped to the ground and obviously bought the child’s theatrics. “What the blasted hell?” He shook the girl by the shoulders. “Hey! Are you okay?”
She opened one eye. A slow smile claimed her full rosy lips and she said, “So you do care if I live to rule this land as the greatest queen this court has ever seen!”
It wasn’t a question, but rather a triumphant proclamation.
Colt laughed. “You’re a little actress, aren’t you?”
“Colt,” Brant complained, standing at once. “Don’t encourage the child.”
“She doesn’t appear to need much of that, does she?” he said, amused.
“It’s about time to get those toys out of the truck,” Brant mentioned under his breath. Apparently, he’d forgotten why this event was so important to the Kentucky community in the first place. They were there to give back and help the needy—the little girl in front of them certainly qualified as a recipient.
The Jingle Bell Ride required only one admittance fee—the donation of one unwrapped toy. In many cases, the children receiving the toys wouldn’t have a Christmas gift at all if they couldn’t rely upon the generosity of those who participated in the two-day ATV event.
Princess quickly jumped to her feet. “You brought toys?”
“For the ride,” Brant stated flatly.
Colt winked. “Tell you what. If you’ll help us unload the truck, we’ll pay you a little extra.”
“Shit, Colt,” Brant grumbled. “Keep it up, and you’ll be paying that kid what Lehman Brothers used to pay its CEO.”
“At least the money would go to someone deserving.”
They shared a laugh. Brant lost a fortune in stocks and bonds over the last few years. Recently, he’d confided in Colt, he didn’t think he’d survive the financial catastrophe. Colt couldn’t care less about Wall Street. He’d made his money in beef cattle and real estate, and somehow held onto the profits.
Returning his focus to the child, Colt said, “Aren’t you going to drink your hot chocolate?”
“Does it have marshmallows?”
“Would it be hot cocoa if it didn’t?”
“Nooooo,” she drawled, pushing the tab forward and watching wide-eyed when the steam rose from the plastic lid. She inhaled the fumes from the liquid, acting as if the greatest aroma in the world came from that small cup. When she finally took a quick sip, it was obvious how much she savored the taste. “This is so good, sir. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.”
Brant started to act uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the next. “How about we go unload?”
“Let her finish drinking her hot chocolate.”
Brant took his cup from the box and discarded the lid.
“Hey! You can’t litter around here. I have to keep my yard clean.”
Immediately, Brant looked left and then right. Colt did the same. Their gazes met and held. Thinking it might be another make-believe situation, Colt made the inquiry, “Where exactly is your castle, little princess?”
She pointed at the shipping container that still had labels attached to the front. “Have you ever heard the story about Barney’s Barrel?”
Brant shook his head. Colt nodded. “Do you live in a barrel?”
“No, silly,” she replied. “If there was a barrel ’round these parts, one of the local drunks would probably get to it first. I live right here.” She knelt beside the box and pulled the thick side flaps open. Surprisingly, the cardboard was studier and thicker than first appearances suggested.
Brant and Colt eyed the substitute door. “Oh my God,” Brant mumbled. “This can’t be.”
He voiced what Colt was thinking.
“You live here?” A suffocating sensation threatened to collapse Colt’s lungs. He kept Princess in his peripheral vision as she gave them a glimpse of the place she called home. The area consisted of ratty blankets piled one on top of the other, though neatly layered, and a round sofa pillow. An old teddy bear occupied the far left corner, driving home one pertinent fact. Princess was a homeless child living alone.
“That’s Ralph,” she said, pointing.
“Ralph,” Brant muttered in a broken voice, immediately turning away.
Acres, Natalie - Pole Position [Country Roads 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 1
