With This Ring (Denim & Spurs Book 1)

by Aliyah Burke

  A man whose wedding day was destroyed by betrayal meets a woman from his past who begins to renew his belief in true love and with her in his life, he may be willing to try that step once again.

  After calling off his wedding on the day of, rancher Dustin Kane meets a woman who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s in no mood for company, but she’s different and makes him feel things he shouldn’t. By the time she leaves him, he’s more intrigued and wants to see her again.

  Samantha ‘Finn’ Finley had returned to Branchwater, Texas for the sole purpose of helping her injured father. Running into the man she’s loved since high school was never part of the plan.

  Drawn together time and time again, neither can ignore the sparks between them. When it comes time for her to leave, will Dustin be able to let her return to her new life or will he do all he can to get her to come back to where she belongs, home…with him?

  With This Ring

  Denim & Spurs

  by

  Aliyah Burke

  MF, INTERRACIAL ROMANCE,

  WESTERN CONTEMPORARY

  Twisted E Publishing, LLC

  www.twistedepublishing.com

  A TWISTED E PUBLISHING BOOK

  With This Ring

  A Denim & Spurs Book

  Copyright © 2014 by Aliyah Burke

  Edited by Marie Medina & Dawn G

  First E-book Publication: September 2014

  Cover design by K Designs

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014, Twisted Erotica Publishing, LLC.

  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.

  Dedication

  To my readers, thanks so much for coming on yet another adventure with me. To the staff at TEP thank you for allowing me to be part of the family. To my hubby, I love you. And, as always, thanks to the men and women who serve this country!

  Prologue

  Lunch hour maintained the same horrid monotony from day to day and year to year. Samantha kept her head down and searched for a spot out of the line of fire. She was on her own today, which made her a bigger target. Some days it worked. Most days it didn’t. From the looks and sounds of things, this was going to be most days.

  She’d just sat beneath a large tree, taking advantage of its shade offered, and opened her brown paper sack. There were no fancy lunch boxes or money for a school meal. Mrs. Pendle always fixed her something delicious though, no matter what it was wrapped in.

  She looked around her, taking stock of how the lunch area looked. The same as normal except for one difference. Across the way was the one boy she enjoyed seeing. It probably wasn’t fair to call him a boy for he worked his father’s ranch and certainly didn’t act like a kid. Dustin Kane. If she had one wish in this world, it would be that he would notice her. Well, more than that one time he’d stopped to speak to her back when… No, she wasn’t going to go there. It didn’t matter now. She took one final glance at him, appreciating the way his jeans fit him and the tight shirt he wore, which showed off his well-earned muscles.

  Balancing her sandwich on her bent knee, Samantha slowly unwrapped the waxed paper from around it. They also didn’t have extra money for the little plastic baggies either. A cold meatloaf sandwich, cut in half so she didn’t have to struggle with any plastic silverware.

  She’d just bitten into it when she felt someone standing over her. Swallowing the food that didn’t seem to want to go down, making her blink back tears, she looked up.

  Charlotte Beaumonde and her little group of cheerleaders. She twirled a piece of her long blonde hair and sneered. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little bitch who has no mommy. If you weren’t so ugly, she might have stayed around. As it is, you’re not, and she ran off. Then again, people say your father killed her. So now is that true?” Her eyes widened, but there was nothing nice in them. “Are you the daughter of a killer?”

  Her fellow cheerleaders followed her lead and began a chant. Samantha looked back at her food, the desire to eat long gone. She knew her father hadn’t killed her mother, knew it firsthand. But she didn’t need to listen to this until she graduated.

  “You know I’m not, Charlotte,” she said, tightening her grip on her sandwich.

  “I know nothing of the kind. You live on the other side of town. They need to have a school for you and your kind so our school stays pristine.” Her words were drenched in spite.

  Samantha, who normally stayed calm and didn’t look to pick fights with anyone, felt a fire burning in her gut she wasn’t sure she could contain. She forced it down best she could, firmly aware her father wouldn’t be happy if he had to be called from a job to pick her up from school.

  Her food was snatched away. “Hey!”

  “Eww, who eats this?” Charlotte peeled off the top piece of bread and dropped it to the ground. “Cold meatloaf. Cheese. And ketchup.” The meat fell to the ground. “Oops, I’m sure you can still eat it. You wouldn’t know the difference if there was dirt on it or not.” She crouched down and picked it up and smashed it in Samantha’s face, grinding the dirt and food into her mouth, mashing some past her lips.

  The surrounding laughter was the catalyst that launched her. I will deal with Daddy and my punishment later. This abuse and bullying had been going on since first grade and now, here she was in ninth. Samantha had had enough. Balling her hand into a fist, she let it fly.

  Consequences be damned.

  Chapter One

  Branchwater, Texas

  The moon’s rays filtered through the pearlescent, fine-spun gauzy sheets, which hung over the platform he sat on, surrounding him with glittering light. Scents of gardenias, wisteria, and lilies—he knew because he helped set all this up, and after spending so much time around the flowers, he’d learned to identify their smells—swirled around as the night air floated across the Texas landscape. The gorgeous compilation had set the perfect backdrop for the planned wedding. In his periphery he could see matching swags that lined the seating area where more than four hours ago over three hundred people had sat, waiting for him to marry Charlotte Beaumonde.

  A harsh laugh escaped him. Right now, he should be on the flight to St. Lucia for his weeklong honeymoon. With his bride. Only now, there was no honeymoon and definitely no bride. He took another swig from the beer bottle and stretched out his legs, resting his back against a corner pole. The silver glint from the tip of his otherwise black snakeskin boots caught his eye.

  “Hell.” Dustin Kane finished the beer, set the empty beside him, and opened another. He readjusted and sat up, the bottle dangling from his fingers between spread thighs, forearms upon knees.

  A shadow passed across the aisle, momentarily blocking out some light. He glanced up to discover a woman bending over a chair, hunting for something on the ground. Her skirt rose high on the backs of her thighs, exposing darkened skin.

  It wasn’t as if he recognized her, although from the view he thought part of her was hot. Embitterment pressed him, and he frowned. Why was someone spying on him? Hadn’t he kicked everyone out?

  “Lose something, honey?” he drawled with more than a hint of irritation.

  Her scream was real enough as she tumbled off the chair and into a few others. “Crap!”

  Guilt niggled at him. Perhaps she wasn’t there to spy on him. Shoving to his feet, he went to find her. She lay on her back tangled in about five chairs, staring up at him with a start
led expression on her face. Large eyes and full lips snagged his attention.

  She didn’t speak again, just began shoving chairs off. He lifted the ones off her legs and found himself picking up another mixture of scents in the air. Honeysuckle and jasmine, he recalled his mom growing them alongside the house when he was younger. Subtle and extremely arousing.

  “Are you okay?” He crouched beside her.

  “I’m fine. I…I didn’t mean to disturb you. I didn’t think anyone would…” she trailed off, rolling her lower lip—that plump, enticing lip—in her teeth.

  “Be out here?” Another short burst of sharp and non-humorous laughter. “Sorry to disappoint, I had plans to be heading for my honeymoon. Didn’t turn out so well for me.” He opened his mouth only to think better of what he was about to say and snapped it shut again.

  His mystery woman stood up, shaking out her dress—a shade of blue he couldn’t quite make out because of the night. She wasn’t with the wedding party, of that much he was sure. So, that left his side and he really didn’t remember her. Another swallow of beer and he stood as well.

  “Who are you? You’re not one of the bridesmaids, wrong dress style and don’t take this wrong, but you’re not exactly the kind of woman Charlotte would associate with.”

  This woman had a great body, curves in all the right places, yet he could see the strength in her, whoever she was. She sat on a recently righted chair and crossed her legs. Great ankles and sexy shoes. A pixie.

  He must have drunk more than anticipated for he was really thinking what it would be like to kiss her, unbind her hair, and discover the texture of her skin. Dustin wasn’t sure what to expect as her reaction to his statement, but her laughter wasn’t it. It pealed from her like a bright light bursting through a dark cloud.

  Great, now he was waxing poetic. Way past time for him to stop drinking and get to sleep. Or was that drink until he passed out? Either way the waxing poetic thing…needed to stop.

  “Trust me, I’m well aware of her type to associate with and the fact I’m not it. I’m from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. Then there’s the fact I’m black.” There was no anger in her statement, more like easy acceptance and he liked that. Refreshing.

  He skimmed her once more. “Yes, you are. Delightfully so.” Another truth. Maybe not something he should have said however. He tried to focus so he didn’t come off sounding stupider than he already did. “Who’d you come with to the wedding?”

  “Brad Thornen.”

  A friend of his from school. How did she know Brad? In addition, how did she know Charlotte? She waved one hand and leaned forward to touch his forearm. Electricity raced up his spine at first contact.

  “It’s not important. Look, I know it’s really none of my business, but since I thoughtlessly interrupted your solitude, if you want to talk…”

  Her offer hung in the air.

  “You want to know what happened?” Bitterness leeched in his tone as he flexed his arm muscles in time with the new wave of anger that washed over him.

  She shook her head, filling the air with more of that intoxicating blend of jasmine and honeysuckle. “No. I’m just saying if you want to get it off your chest, I’m a pretty good listener.”

  Her words shocked him, and he blew out a surprised breath. What the hell, he may not like to share but if he did, it was, after all, a way to keep her around for a while longer. He turned a chair, sat, and propped his boots on the seat beside her. Twirling the bottle in one hand, he used the other to undo the bowtie at his neck then undid the top two buttons of his tuxedo shirt.

  “I found her with some of my groomsmen.” His stomach twisted as the knot of betrayal grew within him. “I just wanted to thank them for standing up with me. Cracked the door open and saw them.” His fingers clenched around the bottle. “Taking my bride-to-be. She even wore her wedding dress as she allowed them to fuck her, and she was going to walk down the aisle to me, wearing that very thing. I was pissed and yet…”

  “Relieved?”

  Yes, that was it exactly. He glanced at her, nodding. She’d been so quiet as he relived the mental image of his fiancée being taken by two men at once with others watching, he’d forgotten she was there.

  The moonlight loved her, making her almost magical and mystical. He returned to the pixie resemblance. The breeze blew strands of her hair across her face, and he noticed her shiver when she brushed them back. Her dress had thin spaghetti straps and the temperature had dropped considerably. Bottle on the ground, he shrugged out of his jacket, rose, and draped it over her shoulders.

  “I insist,” he said, stilling her protest even as he retook his seat.

  She touched the collar. “Thank you.”

  He realized she was right regarding how he felt. “My father wanted us to marry.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “He would want you to be happy.”

  “You didn’t know my father.”

  Silence reigned between them for a moment before she spoke again, almost hesitant, as if unsure how her words would be taken. “I like to believe fathers want their children to be happy.”

  “Perhaps, but Charlotte wasn’t it.”

  “I’m sure she showed your father a whole other side. Most lying sl—,” she cleared her throat delicately, “—people only show the side they want the world to see.”

  He found himself grinning. Thumbing back his hat, he cracked his neck. She was cute, trying to watch how she spoke of Charlotte. Not that he cared. Not anymore. Had he ever? Perhaps at the beginning but definitely not recently. He shook his head, focusing on the present and the woman sitting with him now. Not the past and the one he wanted nothing to do with any more.

  “Sounds like you have experience there.”

  “Calling me a lying slut?” She cocked her head to the side.

  “No,” he said, amused by her laughter. “I meant with people lying to you.”

  “I do. I’d say we all do.”

  She looked good in his tuxedo jacket. Real good. He tipped his head back, focusing on the wide-open Texas sky. Stars were hard to see with the brilliance of the moon, but as he sat there, with her, more and more of his anger drained away.

  “I didn’t love her. Not how I should have. And I’m more hurt and angered by the betrayal of my groomsmen and so-called friends than losing her.”

  “Doesn’t negate what she or they did. You have the right to be pissed. If fact, I’d say you were pretty calm. I wouldn’t be. My ass would be in jail right now.”

  “I was. Still am.” She still watched him, and he wondered why. “She’s not worth going to jail over.” This woman seemed so familiar to him. “What’s your name?”

  “My friends call me Finn.” She leaned over, offering him a brief tantalizing view of her breasts as she undid her shoes. “God, that feels good,” she moaned as she worked her bare toes into the ground.

  Who knew watching a woman remove her shoes and enjoy being without them could be so erotic. Finn. He couldn’t place her. He leaned forward, reaching out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Finn. I’m Dustin.”

  Her grip was strong and firm. “I hate to break this to you, Dustin, but we’ve already met.”

  Shit. “Brad’s girlfriend?” He would swear he would have remembered meeting her.

  More laughter and Dustin realized he really enjoyed the sound of it.

  “No, Brad and I are just friends. He wanted some company for the wedding.”

  “So he’s waiting on you?” Why did that bother him?

  “Oh not a chance. Last I knew he was heading for Denim & Spurs. Knowing Brad, he’s looking for a piece of—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  He waved it off. “It’s okay, honey, I know Brad and his ways. So he came with you and left to pick up some tail.”

  If she was offended, it didn’t show. “That’s why he asked me to accompany him here. I wouldn’t be demanding of his time. I don’t need him to hang around, and I definitely had no desire to s
ee him in action at the bar. I was going to head back when I realized I’d lost my bracelet. Came out to look for it and apparently disturbed you.”

  She wasn’t disturbing him. Far from it. “And?”

  “And what? I fell off a chair when someone scared me.”

  There was no anger in her voice, and he thought back to her stating they’d already met. In fact, she still sounded amused. Unlike when she spoke of Charlotte and he’d detected a bit of fury, and he liked to believe it had been on his behalf.

  Time to stop overanalyzing what was happening between them. Or not. He sighed. “What’s it look like?”

  “Plain pewter chain with three charms. A jumping horse, a horseshoe, and an Eh.”

  He frowned. “A what?”

  “An Eh. It’s the name of the rune, one associated with the horse.”

  A rune. Well, he did ask. “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

  “Thank you. Heck, I might not have even lost it here, just thought I’d check before leaving. You know, on the off chance I did.” She stood, shoes held by the heels in one hand, and swung his jacket off with the other. “Thanks for the use of your jacket, as well.”

  The graze of her fingers along his when they touched sent more of those electric waves through him. He should be upset over the marriage that didn’t happen, and instead he found himself bewitched by this woman who was diametrically opposed to Charlotte in personality and more.

  “For what it’s worth, Dustin Kane. I think Charlotte was insane for what she did, and I’m sorry it happened to you.”

  Almost as if by an impulse she bent, brushed her lips over his stubble-covered cheek then walked off, leaving him once again, alone. However, this time, without the anger.

  * * * *

  “What are you doing here?”