The Lusty, Texas Collection
Love Under Two Montanans
Jenny Collins figures romance will happen someday. She just isn’t ready for the impact of meeting Parker and Dale Benedict. Her someday is now, and those two Montanans have thrown her for a loop!
The men are drawn to Jenny, too. Once they each take a turn kissing her, and know they have the “sharing” gene, Parker and Dale set out to get to know Jenny.
Then Jenny’s adoptive parents show up, with news that puts everyone on guard. Not only did they skip a lot of red tape when they adopted Jenny, but someone has been snooping around, looking into old files. Her parents are worried, and so is Grandma Kate.
Because she knows something Jenny’s parents don’t. It’s not one party looking for Jenny, it’s two. Clearly, it’s time to circle the wagons—because the second party trying to find where that tiny baby disappeared to represents a danger to one of Lusty’s own—Jenny Collins.
Genres: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 67,066
Love Under Two Montanans
The Lusty, Texas Collection
Cara Covington

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
Love Under Two Montanans
Copyright © 2018 by Cara Covington
ISBN: 978-1-64243-268-8
First Publication: June 2018
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2018 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.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Huge thanks go first and foremost and always to my wonderful readers. You humble me with your loyalty, and I want you all to know that I am grateful beyond words. Thank you for reading my work, for contacting me, and for offering me your friendship. You are collectively among the greatest treasures of my life.
I am especially indebted to my readers’ group, the Lusty Ladies. Thank you all for being with me, reading each book, and sharing your views. I’m grateful for your untiring eagerness, on my behalf, to get out news of each new book I write. Thank you, Lisa Buchanan Philips, for being my group admin. You’re a treasure.
My thanks to my two beta readers, Angie Buchanan Jones and Sandy Ebel. I’m grateful for your time and your keen story-sense. Thank you for keeping my feet to the fire, and for your honesty.
Huge thanks to my wonderful editor, Devin. I am very grateful for your unwavering standards and your vast knowledge. You make my books better, and me a better author with each edit.
Last, but never least, thank you to the hard working professionals at Siren-BookStrand. I’m thankful for all you do for the authors under your tent.
And I remain forever indebted to Amanda Hilton, for saying yes.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my beloved husband, David. He is beginning his journey as an author and loving it. I never expected us to be able to share this craft in quite this way. What a joy!
David, along with all three of his siblings, was adopted. I have known and loved his two sisters and his brother; we’ve lost two of the three. Carol and Tom, I’m thinking of you both and trust you’re looking down on us all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Morgan Ashbury, also writing as Cara Covington, has been a writer since she was first able to pick up a pen. In the beginning, it was a hobby, a way to create a world of her own, and who could resist the allure of that? Then, as she grew and matured, life got in the way, as life often does. She got married and had three children, and worked in the field of accounting, for that was the practical thing to do, and the children did need to be fed. And all the time she was being practical, she would squirrel herself away on quiet Sunday afternoons and write.
Most children are raised knowing the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. Morgan’s children also learned the Paper Rule: Thou shalt not throw out any paper that has thy mother’s words upon it.
Believing in tradition, Morgan ensured that her children’s children learned this rule, too.
Life threw Morgan a curve when, in 2002, she underwent emergency triple bypass surgery. Second chances are to be cherished, and with the encouragement and support of her husband, Morgan decided to use hers to do what she’d always dreamed of doing—writing full-time.
Morgan has always loved writing romance. It is the one genre that can incorporate every other genre within its pulsating heart. Romance showcases all that humankind can aspire to be. And, she admits, she’s a sucker for a happy ending.
Morgan’s favorite hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling—though she would rather you didn’t mention that last one to her husband. She has too much fun teasing him about having become a “Traveling Fool” of late.
Morgan lives in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, with a nine-pound Morkie dog who thinks he’s a German shepherd, and her husband of forty-six years, brand new retiree and aspiring author, David.
For all titles by Cara-Covington, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/cara-covington
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Love Under Two Montanans
Prologue
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Love Under Two Montanans
The Lusty, Texas Collection
CARA COVINGTON
Copyright © 2018
Prologue
“A couple of those jobs in today’s paper looked good.” Dale Benedict slid into the booth, slipped his ball cap off, and set it on the bench beside him. He set his cell phone on the table then met Parker’s gaze. “Of course, we’d have to move in order to accept any of them.”
Parker Benedict grinned at his twin, copying his brother’s movements with his own cap and cell phone. “Both of those openings have the advantage of not being Benedict spreads,” he said. “And moving to Missoula will get us the hell away from this freaking war zone our family has turned into.”
“All true. So why are we not jumping on either of those opportunities, brother? Why are we both so reluctant?” Dale ran his hand through his hair, a tell Parker recognized. His brother did that whenever he felt frustrated or confused.
“I don’t know. Maybe Missoula isn’t far
enough away?”
They stopped talking when the waitress came to their table ready to take their orders. He and Dale didn’t eat out all that often, and rarely at lunchtime. Both were passable cooks, and in the week since they’d been on their own, they’d mostly taken turns at the stove for supper. Before they’d moved out of the family ranch, they’d preferred to stay in after a long day’s work.
But the reality of living in an apartment in the big city of Billings, Montana—when they were both born and bred for ranch life—had them both feeling just a little bit claustrophobic.
That feeling, which had sent them out for lunch today, reminded him of when they’d been in college. They’d shared an apartment here in the city then too, though it had been closer to school. Well, we did until Dad gave us a hard time about ignoring our familial duties and we moved home for our last three years. That had been fun—not—putting in hours of ranch work before and after hours of college work each day. They had hated the closed-in feeling of their apartment that first year but had loved the relative freedom of living away from the family.
That same need to escape that closed-in feeling compelled them, after they’d poured through the newspapers earlier, to get out for lunch. And while they were older than when they’d attended college, the sense of freedom brought on by being away from the family was just as sweet. He loved his family but hated the way they behaved.
Parker realized the waitress was looking at him, pen poised, waiting to take his order. Hell, he hadn’t even heard what Dale had chosen.
“I’ll have the twelve-ounce rib-eye, medium rare, and a side of twice baked potato, and I’ll have a Coke, please.” The steak might be more than a lunch-sized cut, but that twice-baked potato was one of his favorite sides.
“You two must be brothers.” The waitress grinned. “You’re having the same lunch.”
Parker gave her his smile in return for hers. “Yes, ma’am. We’re twins, actually. Just a couple of plain ol’ cowboys.”
The waitress snickered, rolled her eyes, and then headed off to place their orders.
Jake’s Steaks was nothing fancy and had been here for years. It didn’t draw a ritzy crowd. But the food was always good and plentiful, and that was all he and his brother really cared about. Parker waited until they were alone again.
“I’d wondered if you felt it too. Do you think our quitting a couple of weeks ago is the reason we’re hesitating? Do you think we secretly want to go back home?”
“No, I don’t.” Dale looked down at his cell phone for a moment. When he looked at Parker again, his confusion showed. “Maybe our hesitation is because what we’re really looking for isn’t a job. Or, rather, isn’t just a job.”
Parker sat back and considered his brother. “No, you’re right. It’s deeper than just a job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I know this question is going to sound hokey as hell, but Parker, if you could have anything in the world—anything at all—what would it be?”
He knew Dale was hoping he’d put into words that same “something’s missing” sense he was likely feeling himself.
For once, Parker set aside the bullshit and the posturing that came so easy to him. A posturing that had as much to do with his being a male as his being a Benedict male.
“Working, making our way, that’s nothing. I mean, neither of us have ever had any grand career ambitions. We’re ranchers, and we can work anywhere doing practically anything as long as we’re ranching. Jobs are interchangeable, you know? But family? Hell, man, we don’t even know what real family is. What would I wish for if I could have anything in the world? It would be to have a home, a family, a place to live where people are decent to each other, where there’s no such thing as alternative facts, and those around you want to build you up instead of tear you down all the damn time.”
Dale sighed. “Yeah, me too. You don’t think we’re kind of living in a fantasy world, do you, Parker? Wanting all that?”
“Hell, bro, I hope not. I really, really hope not.”
The waitress delivered their drinks—they’d both opted for Cokes—and then, just a few minutes later, their steaks and twice-baked potatoes were laid before them.
Parker picked up his utensils and cut into his steak. The beef was done just the way he liked it. Taking that first bite, he closed his eyes and savored the flavor. There wasn’t anything better than good beef done right. He opened his eyes and tucked right into his meal.
Parker was barely half way through his lunch when he caught a glimpse of a woman who’d entered the restaurant and was being led to a seat—a seat near them—by the hostess.
“Shit.” He’d whispered that one word, hoping his wide-eyed stare at Dale would warn him.
The woman was led to the booth directly behind theirs. He didn’t feel the pressure of her sitting, so he figured she must have sat down on the opposite bench. Thank God, the seat backs were high. Otherwise, she’d get a full-on look at Dale.
“Seven and seven. I’m expecting a friend.” The woman’s voice, a particularly grating tone not helped by her curtness, was kind of hard to mistake for anyone else’s.
What the hell is Aunt Norah doing here? He’d have sworn the woman would have considered this perfectly good eatery a dive to be avoided at all costs. After all, it wasn’t anywhere near the prissiness of her country club.
Dale looked from Parker to his cell phone. Then he picked up the phone and began to key.
Parker’s cell dinged, announcing a text.
Dale: What the fuck is that bitch doing here?
Parker smiled then texted back.
Parker: Damned if I know. She’s fucking with my appetite. The good thing is, I don’t think she recognized us.
Dale: Why do you think I’m texting you? I didn’t want to take the chance she’d recognize our voices. That message was accompanied by an eye-rolling emoji.
Parker: Well, let’s pretend we didn’t see her, either, and just eat our lunch. Then we’ll leave as soon as we’re done.
Dale: Good idea.
Parker returned his attention to his steak. The food was damn good, and Parker really enjoyed the potato. As he ate, he fought a grin. He felt a bit ridiculous, playing this game. But sometimes, and with some of the Benedicts, pretending ignorance was not only the best defense, it was the only defense.
He thought of the woman sitting behind him and of some of the despicable things she’d done over the last couple of years. No wonder Cord and Jackson don’t come around anymore. In fact, over the last few years, every one of Norah and George Benedict’s kids had fled to Texas, where they’d married and settled down.
He couldn’t blame them, though he did feel sorry for his Uncle George.
Proving his brother was on the same mental page, Dale texted him.
He read the message.
Dale: Gotta feel sorry for Uncle George. Feel sorry for the cousins, too. I mean, Dad’s a bit of a bastard, and our big brother is right there with him, but neither of our folks are as bad as Norah.
Parker: Agreed.
More movement caught his attention, and he surreptitiously glanced at the well-dressed woman who came into the restaurant. He put his head down and hoped, again, that Dale caught his cue.
It didn’t surprise him when she was shown to the same table as their Aunt Norah. The booth jostled slightly as their aunt’s best friend, Elizabeth Maxwell, took her seat.
Parker set down his fork and knife and met his brother’s gaze. One look, and he knew Dale was thinking the same thing he was.
For that society maven to lower herself to a place like this, something was definitely up. And Parker was willing to bet it wasn’t anything good.
Mrs. Maxwell ordered a Crown and coke. So far, neither woman had said a word of greeting.
Moments later a waiter brought both their drinks and left.
“All right, I’m here, Norah. What’s this all about?”
“I thought you’d like to know I’ve come up with the perfect
plan—a way for us to each get our own back against those fucking Benedicts.”
Parker still had his cell phone in hand. He activated the camera, reversed the lens and switched to video. He saw his own face, panned it to show the surroundings, including Dale.
Then he slowly and gently slid farther into the seat, toward the wall. He held his cell in his left hand until he was holding it so that it was just past the edge of his seat. He hadn’t known if this would work, but as soon as he saw his aunt’s sour face on the phone’s screen, her narrowed gaze focused on Liz Maxwell, he mentally breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re one of those ‘fucking Benedicts,’ Norah. Of course, George is divorcing you. Or is that already a done deal? How do you plan to get him back, and why should I care?”
“We haven’t settled the money yet because he’s being a prick, as usual, and not giving me a tenth of what I deserve for all the bullshit I put up with all these years. But I know a way to fucking beggar the bastard, to ruin him, and then I’ll own that fucking ranch. And I can damn well guarantee you what I have planned will practically destroy those whelps of his, too.”
Dale’s eyes widened, and Parker knew how he felt. How could a mother talk that way about her own children?
It wasn’t just her monstrous attitude that pissed Parker off. Norah wasn’t being very discreet or quiet in her vitriol. Likely, the two women were meeting here because this restaurant was so far away from their usual stomping grounds, and so far beneath them, that they were certain no one they knew could possibly be here.
“All right. You’ve roused my curiosity. What’s your plan?” Liz asked.
“I’ve got an appointment with my lawyer in three days. I’ve been acting emotional for the last month with the guy, and he’s convinced that I’m hiding something. On Thursday, I plan to break down and confess how George molested the kids—the girls, certainly, as well as those two little bastards, Jesse and Barry. Of course, it’s all a big lie, but you can bet your ass I’ll do a damn good job of convincing him it’s true—and then, I’ll leak the whole fucking story to the press.”
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