Megan Hetherington
Notes in Love
Studs in Stetsons (Book One)
Copyright © 2020 by Megan Hetherington
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note
1. Lacey
2. Lacey
3. Lacey
4. Lacey
5. Lacey
6. Colt
7. Lacey
8. Lacey
9. Lacey
10. Lacey
11. Colt
12. Lacey
13. Lacey
14. Lacey
15. Lacey
16. Lacey
17. Lacey
18. Lacey
19. Lacey
20. Lacey
21. Lacey
22. Lacey
23. Lacey
24. Lacey
25. Lacey
26. Colt
27. Lacey
28. Lacey
29. Lacey
30. Lacey
31. Colt
Other Books
Dedication
This series started with Forged in Love which is part of the Girl Power Collection. The dedication in that book is relevant to every female character in this series. We’re all different and have different issues to contend with. And to each and every one of you believe me when I say – you are worth it.
“Hold your head high, let go of the past, and live your best life.”
Author’s Note
Notes in Love is the first full length standalone novel in the Studs in Stetsons Series. You can read this novel without reading Forged in Love, the prequel to the series, but it will help with your understanding of Blue and Josie’s relationship if you read the prequel first. Download here.
Also, there are some scenes in Notes in Love which may disturb some readers who are sensitive to violence. There is no intention to offend or cause any distress, and this is ultimately a romance novel where love heals and conquers all.
Edited by Juliette Williams
Cover Photo from DepositPhotos
Cover Design by MHL
One
Lacey
I’m running on empty, just like the ride I’ve ditched.
Every nerve in my body fizzes with exhaustion as I force myself to walk boldly under an ornate iron sign, Corrigan Ranch and Lands.
It’s my second day of freedom and I have yet to rid myself of the chains and bars. It’s odd that now I’m finally free, I’m scared of everything. Every rumbling engine. Every crack of a twig. Even the sound of my breath.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins and pushes me up the driveway into a wide-open space devoid of shadows or shade. I scout around the countryside, frantically searching for somewhere to hide. A wall to slink along. A hedge to duck behind. But there’s nothing close by.
All this fear is debilitating, so, I try to clear my mind and do what I’ve practiced this whole journey south—dream of a soft bed and a full belly in a little piece of the world where I hope to come to no harm. Where no-one knows me and I don’t answer to anyone unless I choose.
A low grumble of a vehicle on the road I’ve just exited halts my breath and puts me back to square one. It will take me several minutes and a gallon of energy to run to the nearest barn. I speed up my pace, shuffle the backpack on my shoulder, and pull down my cap.
The vehicle turns into the driveway and, without slowing my pace, I step onto the grass shoulder to let it pass. An eight-cylinder engine burbles alongside me and tires crunch menacingly on gravel.
Shit. I have to look up.
“Hey there. Kinda outta your way ain’t you?”
With my hand on my backpack strap, ready to take flight, I tilt my head and glance through the open window of a silver Ford Raptor pickup. The driver leans on a strong arm across the passenger seat and flashes his white teeth from beneath the black leather rim of a cowboy hat.
“You come about the job?” he asks.
I force a faint smile while I replay what he’s just asked and resist the urge to run. Eventually, I grab hold of my emotions and I nod. I’ll go with his assumption for now, delay any confrontation and hope for a break.
“Great. Ask for Amber. She’ll likely be in the office.” He lifts a finger from the steering wheel, and points at a group of wood-clad barns. “The building with the black roof, next to the corral.”
“Thank you.” My voice cracks at the first words I’ve said to any one in over a day.
The pickup tires crunch to a halt, and the engine ticks over in an intimidating way.
“Tell you what, hop on in. I’ll take you there.” The door creaks like the moment in a horror movie when the entrance to a creepy mansion opens and every viewer screams, “don’t go through!” … and every heroine does.
With a surreptitious glance along the farm track, I stutter out a succession of decision-making breaths. This doesn’t seem like a trap, but my hackles are on high alert, and I slide open my backpack as I climb in the cab so I can clasp my fingers around a stolen switchblade stashed in the inside pocket.
“I’m Colt Corrigan.”
With a jerk of my chin, I acknowledge his introduction, but he’s concentrating on the track ahead. If you can call it concentrating—he slouches against the seat with a mere thumb guiding the stitched leather steering wheel.
“Lacey,” I mumble.
“Nice name,” he comments, but I don’t react. I’m not sure whether I’ll become attached to it. It sounds kinda weird. A frivolous, soft name. Innocent and feminine. And I’m neither of those things. But I could be. If I bury my past with enough pleasant and nice experiences. And if I try really, really hard.
A sultry country song drifts from the speakers in the cab of the pickup and Colt taps along to the beat on the steering wheel as we approach the wood-clad barns.
“So, where you walked from?”
I clear my throat. “Not far. I was dropped near the top.”
“Thought as much. We’re a long way out from Gunner Ridge.”
Gunner Ridge, I repeat in my head. Never heard of it before. And hopefully no-one else I know will have.
“Amber will tell you about the job. She looks after Mom more than the rest of us. But there’s nothing to worry about, Mom can do most stuff still. Sometimes she forgets to eat and dress. She’s also lonely.” He shuffles on his seat. “So as long as you can be a good companion to her, then you’ll get along just fine.”
My hands tremble uncontrollably, so I let go of the backpack and switchblade so I can grip my other wrist.
“So, you not from Gunner Ridge then?”
I sense him repeatedly look at me and I will myself to snap out of my weirdness, plaster on a smile and look at him properly.
“No.” My breathing accelerates. His eyes. They’re stunning. And I don’t normally like eyes. “I… I’m from…” I know I shouldn’t keep staring but his golden gaze sucks me in and I can’t think of a place to say I’m from. I pinch the tattoo on the inside of my wrist to wake up from my trance. “El Paso,” I blurt.
“Haven’t been there.”
I inwardly sigh. Neither have I, and it was probably stupid of me to come up with that. I need to work on my story, especially if I’m about to apply for a position in a moment.
“Long way to travel for a job,” he comments casually, as he pulls the pickup in between another of the same design in black and a 1967 Mustang in the very best color, Wimbledon white.
I force a fake laugh. “Yeah, it would be. But I’m staying with relatives.” My brain is addled. How stupid am I to come up with that? What if he asks who they are? He’ll likely know everyone in this back-of-beyond countryside. I rest my elbow on the door frame and stuff my chin in a cupped palm.
“Oh. You know it’s a live-in position?”
“Yeah. Course,” I fire out, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Sounds perfect. I can’t wait to get out from under their feet.”
“Great.”
I almost snort at the absurdity of someone giving me a job. I snatch another glance at Colt as he steps out of the cab, and I wonder if everyone is so trusting around here.
Colt waits for me to exit the truck and even introduces me to Amber. He holds open the door of the black-roofed building for me to step in. Amber’s eyes and ebony hair show they are related. Siblings, probably.
“Come on in.” Amber circles her wrist and I case out the busy office before sitting in a chair she pulls out for me. Looks like this is some kind of horse place and nothing to fear. She has those tight beige pants that horse riders wear and a checkered shirt similar to Colt’s. I hang my head at my attire, uncomfortable in my ripped jeans and tight black Guns and Roses tank top, creased from having slept in it last night.
“I just need to find the paperwork.” She twirls her fingers around a thick lock of hair. “What the hell did I do with it?”
Miraculously, Colt suggests Amber quits messing around and gives me the job, seeing as I’m the only person to show up. He lets the door close behind him and stalks away from the office. I must be wary of him, he’s obviously after something in return.
Amber breathes out loudly. “Okay. So, when can you start?”
Her question catches me off guard, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.
“Today. Now?” I clear my throat to cover up my shock. An unlikely stroke of luck—a live-in job—without applying for it or shit. I can ditch my plan to bed down in a hay barn and at least have two nights on a mattress. If I engage my brain and stop being so goddamn stupid, that is.
For a moment she looks me up and down. “Darn it, why not? That suits me just fine. We’re getting hella busy around here right now. What with this place, the calving season coming up, and the wedding, I need someone to take care of Mom sooner rather than later and you seem… yeah, you seem nice.”
I grit my teeth for a moment, not believing my luck. “Colt mentioned it was a live-in position?”
“You okay with that?” She pauses over an open drawer of a filing cabinet that groans under the weight of the files stuffed in it.
I swallow and nod.
For a hot moment she regards me with a piece of paper in her hand before pushing the drawer shut with her hip. “Sorry, I’ve done stuff out of order, haven’t I? I’m too eager to take someone on. I should show you around really and check that you’re okay with everything.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m… I’m sure it’s all fine.” I don’t need her to make a u-turn, my energy levels are dangerously low and the relief a moment ago has dropped me into a place I can’t scramble out of.
“Nope, don’t be polite. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Jostling my backpack onto my shoulder, I follow her across a courtyard littered with wisps of straw to the house. It’s huge. The entranceway smells of polish and fresh flowers and is as quiet as I would expect a funeral parlor to be. Just an old-fashioned tick of a grandfather clock that stands proud against a wall; a guardian of who comes and goes.
“Hey Josie,” Amber calls out. “Only me.”
A fresh face peers around the doorjamb of what looks like a kitchen. A sliver of the room on show reveals white tiles and walls awash with bright light.
“Cool, I’m almost done here, then I’m heading to the forge. Do you want anything from town while I’m there?”
Josie steps into the entranceway. Her look isn’t as cursory as the brother and sister. She weighs me up and it makes me squirm.
“Oh,” Amber grabs hold of my arm and pulls me further into view. “This is Lacey. She’s here to look after Mom.”
Josie rolls her lips and I momentarily panic, very much in fight-or-flight mode.
“Awesome, Mary will love the company.”
Finally, her tentative smile breaks into a larger, more welcoming one. I match it.
“Can you grab my order from the general store? I don’t know how, but I’ve run out of saddle wax,” Amber asks.
“Sure.”
Josie smiles at me and I take off my ball cap, in an effort not to look so sketchy. “Do you want anything picked up, Lacey?”
For a moment, I consider asking for a lift into town to check it out, and maybe grab a bus to the nearest big city. But the lack of food makes my brain fuzzy, and I’m so tired I could drop to this polished floor and sleep for days.
I shake my head and smile. “No, thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll catch you later.” Josie hooks her purse on her shoulder and takes some car keys from a sideboard in the entranceway. They are for a Chevy, which I didn’t see parked out front.
I follow Amber up the stairs and down a hallway, trying to take in my surroundings and listen to her at the same time as she chatters incessantly about Mom this and Mom that.
At the end of the hallway is a door, next to it a keypad on the wall. “We had to get this installed for when Mom is confused. It’s not often, but in the middle of the night she sometimes wakes and walks around the house, disorientated. One night, Colt came home to find her outside in her PJ’s. When her mind co-operates, she’s fine and can remember the number. When she’s not, it’s not safe for her to wander around.” I watch her tap in the code and I repeat it over and over in my mind as we enter and walk into a sunny living room.
The room smells of paint and new carpet, with a small kitchenette in the corner. There are three windows to the east, all with screw latches and two doors with no locks on the north-facing wall.
Sitting in a chair overlooking the middle window is an older woman dressed in a deep-purple, velour leisure-suit; neat white braids; and pretty, pink lipstick. She’s beautiful in a faded kind of way and I instantly feel like she has a life story I want to lose myself in, to dilute my own.
“Mom,” Amber gushes.
Mrs. Corrigan tries to push up from the chair, but before she does, Amber skips across to help her.
“This is Lacey. She will keep you company and help with whatever you need.”
Mrs. Corrigan looks up at me, her watery eyes vacant until a smile breaks through and they spark to life.
The room gets quiet, and I realize I should say something. “Hello, Mrs—”
“Mary.” Amber invades my personal space and murmurs into my ear.
I’m not sure I can call her by her first name. It sounds too familiar, and I have a feeling I should distance myself from this woman in case I become too attached.
I step toward Mrs. Corrigan, and she raises both hands and cups my face. I freeze at the touch and force myself to stand fast.
Amber sticks the paper she brought from the office in between her teeth, plumps up an embroidered cushion on the chair and guides her mom back down, then she goes to the kitchenette and throws open a small refrigerator built in behind a white-washed oak cabinet.
“There’s juice, and fruit in here. But not much more.” She calls back to me over her shoulder. “We make Mom’s meals in the main kitchen and she joins us for dinner each evening and breakfast on the weekends.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I nod enthusiastically, my mouth w
atering at the sight of the fruit lined up on a shelf in the fridge.
She pours a glass of pineapple juice for Mrs. Corrigan and flicks the TV on to a talk show. “I’ll show you your bedroom now and then we can make some lunch.”
I follow Amber out of the room, standing back and casing another four doors down the hallway as she unlocks the entrance to my bedroom.
“It’s not real fancy or nothing, but you can add some stuff to make it more homey.” She hands me the key. “It used to be Colt’s room but him and Blue have upgraded.” She rolls her eyes and steps aside for me to look.
It’s a lovely room, but I don’t dare think of it as mine. It seems too good to be true. And I ignore the underlying whine Amber’s remark highlights about Blue and Colt having new rooms. I don’t want to get involved in her sibling jealousy, but I am interested in who else lives here.
“Blue?”
“My eldest brother. He lives here now with his fiancée, Josie.” She points toward a double door at the end. “You met her earlier.”
I nod and she doesn’t mention anyone else. So just five people here. That’s okay. Not too many that I’ll feel uncomfortable and not too few that they’ll watch my every move.
“And that’s the bathroom. No-one else uses that now. So it’s all yours.”
I dump my backpack, lock the door to my room and follow Amber down the stairs, where she points at a few other doors—rooms I have no need to see or remember—until finally we enter the kitchen. A large, nicely decorated space, with a formal dining table, a sitting area with a soft-looking couch, and a fully equipped kitchen.
Amber shows me where the food and utensils are, and chats about her mom more while she throws together a chicken and avocado wrap for each of us. I nearly choke on it when I ram it down my throat. Amber notices but is too polite to say anything. Which is good, because I can’t help myself.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Be a darlin’ and fill in this form for me will you.” She flattens out a crease with her finger and thumb down the middle of the paper she has carried with her ever since we left the office. “I’ve got to make a few calls. I’ll come find you before I head to the day center with the boys, when they’re done with work, to make sure you’ve got everything figured out for Mom’s bedtime routine.” She smiles and bounces on her heels and I don’t ask what she means by the day center, as it’s probably something she mentioned earlier when I kept zoning out.
Notes in Love Page 1
