I was so excited to write the twins' stories - Cash and Colt - identical twin HOT cowboys. Yummmm. And I had the idea for Cash's love interest - a damaged woman running from her past - for a while. But something didn't feel right. Her character read like a dishrag. It wasn't fair to Cash and it wasn't fair to you, dear readers. SO, I revamped her entire character to make her much more spunky, sarcastic, and a MUCH better match for Cash. So forget what you may have read in the back of Book 1. This is ALL NEW and SO much better!
SYNOPSIS:
LYDIA
Not all who wander are lost. Some are just trying to avoid reality. Like me. But, like Brittany Spears’ career, all good things came to an end. Namely, my finances.
Which is how I ended up at the Winding Ridge Guest Ranch with some decisions to make.
Flirting with Cash, the mega-hot cowboy running the place, was a welcome distraction. Until he went from eye candy to wanting more.
Unfortunately, I dragged along more drama than a Dance Moms marathon. So it was look, talk, no touch until I got my life straightened out.
But a little touch wouldn’t hurt right? What he didn’t know about my past, would only hurt me in the end. Hurt I was used to. Taking care of myself I was used to.
Until my drama caught up to me in the worst possible way…
Chapter One
Lydia
Frantically, I threw things into a suitcase—shirts, jeans, shorts, socks—not really caring if I left things behind. Toiletries landed on top in a jumble. I had to get out of here fast. If I didn't have something I needed, I'd buy it along the way.
I sat on the top of the suitcase to force it shut.
"Come on. Come on," I willed it, trying not to scream in frustration. Why couldn't this one thing go my way this one time? Finally, after some "why me" rage-screams, the zipper closed. The only thing I tripled checked was the plane ticket and the large wad of cash I'd stolen from the safe. Taking this much money would quickly alert them something was wrong, but I didn't have any other choice. After two years of wandering, my funds were drying up. And I needed to disappear.
Like now. Because no way, after everything I'd been through in my travels, were these dildoes going to be the end of me.
The ride share app beeped alerting me my car was waiting out front. Fina-fucking-ly. I'd called it over thirty minutes ago.
Dear Uber, please add an option for urgency. Like a button to say, "step on the gas, Nancy in a gray Equinox, so my friends don't have to identify my body." Sincerely, Running For Her Life.
I grabbed my suitcase and backpack, said a silent screw you to the closed door beside mine, and carefully tiptoed down the steps so I didn't risk waking anyone. Given the heavy snoring coming from the next room, I really wasn't in danger of that. For once, their incessant drinking worked to my advantage. I doubted anyone would stir before noon. Lazy bastards.
I'd almost give up chocolate to see their astounded faces when they looked in the safe. Me, they wouldn't care about. The money and the ledger, they absolutely would.
Whose laughing now, assholes? They'd screwed with the wrong bitch when they screwed with me. I'd been too many places and seen too many things to fall for their bullshit theories. Theories which were growing crazier and crazier each day. No thank you. This girl knows when to cut and run. And knows when to take some collateral in case they come after me.
I dragged my suitcase across the dry, dusty ground toward the waiting car. Nancy, wearing a flamingo printed Hawaiian shirt and billowy capri pants to match—were they pajamas?—waited by the passenger door.
"You Lydia?" she asked.
I glanced behind me. No one but me and the fireflies. I gave her a long look, then said, "Yup."
"Headed to the airport?" she asked as she helped me load my stuffed suitcase into the backseat.
"Yup." As indicated on the app when I booked this ride. Was it too late to cancel and order another? I had a bad feeling about this. Of course, that could also be my anxiety over becoming a thief. Or the bean burrito I had for dinner last night.
Probably it was Nancy.
"Great day to fly. Skies are supposed to be clear and only a little wind. You're smart for going so early. Maybe you'll get lucky and your flight won't be full. That's the best." She was surprisingly chipper for oh-dark-thirty in the morning. She was also not in a hurry to get into the car. She stood on the passenger side with her hands on her hips, looking into the sky. The dark sky. The pitch-black sky with nothing to see in it.
"I'm kind of in a hurry, Nancy. So can we save the chitchat for the ride?" I asked.
"Oh, sure thing." Nancy ambled over the driver's side, while I slid into the backseat.
"Traveling alone?" she asked when she finally started the car.
"Yup."
"Going somewhere warm?"
My heart rate kicked up a notch. Why was she asking so many questions? Did someone figure out my plan and send a spy?
A chuckle bubbled in my throat. No way these ding-a-lings could rub enough brain cells together to have that foresight. Besides, I only figured out my plan a few days ago myself.
Nancy was simply making conversation. No big deal. No need to read into it. Just be vague and non-committal. In this one-horse town chances were Nancy was the only Uber driver. And Nancy obviously liked to talk. So the less I told her, the better.
"I hope so," I said, avoiding eye contact. I'd read somewhere that people remember you more with eye contact or physical contact. I was determined to avoid all of the above until I was well away from here.
"Well, we should have you there in no time. Traffic isn't usually bad this time of day," she said, punching the airport's address into her phone's GPS.
"Thanks." I made a big show of putting in my air pods, hoping she would get the hint that I wasn't into small talk. I dug my fingernail into my thigh to force my leg to stop bouncing. The goal was to look nonchalant, not like a complete basket case. Do not draw attention to yourself, Lydia.
Nancy was still talking in the front seat, but she didn't seem to require any response from me, so I tuned her out and tried to figure out my next move. I'd been drifting for about two years, running from my problems and my pain. It was a wonder I didn't run into nut jobs like these earlier in my travels.
I know. I know. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times—from my aunt, from well-meaning strangers, and from my own conscious—this is how CSI episodes start. A single, twentysomething woman couch-surfing her way across the United States wasn't my smartest idea.
In my defense, I had a full canister of pepper spray and a Tasmanian devil attitude, so I wasn't completely helpless. I'd been known to punch a guy in the twig and berries if he got to handsy. More often than not, I talked my way out of any situation without the use of violence.
Except this one. These mother fluffers were delusional and drunk—not a great combination. Add in some doomsday bullshit and healthy dose of hating the government, and this place was one jug of Kool-Aid away from a cult. I'd already planned on moving on sooner rather than later, but their late night "damn the man" sessions were getting increasingly more intense. And more specific.
And then Bryan disappeared.
I shook my head to clear it. Suspicions didn't equal evidence. Besides, the local sheriff was at one of the planning meetings. I needed to get the hell out of dodge before I went to any police with my concerns. If I even did that. Technically, I'd stolen from them, which was a misdemeanor at best. Was there a Robin Hood defense? Like a Good Samaritan Law, but for people who only stole from bad guys?
I made a mental note to check it out.
I didn't think they would take the effort to come after me. I'd stolen their money, sure, but I left them enough for a McDonald's two for five deal. I wasn't a total bitch.
Once we hit the highway, I had to concentrate on not dying in a fiery car crash instead of the troubles that I left behind.
"Nancy, I know I said I was in a hurry, but you don't have to set a land speed record," I said, grasping the oh shit handle above the door like Brittany Spears did her flagging singing career.
What ever happened to her anyway? One minute she was dancing with a snake like a badass female Steve Irwin. And the next she's shaving her head and going coo-coo crazy over some skinny white dude. Reminded me of some of the women at the compound I'd just left. The men there, and Kevin Federline, must have some magic cocks to make girls stay with them. I can't see any other reason why.
Luckily, I knew better than to piss where I slept and didn't oblige the men there. Because even if their cocks were magic, my downtown wasn't that desperate. I needed more than a wham, bam, thank you ma'am drunken mattress pounding. Which, from the sounds coming out of the adjacent rooms, was all those douche canoes were capable of.
That's a big no thank you from me. I got more attention from Mr. Good Vibrations who went everywhere with me. Yes, I named my vibrator. No, I'm not ashamed of it.
I was pulled out of my thoughts because my shoulder slammed against the door by a sharp swerve. Nancy laid on the horn and gave the driver next to us some choice words.
"You all right back there?" she asked, looking at me for way too long in the rear-view mirror.
"Just peachy," I replied, rubbing my shoulder. "Eyes on the road, Nance."
She laughed. "People don't know how to drive in the dark. I find it's much easier without the lights on. Less glare."
"Mmm-hmmm," I hummed absently. Then her words settled in. "Wait. What? You don't have the lights on?"
"Nope. That's what reflectors are for. Besides the car is a light gray."
I rolled my eyes and said a few Hail Marys. At least I think they were Hail Marys; it'd been a minute since I last went to church.
"How much longer?"
"Gipis says about ten minutes."
"Gipis?" Did I even want to know?
"You know G-P-S. I call him Gipis."
"Of course you do," I muttered. Dear Uber, maybe also add a sliding scale for the length of the crazy train the driver is riding. Sincerely, Bruised Shoulder.
"Oh sugar plum fairies!" Nancy shouted. "Hold onto your butts, we're gonna have to make a quick trip across traffic."
"What do you mea—" I was cut off when my shoulder hit the door again as we careened across four lanes of traffic to hit an off-ramp. Hand to God, the car tipped onto two wheels and literally screeched as we rounded the corner. She practically clipped the big yellow arrow signs indicating the sharp turn.
I gave up on Hail Marys and went straight to bribery. Please, baby Jesus. If I make it out of this alive, I'll go to church again. I'll be more patient with little old ladies. I'll give up carbs!
Okay, maybe not the last one. Would life even be worth living without some warm bread and a loaded plate of pasta?
"Phew! We made it," Nancy said on a laugh. She patted the dash, "Good girl, Betsy."
Of course she named the car too. But who was I to judge since I named my vibrator?
When we pulled up to departures, I almost shed a tear. I'd never been so happy to see an airport in my life. Now, it was time to disappear. Again. Only this time I wasn't leaving with a fond farewell, I was leaving with stolen cash and property. And potentially leaving behind an angry mob.
"Bye Lydia! Don't forget to rate and review!" Nancy called, waving like a lunatic from beside the car. I gave her the peace sign and made my way through security. I gave her four stars because I didn't die, which I guess was her main job.
I didn't fully relax until the plane was taxiing down the runway, taking me away from that crazy town and toward Winding Ridge Guest Ranch in the mountains of Maryland. I figured there was no way the lazy bums at the compound would follow me all the way out there.
Chapter Two
Cash
"Howdy city slickers," I drawled in my best imitation of an old west cowboy. I even tipped my hat and winked at the gaggle of ladies, undoubtedly a bachelorette party. They dissolved into giggles and sighs. I rode Dexter, my paint stallion, slowly in front of the group to emphasize the sway of my hips.
"No doubt you're here at Winding Ridge Guest Ranch to get away from your hectic lives, enjoy some fresh air, and possibly wrangle some cattle," pause for dramatic effect, "or some hot cowboys." Another half-smile and wink to the ladies.
"Are you available?" one of them called out.
"Becky!" her friend scolded through giggles and smacked her arm.
I took in Becky's tight T-shirt. Her Daisy Duke shorts rode up her tan thighs as she rested one shiny cowboy boot on the bottom rung of the fence. She tilted her head to the side and gave me a sultry smile. I returned it with my best smolder. Her smile deepened. Yup, flirting with wanna-be cowgirls was definitely a perk to co-owning a ranch excursions business with my brothers.
I continued the rehearsed welcome speech, "Although all of that is true, this is still a working ranch. The horses don't care if you've had a late-night dancing at Stables or fell in some poison ivy. They need to get fed, watered, exercised, and cleaned daily. Part of the package is to experience life on the ranch. And it doesn't all smell like fresh cut leather. Your boots are gonna get dirty, your skin is gonna get tan, and your muscles" another pause to flex ever so slightly, "are gonna get worked."
"I'll work your muscle anytime, cowboy." This from Becky again.
Her friend, mouth hanging open, smacked her arm again and stage whispered, "I can't believe you just said that!"
I brought Dexter to a halt and leaned forward on the horn of the saddle. "My name is Cash McAllister, and I'll be one of your guides during your experience. My three brothers will be along shortly to introduce themselves as well."
Becky's friend whisper squealed, "There are four of them!?!"
I chuckled. "Don't get too excited, ladies. My two older brothers, Brody and Brock, already have cowgirls warming their beds at night. You'll meet Tessa and Kennedy soon enough as well. We're a family business." And hopefully none of these new customers would tell Kennedy I called her a cowgirl. I'd catch hell for that comment for sure. But it was true. Although Winding Ridge Guest Ranch was my idea originally, all of the McAllisters—original and recent add-ons—jumped right in to make my vision a reality.
I looked around for my brother, Colton. That was his cue to come riding over the hill and help me escort the groups to their cabins. Becky would lose her shit when she saw we were identical twins.
"Any questions so far?" I asked, stalling. I took my eyes off the busty Becky to assess the rest of the group. Becky had three other friends with her. One, the astonished arm-slapping friend, wore a blinking "bride" button. Yup. Definitely bachelorette party. They were all bright-eyed, scantily clad, and heavily made up. I forced myself not to roll my eyes. They would be next to worthless as far as chores went, would be my guess. In the year we'd been doing this—hosting excursions on the old Pullman property, now renamed after the closest mountain range—bachelorette parties tended toward hung over, flirty, and full of excuses to never pick up a shovel. They'd show up for the horseback rides and bonfires. But hell, their money spent the same.
I answered a few mundane questions about the animals and specific chores, the land and the town while I moved my eyes over the other guests.
A father-son duo. Son was trying to look bored, but he was eyeing up Dexter with interest. I made a mental note to get him into the stables sooner rather than later. He shrugged off his dad's hand from his shoulder. Interesting dynamic. But having been a teenaged boy myself, I empathized completely. He'd probably rather be spending his summers playing video games or with friends.
A family group stood next to them—two moms, two kids sans electronic devices in their hands. Bonus points, moms. I loved when we had kids in the group. They were always eager to help with anything. Didn't always get it right, but they got an A-plus for enthusiasm. I had a good feeling about these two.
Separated a little from the group was a single woman on her own. She had on sunglasses and a wide-brimmed sun hat that dropped her face in shadow. Whereas Becky's crew was one smirk away from dropping their shorts to get my attention, this woman looked like she wanted to throat punch the giggling gaggle. Her body language exuded annoyance as Becky made another blatant sexual innuendo.
Singletons weren't the norm. I made a mental note to check her file, make sure she wasn't a magazine reviewer or part of some health code inspection or something.
I was about to pull out my cell phone to call Colt—usually a no-no since we wanted to give the customers the impression they were off the grid—when his procrastinating ass finally rode over the hill behind me. I gave him my best cowboy scowl.
"Sorry, brother," he called as he slowed his horse next to mine. "Got caught up with Ms. Woodhouse's spaniel." I glanced at him for real; he was still wearing his scrubs.
Becky's friend looked from me to Colt and back again. We get that a lot as identical twins. "I've died and gone to Heaven," she whispered. "Maybe getting married isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"Dibs on the doctor," another from their group called out.
Colt laughed beside me and introduced himself. "Dr. Colton McAllister, local veterinarian. But you can call me Colt. Sorry I'm late. You all must be ready to see the cabins." He swung a leg over the saddle and dismounted in a fluid motion. I followed suit, and we tied our horses to the fence post.
"Our ranch hands have already taken your belongings to your cabins," Colt said. We fell in step together and walked down the fence line to the gate. As expected, the group followed us on the other side. If Becky swung her hips any harder, I was afraid she might pop one out.
"In your cabins you'll find itineraries for tonight and tomorrow. Some things are planned for you based on the questionnaire you answered when you registered. Others are choices you can make based on our ranch schedule. Meals times are non-negotiable on the ranch. You miss a scheduled meal, you're on your own," I explained. When we reached the gate, Colt and I jumped up and over it in almost a simultaneous action. That got us an enthusiastic round of applause from the ladies of the group. Damn, if that impressed them, wait until we roped some cattle later.
Colt picked up the instructions as we led the group down a short path to the row of small cabins where the guests stayed. "We've also provided you a list of businesses in town, a map of the ranch and the local area, and some favorite sightseeing spots outside of Winding Ridge. If you're gonna wander into the mountains, please let one of us know. There are some predatory critters—bobcats, coyotes, black bear—that could make your trek less than ideal. But don't worry. The old adage is true—they are just as scared of you."
"Bears," the little boy whispered in awe.
I smiled at him. My turn again. "Each day you'll find a new itinerary along with the morning paper on your cabin doorstep. The cabins do include indoor plumbing," a brief pause for some light laughter, "and the bathrooms and kitchenettes are stocked with supplies. If you find you're missing anything, use the numbers listed in your welcome packets to request whatever you need. We take care of each other out here on the ranch."
And, just like clockwork, we finished our speech as we approached the first in a row of cabins. I pulled the assignment list from my shirt pocket.
"James and Kedron Robertson," I called. The father-son duo stepped forward. "Y'all are in Leatherwood Cabin. Hope to see you tonight at dinner." I handed them their key and watched as they climbed the few steps onto the small porch.
We moved down the row to the next detached cabin. The cabins were close enough together for the staff at our guest ranch to easily keep an eye on them but still far enough apart to offer some privacy.
"The Collins family," I read next. "You are staying in Prickly Gooseberry Cabin."
"That's a funny name," the little girl giggled.
"I suppose it is," I said with a smile. "All the cabins are named after endangered plant species." I leaned down and stage whispered, "My brother Brock's fiancee is a bit of a plant nerd." She giggled again then raced her brother onto the porch. The moms followed looking a bit weary.
"L. Williams," I read. I looked up, but no one volunteered. "Is there an L. Williams here?" I repeated. It had to be the singleton of the group—the overly dressed, sassy RBF currently scowling at the bachelorette party. I caught Colt's eye and nodded at her.
"Miss," he said, touching her elbow. She jumped a mile. "Sorry. Are you L. Williams?"
"I guess I am," she said.
"You'll be bunking here in Yellow Foxglove Cabin," I explained as she approached.
She lifted her head, and I was struck by the curve of her jaw and her angular nose. Her skin was a gorgeous shade somewhere between olive and russet, giving my own tanned skin an almost pasty pallor as her hand brushed mine to take the cabin keys. She barely glanced at me as she strolled past, her long black braid swinging with each step. Intrigued, I watched as she made her way up the steps of her cabin porch.
Once she was inside, I turned my attention back to the bachelorette party. Two of them were practically hanging on Colt, asking him all about how he saved little puppies.
"Last, but certainly not least," I said, bringing their attention back to me. "For Laura's Ladies," I tipped my hat at the bride. She blushed crimson. "We have our deluxe cabin Pearly Everlasting." I offered the key to Becky. She placed her hand in mine, and I closed my fist around her fingers. In a move I knew would thrill, I pulled her close so our bodies were almost touching. "Don't be afraid to call me if you get scared tonight," I drawled, looking directly into her eyes.
She leaned in, closing the distance between us. All I had to do was dip my head and my face would be buried her beautiful breasts. Unfortunately, my mama would kill me if she found out I disrespected a woman like that, so I refrained.
Becky whispered, "I'll be sure to." She pushed one of her thighs between mine and pressed herself against me. With one last squeeze of her thighs around mine, she finally backed up and said, "I hope you're on the itinerary, Cash McAllister."
Well, shit. Riding Dexter back to McAllister Ranch was going to be as hard as my dick.