Dylan's Redemption (37 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Ryan

BOOK: Dylan's Redemption
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“Tell me about it.” Gabe rolled his shoulders to ease the ache.

“Still sore.”

“I’m too old to be riding bulls and roping calves. I’ll leave that to Dane.”

“You won the bull-riding championship. Again.”

“It felt good to beat our little brother one last time. I got the last of the seed money I needed to pay for the cattle.”

“When do you expect delivery?”

“The day I move in. Things will be tough the first year. I sank everything I have into this deal, but after that, sky’s the limit.”

“You’re on your way.” Blake gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s load this guy and get you moving. The snow will pass us by here, but you’ll meet it head on. It’ll be sunset in another hour.”

Gabe led Sully to the gate Blake held open and walked him straight to his truck and trailer. He unstrapped the saddle and pulled it off, handing it over to Blake, who took it inside the stables to put it on the rack. Blake walked out carrying a brush and handed it to him. Gabe tossed the saddle pad Blake’s way and his brother caught it and took it back inside too. Gabe shook his head and thought of them back on their parents’ ranch, always working together to get the chores done. He missed those days. Now that they were all scattered—Caleb down in Colorado with his new wife, Summer; Dane traipsing all over Texas, Arizona, and Nevada riding rodeo; and Blake here—it wasn’t often they all got together at one time. He missed being with his brothers. Maybe Blake is right about him rambling around that big house alone.

He thought often these days about having a wife and kids. Seeing Caleb last month with his pretty bride, how happy they were together, made him think of finding someone special, instead of someone just for tonight, or this week, or month. Tired of roaming, he wanted to settle down to a normal ranch life like his parents shared and Caleb found with Summer. The life he planned to have with Stacy before it all fell apart.

Blake slapped him on the back, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Go anywhere interesting in that mind?”

“Just thinking about Caleb and Summer.”

“Never seen two happier people.”

“Me either. Maybe that will be us someday.”

“Let’s hope,” Blake said, surprising him with his candor. Whenever they talked about women it was to razz each other or brag about some conquest. They never talked about getting married and settling down.

Gabe brushed Sully down before leading him into the trailer and changing out his bridle for the halter. With the horse settled into the trailer, he stepped out, closed the gate, and faced Blake.

“What do I owe you for the feed and training?” Gabe pulled out his wallet, but his brother put his hand on his arm.

“Call it a housewarming gift from me to you.”

“It’s not necessary,” Gabe tried to argue.

“It’s a gift. I can’t wait to come out and see your new place once you get settled.”

“I’ll probably need some help when the cattle arrive to get them into the right pastures.”

“I’m there. Just give me a call and we’ll set it up.”

Gabe gave his brother a hearty hug and smack on the back. He wanted to stay, take his brother out for a beer and some food, but sunset came early this time of year. Just after four in the afternoon, it’d be dark in another hour.

Gabe sat in the cab of his truck and started the engine, cranking the heater to ward off the cold. Thirty-three degrees, the temps would plummet come dark. With the snow coming, he needed to get home without delay.

“Hey, drive careful. Sorry you’re getting off to a late start.”

“My own fault. I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I’ll see you soon. If not, definitely in nine weeks when you take over the Wolf spread.”

“See you then.”

“Was she pretty?”

Taken off guard, Gabe narrowed his gaze and asked, “Who?”

“Lela Wolf.”

He didn’t even have to try to recall that heart-shaped face, those green eyes, the sweep of her light-brown hair over her eyebrows and tucked behind the curve of her ear. She smelled like a field of lilies. Still, he’d never forget her face.

“Yeah, she’s pretty.” Gorgeous. Stunning. Unforgettable. Fragile, but he caught a glimpse of steel when she found out about him clearing the house and ordered him to stay out.

“Maybe she’ll come back.”

Gabe smirked at his brother and shook his head. Blake gave him a lopsided grin, obviously reading that Gabe indeed thought she was more than just pretty. Gabe hit the gas and left his brother in the dust, but not the thoughts he’d had of a beautiful woman in a blue coat with a face he couldn’t forget.

Gabe concentrated on the slick road. Due to the earlier rain, he slowed down considerably on the back roads. When he hit the highway further north, rising up toward the pass, the rain turned to snow and slowed him even more. Way past schedule, the sun had set nearly an hour ago and visibility was getting worse by the minute along the two-lane road. If he didn’t have to worry about the horse and trailer, he’d make better time. By morning, he’d need a snowplow to clear the roads if this kept up all night. Right now, it didn’t look like the snow would stop any time soon.

Tired after a long day and in need of a hot drink, he scratched at his rough jaw and thought about all he needed to do when he got home. Settle Sully into the stall he’d prepared in the stables that morning. Crack open a couple of cans of stew for a late dinner and make a pot of coffee. Grab the clothes he kept tossing over the seat and take them to the laundry room. Tomorrow, he’d do all the laundry. He’d get the guest room cleaned up in case Dane dropped in for another visit.

His phone rang and he checked the caller ID. Speak of the devil. He hit the button on his steering wheel for the hands-free to answer.

“What’s up, Dane?”

“Checked out your black angus beauties at my buddy’s place.” His brother’s voice filled the truck cab. “Man, those are some prime beef cattle.”

“They ought to be for what I paid,” Gabe grumbled.

“Like I said, they’re a bunch of beauties. Get them certified organic and you’ll make a killing.”

“Well, it’s going to take some time, but once I get the certification and the breeding program up and running, I hope to start turning a decent profit.”

“I confirmed the delivery and verified all the records and bloodlines for the cattle. You’re good to go, man.”

“Thanks, Dane. You saved me the trip down to Nevada. How’re things going with you?”

“Rambling around, kicking ass on the rodeo circuit. I’m ranked number two behind Kurt Collins.”

“You’ll catch him.” Gabe had all the confidence in the world his brother would not only catch Kurt but beat his ass by the finals. Dane wanted that prize money and a chance at setting up his own place.

“No doubt. Gotta run, man.”

“Hot date?”

“Always. You should try it sometime. You spend far too much time alone with your horses.”

“Horses are less trouble than women.”

“Women smell better.”

Gabe chuckled. “I’ve got other priorities right now.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have some fun.”

“You’re having plenty enough for me and half the men in Montana.”

This time Dane laughed. “That’s for sure.”

“So go have your fun.”

“You used to come out with me. I miss those days.”

“I don’t.” After Stacy, he’d left his ranch and rambled around on the rodeo circuit, chasing the thrill of the ride and every woman he could get his hands on, until he woke up one morning with another buckle bunny beside him and no idea what her name was. He didn’t care. She’d scratched an itch, but left him empty. They all did. He’d used them to fill up the emptiness inside him that grew with every meaningless encounter. He’d needed the thrill of the conquest, knowing he could seduce a woman into his bed. But he woke up and realized that’s all they wanted from him, because that’s all he had to offer. If he wanted to build a life with a woman, he’d have to have something more to offer than meaningless, mindless sex. So he came home to build something he could be proud of, a life someone would want to share with him.

“I miss hanging with you, but not the reckless lifestyle. I’ll leave that to you, bro. See you when the cows come home.”

“I’ll be there.”

Dane clicked off and Gabe smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Dane when the cattle arrived. Dane promised to help him get things set up on the ranch.

Gabe didn’t hold back the smile, thinking of Dane, his wild-at-heart brother, and Blake, living his dream, training race horses. Gabe worked his ass off over the last three years to pull together the money he needed for his ranch, to buy the cattle, and finally have everything he ever wanted. Still, Dane’s words rang in his head. Have some fun. Seems he’d forgotten how to do that these last years living alone at his place, barely going into town for more than supplies. When it came to the women, a few new ones had moved to town, but mostly they were the same faces he’d seen growing up and none of them appealed.

He wanted something different. Something new. Someone who challenged him.

Eyes the color of spring grass, the same ones he’d thought of ever since he saw her, floated into his mind.

 

About the Author

JENNIFER RYAN writes romantic suspense and contemporary small-town romances featuring strong men and equally resilient women. Her stories are filled with love, friendship, and the happily-ever-after we all hope to find. Jennifer lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and three children. When she isn’t writing a book, she’s reading one.

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

 

Also by Jennifer Ryan

Falling for Owen

The Return of Brody McBride

Chasing Morgan

The Right Bride

Lucky Like Us

Saved by the Rancher

Short Stories

“Waiting For You”

(
appears in
Confessions of a Secret Admirer
)

“Can’t Wait”

(
appears in
All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy
)

 

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at three brand-­new

e-­book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

Available now wherever e-­books are sold.

FULL EXPOSURE

B
OOK
O
NE
:
I
NDEPENDENCE
F
ALLS

By Sara Jane Stone

PERSONAL TARGET

A
N
E
LITE
O
PS
N
OVEL

By Kay Thomas

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A B
ILLIONAIRES
A
ND
B
IKERS
N
OVELLA

By Cynthia Sax

 

An Excerpt from

Book One: Independence Falls

by Sara Jane Stone

The first book in a hot new series from contemporary romance writer Sara Jane Stone. When Georgia begins work as a nanny for her brother's best friend, she knows she can't have him, but his pull is too strong, and she feels sparks igniting.

 

G
eorgia Trulane walked into the kitchen wearing a purple bikini, hoping and praying for a reaction from the man she'd known practically forever. Seated at the kitchen table, Eric Moore, her brother's best friend, now her boss since she'd taken over the care of his adopted nephew until he found another live-­in nanny, studied his laptop as if it held the keys to the world's greatest mysteries. Unless the answers were listed between items b and c on a spreadsheet about Oregon timber harvesting, the screen was not of earth-­shattering importance. It certainly did not merit his full attention when she was wearing an itsy-­bitsy string bikini.

“Nate is asleep,” she said.

Look up. Please, look up.

Eric nodded, his gaze fixed to the screen. Why couldn't he look at her with that unwavering intensity? He'd snuck glances. There had been moments when she'd turned from preparing his nephew's lunch and caught him looking at her, really looking, as if he wanted to memorize the curve of her neck or the way her jeans fit. But he quickly turned away.

“Did you pick up everything he needs for his first day of school tomorrow? I don't want to send him unprepared.”

His deep voice warmed her from the inside out. It was so familiar and welcoming, yet at the same time utterly sexy.

“I got all the items on the list,” she said. “He is packed and ready to go.”

“He needs another one of those stuffed frogs. He can't go without his favorite stuffed animal.”

If she hadn't been standing in his kitchen practically naked, waiting for him to notice her, she would have found his concern for the three-­year-­old's first day of preschool sweet, maybe even heartwarming. But her body wasn't looking for sentiments reminiscent of sunshine and puppies, or the whisper of sweet nothings against her skin. She craved physical contact—­his hands on her, exploring, each touch making her feel more alive.

And damn it, he still hadn't glanced up from his laptop.

“Nate will be home by nap time,” she said. “He'll be there for only a few hours. You know that, right?”

“He'll want to take his frog,” he said, his fingers moving across the keyboard. “He'll probably lose it. And he sleeps with that thing every night. He needs that frog.”

She might be practically naked, but his emphasis on the word
need
thrust her headfirst into heartwarming territory. Eric worked day and night to provide Nate with the stability that had been missing from Eric's childhood thanks to his divorced parents' fickle dating habits. She admired his willingness to put a child who'd suffered a tragic loss first.

But tonight, for one night, she didn't want to think about all of his honorable qualities. She wanted to see if maybe, just maybe those stolen glances when he thought she wasn't looking meant that the man she'd laid awake thinking about while serving her country half a world away wanted her too.

“You're now the proud owner of two stuffed frogs,” she said. “So if that's everything for tonight, I'm going for a swim.”

Finally,
finally
, he looked up. She watched as his blue eyes widened and his jaw clenched. He was an imposing man, large and strong from years of climbing and felling trees. Not that he did the grunt work anymore. These days he wore tailored suits and spent more time in an office than with a chainsaw in hand. But even seated at his kitchen table poring over a computer, he looked like a wall of strong, solid muscle wound tight and ready for action. Having all of that energy focused on her? It sent a thrill down her body. Georgia clung to the feeling, savoring it.

 

An Excerpt from

An Elite Ops Novel

by Kay Thomas

One minute Jennifer Grayson is housesitting and the next she's abducted to a foreign brothel. Jennifer is planning her escape when her first “customer” arrives. Nick, the man who broke her heart years ago, has come to her rescue. Now, as they race for their lives, passion for each other reignites and old secrets resurface. Can Nick keep the woman he loves safe against an enemy with a personal vendetta?

 

T
he woman at the vanity turned, and his breath caught in his throat. Nick had known it would be Jenny, and despite what he'd thought about downstairs when he'd seen her on the tablet screen, he hadn't prepared himself for seeing her like this. Seated at the table with candles all around, she was wearing a sheer robe over a grey thong and a bustier kind of thing—­or that's what he thought the full-­length bra was called.

He spotted the unicorn tat peeping out from the edge of whatever the lingerie piece was, and his brain quit processing details as all the blood in his head rushed south. He'd been primed to come in and tell Jenny exactly how they were getting out of the house and away from these ­people, and now . . . this. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. She looked like every fantasy he'd ever had about her rolled into one.

He continued to stare as recognition flared in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she murmured. “It's . . .”

She clapped her mouth closed, and her eyes widened. That struck him as odd. The relief on her face was obvious, but instead of looking at him, she took an audible breath and studied the walls of the room. When she finally did glance at him again, her eyes had changed.

“So you're who they've sent me for my first time?” Her voice sounded bored, not the tone he remembered. “What do you want me to do?”

What a question. He raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head. In warning?

Nothing here was as he'd anticipated. He continued staring at her, hoping the lust would quit fogging his brain long enough for him to figure out what was going on.

“I've been told to show you a good time.” Her voice was cold, downright chilly. Without another word she stood and crossed the floor, slipping into his arms with her breasts pressing into his chest. “It's you.” She murmured the words in the barest of whispers.

Nick's mind froze, but his body didn't. His hands automatically went to her waist as she kissed his neck, working her way up to his ear. This was not at all what he'd planned.

“I can't believe you're here.” She breathed the words into his ear.

Me either
, he thought, but kept the words to himself as he pulled her closer. His senses flooded with all that smooth skin pressing against him. His body tightened, and his right hand moved to cup her ass. Her cheek's bare skin was silky soft, just like he remembered. God, he'd missed her. She melted into him as his body switched into overdrive.

“What do you want?” She spoke louder. The arctic tone was back. He was confused and knew he was just too stupid with wanting her to figure out what the hell was going on. There was no way the woman could mistake the effect she was having.

She moved her lips closer to his ear and nipped his earlobe as she whispered, “Cameras are everywhere. I'm not sure about microphones.”

And like that, cold reality slapped him in the face. He should have been expecting it, but he'd been so focused on getting her out and making sure she was all right. She might be glad to see him because he was there to save her, but throwing her body at him was an act.

Jesus.
He had to get them both out of here without tipping his hand to the cameras and those watching what he was doing. He was crazy not to have considered it once he saw those tablets downstairs, but it had never occurred to him that he would have to play this encounter through as if he were really a client.

He slipped her arms from around his neck and moved to the table to pour himself some wine, willing his hands not to shake. “I want you,” he said.

 

An Excerpt from

A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

by Cynthia Sax

Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that's what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—­just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing. But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she's willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

An Avon Red Novella

 

I
'd told Cyndi I'd never use it, that it was an instrument purchased by perverts to spy on their neighbors. She'd laughed and called me a prude, not knowing that I was one of those perverts, that I secretly yearned to watch and be watched, to care and be cared for.

If I'm cautious, and I'm always cautious, she'll never realize I used her telescope this morning. I swing the tube toward the bench and adjust the knob, bringing the mysterious object into focus.

It's a phone. Nicolas's phone. I bounce on the balls of my feet. This is a sign, another declaration from fate that we belong together. I'll return Nicolas's much-­needed device to him. As a thank you, he'll invite me to dinner. We'll talk. He'll realize how perfect I am for him, fall in love with me, marry me.

Cyndi will find a fiancé also—­everyone loves her—­and we'll have a double wedding, as sisters of the heart often do. It'll be the first wedding my family has had in generations.

Everyone will watch us as we walk down the aisle. I'll wear a strapless white Vera Wang mermaid gown with organza and lace details, crystal and pearl embroidery accents, the bodice fitted, and the skirt hemmed for my shorter height. My hair will be swept up. My shoes—­

Voices murmur outside the condo's door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.

I don't relax. If the telescope isn't positioned in the same way as it was last night, Cyndi will realize I've been using it. She'll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for dramatic effect, with her stern, serious dad—­or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.

I'll die. It'll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule was about my clothes and this will center on the part of my soul I've always kept hidden. It'll also be the truth, and I won't be able to deny it. I am a pervert.

I have to return the telescope to its original position. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.

Last night, my man-­crazy roommate was giggling over the new guy in three-­eleven north. The previous occupant was a gray-­haired, bowtie-­wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.

According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy—­tattooed, buff, and head-­to-­toe lickable. He was completing armcurls outside, and she enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.

I resisted that temptation, focusing on making macaroni and cheese for the two of us, the recipe snagged from the diner my mom works in. After we scarfed down dinner, Cyndi licking her plate clean, she left for the club and hasn't returned.

Three-­eleven north is the mirror condo to ours. I straighten the telescope. That position looks about right, but then, the imitation UGGs I bought in my second year of college looked about right also. The first time I wore the boots in the rain, the sheepskin fell apart, leaving me barefoot in Economics 201.

Unwilling to risk Cyndi's friendship on “about right,” I gaze through the eyepiece. The view consists of rippling golden planes, almost like . . .

Tanned skin pulled over defined abs.

I blink. It can't be. I take another look. A perfect pearl of perspiration clings to a puckered scar. The drop elongates more and more, stretching, snapping. It trickles downward, navigating the swells and valleys of a man's honed torso.

No. I straighten. This is wrong. I shouldn't watch our sexy neighbor as he stands on his balcony. If anyone catches me . . .

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