Hearts Are Wild (20 page)

About the author:

Cheyenne McCray is a thirty-something wild thing at heart, with a passion for sensual romance and a happily-ever-after...but always with a twist. A University of Arizona alumnus, Chey has been writing ever since she can remember, back to her kindergarten days when she penned her first poem. She always knew that one day she would write novels, and with her love of fantasy and romance, combined with her passionate nature, erotic romance is a perfect genre for her. In addition to her adult work, Chey is also published in young adult literary fiction under another name. Chey enjoys spending time with her husband and three sons, traveling, working out at the health club, playing racquetball, and of course writing, writing, writing.

Cheyenne welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, #13, Stow, Ohio 44224.

Also by Cheyenne McCray:

Blackstar: Future Knight

Erotic Invitation

Seraphine Chronicles 1: Forbidden

Seraphine Chronicles 2: Bewitched

Seraphine Chronicles 3: Spellbound

Seraphine Chronicles 4: Untamed

Things That Go Bump In the Night 3 – with Mlyn Hurn & Stephanie Burke

Vampire Dreams – with Annie Windsor

Wild 1: Wildfire

Wild 2: Wildcat

Wild 3: Wildcard

Wild 4: Wild Borders

Wonderland 1: King of Hearts

Wonderland 2: King of Spades

Wonderland 3: King of Diamonds

Wonderland 4: King of Clubs

Branded Hearts

Nelissa Donovan

Chapter One

“I can’t believe they talked me into wearing this,” Lily muttered as she wriggled in the airline seat, the satin thong slipping even further up her rear. Who ever heard of wearing a micromini on a three-hour plane flight?

Insanity. Total and absolute insanity.

She eyed the middle-aged businessman next to her. Immaculate and comfortable in his sensible gray suit, Lily envied him. And, despite her I’m-an-available-whore attire, he’d been a perfect gentleman.

Which proved the point she’d made to Nic and Bri. It didn’t matter how they dressed her up or, more appropriately, slutted her down, Lily Whitman just didn’t exude sex appeal.

As to that ridiculous bet…

Lily flicked another glance at Mr. Perfect Suit. Nope. No vibes. No “trigger tripping”, as Bri would have put it. Thank God. How many times had she promised her cousins that she wouldn’t welch on their wager? Ten, at least. Maybe more.

“No welching, Lil,” Bri had said with that I’ll-make-you-pay-if-you-flake-out look. “If you get cold feet, call us and we’ll set those beautiful tootsies back on the path of lust and self-gratification; got it?”

Self-gratification, right. Lily was perfectly gratified by her job as Southwestern Artifacts Curator at the Bisbee Museum. Sure, cleaning up, cataloging and presenting early southwestern artifacts wasn’t the most glamorous job but it had its perks. Lily was always keen to travel locales across the western United States to analyze finds and, in some cases, purchase them for the museum. And then there was the fact that she was simply passionate about early American history. Especially Native American history.

“Not trustworthy,” Lily grumbled to herself as the pilot finally announced their stop, which earned her a glance from Mr. Suit. She gave him a quick smile before squeezing past him. “Excuse me,” Lily murmured. He smiled and moved into the aisle as she reached overhead for her laptop, the four inch heels Nichole had strapped her in wobbling like crazy. Finally wrenching the laptop free of the other briefcases crammed into the small space, Lily turned.

Only to find Mr. Suit had been staring, all googlie-eyed, at her legs and ass.

As his eyes finally made the trek to her face, he flashed an oily smile. Lily’s first thought was to curl her lip and push past the asshole but her cousins’ disapproving faces filled her mind. Reacting in her normal fashion wasn’t part of the deal and, if she wasn’t going to follow through, why come at all?

So, instead of the snarl, Lily forced a smile, showing a bit of her even white teeth as she moved in closer. “Oh, well, excuse me,” she purred. “These aisles are so darn tight.”

She almost laughed at the look of surprise on his average-guy face. He grinned even wider and leaned in. It took all Lily’s self-control not to shove his leering mug away.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He took the laptop and ushered her into the aisle ahead of him.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, Lily thought, feeling his eyes glued to her backside as she stumbled her way to the front of the plane. She exited the plane and stomped off down the much-patched tarmac toward a modest, glass-paned terminal to her left. Her face flamed, and she knew her complexion was as pink as her Lycra top.

Damn it.
Lily caught a reflection of herself in the terminal’s golden windows. Short, cream, fringed skirt. Body-hugging fuchsia top and four-inch strappy heels.

Hell, she
did
look like a girl out for a good time.

Realizing that she was indeed on her own in unfamiliar territory, Lily stopped to view the countryside. Rolling fields of waving, golden grass were broken up by thick stands of pine. Lily breathed deep. Definitely pine, with a hint of cedar.

She looked up, her lips parting. The heavens were rapidly darkening to a striated burnt sienna. Hues of pale gold and crimson teased at the edges of a seemingly endless sky.

As she pushed through the double doors of the terminal and stepped inside, Lily grudgingly admitted it was one of the most spectacular sunsets she’d seen—and she’d witnessed some stunners. She’d traveled so much as a kid, following her military father from base to base, she’d had ample opportunities to observe Mother Nature in all her glory and fury.

Thinking Lily incapable of following through with the wager if left in her “familiar” environment, Sabrina and Nichole had pooled their resources and purchased a two-week vacation for her at a working “dude” ranch in Wolf Springs, Montana.

And for some crazy, out-of-control reason, Lily had agreed to go.

Why did I?
Lily wondered as she smoothed her hand over the supple suede of the mini.

Because you’re in a rut, girl. And if you don’t break out now, it’s likely to last well into your lonely old age
. Lily sighed and brushed Aunt Viv’s voice from her mind.

One person’s rut was another’s furrowed field—

“Miss Whitman?”

Lily stopped and looked up. A slender, rough-looking cowboy dressed in tight jeans and an equally tight flannel button-down long sleeve shirt walked toward her, fawn-colored Stetson in hand. He smiled, the attractive creases in his sun-browned face deepening as he thrust out a hand. “Howdy. I’m Darrell Donleavy.”

Lily held out her hand. Calluses brushed her smooth palm. “Hello, Mr. Donleavy. You can call me Lily.”

He raised brows the color of damp sand and fought to keep his pale blue eyes off her cleavage. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick with Miss Whitman.” He cleared his throat and took her suitcase. “We’re a professional team at Red Bear Ranch and I hope you get it on well with the guys.” His face flushed crimson. “Uh, I mean, I hope you get something out of your dude ranch experience.”

Lily stifled a giggle and followed the red-faced Darrell Donleavy through the tiny lobby and out the front doors into the parking lot.

Clearly uncomfortable with her attire, the whip-thin cowboy managed to look everywhere but
at
her as he led her to a green Chevy four wheel drive truck and opened the door. Lily couldn’t blame him. She was an embarrassment. A slutty train-wreck of a woman. It was a wonder he was being polite to her at all.

What had her cousins been thinking, dressing her up like this? It certainly wasn’t appropriate attire for a dude ranch. She’d take her books and antiques over sweaty men and horse shit any day.

Lily closed her door and tried to look less brazen by keeping her eyes fastened on the scenery outside the window as Darrell turned out onto the narrow, two-lane highway. At least this cowboy didn’t dampen her panties. He was attractive, in a wiry sort of way, but nothing that made that rollercoaster dip in her abdomen.

“So, is the, uh…” Lily looked down at the computer printed brochure in her lap. “Red Bear Ranch far from the airport?”

She glanced over at Darrell. He shook his head. “Just the other side of town.”

Town?

Lily gazed out the window and noticed a muted bank of lights in the distance as they rattled down the lonely road. In the last rays of sun before dusk, Lily could make out the shadowy shapes of old-fashioned clapboard style buildings. A sign on the roadway heralded Wolf Springs, Population 849.

In moments they were motoring down the main drag and, as Lily’s gaze caught a street sign, she smiled to see it literally
was
Main Street. Butter yellow lights eked from open windows and a pang of homesickness hit Lily.

Her gaze went back to her bare legs. Then the ankle-twisting heels.

I can’t do this
. Panic bubbled in Lily’s chest.
I can’t show up at a ranch full of men—hard working men—acting and looking like a bitch in heat.

Lily nearly placed a hand on Darrell’s arm and demanded he take her back to the airport. The memory of her cousins’ disapproving glares stopped her. Taking a deep breath, Lily looked out the window once more, the lights of the small town scrolling by.

Which was when she saw it.

A gold lasso encircled neon tubes on a sign that read “Last Chance Saloon.”

“Stop!” Lily cried.

Startled, Darrell braked hard. “What? Did you forget a suitcase?”

She shook her head, her heart hammering with embarrassment. “I…I—” Swallowing, Lily glanced at Darrell while she opened the door and slipped out onto the darkening street, leaving her laptop and luggage behind. “I’m going to go inside for a little while. Uh, take the edge off from the long flight. Don’t worry. I’ll grab a cab out to the ranch.” She forced a smile and, before Darrell could open his mouth, Lily scurried to the heavy oak door of the Last Chance Saloon and went inside.

Chapter Two

Smoke hit her as she sidled into the bar. Lily coughed, then squinted, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. Country music rocked from an old-fashioned style jukebox near the door. Tables were scattered throughout the room but few were occupied.

Cowboys leaned against the polished oak bar, their backs to her, while hoots and hollers erupted from the larger room to her right. Lily peered through the murk. Men reclined against a railing that squared off a space that housed a mechanical bull.

It was being wildly ridden by yet another weather-roughened cowboy. One hand held high, his body whipped and snapped with each jerky rotation of the bull. The crowd cheered and jeered, beers raised.

Wouldn’t Susan just die if she could see me here, thought Lily. Her best friend from high school and college had been shocked when she’d heard about Lily’s trip. She tried to convince her it would be more fun to spend the next few weeks with her in the sleepy Kansas farming town she’d abruptly moved to five months ago.

Taking one more sweeping look, Lily thought she might have been right.

Alcohol.
That’s what I need
. Susan would agree with her under the circumstance. And if the cowboys got a little rowdy, Lily could always show them a little of the kung fu Susan taught her.

Smoke burned her eyes as Lily cursed her cousins and made for the bar. She’d be damned if she’d be the first one to bow out. She’d let one of
them
break the bet first…it was simply a matter of waiting them out. Then she could go home to her books and the storage room full of artifacts waiting to be catalogued.

A strange pang hit Lily and she sighed. Funny, but the prospect didn’t fill her with the sense of comfort it should have.

Lily leaned against the bar, looking forward to numbing the fistful of butterflies in her gut. “Hello,” she said to the bartender’s back. He turned. A look of surprise, then cool appraisal flowed across his tan face.

“Didn’t see you come in, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Well, isn’t that appropriate
, Lily thought, feeling older than the hills.

The twenty-something shaggy blond looked around as if searching for who might have come in with her before leaning onto the bar. “What can I get you?”

Lily pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I think I’d like a blue Long Island Iced Tea, please.”

The bartender’s brows peaked. “Sure thing.”

With skill that comes from years of practice, the bartender flipped each bottle as he filled a large, 16 ounce glass to the brim. The blue Curaçao came last, coloring the potent mix of liquors. In went a straw before he slapped it onto the polished oak. “Wish I had a slice of lemon but we don’t get much demand for them here.”

He smiled warmly and Lily took the drink, returning the smile. “Thanks. This is fine.” Her eyes closed as she took a long, cool sip.

“Well, where in the blazes did you blow in from, sugar?”

Lily released the straw, her gaze opening to meet the cool green eyes of a very bulky cowboy who’d sidled up on her left. Her face colored and she cleared her throat. “I just stopped in for a quick drink before heading for the, uh…” Lily fumbled for the brochure she’d crammed into her purse. “The Red Bear Ranch,” she finished softly, reading from the crumpled trifold.

“Frank’s place, er, I mean Shain’s place, huh?” The cowboy tipped his hat up onto his square forehead and grinned so wide, Lily thought the creases in his face might split open. “Hey, boys!” he boomed. Heads turned, all male. All looking surprised, then predatory, as their eyes fastened on Lily at the bar. “We’ve got a visitor to Wolf Springs!”

The bulky cowboy turned back to Lily. “What did you say your name was, sugar?”

Lily’s response usually would have been “I didn’t say,” but that wouldn’t be appropriate. Especially in a room full of inebriated cowboys looking for a good time. “Take chances, Lily!” Nicole’s voice filled her head. “What do you have to lose?”

Turning to face the other room, Lily held her glass up. “Howdy, boys! My name’s Lil and it’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Big Boy slapped a hand to her shoulder, nearly sending her sprawling across the bar, her drink sloshing. “I think the pleasure is all ours, right, boys?”

Cheers erupted and, within seconds, Lily found herself surrounded by a herd of fine-looking cowboys, from big and hulking to small and wiry, their gazes fastened on every curve of bare flesh, their grins beyond huge.

Lily yanked the straw out of her drink, the plastic tube rolling to a stop next to a bowl of peanuts. In three big gulps, she drained her glass and smacked it down on the bar.

Her gaze found the bartender’s. “I think I’m going to need another.”