Sweet and Wild (Winchester Wild Book 1) Read online

  “No. It’s fine.”

  “That look on your face don’t say fine.”

  “It just threw me, is all.”

  “Why? You know I’ve called her that since my own mama died.”

  A pang of regret hits my heart. Poor Colt. Here I am getting my panties in a twist about what he calls my mama, and I forgot he no longer has one to call his own. “I know. Please don’t stop on my account. It’s just … waking up here, in your arms, everything’s coming back to me and it’s a lot to deal with. Especially after Daddy’s funeral.”

  He grimaces and pulls on his jeans. “I get it. This is a lot for me too.”

  “Right. Well, I better get out of your hair and back to the house.”

  “Yeah, we don’t want people talkin’, now do we?”

  A nervous laugh slips free of my throat. “No. We can’t have that.” I finally spot my boots over by the door and walk the few feet before leaning against the wall to slip them on. “Well, thanks again for … you know, just being you.”

  “Anytime.”

  “And I’m real sorry I ruined your night.”

  He scratches at the five o’clock shadow on his face. “I don’t know if I’d call it ruined. Laying my head down next to a pretty redhead, ain’t exactly my idea of a night ruined.”

  “I suppose it depends on who the redhead is, now doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I guess it does.”

  “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

  “If you wanna wait while I shower, I can drive you back over.”

  “That’s okay. I should go change too. I can only imagine my brothers’ faces when they see me walk in with yesterday’s clothes.”

  “Well, alright then.” He nods and turns his back to me, heading toward the bathroom. I can’t help but watch him from the doorway—the thick corded muscles of his arms and shoulders as he walks into the tiny bathroom and strips off his jeans and boxers. And I know he knows I’m still here, so that last part was solely for my benefit. A thought that’s confirmed when he turns his head and winks before leaning over to turn on the faucet.

  I slink out of the cabin and close the door, leaning my forehead against the hard wood as I breathe, trying to resist the urge to join him under the hot spray and give our bodies what they’ve been missing all this time.

  “Lemon Winchester?”

  I turn and find Cash exiting the cabin a few doors up. His smile is wide and a gorgeous woman wrapped in a sheet stands in the doorway, placing the hat on his head. “Well, didn’t expect to see you here slinking out of Colt’s room before sunup.”

  “It’s not at all what it looks like.” I walk closer so I won’t draw any more attention.

  Cash’s gaze rolls over me and the smile deepens. “And wearing yesterday’s clothes too?”

  “Leave the girl alone, cowboy,” the woman says. “Hi, I’m Carla.”

  “I’m Lemon. Nice to meet you, Carla. Where are you from?”

  “California.”

  “Oh, nice. I spent a weekend there once with my fiancé,” I say. Carla raises her brows and Cash too looks a little taken aback. Seems not all news has traveled to every corner of the ranch. “Ah, my ex-fiancé.”

  “Girl, good on you for getting back on that horse. I always say the best way to get over a man is to get under another.”

  “Is that what you say? Well, giddy up, darlin’.”

  I shake my head. “Oh, it’s not like that. Colt and I didn’t sleep together.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Cash murmurs. “You wearing yesterday’s clothes says otherwise.”

  I roll my eyes and choose to ignore that statement. “Well, I hope Cash has been showing you some of the South’s finest hospitality.”

  “Oh, he’s shown me everything the South has to offer.”

  “I really do not doubt that, but if you need anything at all, you just holler, okay?”

  “Thank you so much. Though you might come to regret that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to stay in a place more.”

  “Well, we could always use more women on the ranch. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a way to keep you after all.”

  “Uh-oh. That’s my cue to hightail it on out of here.” He winks at Carla and jumps off the stairs. “You want a lift back to the ranch house, Lemon?”

  I glance at Colt’s cabin, praying he doesn’t come out right now and make this all one hundred times worse. “Sure. That would be great.”

  “Alright then. I’ll see you later, L.A. Woman.”

  “Bye. Good to meet you, Lemon.”

  “You too, Carla. Hopefully we’ll see one another around.”

  “Hopefully,” Carla says with a sly grin, and I have to wonder whether everyone on this damn ranch isn’t in on some big joke that I’m not privy to.

  I climb into Cash’s truck. “Don’t say a word, and wipe that damn cocky grin off your face.”

  He frowns and points to his toothpaste-commercial-worthy teeth. “This grin?”

  I stare out the window just waiting for him to bring it up. Three, two … one. “So, you and Colt?”

  “No. There is no me and Colt anything. Nothing happened. I got drunk and he took me back to his cabin.”

  “Well sure, but what were you doing out drinking anyway?”

  “Daddy’s funeral was yesterday, or did your night with the Jessica Rabbit lookalike knock all the brain cells from your head?”

  He makes a pffting sound, as if that’s not even remotely possible, but Cash wouldn’t be the first man to be struck dumb when it comes to a woman’s lady parts. “I didn’t forget. Just find it interesting that you found yourself back in the arms of your ex.”

  “Okay, for a start, no one was in anyone else’s arms.”

  “If you think anyone on God’s green earth is gonna believe that the two of you could be alone in a cabin for an entire night and not screw one another, you’re not as smart as I thought you were, Lemon Winchester.”

  “Believe what you want, but Colt and I know the truth.”

  “Which is that you boned all night long.”

  Rolling my eyes, I open my door before he’s even pulled the truck to a complete stop. I climb out, stomp up the path, and take the front porch stairs two at a time.

  I yank the screen door back on its hinges and come face-to-face with Mama.

  “Mama! Jesus, you scared me.”

  “You watch your language in my house, Lemonade.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I mutter, trying to inch past.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?”

  “Upstairs to shower?” My response comes out like a question because it’s always better to play it safe where pissing off Mama is concerned.

  Her scrutinous gaze rolls over me from my boots all the way up to my messy bed hair, and I smooth my hand over what I’m sure is an unruly nest fit for chickens to roost.

  “You’re still wearing your funeral clothes.”

  Cash walks through the front door and greets my mama, but it’s the deep gravelly voice that follows his which has my skin breaking out in gooseflesh. “Mornin’, ma’am. Lemon.”

  I turn and glare at him just in time to see him tip his hat. He moves on past us and Mama’s bright blue gaze narrows on me. “You had better start talkin’, girl. I mean, I know you’re going through a lot with your breakup with Stavros, but … Cash?”

  “Cash?” I screw up my nose in distaste. Not that Cash isn’t gorgeous to look at, but that whole cocky cowboy thing was never something I could fall for. “Mama, I didn’t spend the night with Cash.”

  “Oh, thank heavens.” She sighs in relief. “Wait, that means you spent the night with Colt?”

  “It wasn’t even like that.”

  A slow smile spreads across her face and her eyes twinkle like string lights at Christmas. “Well, this is a new development.”

  “What’s a new development?” West asks, coming in from outside.

  “Nothing.” I make a beeline for the stairs, but Mam
a grabs my elbow and spins me around to face the kitchen.

  “Breakfast in this house is six a.m. sharp. If you’re not at my table, you don’t eat.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll shower and head to the Buttermilk for a bite to eat. They’re still doin’ pie happy hour twice a day, right?”

  “You will do no such thing. I will not have any child of mine eating breakfast at the diner and the whole town talkin’ about how I don’t fill their bellies before I send them off into the world.”

  I let out a deep breath and stomp toward the kitchen before sitting down heavily in the seat next to Colt.

  “Mornin’, Lemon.” Wyatt grins at me.

  Which of course forces Wade to look up from the biscuits he’s scoffing down his throat and frown at my clothing. “Looking a little dressed up for breakfast aren’t we, Lemonade?”

  “I think I’ve seen this ensemble before,” Wyatt says as he leans his elbow on the table and dissects my wrinkled dress and disheveled hair, “but I just can’t for the life of me figure out where.”

  I roll my eyes and place a biscuit on my plate. I don’t do much more than just pick at it while everyone continues to pick at me.

  “I could really go for some whiskey in this here coffee,” West says with the hint of a smile. “Know where I can find any, Lemonade?”

  I stand and throw my napkin on the plate. “Y’all about done? Yes, if you must know, I drank too much and spent the night at Colt’s. And no, nothing happened. He’s a gentleman, unlike most of you.”

  “I thought I was the enemy?” Colt murmurs under his breath, and I glance at him wondering what the hell he means by that.

  “Come on, Lemonade. We’re just giving you shit. We don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Wyatt says.

  “Language, Wyatt.”

  “Sorry, Mama.”

  “Not that my sex life is any of y’all’s business, but Colt and I aren’t slipping back into our old ways. And the next time I do decide to sleep with someone, I’ll be sure to call June Baker—the town crier—so all of y’all get the message.”

  I stomp toward the door as Wade says, “What’s she talkin’ about? June Baker’s been dead for ten years.”

  Titters erupt behind me and I stalk up the stairs and slam my door, then lean against it for a beat to calm my damn temper. Whether I’m here for a little or a long while, that family down there is gonna be the death of me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lemon

  Thunder cracks outside and I sit bolt upright in bed. It’s been a long time since the noise of the city hasn’t drowned out a storm and as the shutters bang against the windows, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. 3:03 a.m. I know there’s no getting back to sleep just yet, so I throw on my robe and head downstairs to make a warm cocoa. It’s bucketing down outside, and as I stand in the kitchen staring out on the ranch bathed in moonlight and lightning, the light from the barn catches my attention.

  Colt’s been sleeping on a cot in the barn so he doesn’t miss Belle’s foaling. He must be freezing out there. I grab another mug from the cabinet and pour a little more chocolate and cocoa into my saucepan, and fire up the old gas stove. When the cocoa is hot, I pour it into the mugs and race upstairs to change. Then I take another blanket from the linen cupboard and tuck it under my arm before placing the mugs on a tray with a couple of Mama’s homemade double chocolate-chip cookies. I grab an umbrella from the stand by the back door and head on out.

  Rain beats down on my umbrella and I’m glad I changed from my robe into jeans and boots as mud splashes my calves. As I approach the barn, I start to think this is a bad idea, but as Mama always said, it costs you nothing to be nice. So I forge on, knowing I may be shooting myself in the foot.

  A horse whinnies as I pass and Belle releases a grunt, the closest a laboring horse ever gets to screaming. Colt glances at me and then turns his attention back to the mare, cooing, “It’s okay, Belle.”

  “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” he says gruffly.

  “Couldn’t sleep. The storm woke me. Made you some hot cocoa.”

  I offer the tray and Colt takes it carefully before setting it on the ground by the cot.

  “Oh, and I brought you another blanket. It’s freezing in here. How’s she doing?”

  “She’d be better if you stopped rambling,” he says, and then turns to me with an apology in his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m just running on no sleep.”

  “It’s okay. You’re right. I am rambling.”

  “Thanks for the blanket, and the cocoa.”

  “No problem.”

  “You should stay. She ain’t gonna be long.”

  I must have seen twenty foalings or more growing up, but it always was my favorite thing about being on the ranch. When I was a teen, Daddy and I used to be the ones sitting out here waiting for a foal to make it safely into the world. It’s funny how everything’s so different now.

  “Maybe I will.” I stoop and pick up both mugs of cocoa and hand one to him. Colt takes it and blows on the steaming drink as the storm batters the stables. I lean against the stable wall surrounding Belle’s pen and watch her. She’s lying on her side, rolling back and forth in the hay to shift the foal into position.

  “You remember when you and your daddy used to camp out here?”

  I give him a wistful smile. “I was just thinkin’ about that.”

  “After you left, I started staying out with him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. I’ve been here for every foal since.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and smile, despite the way my heart is aching. Any one of my brothers or the other ranch hands could have done that, but the fact that it was Colt to carry on that tradition cuts me to the core. Colt did it because that’s who he is. He did it because he knew Daddy would have spent that time alone, wondering where I was, and why I wasn’t coming home. I bow my head and discreetly wipe away my tears before I can even think about responding. “I appreciate that.”

  “It’s not like I had much else to fill my nights.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I say before I can stop myself.

  I dare a glance at Colt, his jaw is set, and he grinds his teeth. “Well you’re wrong.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “You wouldn’t have a right to blame, but here’s the difference between you and me, Lemonade, when I give my heart to someone, I don’t take it back.”

  He walks by me, through the stable and then out into the storm. I close my eyes and just breathe, wishing being near him didn’t hurt so much. I wish those old memories wouldn’t squeeze and suffocate the breath out of me.

  Belle whinnies and I open my eyes and remember why I’m here. Allantoic fluid gushes from her sex as she lies in the hay, and the foal’s front hooves slip out. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

  I don’t move so as not to spook her. We’ll always try to let a horse deliver on her own here on the ranch and step in if intervention is required, but thankfully it’s usually a quick and easy process.

  “You got this, mama.”

  She nickers in response. The foal’s head and hoof are stuck. Shit. I glance at the barn doors, and back at Belle. I don’t know if Colt’s coming back and we don’t have time to mess around. I lean over and open the stall gate. Belle rolls, swishing her tail agitatedly, and I crouch down and slowly approach, making clicking sounds with my mouth so she knows I’m here and doesn’t kick me right out of the stall.

  “It’s okay. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  I carefully ease forward and give the foal’s hoof a gentle tug. It’s enough to free up his muzzle, but after several more minutes, he doesn’t move any farther. I take hold of both front legs, tugging as gently as I can. The foal eases out a little more and I’m just about to step back when I slip on the allantoic fluid and go down in a heap. My head hits the stable wall, pain radiates up my back and the damn foal slides right out of Belle and into
my lap. I’m covered in gunk, blood, and one tiny horse who looks more alien than animal with the amnionic fetal membrane covering it. I clear it from the head and ensure the baby’s nostrils are free of fluid.

  “What the hell happened?” Colt says.

  “She was struggling. The foal was stuck.”

  “You saved her.”

  I shrug my shoulders and slump against the stable wall, glancing at the foal in my lap. Fluid drips from my hands and I grimace and wonder how long it might be before this damn horse gets off me and I can go shower.

  Colt’s lips quirk up in the corner. “Just like ridin’ a bike, huh?”

  “Something like that.” I laugh and sit up, gently easing the baby off my legs, inch by inch and closer to its mother. I’m gonna have bruises for days after one-hundred pounds of hooves, hair, and muscle just fell into my lap.

  “Colt or filly?”

  I lean over and lift the foal’s tail, checking for sex organs. “Filly.”

  “Well, what are you gonna name her?”

  Bittersweet pride swells in my heart. Naming the foals on this ranch was always my daddy’s job. I helped, of course, by picking out names of racehorses who’d lost their lives on the track for the sake of people’s greed. I clear my throat and ignore the sting of saltwater in my eyes as I say proudly, “Stellar. Stellar Collision.”

  Colt nods. “I like it.”

  Belle shifts beside me, likely attempting to get to her feet and check out her foal. “You wanna give me a hand here?”

  He holds out a hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet, but I slip on the mess of fluid and straw under my boots and almost go flying. Colt draws me close to him, our bodies touching, the fabric of my jeans and sweater soaking his clothing, but that’s not all I notice. His warmth emanates through our filthy clothes and I look into those gray eyes of his. Even now, they have the power to drag me under. Even covered in gunk with the scent of birth in the air, all I can smell is that same combination of soap, wilderness, and sage which is all inextricably Colt. My fingers itch to paint him, to trace the peaks and valleys of each hard-won muscle and leave their mark on something other than a fresh canvas. But I gave up that right a long time ago.