Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
You like that, don’t you, Trouble? You love feeling my cock filling you so full, making you scream my name.
I shiver at the memory and set off on the path that meanders into the woods.
I know the Triple Creek Ranch like the back of my hand. I’ve spent most of my life in these woods, but I always bring bear spray with me, just to be safe. I don’t need to surprise a mama bear and end up on the evening news.
My phone pings with a text, and I grin when I see that it’s one of my favorite producers, Katie.
Katie: Hey friend! I am looking at your calendar, and I need to squeeze in a cowboy romance next month. Any wiggle room for me?
I smirk and bring up my calendar as I continue to wander down the path.
Me: I have these four days, the thirteenth through the sixteenth, and the rest is full. How long is the book? Is this enough time?
The dots bounce on the screen as she replies.
Katie: That’s actually perfect! I’ll take it. It’s on the shorter side, and shouldn’t be an issue.
Me: Then it’s yours.
While it’s true that I am usually booked out about a year in advance, there are always cancellations, or authors who run late to deliver, so the schedule has to have a little wiggle room for moments like this.
With that taken care of, I tuck my phone in my back pocket and look around. The trees are thick in this part of the woods, with a lot of brush, making it virtually impossible to veer off the path. And just through these trees is my favorite clearing.
It’s full of wildflowers, so much yellow and red, with a smattering of bluebells, and it’s impossible not to hear the buzzing of bees as they float from flower to flower.
It’s a great spot, and it’s exactly one mile from the house, so I usually come out here, then head back to the house after resting for a few minutes.
But this time, as I turn back, I notice black clouds forming in the distance, and my stomach clenches.
Summer storms in Montana are legendary. They come out of nowhere, and they’re brutal. So much lightning and loud thunder, and they never fail to terrify me. One summer, the lightning hit a tree not far from the house and started a fire that we all worked days to put out before it spread to the house and the rest of the property.
I hate the storms. A Montana thunderstorm is one of the few things out here that truly scares me. I’d rather come across that mama bear I mentioned earlier than deal with being outside in a storm.
In the summer, it’s rare not to have an afternoon thunderstorm, complete with rain. Usually they don’t last long. But some days, cell after cell will blow through, and it’s an all-day-and-night event.
Those are the days I hate the most.
Picking up my pace, I jog through the woods, making noise so I don’t startle any wildlife, but I’m not fast enough to get to the house before the sky opens up and starts to dump huge droplets of rain. Lightning flashes overhead, making me scream, and then three seconds later, thunder cracks around me.
Shit.
“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,” I continue to chant as I run to the house, and when I bound up the steps, the door flings open, and Ryker is waiting on the other side.
“I didn’t know you were going out in this,” he says as he wraps his arms around me, not caring at all that I’m sopping wet, and tugs me against him. “You’re wet, baby.”
“It was blue skies and clear when I went out there.” Thunder cracks, and I shiver, but it’s not from being cold. “I fucking hate storms, Ry.”
“I know.” He was there that summer too. He kisses my head and leads me upstairs. “Let’s get you dry, and we’ll make dinner. This one should blow over pretty fast, but I told Aiden to stay at the bunkhouse for dinner. I don’t want him walking in a lightning storm.”
“Thank you. I don’t either.” I quickly strip out of my wet clothes, and Ryker has a fluffy towel waiting for me to wrap up in and dry off with, and then he passes me one of his team T-shirts, which I pull over my head.
He is obsessed with seeing me in his team gear. It’s kind of cute.
The house rattles with a clap of thunder, and I close my eyes, swallowing hard. I am not prone to panic attacks, but storms give my heart a workout.
“It’s okay.” Ry steps up behind me, loops his arms around my chest, and pulls my back to his front. “I’ve got you.”
“Let’s just get to work on dinner and talk about something else,” I suggest. “It’ll keep my mind off it.”