Brothers Mack and Ryker Thompson know the pain of failure intimately having recently fallen from the heights of success. One a former football star, and the other a master at his artistic craft, they couldn’t be more different from each other. Mack hides behind anonymity in order to cover up his pain, while Ryker figures it doesn’t matter if the glass is half-full or half-empty as long as there’s a bartender refilling it all will be well. Broken and haunted by the mistakes of their past, neither expected to find a ray of sunshine in the clouds of their pity party.
Chapter One
Rachel slammed the closet door behind her as she emerged dressed in her sexiest, country cutie clothes. Her stonewashed blue denim miniskirt barely covered the bottom curves of her ass cheeks. It was paired with a man’s red and blue plaid dress shirt, and the shirttails were tied just under her perky B-cup breasts. She left the buttons open so her tits were clearly visible rising out of the top of her blood-red satin pushup bra.
Her tanned midsection was completely bare except for the crystal belly ring that dangled in her belly button. From the back she knew the view would be of the half dollar size daisy tattoo she had gotten when she turned eighteen, just above the top of her black belt. The hand-tooled leather was clasped between her hips bones, with a large belt buckle in the shape of a star. On her feet were a pair of black cowboy boots with silver embellishments, and her long, slim legs were bare.
She was dressed to kill with every intention of causing a few heart attacks tonight. Her chestnut brown hair hung down to the middle of her back in large wavy curls, and she ran her fingers through it carelessly as she walked.
Her makeup was applied with precision so her oversized chocolate brown eyes were nearly as prominent as her blood-red lips. She had always hated the fullness of her lips, but men seemed to love them. Mitch always called them dick sucking lips.
She hated Mitch now.
Mitch deserved Connie Sanders. The bleach blonde tramp had been trying to sink her claws into Mitchell Edwards for more than six months, and she had finally gotten her way. Well screw them both. If plastic boobs, and a spray-on tan was what Mitch got off on, then he deserved Connie.
Rachel was going to go out and find a man to fuck her heartbreak away. She wanted raw, dirty, raunchy sex. Not the soft, gentle missionary sex Mitch seemed to favor. She wanted to be shoved against a wall, or held down by her wrists as a large muscular man devoured her completely. That’s why she created this plan.
It was a Friday night, and that meant a packed house at Robin’s, the local bar that Rachel had waited tables at through college. She had met Mitch there, and he would no doubt be there tonight playing darts with his cronies, while Connie giggled and preened over a watered down margarita. So in order to prove to the world that Rachel Lia Morgan was completely and utterly over her ex-boyfriend, she was going on the prowl on his turf.
There were usually dozens of hot men at Robin’s on the weekends. All of the local ranchers and ranch hands from the outskirts of Stone River usually hit the bar on Friday night looking for some action. Never before had Rachel considered indulging in a one-night stand, but tonight was her night.
She spritzed a little bit of her favorite perfume on her throat, and then grabbed her small purse. On her way out the door she noticed her cell phone was blinking with a missed message. She climbed into her silver Ford F150 as she hit the play message button.
“Rach, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to apologize. I didn’t mean for you to find out about Connie like that…Rach? Please call me so we can talk this out. You can’t just throw two years out the window. I made a mistake, damn it—”
The voice clicked off as she hit the delete button, and dropped her phone back into her purse. Mitch could beg and plead all he wanted, but she had already made her peace with their breakup. She wasn’t interested in his excuses anymore. She turned the volume up on her truck radio, so Miranda Lambert’s tune “Mama’s Broken Heart” blared out the windows into the night, and headed toward her freedom.
The bar’s parking lot was packed with work trucks. With exception of only a handful of cars that probably belonged to the female patrons of the bar. Rachel backed her truck into a small parking stall at the back edge of the lot, right next to a black Dodge Ram Quad Cab that looked like it had rolled off the lot and onto the ranch just a few hours ago. Realizing she had parked rather close to the truck, she carefully opened her door, and slipped out into the small space.
A large masculine hand covered hers, where it rested on the top edge of her truck door, and she gasped.
“Sunshine, if you nick my new truck with your door, I’m going to have to spank that cute little ass raw.” The voice in her ear sent a shiver over her skin, and she flushed at his words.
She turned her head to see who was behind her that would have any right to speak to her like that, and she nearly groaned out loud when her brown eyes met those of Parker Brooks. Parker Brooks was one of the four Brooks brothers who owned Brooks Pastures-a local cattle ranch. The four brothers shared two things in common, their love of ranching, and their smoking hot good looks. Dark hair, dark eyes, long lean muscular cowboy bodies, all tucked up under a cowboy hat. It made Rachel’s blood sing just thinking about the four of them.
Holding her breath she dropped her gaze from his dark eyes down to his sexy mouth, and she felt her own tongue dart out to wet her lips unconsciously. His raised eyebrow told her that he noticed, and she shook her head slightly to clear her lust fogged brain.
“I’m sorry, Parker. I did park a little close there, but no worries, I was careful,” she said with a smile she hoped would distract him from the increase in her breathing, and the rise and fall of her breasts.
It clearly didn’t work, because his eyes shifted from her lips directly down the front of her shirt, and then they dragged lower. His gaze drifted from her golden colored abs, down to her booted feet, and then he reached out and tugged her hand free of the truck door. Surprised, she followed his lead when he turned her around so her back was to him again. A long, low whistle had goose bumps forming on her arms, but the finger stroking over her tattoo in the small of her back was what had her creaming her panties.
“Holy shit, sunshine. Who let you out of the house dressed like that?” he asked in a gravelly rough voice that nearly knocked Rachel’s knees out from underneath her.
The meaning of his question sunk in, and her irritation overcame her libido. “Last I looked in the mirror I was a grown woman, cowboy. I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval of my wardrobe.”
Parker let her go when she tugged her hand out of his. She slammed her truck door and started to move out from between the two vehicles. “You might be grown up, but wearing a skirt like that is asking for trouble.”
She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
His slow, sexy smile made her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard. “If you want trouble, little girl, all you need to do is ask.”
Trying to cover up her nerves at his deliberately seductive invitation, she snorted out a laugh, “If I decide I want your kind of trouble, I won’t need to ask.” Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she headed for the door of the bar.
Before she could pull it open, a large hand reached around her for the door handle, and another equally large hand settled on her hip. Whipping her head violently, ready to give Parker Brooks a piece of her mind, she froze in place when it was his brother, Hudson’s face only inches from hers.
“Hey, honey,” he said with a quick smile, and a wink, “Let me get the door for you.”
“Thanks, Hudson,” she responded, sighing with relief that that was all he said. She wanted a wild fling, but the Brooks brothers were out of her league for multiple reasons.
They were all at least ten years older than her twenty-four years, and they were all wickedly sexy men. The rumors around town were the four brothers shared their women, and right at this moment, looking into Hudson’s heated cocoa-colored gaze, she would have believed it. She had an inkling he had heard her interaction with Parker, but she wasn’t going to tempt fate by asking.
Instead she tipped her chin up and turned back to the door, only to realize that it wasn’t Hudson’s hand on her. Sawyer Brooks stood on her other side with his hand resting lightly on the curve of her hip, and the rest of his body leaning nonchalantly against the door jam.
“Rachel,” he said softly, and her pulse took off racing. Okay, the idea of having a sexy one-night stand had merit, but now that she was surrounded by large muscular men, she wasn’t so sure she could go through with the reality. “No need to rush off. How are you tonight?”
Blinking in surprise, she answered automatically in a snotty tone, “I’m fan-fuckin-tastic, Sawyer, thank you for asking.”
His eyes darkened with irritation, and his lip curled up in a grimace. “Don’t use language like that, you’re a lady, and ladies shouldn’t curse.”
Rachel couldn’t help it. She burst into a roar of laughter. Not giggles, or chuckles, but large loud belly laughs. “Are you kidding me? Sawyer Brooks, I have seen you compete in the local rodeo, and heard the nastiness that spews from those luscious lips. Do you really think you can tell me not to curse?”
Sawyer focused in on the one phrase from her whole little speech that he liked, “Luscious lips, huh?” Those sexy lips curved up into an equally sinful smile that had her pussy tightening, and her thighs clenching.
She forced herself to roll her eyes, even as a blush covered her cheeks. “Whatever. I’m going inside to get a drink, dance a little, and maybe play some pool. Excuse me, gentlemen.” She reached again for the door handle, only to have a new set of hands settle on her shoulders and tug her backwards until she stumbled. Instead of falling on her ass though, her plump butt cheeks settled against the rough denim of a man’s Levi’s, and a heavy arm banded under her ribs holding her upright.
“Apologize, Rachel, you were rude to Sawyer, and he was just trying to teach you a few manners,” Parker’s voice rumbled against her ear, and she bit her tongue hard to swallow her moan of lust.
“No. Let me go, Parker, this isn’t funny,” she ground out, and she began to struggle to get out of Parker’s strong grip.
“Stop it. You’ll end up hurting yourself. Now, Sawyer and Hudson deserve a sincere apology, and then I want an explanation as to what you’re doing at Robin’s dressed like a two bit hooker on fight night?” Ice coated his words, and she stilled in his arms. A wave of hurt and embarrassment went through her. Did she really look so bad? She had put on the clothes that made her feel the sexiest.
“I apologize if I’ve offended anyone, but I have plans inside the bar that include a bottle of tequila, and a few spins around the dance floor. You are currently delaying my plans. I have no intention of prostituting myself, because I’ve never in my life felt the need to ask a man for sex. I’m dressed in clothing I picked out, and like. I don’t personally give a damn if you approve or not, Mr. Brooks.” She focused all of her anger on her words, and when he finally released her she sighed heavily, “Thank you. Have a lovely evening, gentlemen.”
Hudson tugged the door open, and Sawyer stepped back from the doorway allowing her to saunter past him. Once she was safely in the bar, she let out a heavy, shaky breath and made her way across the room directly into the bathroom to settle her nerves. It might take more than a drink or two to wipe the Brooks brothers from her fantasies tonight.
Giveaway
Signed Set of the Surrender Series (original covers)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.
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Saucy Southern Readers 