Epilogue
Nicole Landford kicked the tire of her ‘63 Corvette with the toe of her four inch heel. She only managed to scuff the bluish-green shoe that matched her mini-dress and the unusual shade of her eyes.
“Damn it,” she muttered to the car, “you have some nerve up and dying on me out here in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
The ‘vette just ignored her tirade and steam continued to hiss from beneath the hood along with an acrid burnt rubber smell.
With a frustrated sigh, Nicole placed her hands on her full hips and looked around her at the endless miles of ranch land. If she was on a highway, she could stick out one bare leg, hitch up the mini-skirt of her backless fuck-me dress, and flag down some gorgeous man.
But instead, she was on a dirt road and she’d taken one hell of a wrong turn. Instead of ending up at least on the road to the Flying M, the MacLeod Ranch, she was stuck out here with nothing around her but grass, barbed wire fences, and cattle. It was a hot but overcast late August afternoon and sweat was already beading on her forehead and dripping down the side of her face.
Off in the distance she could see Kev Grand’s Ranch, but she was in no mood to mess with that cowboy. Especially not when she was a woman on a mission.
Three days ago she and her cousins Lily and Sabrina had made a pact. The first man who “tripped her trigger” was the man she had to go all out for, no matter what or who. Wild and crazy sex, and as much of it as possible. For one month and one month only.
They had made a bet and damned if Nicole was going to be the one to lose out on it.
Only problem was, she had yet to find a single man who even interested her enough to make her nipples rise, much less make her panties wet.
She’d been on her way to the MacLeod Ranch where her friend Trace Lawless was visiting from Texas. Trace was happily married now, but she was going to buddy up with Nicole, along with the Sheriff’s wife, Catie Savage. The three planned to head over to Sierra Vista to one of the local hot spots so that Nicole could find a man who turned her on enough to romp in the hay with. There were plenty of hot Border Patrol and Customs Agents in the area, as well as sexy military men from Ft. Huachuca, not to mention some damn fine ranchers. All Nicole had to do was find one who made her hot and go for it.
But first she had to get there.
“Okay you piece of—of…” Nicole went around to the front of the car, popped the hood, and snatched back her hand. The damn thing was boiling hot.
She sighed again, but this time in deference to her pride and joy. “I’m sorry, baby. I love you and I shouldn’t get so mad.” Hell, she and her cherry red ‘vette had been through a lot together, so what was a little breakdown now and again?
The low of a cow from the other side of the fence drew Nicole’s attention and wrath instead. “Beat it you slobber-mouthed beast.”
The white-faced Hereford just chewed her cud as she studied Nicole, and then turned away. The muggy Arizona summer afternoon intensified the smell of the cow and the dust her hooves kicked up. More cattle plodded by in a slow and easy pace, eating snatches of grass that was green from monsoon rains.
It would be her luck for a storm to up and come out of nowhere and rain on her parade. Not that it would matter now. Her blonde hair was wilting, her makeup running, and her dress rumpling in the humidity.
So much for “a dry heat.”
After a few moments the steam had lessened and Nicole propped the hood up. She folded her arms beneath her generous cleavage and glared at the radiator, which probably needed to be replaced. It wasn’t easy finding parts anymore for a car over 40 years old.
She stomped toward the back of the car, the best she could do in those four inch heels that she normally loved—
And felt something squish under her foot.
With a groan she looked down and saw that she’d managed to step into a nice, big, smelly, pile of cow shit.
Great. Just fucking great.
She almost ripped her heels off and threw them over the fence at the cattle and said to hell with it. But instead she wiped off the stuff the best she could in a clump of grass. So much for those shoes.
When her shoe was mostly de-crapified, she rounded the ‘vette, dug her key out of her pocket, opened the trunk, and grabbed a new jug of radiator fluid. At the same time she started to shut the lid, her keys slipped out of her hand and into the trunk.
“No!” she shouted, dropping the jug and leaping to stop the trunk lid.
Too late.
She groaned and braced her hands against the trunk. “
Shit
. Shitshitshitshitshit!”
Before she realized what was happening, large male hands were to either side of hers, and a very big male body was virtually surrounding her.
Nicole’s heart started to pound like a cattle stampede.
“Now, hon,” came Kev Grand’s low drawl, “you really ought to watch your language.”
She gritted her teeth, thankful it wasn’t some rapist, but pissed that it was Kev and that he had scared her like he had. “I’m in no mood for your bullshit, Kev Grand.”
Just as she was about to shove him off her back, he leaned in close and she could feel the heat of him against her bare back, his jeans through the thin material covering her ass. She could smell his masculine scent of sweat, horse, and summer wind.
“Now what
are
you interested in, Nicole Landford?” he asked in a low rumble.
Nicole’s nipples tightened. A thrill zipped straight from her belly to her pussy and her thong was instantly damp.
Kev Grand had tripped her trigger.
“Not you.” She slumped forward and buried her face in her arms and her words came out muffled. “I don’t care. Not you. Not in a million years.
Oh, shit.
”
Coming in 2004 In the Hearts are Wild anthology
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 P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also by Cheyenne McCray:
Seraphine Chronicles 1: Forbidden
Seraphine Chronicles 2: Bewitched
Seraphine Chronicles 3: Spellbound
Seraphine Chronicles 4: Untamed
Wild 2: Wildcat
Wild 3: Wildcard
Wonderland 1: King of Hearts
Wonderland 2: King of Spades
Wonderland 3: King of Diamonds
Things That Go Bump In the Night 3 – with Mlyn Hurn & Stephanie Burke
Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com