Authors: Daire St. Denis
Tags: #General Fiction
HOW TO BREAK A COWBOY
Daire St. Denis
2012 Daire St. Denis
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This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Steena Holmes - www.theauthorsredroom.com
Vivi Anna and Steena Holmes, for showing me the way.
name’s Tessa Savage and although I believe in monogamy—for the grey wolf—it
sure as hell doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried. Let’s just say it was a failed
experiment, a story for another time.
Now I live my life according to my natural instincts,
embracing the lifestyle of ninety-seven percent of all other mammals—you know,
the ninety-seven percent who are poly-amorous.
I’ve never been happier. Particularly today. Know why? One
In my opinion, the only thing better than a cowboy, is
cowboys. And that’s
the kind of fun I’m going to have this
weekend. I’m so excited, I’ve got a serious case of lead foot syndrome—I’m not
sure how fast I’m going because my rental Jeep Cherokee is in kilometers per
hour instead of miles— and the odometer says one hundred and forty. It seems
awfully fast, sort of like my heartbeat.
But speed is not first and foremost on my mind as I make my
way from the outskirts of Calgary to a place called Longview, Alberta, home of
the Lazy L Guest Ranch. Home of Wade Messing and Connor O’Reilly.
Just thinking the men’s names…mm-mm! There’s a heatwave
going on in my pants, I tell you.
Whenever I visit, we spend the weekend going for long trail
rides, followed by dinner and long sessions of me riding them and them riding
me…and me watching them take turns riding each other.
Wade and Connor…I love these guys. They’ve been together for
six years and they’re the hottest damn couple I’ve ever met. Unless you don’t
think two pairs of tight-fitting Wranglers, open-necked shirts, broad
shoulders, narrow hips and cowboy hats are hot. That’s fine. It’s not
It’s sure as hell mine, though, and as I pull off the
highway and onto the long, winding drive to the ranch, my heart is pounding, my
palms are sweating and my girlie parts are throbbing against the seam of my
I pop the Jeep into park and scramble out of the vehicle
squealing as Wade comes ambling across the yard. I tear across the gravel lot
and throw myself into Wade’s open arms. He picks me up and holds me close while
I nuzzle my face into that wonderful space between his chin and shoulder.
God, I love the way he smells: a splash of cologne, hay,
leather and Connor all mixed up together. I breathe deeply and hug him hard.
Wade sets me down in front of him, nudges his hat to the
back of his head and smiles a slow, lazy smile. “Tessa Savage. Look at you.”
And he does look at me. He takes a good, long look.
“You look great.” He reaches out to twist a strand of my
blond hair around his finger. “And your hair. It’s long again.” His smile
reaches up higher on one side of his face. “You know I like it long.”
Boy, do I ever know he likes it long. A vivid image of Wade
gripping my hair in his fist while he takes me from behind flashes across my
vision, heating my already flushed skin.
I shift from one foot to the other, trying to contain my
excited nervousness and glance around the yard. “Where’s Connor?”
A shadow passes over Wade’s expression. One second it’s
there, the next it’s gone. It’s so brief, I might have imagined it. He grabs my
bag out of the jeep and says, “He’s in town, picking up supplies.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says.
“Really? Because you’re not acting like everything’s okay.”
“Tess. We’re fine.”
“And the ranch?”
Wade shrugs. It’s all the answer I need.
“You know what I do for a living, right? You know I’m a
business analyst. I travel the world helping these huge corporations improve
their bottom line…you know that, right?”
Wade slings my bag over his shoulder like it’s a duffle. I
guess it’s not manly to pull the thing along by its wheels. He gently taps the
side of my head. “You don’t need to remind me this pretty little head packs a
whole slew of brains.” He grins and I give him a poke in the ribs.
“Okay, so let me take a look at your books and your business
“Business plan!” Wade laughs at that and starts making his
way toward the Big House.
“Don’t laugh,” I say, jogging to catch up to his long,
loping strides. “Everyone should have a business plan.”
Wade glances down at me as he walks. “The ranch has been in
my family for a hundred years. It’s the same old thing. Cattle prices are down,
the cost of feed is up. We had a hard winter, lost some calves this spring, had
to let a few ranch hands go. Now reservations are down for the summer because
the whole goddamn world is in a recession.” He opens the door for me—a true
“Do you have any guests booked for the weekend?”
“Nah, just you. But then you’re not a guest.”
I smile and blush like I’m some teenager on my first date.
Wade just has this way of making me feel special and shy and
at the same time.
Clearing my throat I say, “Still, there are things I can do
to help. You know, ways to cut costs. Sometimes it just takes a fresh pair of
“Tess, darlin’,” he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s the
weekend.” He brushes my mouth with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t invite you
here to work.”
Damn! He’s barely touched me and I’m already vibrating like
a beehive in spring.
“The ranch will survive. It always does.”
“You’ll let me know if you want my help?”
“I’ll let you know.” He turns away. The conversation is
A buffalo head, high on the wall behind reception, greets me
as I follow him through the foyer entrance. It’s not really my thing—a dead
head on the wall—but in this setting, with the log house, the mountains, the
horses and the fresh air…it’s perfect.
I love the Big House. It’s like something out of a movie set
and yet it still feels more like home than most other places I stay throughout
the year. Made of logs, it’s a sprawling ranch-style house, the front of it
consisting of the reception area and Wade’s office on one side, the lounge and
dining room on the other. In the back are his personal rooms.
“You’re staying with me, right?”
He flashes me his lopsided grin and carries my stuff through
to the back of the house.
The Lazy L is both a working ranch and a guest ranch. I
don’t know how many head of cattle the ranch has, but I know it’s one of the
major suppliers of stock for the Calgary Stampede. Broncs, bulls, steers, all
that shit. The first time I stayed here, four years ago, the staff had put on a
mini-rodeo. I’d never seen one in my life.
All I can say is, holy hell, cowboys are tough. Jumping off
moving horses to wrestle a steer to the ground, riding big mean bulls, looking
as if their back might snap from the intensity of the bucking. I don’t know
what’s scarier, staying on the animal or falling off only to have the beast
charge, intent on trampling or goring you to death.
And this is what these cowboys do for fun.
That first weekend I was put up in one of the guest cabins.
Or at least, that’s where I’d been booked to stay. Except after meeting Wade
and Connor at the rodeo, well, let’s just say the three of us hit it off
immediately. It was like we’d known each other forever. The men spent the
entire weekend with me. On the trail, hanging out, in the hayloft...
I’ve been back six times and we’ve never bothered with the
pretense of me staying in guest lodgings since then, though Wade always asks,
just to make sure. Always the gentleman, our Wade…until he’s got me naked. Then
he’s as nasty as they come.
His room is enormous, both grand and homey. There’s a river
rock fireplace on the main wall, flanked by overstuffed book-cases. Right
across from the fireplace is his massive, custom-made bed covered with a handmade
star quilt. The floor is strewn with sheepskin and cowhide rugs, and the
western wall is made up of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ranch and
the Rocky Mountains beyond.
He drops my stuff by the door and I flop onto his bed,
spread-eagled. “Ahh,” I sigh. “Now
is a bed.”
The next thing I know, he’s crawling on top of me, his body
hovering inches above mine. His hat’s off so I can see his face more clearly.
There’s a line deeply etched between his brows that I’ve never seen before. But
at least the dark ring of worry is gone from his eyes, replaced by a
delightfully sinful gleam.
“Heya, city-girl.” He dips his head for a brief and gentle
Holy Hannah! How can something so innocent, so chaste get me
so darned excited?
Dropping his weight to one elbow, he strokes the side of my
cheek with his work-roughened thumb. “God, I’ve missed you, Tess.”
I twine my arms around his neck and pull him close. “I’ve
missed you too.” I kiss him with all the excitement and anticipation I’ve
endured since arriving in Calgary a week ago—knowing I had to put in a week of
work before I’d get a chance to visit the ranch. It’d been too long. Sixteen
months was way too long to be away from these men.
Wade’s kisses are slow and leisurely, like he’s just warming
up. It always surprises me how a man as tough and stoic as Wade can have such
soft lips. He’s going to make me self-combust with these slow-dance kisses.
I’ve been wet for him—and for Connor—for over a week. I want him now. Hard and
I press my chest against his and slip a hand down between
us, cupping the delicious ridge behind his tight jeans. Help me Rhonda! I’ve
forgotten how big he is!
Wade moans low in his throat as I rub him through his jeans.
It’s the first indication that he’s as desperate for this as I am. But instead
of letting me continue, he takes my hand and pulls it up and over my head. With
his enormous paw he’s able to hold both my wrists in one hand.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides his other hand down, grazing
my breasts through my shirt, gradually moving lower, across my belly, over my
hips and down between my legs.
“Damn, Tess,” he whispers as he presses his fingertips
against me. “You’ve creamed your jeans.”
“Maybe,” I wriggle into his hand. “So, do me a favor, will you?
Strip me and take me nice and quick.” I grind myself upwards, loving the
pressure of his big hand clutching the front of me.
He chuckles. It’s a wonderful, deep sound that reverberates
in his chest. I love it…and I hate it. I hate it because I know what’s coming
“As usual, you need to be taught a lesson in patience.”
“Fuck patience.” I try to pull my hands from his grasp but
despite his slow and easy manner, he’s got me shackled pretty tight.
He kisses me again and then releases my hands and props
himself up on his elbows, studying me with a half-smile. “I think we should