The Wrangler (The Yacht Club #2)

Chapter 1

One

SJ

I park my rented red sports car in front of the brightly painted Sunflower Inn and blow out a steadying breath. But I’m here for a reason. I can do this. I push the car door open wide, pivot on the seat, and attempt a graceful exit in case anyone is watching. Not that anyone has a reason to stare out the window awaiting my arrival. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know I have my future on the line. I walk back to the trunk on stiff legs, breathing in the warm summer air that carries an earthy pine scent. The long, mountainous drive from Denver International challenged me more than I expected. I pop open the back with a press of a button and gloat one last time about how I managed to fit both suitcases in the tiny space.

Leaving my extra-large bag for the moment, I retrieve my carry-on and wheel the case to the doorway of the repurposed Victorian. The website didn’t capture how cute and welcoming the place would be.

A bell chimes when I open the unlocked cobalt blue front door. After I shift my bag across the threshold, I have to catch my breath. The room is stunning. Floor to ceiling windows on the far wall overlook an inviting patio before a grassy lawn leads to a towering embrace of evergreens. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Welcome to the Sunflower. You must be SJ.” A friendly woman with a welcoming smile steps off the last stair to my left. “I’m Amy. I’m so happy you found us.”

I smile back. “Your directions were perfect.”

“I’m glad.” She moves behind a tall, wooden cabinet with a crocheted doily on top, an open guest book, and a small vase of flowers. “I have a room ready for you. It overlooks the back garden so you should have plenty of quiet for your writing. It’s so exciting to have a writer staying here.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m an avid reader, so you’ll have to share your pen name with me before you leave.”

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. “Of course.”

“Your editor called earlier, the payment is taken care of. He prepaid four weeks but said you might need to stay over. It’s not a problem at all. I blocked out the room for two months.” Amy fusses in the drawers of the cabinet.

The front door opens. I glance over my shoulder to catch a heartbreak of a man walking in. Sunlight from the huge windows illuminates the golden streaks in his tousled hair. His tight white tee, baring evidence of his day’s work, stretches over a plane of abs that look like an impossible drawing. His faded jeans are filled with the promise of breathtaking nights. I gasp in a breath and avert my eyes. He looks like a mortal sin I want to commit over and over again.

“Hey, Alex.” Amy calls out. His footsteps on the wood floor pause.

“Amy. Ma’am.”

I can’t resist a second glimpse, confirming I’m truly in hell.

He nods in my direction. “How’re y’all doing?”

His slow Texas twang twists its way between my legs. I’m dying. I’m supposed to focus on writing my debut novel. My uncle sent me to get away from all the distractions. He’s given me a gift I can’t repay and already I’m distracted by this dream man. Who looks vaguely familiar.

“This is Sonja Redding. She’s staying with us for a few weeks.”

He grunts his acknowledgement, and I flinch at the name my uncle selected. He said I had to use a cover. Seems ridiculous now. I turn to face the person who could derail my entire reason for being in Colorado. “Hi, Alex.”

His gaze travels up and down my body, but he’s got a deer in the headlights vibe. All shock and avoidance. Never had that reaction.

“Since you’re going up, could you show her to the Columbine room?” Amy hands me a key with a blue flower tag.

“Yes, ma’am.” He points at me. “That your bag?”

Yes, that is my vag. I blink. Bag. He said bag. “I can get it.”

“No, ma’am.” He snatches the case and takes it hostage in a tight grip, heading for the stairs. My bag in one hand and a tool belt in the other.

I’m halfway up the stairs, mesmerized by the muscles in his legs and ass. I have to say something. “You work construction?”

“Yes, ma’am. And you?” He asks without looking back. He tops the stairs and heads down the wide welcoming hallway dotted with closed doors on either side.

I give him the story I’m supposed to, although why my uncle doesn’t want to take credit for such a generous gift is a mystery. “I’m a writer. My agent booked this place for me so I can finish a novel. I should have had it done months ago. He says it’s to remove distractions.”

He glances back. I dart my gaze away from his ass. So busted. He stops in front of the door marked Columbine and steps aside. I use the key Amy gave me to open it wide in invitation. I haven’t been here a minute and already I’m avoiding my purpose to pursue a man. What is wrong with me?

The room is lovely and inviting. A pale lavender more blue than pink. A huge bed done in white linens with big fluffy pillows and an accent throw that matches the walls. It’s the kind of bed to spend all day in, naked with someone sexy.

“Anything else?”

His voice jolts me from my mini-fantasy and my cheeks heat. “I, uh, have a bigger bag in the car…” and so many more things I’d like to do to him despite the fact I’m supposed to be focusing on my future.

“Sure.” He holds out his hand. “Keys?”

I search my pocket, retrieving the rental key for him. His eyes are locked on my actions. On me. Like he’d like to get tangled in the sheets of my fantasy with me. I drop the keys in his open palm, making sure not to touch. I’ve barely spoken to him and already I’m mentally climbing him like tree.

“Be back.” He spins and darts out the door.

I follow him, pausing in my open doorway. He’s headed away from the stairs to the last door on the opposite side of the hall. He opens the door with a key similar to the one Amy gave me. After a brief disappearance, he’s back in the hallway without his tools. He freezes when he sees me staring. A brief moment and then he rushes past me to the stairs. I’m like a hungry cat staring at a bird feeder when it comes to his ass.

I come to my senses. Standing in an open doorway, staring at an empty hallway is not something I want to explain. Back inside my room, I close the door and wait. Crap. This is harder than I thought it would be. My carry-on has my toiletries. Rather than risk dirtying the pristine white bedding, I bend down and unzip my bag on the floor. The bathroom is beautiful. A claw foot tub calls to me. The paint above the white tile running halfway up the wall is a shade or two darker than the bedroom. A stack of white fluffy towels on a painted wicker chair adds to the air of country luxury. My kind of fancy.

I could get naked right now. Run a bath and leave my door ajar. Too obvious. Too desperate. Too wrong.

I return to the bedroom at the exact moment Alex knocks. Without missing a beat, I open the door and smile and an image of us in the tub fills my gaze with steamy heat despite my repeated warnings to myself.

“Here you go.” He has my huge suitcase next to him and he’s not even breathing hard from bringing it up the stairs.

I step back, inviting him in.

He pushes the bag over the threshold. “Have a nice stay.”

Before I can say anything else, he spins on a boot heel and races back to his room. At least one of us still has blood making it to their brain. The snick of his lock echoes down the hall. Damn. I’ve been here five minutes and already I’m scaring people with my insatiable sex drive. Sex is not on the agenda. Writing my book. Changing my life.

But first, a long soak.

My phone rings before I can take a step.

I pick it up from the bedside table. Uncle MD.

“Hi, Uncle.”

“Sarah Jane, are you at the inn?”

“Yes. It’s beautiful and my trip was great. That four hour drive through the mountains though. That was rough.” Why did he pick a place so far away? Only now do I wonder, and it’s too rude to ask, like looking a gift horse in the mouth. But then, the receiver gets the dental bills. Yeah, I need a bath and to relax. My brain is getting squirrely.

“I’m glad you got in okay. I saw the charge on my card and assumed you must be there.”

He reminds me that I wouldn’t have this opportunity without him and even though I’m wrung out from the trip I should express my gratitude. “Thank you, Uncle MD. This is beyond kind of you. I can’t believe I get to write my book. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“While you’re there let me know if you meet a fellow named Alex Craig.”

What? “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but your cousin was dating him in high school and after he was charged with a crime, he disappeared. Been looking for him for years and finally got a possible hit.”

My gut twist the tiniest bit. Why is he bringing this up now? And yes, I met an Alex but I don’t know if he’s Alex Craig. Even with the accent. And Alex seems like a nice man. A thread of doubt about what I’m doing here in Colorado winds around my throat. I cough to chase away my nerves. “You think he’s working here ?” Where you sent me by myself?

“He shouldn’t be working anywhere. He should be in jail for ruining your cousin. Ruined her life. Ruined our family. He had her tied up for God’s sake.”

Like bondage?

“But you can help me out, right Sarah Jane?”

“I don’t know how I would?—”

“It’s no big deal. Find out his name and I’ll take it from there. I think you might owe me one small favor. Don’t you?” His voice is kind, but the reminder of what he’s done for me from is enough to have me fighting my instincts and agreeing.

“Yes, sir.” I should have known my uncle’s offer was too good to be true, instead it has strings attached. But once again I fell for a great story. I drop onto the bed unable to hold myself upright any longer. It must be the long day of travel. Not the dread of getting involved with making a man pay for his crime. I came here to follow my dream and write my book, but I can give my uncle a hand.“I’m on it. I can do this.”

My uncle softens his tone and gives me some encouragement about writing my book before he hangs up but the tendril of sick dread remains.

A light knock at the door forces me to rise from the cocoon of the bed. Amy stands in the hallway.

“I forgot to tell you. The guys decided to grill tonight and there’ll be plenty if you’d like to join us.” The woman’s warm smile is so inviting but wasted on me.

“That’s so kind of you, but I think I’m going to test out that beautiful tub and get some rest. Traveling took it out of me.” And I don’t have an ounce of energy left to play pretend and smile for strangers.

“Of course, I completely understand. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”

I close the door and turn around to lean on it before I slowly slide to the floor. Now it makes sense that my uncle insisted I use a fake name. One phone call and my dream month to write my novel has transformed from a dream into a sticky web of lies.