Prologue
Hope
I only have forty-five minutes at the most, so I have to move fast, and Bellamy is in amood. I’ve thought about this day so many times, worked through the choreography of fleeing obsessively in my head.
But there are too many cameras around the property to practice any of it for real.
So I have to hope that my math is perfect. That when Derek notices that I’m putting Bellamy in the car, he’s far enough away that he can’t get back to us.
And hope that he doesn’t notice anything odd before that.
If I’m lucky, I’ll get a bit of a buffer in the critical minutes when I put her in a few extra layers of clothing, then yank on a pair of shorts and my favourite linen skirt over my own leggings. I can’t risk packing a bag, but maybe he won’t notice if we’re a little padded as we head out the door.
If he does manage to intervene before I get to the ferry, I’ll pretend that I was going to the store, and I’ll have to pray that he’s merciful when he drags us back here.
But I don’t have faith in that working out.
The aching bruise on my side is the only reminder I need that it has to be right now.
And if I get us off this island, I’m never looking back.
“We’re going to the store, Bella,” I manage to say evenly. “Do you want to bring one of your stuffies?”
Chapter 1
Zane
I didn’t expect wet dreams to make an abrupt return to my life at the ripe old age of thirty-two, but here I am, doing illicit laundry right before heading into town on a kale delivery run.
This is not how I saw my cowboy era going down.
For one thing, I thought there would be more going down, and I can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of kissing my way up under a sundress.
The mud room door swings open, and I jerk away from the washing machine as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t have.
“Oh, there you are.” My mother smiles at me brightly. “Ridge is in the truck. All the produce boxes are loaded. He’s growly today, so good luck with that.”
Excellent. The snarl of my oldest brother is exactly what I need to distract myself from thoughts of the weird, horny dreams I’m suddenly having.
Waking up aroused and irritated that I’m all alone in my bed is for the birds—even though that’s a choice I continually make for myself for stupid reasons.
It’s not because I don’twantto have sex. I’m as hotblooded as they come. Nothing feels better than making someone feel good and then chasing that release for myself.
But Dragonfly Creek is going to be my home for the rest of my life. Nothing could ever make me want to leave it again. Did that once, got the t-shirt and trauma, and when I finally convinced my brothers to all move back home and go in on this ranch together… that was it.
And for five years, that made me happy enough.
Even if my cowboy era turned out to be more kale-oriented than I expected, I still get a good amount of time on the range, on horseback, herding cattle. Feeling the wind on my face and the sun on my back.
We have the freedom we always wanted. We’re building an empire nobody will be able to take from us.
I should be on top of the world.
Instead, I’m waking up every day with a hard dick, an empty bed, and a sinking feeling that I’m missing something important. Someone, with soft tits and a wet mouth and?—
Fuck me.
I just need to head somewhere, anywhere else for a weekend. Hit up a rodeo and bang a buckle bunny or something. Get this fever out of my system so I can re-focus on the summer ahead of us. It’s going to be a busy one.
