Chapter one
Maisie
I tilt my head back and soak up the Montana sun. We’re out on the patio at Pleasure Ranch, the indulgent, luxurious resort just outside West Palomino.
“I’m the luckiest girl alive,” I murmur, closing my eyes for a moment in the golden light. Zoe, my best friend since Mrs. Carter’s third-grade class, is turning my wedding into a garden fantasy. “This whole weekend … you doing my flowers, your support, everything you’ve given to me is beyond generous. Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this.”
She blinks, and gives me a sweet smirk. “It was my pleasure.” Twirling the stem of her mimosa, Zoe peers off into the distance as a herd of cows make their way down the hill to a trough.
Apparently, she isn’t going to bring up the insane activity she booked for me tonight. I wait a beat, to give her time, but she’s off in daydream land, so I get my nerve up and lean across the small table, dropping my voice while the server glides past us to help another customer.
“What I still can’t believe,” I whisper, as heat creeps up my neck to my cheeks, “is that I actually agreed to yourothergift.”
“You wanted it,” Zoe locks her warm brown eyes on mine as a slow, teasing laugh bubbles out of her. She’s obviously enjoying every second of my blush.
I try to play it cool, but a pang twists in my chest. I wish my fiancé had hesitated, even a little, when I mentioned I was going away this weekend. Instead, Calder kissed my forehead and said, “Have fun, babe.”
“What can I say?” I trace the rim of my glass with a fingertip. “He’s easygoing like that.”
Zoe narrows her focus on me. “Just don’t act shocked if he ends up blowing off steam at his own bachelor party. You got the green light, and so did he.”
“I guess. But honestly? Calder’s so ridiculously hot, with women practically throwing themselves at him twenty-four-seven, I’m still half-convinced the reason we’re actually getting married is because I said yes before he could change his mind.”
She reaches across and flicks my wrist. “You didn’t even want a bachelorette party.”
I shrug. “The thought of getting tipsy with my girlfriends and watching some strange dude stripping just didn’t float my boat, but I have to admit, I’m excited about the new plan.”
“You’re not nervous?”
“Not really. I mean, yes. What am I saying? Of course, I am. But … if I ever want to know what it feels like to be craved as a woman, I mean, in a completely sexual way, it’s now or never.”
Zoe scoots her chair closer to the table. “So, I don’t mean to pry, but—doesn’t Calder make you feel sexy and irresistible?” She throws up her hands in frustration. “We’re only twenty-one. You have your whole life ahead of you. You deserve to be treated like a queen. He’s had so many girlfriends; you’d think he’d be able to manage to do that for you.”
“Can we not talk about all his girlfriends?”
“Sorry. I overstepped.”
“No, it’s okay. I always spill my guts to you, you know my deepest, darkest secrets, but my situation is hard to talk about sometimes. The whole topic is mortifying, but Calder admitted he didn’t have any real feelings for his exes, not like he does with me. He says our connection is deeper than sex, far beyond physical attraction.”
“Humph. Not sure how to respond to that. Besides, what happens in bed between you and Calder should be private. As long as he makes you happy Maisie, nothing else matters.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“So …” Zoe signs the check. “Before I leave you to your sun-soaked debauchery … do you actually understand what’s about to go down tonight?”
“Go down?” I bite my lower lip and we both burst out laughing. “I think so, but I’ve never set foot in a place like Pleasure Ranch. I’m still not positive your ‘present’ is even legal.”
Zoe winks. “It’s one hundred percent aboveboard. Most guests never suspect what goes on behind the scenes. I just happen to know the right people.”
“Well?” I whisper. “Spill. What exactly did you do?”
She glances around our perimeter to check if anyone is within earshot, then leans closer. “Did you see the desk tucked around the corner from the main check-in counter in the lobby?”
“The guest services area? With the woman who looks like she could run a small country?”
“Laramie isn’t just any concierge,” Zoe clarifies. “She’s a legend at Pleasure Ranch. Here’s how it works. If a lonely client wants company for the night, they whisper their wish to Laramie who’ll work her magic and find an appropriate match—usually an employee or another guest. Then she’ll discreetly set up a date. No cash changes hands. Ever.”
My brows shoot up. “So, this resort is actually a brothel, is that what you’re telling me?”
