Ride Hard (Roughstock Riders Book 1) Read online

  Ride Hard

  A Roughstock Riders Novel

  Tessa Layne

  Copyright © 2019 by Tessa Layne

  Paperback Edition ISBN-13: 978-1-948526-21-0

  EPUB Edition ISBN-13: 978-1-948526-20-3

  Cover design by Sunset Rose Books

  Published by Shady Layne Media

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, stored, or transmitted in any form or in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of copious amounts of wine, long walks, and the author’s overactive imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  He’s an ex-con. She’s the sweet virgin he can never have.

  When disgraced bull rider Ty Sloane agreed to take a job as foreman at Falcon Ridge Ranch, he didn’t count on having to share his job or his cabin with twenty-one-year-old rising star barrel racer Maybelle Johnson. She tests his patience by day and drives him to distraction by night, but she’s off limits—too young and innocent for the likes of an ex-con like him.

  As far as Maybelle is concerned, Ty Sloane can go jump in a lake. The cocky bull rider is a thorn in her side, both at the ranch and on the road. But he makes her feel things no man has ever made her feel, and as she learns about his past, she can’t help but develop a soft spot for him.

  When trouble finds Maybelle on the rodeo circuit, Ty puts it all on the line for the sweet young woman who’s captured his heart, even though it may cost him his freedom.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Tessa’s Newsletter

  Also by Tessa Layne

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Lexi and Jarrod’s Wedding

  Maybelle loved nothing more than a good wedding. Especially when it happened to be one of her older cousins. Her Aunt Dottie was the coolest aunt around, and Maybelle had loved spending her summers at Falcon Ridge as a little girl. To be here in time for her cousin Lexi’s wedding, and being given the opportunity of a lifetime to help her Uncle Teddy run the ranch? She just had to pinch herself.

  The early morning sunshine streamed through the white and pink polka-dotted curtains Lexi had helped her hang in the Foreman’s cabin yesterday. Maybelle stretched and giggled as Fluffy, her big, white Persian cat hopped on the bed and began to knead her pillow, purring loudly. “You like your new place, don’t you?” she cooed, running a hand through his silky fur. “Mama’s gonna go help Uncle Teddy with the cattle this morning, then practice with Rango.” Rango, her beloved barrel racing horse, who’d she’d trained from a colt, hadn’t been worked since before she’d driven up from Oklahoma. She needed to work him out before she primped and went to help with last-minute preparations for Lexi’s ceremony taking place at dinner time.

  The men had buried a pig in the ground last night, before sharing cigars and whiskey, and already her mouth salivated at the thought of digging into that succulent pork. “Well, no use lying around all day thinking about it, Fluffy. We’ve got work to do.” Maybelle slipped out from beneath her favorite pink sheets that matched her curtains, and strolled naked to the bathroom. Free from roommates and the prying eyes of horndog boys on the circuit, when Maybelle was alone, she slept free. She felt like it gave her that edge of confidence she needed to excel in life. She washed her face and pulled her mass of blonde curls into a low ponytail. In less than five minutes she was dressed and jogging up the low rise toward the barn. Uncle Teddy stood waiting in the barnyard with two horses saddled and ready to go. “Oh shoot, Uncle Teddy. What time do y’all get up around here? I thought five would be perfect, for sure.”

  Teddy chuckled. “It’s okay. I’m usually up with the birds.”

  That had to be something like four a.m. She’d set her alarm that much earlier tomorrow. If Teddy was going to have confidence in her ability to be a foreman, she had to be the first one up and the last one to bed. Period. Teddy might cut her some slack because of their family connection, but she’d be damned if she took advantage of that. She wanted to earn her keep fair and square.

  “Take Lexi’s mount, Oreo. You can use him until he moves next door with Lexi and Jarrod. Then we’ll find you another mount.”

  “Oh, I can find my own, Uncle Teddy. Don’t you worry about me.” She appreciated his offer, but she wasn’t going to mooch off her uncle, especially where a horse was concerned. He was already giving her the chance of a lifetime by letting her prove herself as foreman. She wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.

  As they headed out to the pastures, Uncle Teddy kept up a running commentary about the number of calf-cow pairs they were working, his process for checking and mending fences, which suppliers he called, where he purchased extra hay in a dry season. It was like drinking from a firehose, but Maybelle had always had a quick-fire brain and this was the kind of stuff she loved. She’d always found school boring. The sun was high in the sky by the time they returned to the barn. “You sure you don’t want to come in for a spot of breakfast?” Teddy asked, concern showing on his face.

  “Oh heck, no, sir. I’ll be fine. I gotta work Rango before I get all prettied up. And besides…” She patted her belly. “I’m savin’ room for that hog y’all been smokin’ since last night. And Aunt Dottie’s pie.”

  “Don’t forget the wedding cake. Lexi’ll have a fit if you don’t have a slice of cake.”

  “Exactly. And my little belly needs to be h-u-n-g-r-y hungry if I’m gonna enjoy everything tonight.”

  Teddy smiled down at her. “Alrighty then, just holler if you need anything. And Maybelle?”

  “Yeah?” She grinned up at her favorite uncle.

  “I’m real glad you’re here.”

  She threw her arms around Teddy. “Me, too, Uncle Teddy, me, too.”

  “I was beginning to think we were cursed. I been lookin’ for a foreman going on three years, and can’t get anyone, even my daughters to settle into it.”

  “Well, you got me now, and I’m here to stay.” Maybelle practically skipped into the barn, humming a Carrie Underwood melody under her breath. “Morning, Rango,” she called softly when she reached her dearest treasure in the world. “How’s my big sweet boy this morning?” She reached out to scratch his nose. “You ready to ride?” She swore he nodded.

  She led him out into the barn, saddled him up with the tack she’d won at a high stakes competition two summers ago, and brought him outside. Uncle Teddy had set up a racing configuration in the arena so she and Rango could practice, but first a nice canter to warm him up. She wheeled him around, following the same path Teddy had taken her on out into the rolling hills, past the cows quietly grazing, all the way to the edge of the property
at Steele Creek. Nothing made her happier than when she was out on Rango. All the worries she carried inside her heart on a daily basis seemed to sprout wings and fly away. She fairly floated back to the barnyard where she and Rango practiced starts, turns, and speed drills for the better part of an hour. They were both hot and sweaty when she called it a morning.

  “Shower for you first, buddy,” she sing-songed, leading him back to the washing station inside the barn. She sprayed him, she rubbed and scrubbed him, shampooing and rinsing, combing and currying until her baby was buffed and puffed, singing the whole time. Pulling a halter over his ears, she led him to the near pasture where Teddy said she was welcome to turn Rango loose. He’d be so much happier here on this brilliant June day, eating buttercups and clover. Maybelle wrapped her arms around Rango’s neck and gave him a nuzzle. “Don’t get into trouble, y’hear?” she said quietly, heart full. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, baby boy.”

  With a final pat, she turned and trudged the quick half-mile walk to the foreman’s cabin. It was just now lunchtime. Lexi had asked her to come up any time after one. Kicking the cabin door shut behind her, she stripped off her clothes, kicking them into a pile for washing later, and headed straight for the bathroom. She stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, letting is sluice over her happily tired muscles. Damn, her life was good. Near perfect, if she thought about it. She opened her mouth and sang. She sang all the songs as she scrubbed, shaved, and shampooed. Carrie Underwood, Dolly Parton, Trish Yearwood, she knew and loved them all. She knew a song for every occasion, and today was every happy love song she’d ever learned, in celebration of Lexi’s wedding. She sang until the water grew cool. She hummed as she toweled first her hair, then her body, slathering on her favorite vanilla and peach lotion. No one said that just because you were a cowgirl, you couldn’t be feminine. She scrunched anti-frizz serum through her curls, flipped her head back and forth a few times, then set about to put on some makeup. Maybelle didn’t bother much with makeup, just a little tinted lotion, mascara to help make her blue eyes pop, and a dash of lip gloss. She still hadn’t kissed many boys, let alone do more — something she intended to address this rodeo season — but she objected to the idea they’d be kissing lipstick off her mouth, and not just kissing her. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t need to trowel on the makeup to get the attention of a boy. If they were interested in her, they’d better like her without makeup, just like the day she was born.

  A yowl from Fluffy followed by a thunk and a curse, pulled her from her daydreams. Was someone in her cabin? She stilled, heart racing like a scared rabbit. She swallowed, looking for something, anything she could use as a weapon. She didn’t own a hairdryer, or a brush, not with these curls. She had a big plastic comb, a toothbrush, and… a toilet plunger. She gingerly picked up the plunger, wielding it like a baseball bat, and slowly opened the door. “H-hello?” She struggled to keep the fear from her voice. If it was a robber, she needed to put on a strong front, just like the first time she’d meet a horse. Mammals of any kind smelled fear. She peeked around the corner. “Hello?” she said more firmly and stepped into the big room that was both kitchen, living, and dining room.

  Two things hit her at once. First, the cabin was in disarray, ransacked even. Where were her things? The door stood wide open. Was that pile of stuff on the porch hers? “What in tarnation?” she muttered to the room.

  Second, there was a man, a very big, very broad, rugged, sexy looking man, standing in the middle of her room, glowering. At her. Her body gave an involuntary shiver. This was a real live man. Not some chew chawin’ horny teenaged pervert following her around the rodeo showing off a buckle ten sizes too big for his britches. This was a man. Virile, hard, built. A line of tattoos covered one bulging, straining bicep, all the way to his enormous forearm. Jeezus shitballs, the guy had Popeye arms. But it was his face that took her breath away, and made her pulse quicken in places she’d never felt before. His jaw was chiseled and hard, and his mouth was made for sinning. His face was tanned enough to make his blue eyes pop like stars. Underneath his straw Stetson, dark hair was cropped close, too close for her taste. His hips were narrow, thighs bulging under his denims, and with his boots on, he dominated the space. He must be six-and-a-half feet tall, at least. Warmth pooled in her belly. She only stopped staring when her arm grew tired. “Who are you and what are you doing in my cabin?” She asked with as much authority as a young woman fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel and holding a plunger could muster.

  “I could ask the same of you,” he growled.

  The timbre of his voice sent a thrill through her. She remembered stories from her grandmother about Elvis having a voice that made you swoon. Was this what they’d been talking about? She could listen to that deep, gravelly voice all day. He could say the word, and she’d let him sweet-talk her into the kind of sinning even church wouldn’t save you from. She clutched her towel a little harder, because for a split second, the idea had come to drop it, to beg this strange man with the beautiful voice and the perfectly sculpted body to touch her in all her secret places. The places she only touched late at night, under cover of darkness to ease the ache that sometimes throbbed between her legs. It was throbbing now, so hard, she had to clench her thighs together for relief.

  She drew herself up to her full height of five-feet-four and gazed up her nose at him, throwing as much command into her voice as she could. She’d gentled thousand-pound horses, she could certainly handle a grumpy man. “I’m the foreman here, and it seems that you’ve dumped my clothes on the porch. Can you kindly put them back?”

  The only hint that he gave that he was surprised by her answer was a tiny widening of the eyes. A less observant person wouldn’t have caught it. “Like hell you are,” he growled. “I’m the foreman here and you’re trespassing in my cabin.”

  Chapter One

  Three days earlier

  The woman in the center of the table looked up from examining the folder in her hands. “Ty Sloane?” She had kind eyes. Not everyone did. Most didn’t.

  Ty exhaled, his belly not quite so tight as it was a moment before. Maybe she was on his side. He nodded once, but didn’t make a move to enter the room.

  “It’s okay,” she said, waving to the single chair in front of the panel. “You can come in.”

  He moved to the chair, quickly scanning the faces on either side of the woman. Two didn’t look so friendly. They didn’t bother to hide they thought he was a monster. Maybe he was. Some days he knew he was. He blinked away the vicious memory as he sat, hands resting on his thighs. The silence was oppressive. No sound but for the shifting of weight in a chair. Even nighttime in the cells wasn’t this heavy.

  The friendly one cleared her throat and flipped through the rest of the pages in his file. Ty’s chest squeezed tight, a lump pressing up into his throat. God help him, he wanted out bad. Not that he had anywhere to go, but anywhere was better than here. Even under a bridge. “You’ve been here three years?”

  Ty refrained from rolling his eyes. What was the purpose of the question when she had the answer right in front of her? His entire life for the last three years was in front of her. But this was how they played the game, so he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And in that time I see you’ve earned an Associate’s Degree.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was proud of that. Silver linings, and all.

  “Warden’s report says you’ve been a model prisoner.”

  Ty nodded.

  One of the unfriendly ones narrowed his eyes. “You have a job lined up?”

  Fuck him. Of course he didn’t have a job lined up. Who would he call? He’d used up all his earnings paying his legal team. The only thing he knew was how to ride bulls and shovel shit. Ty swallowed. They could deny him right now if they wanted. “Not at the moment, sir.”

  “But you intend to get one?”

  “Gotta eat, sir.”

  The woman on the end gig
gled. It was risky, talking like that. But he meant it sincerely. He cleared his throat. “I just want to start over.” God’s truth. His career was over, there was no going back. He’d be grateful for a quiet life working hard on a ranch somewhere, so long as he could breathe fresh air and never again hear the clang of metal sliding against metal.

  The other unfriendly, a woman, scowled. “I trust you understand this means no bars, no fights, no nothing?”

  Oh, he did. He knew exactly the cost of his freedom. He nodded slowly. “I’ll be keeping to myself, ma’am.” At the very worst, he could camp out on his property up in Northern Colorado. Maybe it was time to build himself a cabin like he’d always talked about. He didn’t have two pennies to squeeze together, but he could hire himself out. Maybe someday he’d have enough to run a few hundred head of cattle. It would be a far cry from the crowds of cheering fans he’d been used to before all hell broke loose, but at least he’d be able to call his life his own again.

  “It’s unusual for this board to grant privileges across state lines, but given your offer of employment,” the friendly lady rattled a piece of paper. “And given that you’re a first-time offender and have been a model prisoner. You are free to travel between Kansas and Colorado—”