Chasing Liberty (Cowboys of Sagebrush Rose #2)

Chapter One

“I think it’s time.” Liberty Rose shimmied out of bed, swiped the shirt off the floor and pulled the soft chambray on. The button down was extra-large to fit broad shoulders and wide chest so it hung on her like a dress.

She physically distanced herself as she prepared to tell her husband that she wanted a divorce.

With a quick glance over her shoulder at a heavy-eyed Wyler Ranks, he yawned and stretched. His bronzed skin looked stark against the white thousand thread-count sheets. He was too handsome for so early in the morning. His longish dark hair was tousled from her recent finger combing while in the throes of their lovemaking. He shifted and the sheet played peek-a-boo with the part of him she couldn’t seem to get enough of.

He had talent which most definitely made ending things much more difficult.

It was definitely time to break things off.

He snaked his arm around her pillow and dragged it under his head as his magnetic gaze roved from the tip of her highlighted roots to her manicured toenails. A familiar tingle traveled through her and settled in her thighs. Her body craved another cowboy “ride” while logic warned her that it was now or never to rip the bandage off.

She’d never been so indecisive before.

“What did you say?”

“It’s time,” she said in a tone above a whisper.

“Time?” His voice was a husky, broken tone produced from lack of sleep. They’d brought each other hours of pleasure and there wasn’t a spot on her body that he hadn’t explored.

Didn’t everyone have wild, passionate sex before they ended a relationship?

He flashed that grin—the grin that undid her like a ball of yarn.

Get it together, Liberty!

The “talk” had always been easier with her prior lovers. Of course, she’d never felt like this for anyone else.

The jar of hazelnut chocolate spread still sat with the lid off on the nightstand as a reminder how fun last night had been. She’d never think of dessert the same.

Focusing on the tiny white scar at center of his forehead, because that was the only spot on his body that she hadn’t licked, she refused to fall victim to his confused expression.

Spit it out!

“A separation.” Whew! There. The words were out.

He remained silent.

Sitting down at the vanity, she snuck a glance at him through the mirror. He’d repositioned himself on his elbows which decorated his large biceps with dips and valleys of muscles. His skin was covered in ink. She swallowed the tickle at the back of her throat—an itchy desire to revisit what they’d shared. She’d never wanted someone—something—so much. Last night when her inner thighs had become raw and sore, she still begged for his touch, and mouth, on her.

Get a grip.

She picked up the brush and pulled the bristles through her messy hair.

“A separation?” His thick brows creased.

“Well, more like a divorce. You and I should start the process.”

With an annoyed sigh, he pushed his body up and leaned against the headboard. Naked and erect, and not one bit self-conscious, he clasped his hands behind his head. He didn’t care and neither did she. She couldn’t imagine anyone ever telling Wyler to get dressed.

“Is this about last night?” he asked.

“Last night was great.” She laid the brush down. There was no taming the wavy mess that was both a blessing and a curse handed down from her Scottish mother. Liberty had forgotten a lot about her mother over the years, but her long, wild curls flowing in the wind during her sunset horse rides wasn’t one of them. She touched the infinity tattoo on her wrist, a tribute to her mother who had the same tattoo.

“Yeah, it was.” Wyler’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. “Amazing.”

Securing her feral hair into an elastic, she swiveled on the stool to face him. This conversation had been brewing inside of her for a few weeks. The second she started having feelings for him she knew she’d allowed the marriage to go on for far too long.

“We both got carried away.” Her cheeks warmed, which was unlike her. She’d always been confident in her body and the things she could do with it.

“You were…different. Ravenous. Unquenchable.” His striking grin provoked deep dimples. “Are you regretting it?”

“Having great sex? No complaints here.” The soft hairs on the back of her neck lifted. “You and I had agreed to six months. Then we would divorce.”

“It’s only been four.”

“Four. Six. It all ends the same. I’ve thought this through.” A misbehaving curl dislodged itself from the messy updo and she played with the tendril. Why was she so nervous? “We announce the separation, I can have the papers drawn up, and you can sign them in two months. That meets Daddy’s absurd demands.” She rolled her eyes. Every time she thought of the ludicrous idea to make his daughters get married caused her temper to flare.

After she and Wyler had said “I do” at some Elvis chapel in Las Vegas, they’d sat in their wedding suite in a casino motel setting marriage rules while drinking whiskey from little bottles.

Rule One. If they had sex—and of course they would—he’d return to his bedroom in the Rose Bloom Victorian Manor where they decided they’d live when they got back to Sagebrush Pine.

Rule Two. Refer to rule one.

Liberty had never liked abiding by the rules.

The boundaries had been crossed once, twice, thrice…a dozen times.

They’d quickly become comfortable falling asleep together, and she’d wake up curled next to him with his arm slung possessively over her waist. It always led to morning sex.

Then there were the spontaneous lunches and dinners. He’d show up on training days at Sagebrush Rose with her favorite meals. Or, she’d come home to candlelight dinners. He knew how much she enjoyed eating. What Rose didn’t?

Just last night she’d been working late with a rider and horse and came home to a prepared bubble bath, lit candles, soft music, and her favorite jasmine bath oil. He remembered her saying how she enjoyed long, hot baths after a hard day.

Wyler had never been romantic, until they married.

He'd changed. Was sweeter. More affectionate. He texted a good morning message every day. Asked with interest about her day. Didn’t leave the toilet seat up. All the things a woman would want in a partner.

And it was very bad.

She’d started looking forward to seeing him. Excited to have conversations with him. Loved their sunset rides at Sagebrush Rose. Working with him on tasks at the ranch always had her laughing and made the time pass quicker.

So now it was time to put the exit plan into motion.

Their marriage was a sham so this should be easy.

After Sam Rose had stipulated that his daughters find husbands, or give up all claims to the family ranch, she thought she’d teach her daddy a lesson for meddling in her love life and marry Wyler, a hand at Sagebrush Rose.

Somehow her plan had backfired. Not only did her sisters think Wyler was the next best thing to sliced bread, but Sam had jumped on the bandwagon and treated Wyler like a son.

Well, she wouldn’t join the trend. She couldn’t’t fall for Wyler.

Point blank.

“Now is as good a time as any,” she stated adamantly. “I have a plan.”

He bounced out of bed and her eyes fixed on his bare ass. “Hold that thought.” He strolled toward the bathroom. When he came back, he grabbed his boxers off the floor and dragged them on then sat down on the end of the bed. “What’s the plan?”

Clearing the cobwebs from her mind, it took her a moment before she could focus. “Tonight is Freedom’s birthday dinner at San Marco’s Italian. I’ll pick a fight, make an appropriate scene, and to cap it off I’ll ask for a divorce.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’d want to ruin your sister’s birthday dinner?”

“I’ll wait until after she opens her presents and has a few drinks.”

“That’s definitely a Rose-thing to say.” He ran his fingers down his whiskered jaw. “Why do you get to be the one who ends things? Maybe I want to be the one who asks for a divorce.”

“Well, if it means that much to you…”

He pushed up from the bed and reached into his boxers to adjust himself. “This is ridiculous, Liberty. The entire situation is ridiculous. Not everything has to be a production on the Rose stage.” He sauntered into the hallway as if he was finished with the discussion.

“We’re not done with this conversation.” She followed him down the spiral stairs and into the newly remodeled kitchen that she hadn’t once cooked in. She watched him open an overhead cabinet and take down a canister of instant coffee. “We do have a coffee maker.” She flipped on the Keurig.

“I prefer this.” He sprinkled in an eye-measurement of grounds, added a touch more, then turned on the burner on the stove to heat up the kettle. While he waited for the whistle, he leaned against the edge of the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “I think this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” She didn’t plan on this being an argument. She had thought he would want this as much as she did.

“Not everything in life needs a dramatic ending.” He yawned and looked out the window as if admiring the flower garden. The sunlight streamed in capturing his green eyes and making them iridescent. “I know it’s hard for you, and your family, to hear something so cruel, but life can be peaceful. It should be peaceful without all the drama.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Opening the fridge, she took out the bottle of Butter Cookie Creamer and the small jug of milk for him and set them on the counter. “I do live a peaceful, drama-free life.”

“Really? Says the daughter of the man who forced her to marry to secure a spot in his will. And the woman who hasn’t spoken to her twin sister in what, four months now? I think everyone in your family would rather eat crow than apologize. Should I mention—”

“I get your point.” She was grateful that the last bit of coffee spurted into her cup because she needed a caffeine fix fast to endure this exchange. She stirred a healthy dose of creamer into her cup and looked at him through the furling steam. “First off, Honor is still mad at me, and second, we do talk.”

“That bickering over Sunday dinner last week was called “talking’? It sounded more like two barn cats fighting over the last drop of milk.” The kettle whistled and he poured hot water into his cup followed by a heavy splash of milk.

“You’re not used to big family dinners. Everyone always bickers.” She gave a small wave of her fingers. She didn’t want to discuss Honor, or any of her sisters for that matter. She had an agenda that needed to happen before it was too late.

What was too late?

Each day she felt like things were getting deeper, more complex. Liberty had never liked for her life to be out of control. She’d always been the type to rush in and fix things, before they turned messy. Things with Wyler were headed on a path she wasn’t ready for.

“We’ve reached the end of our marriage,” she said as she set her cup down, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. She could blame it on her nerves, or how she’d been working non-stop for the last few months since she’d started the science-based horse training program, Stellar Steeds. Late nights and vigorous training had become the norm. She and Wyler had always seemed to find the time to land in bed, no matter how tired they both were. He worked hard too. Her daddy’s motto “hands work hard, and family works even harder” rang true. He expected the crew to treat the land like it belonged to them.

Wyler wasn’t a stranger to hard work though. His work ethic matched her own and was one of the things she admired most about him.

“That’s not what I saw last night,” he said smoothly, his gaze trickling warmth into her body.

“Wyler…”

“Liberty.” Her name fell off his lips like melted butter.

“Last night…well, I understand…” The words were lost when he closed the gap between them. She lifted her chin to look up—way up. At five-seven, she wasn’t short, but he clocked in at six-three, two-hundred pounds of lean muscle, and he surrounded her with his size like a cozy blanket on a cold night. He’d always made her feel safe and secure, until she reminded herself they had an expiration date.

He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, sandwiching her in with his powerful arms. His scent, a blend of sandalwood, mint, and coffee, enlightened her senses. Her body became slick with need that he stirred in her so easily.

“What exactly do you understand?” he whispered.

She rested her hand against his chest, thinking she would push him away, but instead she absorbed his heat and energy through her palm. “We do have chemistry. That is understood, but we had an arrangement. This was temporary. A trade. You married me in exchange for part of Crescent Rose. You should be happy that I’m ending things sooner. You can move forward with your plans.”

The wildlands she referred to was the beloved untouched property full of hidden treasures and a jaw-dropping view of the mountains. Liberty and her sisters inherited the land from a maternal uncle. Liberty had only met him a few times and knew very little about him outside of his desire to be alone. He’d lived in a tiny, primitive cabin hidden in the woods all his life, only coming into town on rare occasions. He could have been a very rich man had he sold the vast fields to developers, but he refused, choosing to live in poverty. He’d been dead for a few years before a surveyor found him sitting in his chair. His story had seemed full of heartbreak and disappointment.

Now she’d given Wyler fifty acres of her portion for marrying her. At the time, it had seemed like a fair trade. With a hundred acres of property remaining, she had plenty of space to build a permanent home for Stellar Steeds, and a home for her. Now that Daddy had added her back into the will, she would also have her childhood home, shared with her sisters, of course.

Some of her sisters didn’t seem to be taking their father’s demands seriously though.

Liberty hadn’t been willing to give up Sagebrush Rose. The land was as much a part of her as her arms and legs. She’d worked right alongside the hands over the years, had put in blood, sweat, and tears in every inch of the dirt. This was where the last thread of memories of her mother existed—where she had been laid to rest on a small hill that overlooked the ranch. Liberty rode every evening and had a lot of private talks with nature and God, and her mother, on those lonely sunset rides.

“Sweetheart, some things can’t be measured by material things,” Wyler said.

She tried to read his expression but couldn’t “What are you asking for, Wyler?”

He shrugged and his muscles flexed under her fingertips. “Hell if I know, but something doesn’t feel right about this fabricated breakup.”

She swallowed hard. “Yet the marriage of convenience feels right?”

He shoved away from her, and she dropped her hand, watching him swallow the last drops of his coffee before he rinsed it out in the sink. When he turned back there was nothing left but a semi-frown and a blank stare. “Seems like you already have your mind made up. Why are you even discussing the plan with me?”

“We went in this together and we’re going out together.” The words were out, and unfortunately, she couldn’t reel them back in. They sounded inconsiderate. Like she was dissolving a business deal.

“Whatever you want, Liberty.” He distanced himself. She could practically feel the pull. “It’s getting late, and I need to head to Sagebrush. It’s branding day and you know how Sam is if we’re late.”

“Wyler?”

He stopped underneath the arched doorway, keeping his back to her. The only sign that he was listening was the slight tilt of his head.

“Dinner is at eight.”

With a grunt, he continued down the hallway. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs and a few seconds later the clicking of his bedroom door shutting.

Blowing out a long breath, she leaned over the counter, finding comfort in the grey-veined granite that cooled her heated skin. Her exhaustive state warned her that she should stay home and rest, but she had too much work to do. Too many items on her check list.

Her first task was calling the attorney and having him draw up the divorce papers and the deed transfer for Crescent Rose. She had to follow through with her promise.

She went into the living room to the antique desk and opened the leather-bound planner. She drew a line through the first item on the long list. Have the divorce talk with Wyler. At least it was over with. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not his lack of enthusiasm for freedom. Liberty didn’t want to come off as heartless, but things had reached a Y in the road. A series of missteps had brought them to this, yet none of what they’d shared had seemed like blunders at the time. They’d agreed that behind closed doors they’d simply be roommates, but in public they’d pretend to have the best marriage. All of which included holding hands, hugs, and kisses when someone was watching. Unfortunately, they’d crossed the boundaries when they started ripping each other’s clothes off the second they walked inside the house.

Liberty had refused to even consider marriage at first. She was more than happy being single and sneaking around with Wyler. She had enjoyed the forbidden affair with no labels or pressure placed on it outside of finding a place where they could meet in private.

Any of Sagebrush’s hands would have fit the bill for a marriage of convenience, but Wyler had seemed like the only logical choice.

Closing her planner, she scurried upstairs to change. She paused outside Wyler’s closed bedroom door, but what could she say to him? Sorry didn’t seem to fit the bill, so she headed to her own room. After tonight, they’d go their separate ways.

The decision was for the best.