Wild West (Winchester Wild #2)

Chapter One

Daisy-Mae

There are many benefits to working on one of the largest cattle ranches in northern Texas: the fresh air, the scenery, the people, the fact that every day brings something new, and—did I mention the scenery?

No. I’m not talking about pastures, the animals or the fields of wildflowers under endless blue skies.

The kind of view I like to take in while working at the Winchester Ranch Bed and Breakfast, just walked right by my office window in a tight pair of Wranglers.

West Winchester.

He gets his own line ... and italics, because that’s exactly how he appears in my head.

In fact, maybe I should have thought his name in bold, capital letters too.

The eldest son of the Winchester siblings, West, has been breaking hearts in Red River Canyon since we were all old enough to drool.

And drool we did, anytime he so much as looked in our direction.

Sure, he may be a little on the gruff side, he barely says, “boo” to anyone these days, and he’s often as ornery as the devil in a church parking lot, but he sure is pretty to look at.

There’s just something about those cool, blue eyes and that scruffy, sandy-blond hair that makes me melt.

This may be the pregnancy dreams talking, but I have visions of him holding my little baby in his big arms, rocking him or her in the swing on my front porch while I sit beside them sipping sweet tea.

And before you go feeling sorry for my husband—whose baby I’m carrying— don’t.

Dreaming about West Winchester isn’t blasphemy.

I’m not planning on stepping out of my marriage, because my husband already did that for me, with his eighteen-year-old secretary.

That’s how I came to work at the ranch in the first place.

After Eddie Buchannan made me the laughingstock of Red River Canyon, and left me barefoot and pregnant, Mrs. Winchester was kind enough to offer me a job at the Bed and Breakfast so I could keep paying the mortgage and not lose the roof over my head . .. like I lost my husband.

Which brings me right back to West. With the exception of my remarkably short marriage, I’ve been looking at West Winchester practically my whole life.

But, other than to hand me a paycheck once a week, he doesn’t know I exist. Probably for the best, since single and pregnant was not how I saw this chapter of my life.

But when your husband’s a cheating dirtbag who’s been screwing his secretary for a year, dreaming of West Winchester with his pants down around his ankles as he rails me in one of those swing thingies seems kind of .

.. harmless. What? It’s not like I could control these damn pregnancy hormones, even if I wanted to.

“Daisy, are you even listening to me?” Lemon asks, looking up from her baby magazine.

As the only Winchester sibling with a uterus, Lemon and I have bonded over baby names and breast pumps because we’re both expecting.

Technically, I’m closer in age to her older brother Wade, but it’s nice to have someone around to talk babies with, even if she is just in the very early stages of her pregnancy while I’m further along and decidedly more . .. blimp-like.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’ve literally been prattling on about this stroller for the last ten minutes.

What is so riveting outside?” Lemon climbs off her seat and waddles to the window.

Yes, we’re both at waddling stages, even though I have a good five months on her.

She peeks through the lace curtains and narrows her gaze. “Ew. There’s only West out there.”

My whole face turns pinker than my refrigerator. “I was just daydreaming. You know pregnancy brain and all.”

“Uh-huh.” Lemon’s gaze is shrewd as she looks me over. “Do you have a crush on my brother?”

“Lemon please, the entire town has a crush on your brother.” I shrug. “He’s nice to look at.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but that don’t mean I have to agree with you.

” She screws up her delicate features. I remember when my features were delicate.

When I had a flat stomach and a nice ass firmer than a Georgia peach.

Now, everything is baby weight, stretchmarks and hemorrhoids.

“Also,” she says nervously. “I’m just going to apologize now for what’s about to happen. ”

It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “What do you mean? What’s about to happen?”

Before I can get an answer, West opens the door, wipes off his boots, and comes inside. He glances at me, and then at his younger sister, who’s still standing by the window looking horrified by her revelation. He tips his hat. “Daisy-Mae. Lemon.”

“West,” Lemon says, and there’s definitely an edge to the way she said his name. She’s being weird. I don’t do well with weird. I’m awkward enough for everyone.

“What are you doing here?” West asks Lemon.

“What are you doing here?” she asks him back, and I’m really not sure why she needed so much emphasis on the third word. As if he never ever comes into the Bed and Breakfast.

“Delivering Daisy’s paycheck.”

Lemon frowns. “Thought you’d be getting ready for that ... thing.”

“What thing?”

“The ...” Lemon clears her throat, darts her gaze toward me, and then quickly back to her brother. “Date. The date I set you up on.”

Oh. Now I understand her earlier comment about this getting awkward. As if I didn’t already bring the awkward enough and fumble my words whenever West Winchester was in the room.

West rolls his eyes and inhales slowly through his nose, as if it’s taking all his patience to deal with his little sister right now. That makes two of us. She uses the distraction to her advantage and mouths, “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head infinitesimally and give her a wide-eyed look that’s universal for, “quit ratting me out”. Thankfully, like everything when it comes to me, West is blissfully ignorant.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to butt into my sex life all of a sudden,” West complains.

“Sex life?” Lemon’s voice is all high pitched and weirder than before. The poster child of covert, she is not. “That would imply that you’re actually having sex with ... you know, real live people.”

“Lemon,” West warns.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“You make it sound like I’m out here having sex with the cows ... cows that aren’t people,” he says, and then quickly turns to me, his eyes wide and horrified. That makes two of us. “I’m not ... having sex with cows, I mean. I only have sex with people. Just so we’re clear.”

I smile and try to act nonchalant, but Lemon is behaving even more like a crazy person than usual and it’s freaking me out. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m seven months pregnant and all I think about is sex with people, with furniture, and with other inanimate objects.”

See? I can bring the awkward in a big way all by myself.

West’s brows shoot heavenward and then he frowns as if he’s not sure what to make of sex and me being used in the same damn sentence.

“You’re going on that date, West.” Lemon turns to me and mouths, “Sorry,” again, as if her brother’s not standing right in front of us.

“Oh, I know,” West continues. “Since you told mama about it, I’ve heard of nothing else. That was a real low blow, by the way.”

“Lainey is sweet, and she just moved to town. Besides, having sex with the slutty bartender once a year is weird and skeezy in and of itself.”

“It’s not once a year, and Alexis is not skeezy,” he protests, with another odd glance in my direction.

I’m starting to feel like I should leave.

Instead, I rest my chin on my palm and watch them volley blows back and forth.

I know they get on one another’s nerves, but there’s so much love in this family that sometimes I just like to sit and watch their exchanges.

Of course, it stings a little to know I’ll never have that.

Being dumped in a box by the firehouse before my mother left town kind of ruined any chance I might’ve had for a sibling .

.. or a stable home life. Thank god my grammy raised me up.

She passed right after my eighteenth birthday, and she was the only family I’d ever known, before I took Eddie’s last name, that is.

“Oh, please,” Lemon says bringing me back to their squabble. “She was slutty in high school and she’s still slutty now. Hitting on people’s husbands for tips.”

“Colt would never,” I say.

They both turn to look at me, almost as if they forgot I was here. Not hard to do, I guess. I think most people forget my existence.

“Oh, I know.” Lemon smiles wickedly. “He’d have no damn balls left if he did.”

“I fail to see what this conversation has to do with me,” West says.

“You need to meet a nice girl, like Lainey.” Lemon’s lovely features twist into something a little more sinister as she says, “Or ... like Daisy-Mae.”

I bolt upright from my seat at the desk and feel my face turning pink again. “What now?”

“I mean, she’s gorgeous,” Lemon continues, clearly unaware of how uncomfortable I’ve just become. “She’s smart as a whip. A true southern sweetheart, and ... have you tried her buttercream frosting? It’s divine.”

“Er, Lemon.” My eyes are round as dinner plates right now, and I’m sure I look positively crazy. “What are you doing?”

West scoffs. “Daisy’s pregnant.”

I fold my arms and add, “Yeah.”

An awful bead of silence pushes in around us, and .

.. are they both feeling as awkward as me right now?

Because even though I know West and I would never in a million years be a thing, well, that kind of stung.

And now I don’t know how to act because I’m fidgety and nervous and sweating and . .. see? Not great with the weird.

I panic and shut off the computer, and then I grab my purse and throw my sweater over my arm. “Well, I think it’s time I clocked out.”