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  Wrangling Letty

  Drea Riley

  Copyright © 2011 by Dréa Riley

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland, http://www.marteekakarland.com/

  Editor: Cindy Davis, http://www.fiction-doctor.com/

  Proofreader: Barb Wilson

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-219-7; (print) 978-1-61788-220-3

  To Rhonda: who hounded Jeanie and Jayha insistently for a sequel.

  To DJ: for hounding me insistently for a sequel. And for not having a cow when I nicked her new title.

  To 3J: for not hounding me for a sequel

  To you (insert your name here), for patiently waiting for me to tell you what happened at the end of Slow Bucking. You always knew the story wasn’t over, even when I swore it was.

  To CWB…The next chapter is just beginning and I can’t wait to turn the page and see what happens.

  And last but not least, to my mini me Nikki Winter. I don’t know where either myself or this story would be without you.

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  What happens in Vegas…

  Letty was tired. Beyond tired, she was exhausted. The bright lights and tinkling slot machines wore on her very last nerve. This rodeo had been one of the most trying of her life. Normally, she left this side of the business to her cousin but with two weeks until Regina and Tyce tied the knot, there was no way Letty could avoid making this trip. It was come to Vegas, or be cooped up with a bunch of ninny females trying on dresses and drinking champipple, the token drink of all true Sanford and Son fans, instead of beer.

  As tired as she was at the moment, she almost wished she’d have stayed...at least for the champipple. She’d given up hanging around rodeos the moment she’d broken her back and lost the ability to ride professionally. She wasn’t like some of those banged-up rodeo stars who needed to hang around the circuit and “remember when.” And she definitely wasn’t one of those aging buckle bunnies, too old to be trying to catch the eye of an up-and-coming cowboy, but too insecure to step aside and let the young girls have their fun.

  Shaking her head, she watched a group of younger bunnies push away a woman Letty once competed with in barrel racing. Pity pinching her heart, Letty said a silent prayer of thanks that her family had made sure to make her understand there was more to life than rodeo.

  Making her way to her room, she passed a quiet- looking little bar, back from the main lobby, probably the place regulars and business people used. She would’ve kept going if it weren’t for the bowed head of a lone cowboy sitting close to the entrance. His sand- colored Stetson sat on the bar top, next to a bowl of stale-looking mixed nuts. His hair was rumpled as if he’d run his fingers through it several times, though she could still make out the crease caused by the regular wear of his hat.

  A smile tugged at her lips. She hated that hat. Not that the hat had done anything to her, mind you. It was just that it rode too low over his face, covering his eyes and giving him that mysterious allure that always set her heart racing. It touched the strands of his silken hair more than she ever could, and it rode on his knee on the long drive from Texas to Las Vegas in a way she most certainly shouldn’t be jealous of.

  She lost count of the times she wanted to push that hat back and stare deeply into those soulful eyes. Swat it away from his head, and run her fingers through his hair. Lettie had lost count of how many times she was tempted to put the truck in park, and toss that hat out of the window, then take a ride on that strong, corded thigh, letting his knee graze that spot that would tingle just so beneath her jeans. Yes, Letty well-and-truly hated that hat. Hated it with a fiery passion.

  If she had to measure her hatred of that hat, she’d only be able to say she hated that hat equally or more than she lusted after its owner. And Lord in heaven above knew how she lusted after Jeramy Saldana. Truth of the matter being she didn’t just lust after him. She was probably half-way in like with him, but half-way was all she was willing to go. More than that and she’d be in a world of hurt.

  She started to keep walking and leave him to his thoughts. That was until he signaled the bartender for another round, and then reached for that bowl of nuts.

  “If you didn’t work for me, I’d let you eat those disgusting things, but since you do and we’re sharing a truck ride back home to Texas, I’m gonna need you to step away from those nuts.”

  Jeramy turned and leveled her with amber-colored eyes. The sadness reflected there spoke to her soul. Letty dropped her head to her chest and chastised herself for not being able to mind her own damn business. Taking a deep breath, she mounted the backless bar stool beside him before thumbing her own hat back on her head and ordering a bottle of something cheap and fire-laden. She waited until the bottle and an extra glass were placed in front of them and the bartender had moved on before speaking.

  “You look like a mule kicked you in the nuts, kid,” she said and poured them each a shot of whiskey. “What’s got you so blue?”

  She hadn’t really wanted to ask the question. They’d fought all the way from Texas. He wanted more commitment from her than their “only-when-we-are-out-of-town-together affair,” and she wasn’t ready to have the public in their business. She was technically his boss, for Pete’s sake. There were rules against what they’d been doing. Laws even. In Letty’s mind, if they kept it on the down-low, then the outside world couldn’t sour it, break it, or take it away.

  She waited, watching his expression in the mirrors that lined the bartender’s station. His chiseled jaw tensed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. It was obvious he was still upset with her. Letty hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d missed the deep reverberation of his slightly twangy accent. He wasn’t a very vocal man to begin, but when he spoke his words were clear and thought-out.

  For a moment, she thought he might actually break the silent spell, but instead he caught her gaze in the glass behind the bar, and the sadness she saw a minute earlier was replaced by a flame of anger and hurt. She followed his gaze down until she stared at his right hand clenched tightly in a fist. Letty watched as the normally bronzed skin squeezed so tight that his knuckle
s went from red, then blue, to white. Gently, she took her hand and placed it over his. If possible, she felt him tense even more.

  “C’mon, cowpoke, whatever it is, you can let it go. It’s just you, me, and this bottle of whiskey and tomorrow will be a new day,” she whispered softly.

  She watched angry tears swell in his eyes only to be evaporated into steam before they could spill over his impossibly long lashes. Slowly he turned his fist over and unfurled his long fingers under her hand, until at last they were palm to palm. Her breath caught in her throat when he pressed something solid into her tender flesh. Lifting her hand, she stared at the large diamond solitaire nestled into the rough velvet of Jeramy’s palm.

  Her breath rushed from her lungs as if she’d been kicked. Snapping her gaze back to where his bored into the mirror, she watched and waited for him to say something—anything. Instead he shrugged his broad shoulders, tossed back his drink, and slid the shot glass to her to refill. His gaze never wavered.

  Ten a.m. The red neon lights were blazing on the alarm clock. Letty reached a weak hand toward it and found that her vision was actually betraying how far she really was from the nightstand. Shaking her head only caused her to immediately feel as if she’d been walked on by one her cousin’s prized bulls. It did nothing to help her depth perception. Forcing her face back into the fluffy comforter, she groaned, the sound somewhat drowning out the racket of the noisy hotel alarm clock. On the verge of returning to sleep, a niggling sensation tapped at the back of her mind. Holding her breath and concentrating, she realized that the alarm clock had somehow been shut off. On a sigh, she snuggled her face further into the covers and stretched, preparing to seriously just ignore the eleven o’clock check-out time and stay another day.

  The thought of checking out reminded her that she’d need to call Jeramy and tell him their trip home would be delayed. Cracking open one eye and craning her neck to the side again, she looked toward the nightstand that held the alarm clock and phone, but her vision was fuzzy and blurred. Instead of the glaring numbers she should be seeing, she was confronted with a wide expanse of tan skin. Tanned skin she distinctly remembered feeling like the softest velvet stretched over more muscles than she’d ever known existed. Smooth skin she knew smelled like sandalwood soap along with hay, and tasted both salty and sweet. A small pool of saliva gathered under her tongue as her mouth remembered the unique flavor of that skin. Her throat dried in a lust-driven thirst, and her thighs quivered.

  And then panic set in. That skin wasn’t something she’d imagined. That skin was real and so were the muscles that lifted, tossed and draped her over every last piece of furniture in the room until her orgasms started having orgasms.

  That skin was amazing...and so was the man that lived in it. Thinking about that skin had her throwing her body off the bed, scrambling limbs akimbo and tangled in the covers for the bathroom. That skin, the skin she had molested in the most delicious ways, belonged to one Jeramy Saldana.

  What had she done? The sex was obvious; it was nothing new. One could call it their modus operandi, but the weight of a platinum-set stone was entirely off the beaten path. Looking down at the humongous diamond ring on her left hand, it glittered and shone, and reminded her of the moment she flung herself into Jeramy’s arms before catching it on his pocket as she dug for change. Jeramy had kissed that ring before unfurling her fingers around loose coins. They had made silent wishes before kissing the coins and tossing them into the famous fountain during its hourly water show. Her heart twisted in her chest as the memories rushed back.

  Letty hadn’t really made a wish, but said a drunken prayer of thanks. She and Jeramy had been sneaking around for so long she never thought they’d be more. She’d doggedly kept them a secret so she wouldn’t hurt so badly when it ended. Never had she been so attracted to a man, and over the last few years they’d become more than just lovers, but true friends.

  Had she really just gotten married, Vegas-style, to her employee whom she really wasn’t supposed to be sleeping with in the first place? The sweet ache between her thighs, and the light glinting off the huge diamond answered with a resounding yes. Nerves, fear, and lust tangled in her belly until they rose up her throat and caused her to rush to the toilet and release them. Sitting on the cool tile of the floor and staring at the light over the sink Letty began to cry. What a freaking mess!

  Jeramy lay on his side breathing slowly and deeply until Letty slammed the bathroom door. Once he heard the distinctive click of the lock catching and her rapid-fire one-sided conversation with herself, he rolled over to his back and groaned. Reality had crashed in on him the moment he rolled over to turn off that alarm clock. It had been like watching a movie in rewind. He’d seen them rolling around on the carpet, the leather loveseat, the bed—limbs tangled in the stark white sheets. Letty’s smooth sienna legs were wrapped around his shoulders and his waist. The way she threw her head back, exposing her neck to his seeking lips had him groaning again.

  He’d watched them stumble into the room giggling like drunken teenagers and talking way too loudly while trying to whisper as they’d staggered down the hall from the elevator. Remembered them falling into each other’s arms as the glass contraption carried them up from the lobby where they had tumbled in after spilling from the taxi that brought them from their make-shift reception at one of Vegas’s hottest night clubs. The reception where they’d joyously celebrated having been wed by the cheesiest Elvis impersonator.

  To the man’s credit, he actually looked the part, but he was only slightly more sober than Jeramy and Letty themselves, so that had to affect his “Elvis-ian drawl.” Jeramy had fought not to giggle as the man forgot the vows and instead recited the lines from “The Princess Bride.” Every R and L was drawn out like a W.

  Jeramy remembered it all. It pounded in his skull like a jackhammer on pavement. Never in his thirty years had he ever fucked up and succeeded so royally in his whole life.

  Now in the harsh light of the morning, he wondered how the hell they were going to pull this off. He worried she’d come storming out of that bathroom like an angry bull out of the chute and demand an annulment. His heart sank as the alarm went off again. This time the radio function engaged and a popular ad reminded him— “What happens in Vegas...”

  Jeramy groaned and flung his hand out to connect with the clock. A swift yank and it was pulled off the nightstand, unplugged and tossed to the carpet.

  His mind flashed back to the night several years ago when in a drunken stupor he’d confessed to Letty that he’d broken up with his “family-approved fiancée” because he’d been lusting after his boss for the past year. The arranged marriage would have been just one more way his crazy old uncle could control him, but Jeramy had had enough. He wasn’t sad he’d called the engagement off, but he was broken by the fact that he knew, if he didn’t marry the woman of his uncle’s choosing he’d be denied his chance to start his own ranch. Though he’d been moderately successful as a circuit bronc rider, he’d never made it big-time. He had actually devoted too much time to his education to seriously compete for the larger purses.

  Marrying Sophia was the only way to appease his uncle and get his ranch. He’d almost gone through with it—until he saw the pain in Sophia’s eyes. She hadn’t deserved to be roped into a loveless marriage.

  She would have made him a good wife, but he didn’t love her. Jeramy knew she didn’t love him. At least not in the manner a man and wife should love each other. Though marriage would be a mutual benefit, it would also be their own self-imposed hell.

  He’d gone to the bank before leaving for that particular trip to the rodeo with Letty and Regina, and withdrawn a hefty chunk of his savings, the money he’d been carefully hoarding over the last fifteen years, and given it to Sophia. The money would be enough to help her pay off her parents’ debts and give her some even footing to continue her education and pursue her dreams. It wouldn’t cover everything, but it was a start. Lord knew it was less than w
hat she deserved for being roped into his uncle’s evil manipulations.

  Jeramy had told Letty about his break-up and how it would cost him his dream. He hadn’t been man enough to tell her it was only part of his dream he’d be losing. What scared him the most was that he’d given it up to pursue a new dream. Her. But he didn’t think he was worthy. That she’d even give him a chance. When she’d turn to him with those big sparkling brown eyes, he’d been lost. When she said, “Let’s get married,” his heart had nearly leapt from his chest. Neither of them had been drunk. Hell, neither of them even had a strong buzz.

  “Leticia, that’s sweet of you but...”

  “No buts dude. Listen, I know Regina doesn’t really want the responsibility of the ranch, but she won’t leave because we promised our dads a long time ago we’d take care of the place when they were gone. I can’t afford to buy her out. So you and me get hitched, stay hitched the prerequisite year, collect the money from your crazy uncle, and you buy in and partner on the ranch with me. We draw up a contract and you get a third. We get a divorce and bada bing bada boom, we’re business partners. The ranch is still technically in the family.”

  “Leticia, Letty...you’re insane.”

  “Dude, what do you have to lose? We don’t have to tell anyone but your crazy uncle that we’re married. Regina gets to go off and live her life guilt-free. I get to venture back into training barrel racers. You get to breed horses like you’ve been wanting to, and no one is the wiser.”

  He’d told her no that year, but they’d spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms anyway. That was the beginning. Now here he was five years later, lying in her hotel room, married to the woman of his dreams.

  Despite the sound of what he could only assume was her banging her head against the bathroom door, he was happy. A smile crept over his face. He was married to Letty.