RustlingUpaBride Read online

  Rustling Up a Bride: Rancher's Pregnant Curves

  By Nicole Snow

  Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First published in April, 2014.

  Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

  All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.

  Description

  COWBOY PASSIONS, PRIMAL NEEDS, AND UNFATHOMABLE PLEASURES...

  Curvy and sheltered Nellie Sherwood's been dreaming about one impossible man her whole life. Too bad the big bad cowboy who makes every woman in the county swoon wouldn't ever go for a

  voluptuous lady like her. Then one day at the rodeo Nellie literally collides with him, and all her hottest dreams begin to come true...

  There's more to Clay Samuels than rodeos, rock hard muscles, and wicked tattoos. This bad boy rancher isn't the womanizing powder keg everybody thinks. Clay's secretly consumed with a desire to rustle up a bride and settle down, offering endless sparks between the sheets to any woman who'll give him the heirs he desires.

  One shocking night beneath the fireworks with Nellie gives Clay a taste he'll never forget. He vows to claim her as his with a ring on her finger and a baby inside her, and nothing's gonna stop him – not even Nellie's wealthy upbringing and heart wrenching obligations.

  Will she yield to the cowboy's seething passion, or will old doubts and scheming outsiders tear them apart?

  Word count: 17,000+ word erotic romance story.

  I: Everything a Girl Needs

  The sun beat down like a furnace at the State Fair. I didn't have a clue how the badass Adonis in jeans and nothing else kept it together while the bull kicked, spun, and snorted beneath him.

  Then again, everything about Clay Samuels screamed amazing.

  Every girl in Cherry Tree – not to mention very town several counties over – soaked their panties when Clay was center stage. The handsome rough rider wasn't a day over thirty, and reputation came naturally to him, a charm so fierce and panty dropping it should've been illegal.

  Nobody missed him at the rodeos. It wasn't just his attitude and natural good looks either, but the way he stood out.

  Nothing about Clay was traditional, unlike the other cowboys and ranchers who streamed into these events to make their stand. They were a sea of anonymous faces beneath wide brimmed hats and stubble.

  On the contrary, everybody knew Clay. Huge and tattooed, he always mounted his rides wearing nothing but frayed jeans and his grandpa's tanned boots and cowboy hat.

  He gave the judge's safety regulations the finger, the same way he did to our hearts. I couldn't count the easy girls in my county he'd bedded and then turned away for a repeat performance.

  I shouldn't have been attracted to this bad boy, especially as the daughter of the wealthiest rancher between Bismarck and Bozeman. Daddy wanted me to settle down with a nice boring boy who liked to ride horses as gently as he tended a spreadsheet.

  If only he knew. If Daddy had an inkling I was drooling over Clay like all the other girls in their twenties, I'm sure he would've packed me off to an internship in Spokane or Boise.

  Lusting after Clay was wrong on so many levels, but so damned right on many more.

  I pinched my thighs together, watching as he slapped the bull's neck. The man defied gravity as the huge beast beneath him bucked, desperate to get the jeering cowboy off its back.

  Any man who wasn't pure muscle and attitude would've went flying.

  Not Clay. He was just too big and bad for Nature's beasts, and apparently for physics too.

  Several more wild kicks and the bull began to panic. It still thrashed, but now it was running around the rodeo ring, kicking up dust. It bayed loudly, aiming its horns at a man's grinning face on the beer ad plastered to the wall.

  The animal charged. Clay jerked back like he was riding a rocket.

  “Holy shit! Watch out!” A middle aged woman behind me roared.

  I tensed up too. Clay leaped off the animal's back and did a somersault a split second before the bull crashed headfirst into the wooden wall.

  Mister Badass rolled into the dusty dirt, almost bowling over the support crew racing toward him.

  Several rodeo clowns walked past to approach the bull, one guy hanging back with what looked like a dart gun in his hands.

  The animal was toast. Knocked out cold by the deafening collision with the wall.

  Clay was still on the ground, unmoving. The whole crowd held their breath, a good five hundred people so quiet you could've heard a pen drop. One of the attendants broke away from the bull and went running to Clay.

  Jesus. He better be faking...

  Lust gave way to real concern rippling in my blood. Damn it all.

  If anything happened to him, who would all the ladies in a hundred mile area cluck about when we got together? Nobody would ever fill his big, sexy boots.

  The man hovering over Clay jerked back when the pile of muscle beneath him moved. In one swift movement, Clay stood up, grinning and brushing dirt off his jeans.

  He slapped the attendant on the shoulder and ripped off his infamous hat with his free hand, making a bow like a country gentleman who'd just gotten a visit from the President.

  The crowd went completely gaga. So did I.

  I clapped and screamed until my hands burned red. That wetness between my legs?

  Yeah, suddenly got a whole lot wetter. Hot, burning, slick like fire. No mistaking it – lust and awe were a dangerous combo. Especially for a girl who'd only kissed a couple times.

  I was twenty years old and still a virgin. My stupid crush on the cowboy everybody loved had gotten in the way of some mighty fine guys who would've pleased Daddy.

  Trouble is, they aren't Clay, I thought, watching him walk to the edge of the ring and shake hands, carrying his trademark swagger. Clay Samuels is literally one of a kind.

  My old dates didn't have a shred of edge, no tattoos or stubble to make excitement throb through me.

  Their trim suits and spotless jeans told me I'd have a nice life, and probably even more money and security than Daddy alone could offer.

  But where the hell was the excitement?

  Tasting their lips didn't get me half as wet as just watching Clay from afar. Of course, I spent way too much time scoping out his rodeo acts for my own good.

  Girlish fantasies weren't getting me anymore, and yet I couldn't let go. I secretly imagined the day when he'd finally notice me, and then take my hand for one unforgettable night with.

  If my wildest desire ever came true, I knew I'd end up just as heartbroken as the other girls.

  Too damned bad. One night with Clay Samuels was worth it. Just one sultry, senseless, and totally wicked ride I'd remember for the rest of my life...

  If pain was the price of having him, then I'd pay it. It was still a pittance to feel those rough hands wrapped around my body, to run my tongue along the wild flames tattooed on his back.

  Just one night, I thought, sending up a silent prayer. I know he's bad for me, but he's also the potent medicine I need to move on with my life. Please, heaven, let me have my way this once.

  “Hm, I had a feeling I'd find you here.”

  I looked up and my lust was instantly dashed. Daddy looked at me unhappily. The long mustache he wore looked like a double frown on his face.

  “Come on, Nellie. We've got the butter sculptures coming up. I'm the man giving out the blue ribbons this year. Need my daughter there for a little moral support. I think you'll agree a little community service feels much better than watching overgrown boys flop around wi
th wild animals in the dirt.”

  “Sure,” I muttered. I kept my sarcasm down to a minimum he couldn't detect.

  Daddy reached down and I took his hand. He helped me up, and we were off, sweating beneath the hot sun on the long walk through the fairgrounds.

  Only thing that made me happy about leaving the rodeo area was the thought of air conditioning. At least the place where the crazy folks were carving up big blobs of butter was ice cold.

  Daddy didn't say a word as we wound our way through loud, tight crowds. Wasn't just because of the noise either. He knew I wasn't passionate about this, but to him, it was one more opportunity to mold me into the woman he wanted me to be.

  He instantly flipped into jovial extrovert as soon as we got inside. I watched him pressing hands with youth and ranchers like a politician on the campaign trail, which I guess he was in a way.

  He'd built up Sherwood Farms into a total powerhouse since my grandpa's day. Now, our family had a hand in everything from fine Montana beef to big oil. Businessmen sucked up to my father and older ladies flirted with him until my stomach churned.

  I was just one more project to him. Ever since Momma died a decade ago, he'd shut down, devoting all his energies to business and bringing me up as his perfect girl.

  I knew he meant well for me. Then again, he kept me sheltered in a way I didn't always agree with, easing my isolation with plenty of spending money he transferred into my account each week.

  I was more like another prized animal to him than a grown daughter who should've been his equal.

  Air conditioned or not, it was humid and loud in the judging area. Daddy didn't even notice when I stepped away from his side while he prattled on with the man who'd recreated the Leaning Tower of Pisa in creamy fat.

  I pushed my way through the crowd, careful not to bump the tables housing the buttery sculptures.

  The fair was fun, but a nightmare at times for anyone the least bit claustrophobic like me.

  The crowds in here were more dense than I expected. If it wasn't for the air conditioning, it would've been truly dangerous, dizzying in the summer heat.

  Hell, even with the AC, it kinda was anyway.

  Shit. Let me through...I can't breath!

  I coughed loudly, gasping for air. An older man blocked my path with his huge belly, flub stuffed in overalls as big as a boulder. Grunting, I squeezed my arm into a small space between him and another man.

  If I could just get through...

  I pushed. Hard. Next thing I knew, I was falling, squealing as I went tumbling to the ground.

  Two big arms stopped me from banging my head on the hard tile below. I looked up and almost hit the floor a second time when I saw who'd caught me.

  “Clay Samuels?” I mouthed.

  “Easy, baby. This isn't the place where you sample all the micro-brews.” He grinned. “That's one tent over. You can be as tipsy there as you want. Seriously, looks like you could use some water, though.”

  I flushed. He must've sensed the hot, clammy pulse in my skin as I overheated.

  My brain struggled to understand truly having Clay's rough, strong hands on my shoulders. I was so awestruck I forgot to tell him I wasn't even old enough to drink.

  “Water sounds good,” I whispered. Took all my energy to force out words that were more than a squeak.

  He laughed and steadied me on both feet. When he saw I wasn't going to topple over, he took my hand and led me through the crowd. Unlike me, people parted instantly for him, moving aside like skinny branches in the wind for the rodeo hero.

  I didn't have a clue where we were going. I was totally dizzy now. The crowd, the balmy heat, and especially the fiery, unbelievable man holding my hand made me swoon.

  “Clay! Damned nice to see you, boy!” A smiling face looked out a little window.

  I blinked, realizing we'd stopped in front of a food truck selling beef franks, cheese curds, and plenty other foods swimming in delicious and forbidden fat.

  “Two waters, Mister Jones. Swish in a little sugar and salt. Heat's kicking like a fucking mule out here.” He took his free hand and brushed his brow.

  The man disappeared inside and came back an instant later. Clay handed me a bottle without even paying.

  No surprise it was on the house. It wasn't just the ladies who went to pieces in his presence. Lots of guys treated him like a Prince, their personal idol. I smiled, imagining how much free stuff he must get showered with everyday by grateful folks who wished they could ride half as well as him.

  I looked up, taking small sips from my water. It tasted like a really weak lemonade, but anything was refreshing in this summer hell.

  Clay's hand was gone from mine. He'd slipped several feet away, standing underneath a big tree for shade.

  Oh, no! My brain panicked, seeing its chances for a deeper connection with Mister Badass fading.

  Not that he'd ever go for a homely girl with a few extra pounds like me. But I have to thank him, I have to tell him how much I appreciate all this...

  I forced my knees to move. Not an easy task when every part of me wanted to lock up whenever my eyes fixed on his huge body, glistening with sweat. He had his head tipped back, consuming his beverage in one long gulp.

  Holy, holy hell. His neck muscles bulged as they carried it to his stomach, muscular abs bouncing slightly as they swallowed the nectar. Is he really from this Earth?

  I had to wonder, trailing my eyes down his rock hard chest, watching as little beads of condensation sloped down his flesh and caught on his belt. Didn't have a clue if it was sweat or stray water. My tongue wanted to lick the tiny drops away just the same.

  Stop it. Try to act like a lady and talk to him.

  “Hey, I really appreciate what you did for me back there.” I tapped him on the shoulder gently, fighting back a shiver when my little hands connected with his flesh.

  He was in no hurry. Several long seconds passed as Clay emptied his bottle, and then turned and threw it over my head, where it landed in a nearby garbage can with a loud bang.

  Perfect shot. Perfect man.

  “It was nothing. I saw you and I was reaching through the crowd before you went down. I know what a person looks like when they've had too much of this damned heat.” He wiped his brow for emphasis.

  “You feeling better now, Nellie?”

  My heart stopped. How the hell did he know my name?

  “You know who I am?”

  “I hope I'd recognize the most eligible lady in this dusty town. Your old man's done an awesome job building up his empire. His pull's the only thing saving me from hauling ass several hundred miles.

  Doubt the State Fair would be here this year without him.”

  Ugh, Daddy. Of course.

  “I'm glad you think so,” I said shyly. “Hey, what do you mean, 'eligible?'”

  Clay smoothed his hands down his big, naked chest. The tattoos starting on his shoulders and winding down his back rippled like stripes on a beautiful tiger.

  “Nothing, baby. Just means I know a pretty lady when I see one. Same as my buddies. You wouldn't believe how many guys remember you from Custer High. You're the girl who got away for more guys than I can count.”

  “Oh, come on! Say it isn't so.” I wasn't buying this.

  One the one hand, I couldn't believe Clay was trying to charm my pants off. On the other, I thought he'd be smoother than this. What he was saying couldn't possibly be true.

  I'd been the girl the guys avoided. Barely snagged an awkward date for Senior prom because

  everyone was afraid of Daddy. Local families held their boys back from getting too close because they were worried he'd sue their pants off if their sons couldn't keep their trousers on.

  Besides, I was nothing special. Every man in my Senior class went for the cheerleaders and the girls who perfected makeup early – not the plain Jane daughter of a rich farmer so traditional he forbid me from wearing lipstick at school.

  The few suitors I had hadn't got
ten close. They didn't hold a candle to the gorgeous giant eclipsing me in his shadow.

  “You're joking, right?” I said, nudging him again.

  “Your choice if you don't wanna believe it.” He stepped out of the shade, forcing me to follow him.

  “What're you doing this afternoon? You need to get back to the butter gallery or what?”

  “Hell no!” I chirped. “I'm in the mood to have some fun.”

  He slowed mid-step and raised an eyebrow. “Fun, huh? I know a thing or two about that. Come on.”

  I shouldn't have let him lead me along like a little ragdoll. I shouldn't have hopped into his truck. And I definitely shouldn't have breathed so deeply when he started his engine and began to drive away from the Fair.

  Everything smelled like rough country dust with his scent mingling inside. It was a rough, earthy scent as masculine as he looked, rich and sharp, like sipping a fine wine that made my whole body tingle.

  We took the first few miles in silence. Then Clay looked at me, wearing his damnably sexy smile. He hadn't even bothered to throw on a shirt, driving like a redneck down the long unpaved road leading to the highway.

  If this man was a redneck, though, then what did it make me when I was fighting fire between my legs just looking at him?

  Certainly not the refined country lady Daddy wants you to be, I thought with a smirk.

  “What's so damned funny?” Clay asked. “I like a good joke. The dirtier the better.”

  “Just thinking about how predictable this is. Let me guess: we're off to some lonely field or maybe a cheap motel. You're supposed to charm my pants off with some cheap whiskey and I'm supposed to throw my panties at you, right?”

  Stupid brain. My baser senses screamed, hoping he'd do everything I said, but the side of me Daddy had carefully cultivated wanted to resist.

  “Fuck no. You got me all wrong, Nellie.” Clay shook his head, never losing his big grin. “We're gonna have some fun with fireworks. If there's one thing the Fair's missing this year, it's them. God damned fire ordinances. I miss 'em.”

  “Huh?” My jaw dropped.

  I was genuinely confused. And the total shock doubled when he took a sharp turn and pulled down a narrow road leading to a squat, square building with neon lights. Looked like a little bar in the middle of nowhere.