Bucking Bronco
Sugar County Boys: Book 1
Madison Faye
Contents
Bucking Bronco
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
Epilogue
Also by Madison Faye
Mailing List
About the Author
Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2018 Madison Faye
Cover: Coverlüv
Photography: Golden Czermak, Furious Fotography
Model: Chase Ketron
Bucking Bronco
Big hat, big gun. Long, thick…rope.
The biggest stud on the stallion ranch has his eyes on one lucky lady,
And if she wants to save a horse? Well, he’s got more “cowboy” than she’s ever ridden before.
Rough, wild, and ready to buck all night.
I never needed much after I left my rodeo circuit days behind. Just me, my land, my horses, and my peace and f**king quiet.
But that’s before she comes crashing into my world like a wild filly.
Prettier than a country rose and fiercer than Kentucky moonshine. I’ve got her tied up good and tight after I mistake her for a horse thief. But one look at those big dark eyes, those legs that won’t quit, and those soft curves that beg to be held, and I’m not sure I’ll ever let her go.
I know I should stay away from a tempting, teasing little city girl like Tara Stokes. I know she works for the family on the other side of a blood feud from mine. But I also know one taste of those pouty lips and all I want to do is make her mine.
This little spitfire needs taming. Lucky for her, she’s shacked up with the biggest cowboy in Sugar County.
Cause country boys do it better. Country boys do it harder. And country boys can go all night long.
Tara might not know that yet.
…Oh, but she’s gonna.
Chapter 1
Tara
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
I struggle, but the rope only cuts deeper, and when it does, the little barbed spikes of the wire inside dig against my leg. I wince, hissing in both pain and frustration. Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.
Shit.
This was such a bad idea. All of this has all been a bad idea. Idiot, idiot, idiot, I grumble to myself. Why didn’t I just go up the driveway like a normal freaking person? Just drive on up, knock on the door, and—
…And then what?
Then what would I say to the legendarily rough and untamed, notoriously unfriendly-to-strangers-on-his-property Colton Bronson?
Hi, Mr. Bronson, I need you to sign over your land for this price that we both know is bullshit?
Right, yeah. That’d go well. That conversion would go sideways with anyone, but with him, it’d go downright pear-shaped. I don’t know Colton “Bronco” Bronson personally, but I know of him. Apparently, a lot of people around here know of him. “A reputations the steps into the room before he does,” as they say.
Once upon a time, the man had been somewhat of a star in the touring rodeo scene. Funny for a country boy out of Kentucky, rather than someplace like Texas, Oklahoma, or Wyoming, but Colton “Bronco” Bronson was cowboy through-and-through. He’d even had an ESPN crew follow him around on one of his last circuits since he was smashing so many records and inadvertently being the “hot new face of rodeo.” With that rugged wildness, ridiculously chiseled good looks, and a darkness not even that blond hair could cast away, “Bronco” Bronson was like the David Beckham of horse rodeo.
But then one day, he up and quit. And ever since those glory days, he’d been back home here in Kentucky, in Sugar County, raising horses on his ranch.
Raising horses, keeping very much to himself, and apparently making a name for himself as the least approachable person in five counties. All the research my company has on Colton points to a “probable hostile reaction” to our offer. And lucky me gets to be the one to brave that. Lucky me gets to be the one to brave stepping foot on the property of the man who some in the county said had the going record for shooting trespassers.
Shooting them.
Shooting, or in my case, trapping.
Yeah, the job with Synergy Coal Consultants was shitty enough when it meant little ole me showing up with the bullshit offer in my back pocket. But I’m pretty certain the job description never mentioned stepping into what even I know is a horse thief trap.
The rope slip-noose my ankle is caught in is laced through with a barbed wire, so even if I did have a knife I couldn’t cut myself free. Its known as a rope burn trap — the rope is so its not totally cruel to shred up someone's leg with barbed wire. But the burrs stick through just enough to remind you that you’re not going anywhere.
No, rope burn traps aren’t part of training with Synergy Coal. But, I wasn’t always the city girl in a skirt suit and heels with a briefcase. There’s Kentucky blood in this country-girl’s veins, even if I know I’ve mostly forgotten my roots.
I’m not from Sugar County, but it’s close enough to home that in order to help settle my nerves before braving knocking on Colton’s front door, I decided to go for a freaking hike. In a skirt suit. In heels. Well, heels I took off, but still.
Who does that? Crazy people. Crazy people do that. Crazy people like me, apparently.
My undergrad degree in international business and communications, and my ivy league masters in business wasn’t supposed to lead here. Certainly not back to anywhere near Kentucky. Originally, I’d lined up the chance of a lifetime with an international firm I loved. But that was right when I’d found out my ex, Ben, was fucking around on me. With like, everything with tits within a hundred miles.
After that I kinda lost if for a while. Not because I was sad to lose that asshole. I knew I was better without him. But, c’mon, when your live-in boyfriend has fucked half your “friends,” your grad school advisor, and the waitress at what was your favorite bar, well, that stings. Two weeks of never leaving bed and sustaining myself purely off of whiskey and delivery pizza later, the job was gone. Synergy Coal hadn’t even been a second choice. Or a third. Or a tenth. But, the pay was decent enough.
Plus, I needed a change of scenery from Chicago after Ben.
So I signed on, and it wasn’t until I did that I realized that the job they were giving me was the one no one wanted: convincing salt of the earth folks up in the hollers and deep in the country to sell the land that their families had lived on for three centuries to a coal company. All for pennies on the dollar. The kicker was, everyone knew it was a take it or leave it situation. You took the shitty payout, or Synergy Coal or whoever you were dealing with used eminent domain and paid politicians to take the land from you anyways.
I’ve been at it two whole weeks, and I hate it. But it’s not like there are other jobs banging down my door.
Colton’s ranch is situated on a ton of land that the people I worked for want. And all I wanted was five minutes of serenity before I braved walking up to his front door. Some old hiking blog had mentioned an old creek with a pretty waterfall a small walk from the side road to his property, so I’d decided to take a breather and prepare myself.
Well, the blog was dead wrong, apparently.
No creek, just a fucking horse thief trap. I twist, and I instantly wince again as the barbs dig into my skin. I stepped into this fucking thing probably five hours ago, and now, it’s starting to get dark. My phone gets zero signal up here, and it’s going to die soon anyways, just as the darkn
ess really sets in.
Fuck.
I close my eyes, like good thoughts might somehow magic me out of this mess, when suddenly, I hear the snapping of twigs. My eyes snap open, and I freeze.
…Are there bears in these parts?
There’s the sound of another snap, and my heart jumps into my chest. I yank my cell phone out, turning on the flashlight in spite of the low battery and lamely trying to shine it into the darkness of the woods around me. My eyes scan the shadows, my heart racing as the silence descends again.
Slowly, I let out my breath. My heart slows. I swallow, and I turn the flashlight off as my shoulders slump.
“Well look at this.”
I shriek, whipping around and gasping, my eyes going wide at the sight of the man. I almost choke on my heart as it leaps into my throat, and I bolt to scurry back before the sharp bite of the rope burn trap reminds me that I’m not going anywhere.
The shadowy figure steps from the trees. The first thing I notice is the cowboy hat, and instantly, I know it’s him.
Colton.
Moonlight glints through the trees, glimmering off those steely grey-blue eyes and that chiseled jaw. He’s in jeans, boots, a plaid shirt undone with a white muscle shirt underneath. His forearms rippling with raw muscle where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and when my eyes follow those muscles down to his big hands, I gasp.
He’s holding a shotgun, and it’s aimed right at me.
“S-sir,” I stammer, my eyes wide and the color draining from my face. “Hang on. Sir, my name is—”
“Your name is thief for all I care, miss,” he growls, that country honey in his deep baritone voice.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Where's your crew?”
“My crew?”
Colton frowns, pulling his hat off and letting his fingers rake through his dusty blond hair. His plaid shirt pulls off one shoulder, showing me a glimpse of rippling muscles and tattoo ink.
I swallow thickly.
Hey how about you stop checking out the guy who trapped you who now has a gun aimed at you, huh crazy? I hiss to myself.
Colton’s eyes pierce right into me, taking my breath away and making my pulse hammer.
“There ain’t never just one of you, unless a little thing like you was aiming to pull it solo.”
I shake my head. “Sir, you’ve got this wrong, my name is—”
The shotgun cocks, and I gasp.
“Mr. Bronson!”
His eyes narrow. “So you know me, huh?”
“Yes. As I was saying—”
“You know my name like you know this is private land? Like those signs that say no trespassers?”
I bite my lip, watching him warily. Slowly though, the gun lowers.
“This is all a big accident. A misunderstanding.” I take a breath. “Can you cut me loose?”
“Nope.” He sits his hat back on his head and shrugs.
My eyes narrow into a glare. “You can’t trap people like this, Mr. Bronson. It’s illegal.”
“It’s my land,” he says with almost an edge of humor in his voice, like he’s amused by this.
“Cut me loose! Now!” I snap, my frayed nerves starting to break after all of this.
Colton smirks at me.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please?”
“Wrong.”
I groan. “Ugh! What the fuck is the magic word then?!”
“You got a dirty mouth on you, girl.”
“I’m much nicer when I don’t have a gun pointed at me.”
There’s that cocky smirk again, but the gun lowers even more.
“I’m not here to steal your horses, Mr. Bronson.”
He doesn’t say a word.
“I mean look at how I’m dressed?”
He scratches his chin, his cool eyes sliding over me, leaving heat where I know they shouldn’t. The moonlight filters through the trees, illuminating all of him and making me gasp a little as I really take him in.
Good lord he’s hot. Like, absurdly so. Unfairly, quit-hogging-all-the-good genes type of hot.
I scowl to myself inside. This is withdrawal, that’s all. This is my hormones fucking with me because there's no way I’m actually checking out the rough rancher whose trap I’m in. Right?
Colton finally sighs and steps towards me, which makes my pulse skip.
“Don’t move.”
He kneels down, his hands moving over my bare leg below the hem of my skirt suit. I can feel my skin tingle under his rough touch, and I swallow as I feel those big fingers tighten on my calf.
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a little metal hook-looking tool, which he uses to slip through a wire coil in the trap and twist. Instantly, the noose around my ankle loosens. I yank my leg free, whining as the back of my ankle catches on one final barbed wire burr.
“Thank you,” I huff. I turn to pick up my phone lying on the ground when suddenly, he grabs me.
I scream, gasping as he yanks me up as if I weigh nothing at all, throws me over his shoulder, and then just starts to walk.
“Let go of me!” I shriek, hammering at his broad, muscled back with my fists. “Mr. Bronson, you let me go this inst—”
“That leg needs looking at,” he grumbles, his hands only tightening on me as he starts to walk down a path through the woods.
“Put me the hell down!” I yell. “I can take— let me go!!”
But he’s not listening, or choosing not to — traipsing through the woods with me over one shoulder, his hat on at a tilt, and the shotgun in his hand. I can feel his coiled shoulder muscles rippling, his powerful hand holding me firm against the small of my back.
“Let me go!”
“Nope,” he growls. “I haven’t decided that you’re not here to steal my horses.”
I blink in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Seem like I’m kidding?”
I kick at him as we march down through the trees, but to no effect.
“It seems like you’re fucking kidnapp—”
“We really need to do something about that mouth,” he growls lowly, his voice rumbling through me. “Dirty girl.”
I shiver, his words pulsing a heat through me that I know damn well I shouldn’t be feeling.
…Yeah, something is wrong with me.
“I’m— I’m not here to take your fucking horse! I’m here from Synergy Coal!”
Colton freezes, his steps coming to a stop. A low growl rumbles through him, and suddenly, I gasp as he slings me off his shoulder and shoves me against a tree.
“Say that again.”
I swallow. “Synergy Coal. I just came out to ask you about—”
“Oh I know what you ‘just came out’ to ask me about,” he hisses. “I know who you are. And I know who you fucking work for. You came out to ask me to sign a sucker’s deal is what you did. Came out to try and cheat me.” He growls the words out, his gorgeous grey-blue eyes narrowing at me.
“Mr. Bronson—”
“Miss…” he scowls. “The fuck is your name?”
“Tara. Tara Stokes.”
“I take it all back then, Tara,” Colton smiles thinly. “You’re right. You’re no horse thief.”
I sigh. “Thank you. Now as I—”
“You’re fucking worse.”
My breath catches as he snatches me back up, my heart lurching back into my throat as he throws me over his shoulder again and starts to walk.
“What the hell are you—!”
“You’re mine now,” he growls.
My eyes go wide, my head spinning.
“I’m sorry, what?!”
“I knew you were a thief.”
“I am not here to steal your damn hors—”
“Just my land, right?” he hisses, and my mouth tightens.
“But whatever you are, you’re trespassing,” Colton growls. “And now I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do to you.”
Chapter 2
Colton
She writhes against me, and it's no use pretending it doesn’t have the effect on me it does.
My cock throbs.
My blood roars.
Something hot thunders through me.
I growl as I stalk out of the woods and up the main drive up to the house, her tight little body squirming again me. Fucking hell, it’s been way too long, apparently. Because I’m acting like a damn teenager, getting hard as fuck over this one girl.
But damn what a girl.
Legs for fucking days. Days. I mean hell, a man could get lost exploring those stems. You could follow them up to the tightest little ass wrapped up in that smart little grey skirt suit. A body I want to run my hands all over. Soft, pouty lips that spit fire and sass. Lips I want to claim with mine.
She hasn’t stopped fighting me, or trying to kick or slap her way free the whole way down the trail back to my house. She’s like a wild filly for me to tame.
She’s right, she’s no horse thief. But I only thought she was for a second, before I got a good look at her. And yeah, no. Horse thieves don’t look that good, or that put together. Horse thieves don’t wear skirt suits or have little leather briefcase satchels.
Naw, I knew who she was the second I knew she wasn’t there to take my horses. I knew she was there to take it all.
First I just wanted to fuck with her, to scare a little fear into her. Hell, it’s nothing short of what she deserves, working for who she works for. And I don’t mean Synergy Coal Consultants. No, Synergy is a bullshit company. A front. It’s who they really are that has my blood roaring about why she’s here. I want to look at those soft brown eyes and that sweet innocent face and think that she truly does think she works for a coal energy consulting company. But then, I can’t be too careful.
You can’t let the devil inside with these fucking people, or it’ll get me killed. My grandfather found that out the hard way. And her out traipsing around my land late at night? She might be dressed like a lawyer or some shit, but that’s got spy written all over it. Hell, she might’ve stepped in that trap on purpose just to bring me out to investigate — so I could find her. Hell, pretty thing like her? Those long legs, that fiery swagger and sass, and lips like hers? Fuck, a man could almost get to thinking she was hand-picked to seduce me.