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  Bucked: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book

  Blue Collar Bad Boys, Volume 8

  Brill Harper

  Published by Brill Harper, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BUCKED: A BLUE COLLAR BAD BOYS BOOK

  First edition. January 19, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Brill Harper.

  Written by Brill Harper.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About this Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

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  Further Reading: Plowed: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book

  Also By Brill Harper

  About this Book

  Save a horse...

  Ruby Grant is dead-broke when she wins an all-inclusive vacation to Paradise Hotel in Wyoming. She can’t wait to sip expensive champagne while lounging in a bathtub full of bubbles. To her horror, she discovers “Paradise” is actually Pair-A-Dice Ranch and nothing like the brochure. She’s ready to hop on the next plane back to LA, but sexy cowboy Dusty Cassidy offers her an irresistible deal if she’ll stay. This may not be the vacation she envisioned, but Dusty is just the man for her needs—whether he knows it or not, he’s going to be her first lover.

  Ride a cowboy...

  Dusty can’t decide if Ruby is an angel in white the daughter of the devil. Her curves are so dangerously sexy they should be outlawed. All his time and energy belongs to the ranch, so he definitely doesn’t need a pretty little city girl tempting him away from his chores. Fortunately, she’ll only be on the ranch for a week, so he won’t have to worry about any expectations. But when her vacation comes to an end, will he be able to let her go?

  Author’s confession: Yeehaw! You know by now that I love my tropes. If you love cowboys, Dusty is going to steal your freaking heart faster than he steals Ruby’s virginity. If you’re tired of billionaires and want a real man hero, this book is for you. It doesn’t hurt that, like all my bad boy heroes, he’s really a gooey alphamallow on the inside. (If you’re one of my “safe read” lovers, you can rest easy. No other woman drama here.)

  Don’t miss a new release—sign up for Brill’s super non-spammy newsletter. She doesn’t share her list and only posts updates when there’s a new book or a great deal.

  Chapter One

  Ruby

  The last time I was in a limousine was prom night in Ohio when I was seventeen years old. That was six years ago. A year later, I moved to Los Angeles, thinking that my life would be limos and champagne and handsome movie stars every day.

  As you can probably guess, that’s not how things worked out.

  At all.

  My glamorous life includes working behind the front desk of a three-star chain hotel, eating questionable takeout because it’s probably not moldy yet and payday is still two days away, and acting in an occasional commercial for orange juice or zit cream.

  My Oscar speech is ready, though. I’ve been working on it since I was twelve.

  Truth be told, I was getting close to calling my folks for bus fare back home when I got the message that I won an all-expense paid trip to Paradise Ranch. I’m a city girl, but I wasn’t going to turn it down. It felt like a lifeline when I needed it most. Massages, gourmet food, 1,000-count sheets, and drinking poolside. Maybe the cabana boys wear Stetsons. A girl can only hope.

  Finally, the universe was taking pity on me.

  I settle back into my plush limo seat and pretend this is what my life is like every day. What would it feel like to not worry all the time? To have the satisfaction of knowing your bills are paid and you can still eat without visiting the food bank every couple of months. To be able to buy a new outfit once in a while and not have to skip a payment on your light bill because of it? To not have to choose between your dignity and your survival?

  I used to want the mansions and the pools and the fancy cars. Now I just want to not be worried all the time and maybe even enjoy the work I’m doing. They aren’t big goals really. It shouldn’t seem out of the realm of possibility that I don’t have to choose between buying a loaf of bread or having enough quarters for the dryer.

  We’ve been driving quite a while and the champagne is starting to take its toll on my bladder. But the driver assures me we are almost there.

  Imagine. Me in paradise. Finally, finally, finally things are going my way. It might only be for a week, but I am going to enjoy the hell out of it. I think about the red lacy lingerie I packed. I’ve had the bra and panties for a year and a half and haven’t worn them once. I’ve been saving them for a special occasion, and well, I haven’t had any special occasions in twice as long as that.

  In my fantasies, I put them on for a third date with a fabulous CEO who’s been wooing me with wine and roses. I’d wear them under a pretty little black dress that makes his eyes goggle whenever he looks at me. After a four-course meal and dancing, we’d go back to his place and I’d reveal my lacy secrets after he declares his love. We’d make love, and I’d be glad I waited until this night. My patience would be rewarded, and the sex would be glorious.

  So far, though, third dates have been scarce. When I put the lingerie in my suitcase, I decided that this vacation was the perfect time to have a fling. I deserve to have a great memory of losing my virginity. Since I haven’t found the guy who wines and dines me and professes his love, then maybe it’s time I look for someone else. A vacation fling. Someone impossibly hot. Someone whose memory gives me that secret smile whenever I remember my week in paradise years from now.

  So this week is about rest, rejuvenation, and revving my motor without powering up my vibrator.

  We really have been driving for a long time. It’s pretty remote, but rich people like that kind of thing maybe. The endless pastures and fields are starting to make me edgy, but I pretend I’m rich and I love it, unwrapping one of those fancy hazelnut candies that I don’t really care for but make me feel like I’m living large.

  We slow and make a turn, finally, onto a long, dirt road. Horses are galloping through the pasture on my right, but as we slow, I see chickens chasing each other around a tractor.

  A tractor at a spa?

  This can’t be right.

  I tap on the glass that separates me from the car driver. “Excuse me, Mr. Nichols?” He doesn’t open the window, but pushes the intercom I had forgotten about.

  “Yes, Ms. Grant?”

  “I think we made a wrong turn. We’re supposed to be going to Paradise Ranch.”

  “Yes, Ms. Grant.” He points to a painted sign near a ranch house. “Pair-a-Dice Ranch. We’re here.”

  He stops the car and my hopes are just...decimated. Once again, the universe has turned my own dreams on me. The sign clearly says Pair-a-Dice.

  I should have known. Why hadn’t I prepared to be let down? That’s what always happens to me. If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.

  What was I really expecting, though? Of course filling out a contest entry at a discount grocery store wasn’t going to net me a four-star vacation. Of course it was a scam. Now what? Do I want to make the best of it or should I even bother getting out of this car? I look around. It’s pretty outside with trees in the distance...and the house looks nice—but it’s clearly a dusty working ranch and not going to be what I wanted.

  I’m going to call this one more of life’s hard lessons and
go home. I might still be able to get put on the schedule at work. I never should have taken the time off anyway. I have vacation time on the books, but I’m allowed to work through it and take the pay. I need the pay.

  I needed the time off too, but that’s just not how my life goes.

  That’s when I see him.

  He’s...well...huge. I suppose that it could be the angle or the perspective of the distance to the front porch he’s standing on, but he looks like a giant wearing tight blue jeans and a white tank top. And a hat and cowboy boots, of course. I live in LA, so it’s not like I don’t see a lot of men walking around shirtless with good bodies. But he is stunning.

  My mouth goes dry and my skin tingles. He’s some kind of beast man. Larger than life surely. His shirt is molded to muscles earned by hard work and battling nature, not weight machines and running on a track that goes nowhere. He starts off the porch, his swagger not exaggerated, but it’s there. His beefy legs are encased in denim that must struggle to keep the seams together.

  Everything about him is brutally beautiful, his face no exception. He is the opposite of the man in my fantasies, the one who wears suits and power so well. This guy, he wears the sun. He’s bronzed everywhere and when he gets close enough to the car to talk to Mr. Nichols, I see he even has creases near his eyes, probably from looking at the sky.

  I can’t hear what they are saying, so I open my own door and walk around the car.

  Shit, he’s even bigger than I imagined. He towers over me, but he’s got this masculine grace that makes me feel instantly safe. That’s crazy and I’ve lived in the city long enough to know that. But I feel it all the same.

  “Hey, darlin’, welcome to Pair-a-Dice ranch. I’m the owner, Dusty Cassidy. Mr. Nichols here tells me you’ve been given a bit of a shock. I reckon a glass of sweet tea and some conversation is in order.”

  I reckon if I drink one more thing before I use a bathroom I’ll be in bad shape. I can’t make it all the way back to the airport without a pit stop.

  He reaches his big paw out to me, and I gingerly offer him my much smaller hand. He’s got cowboy hands—rough and callused. I get a tickle in my spine thinking about how the texture would feel against the skin under my clothes.

  Wait, no. Stop that. He is not for you. This is not happening.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  I blink. I’m not saying I forgot my name, but I think I forgot my name.

  Mr. Nichols steps up. “This is Ruby Grant. Ms. Grant, I’m sure you’d like to freshen up. I’ll wait here at the car until you decide if you want to stay.”

  Once again, I’m feeling a sense of safety that I shouldn’t. But Mr. Nichols reminds me of my own dad. It’s clear he’s not going to just drop me here unless I want to be left.

  Could I stay? It’s not what I planned, but it’s still a week out of LA madness.

  A woman steps out onto the porch, her silver hair pulled back from her face. “Get that girl out of the sun, Chuck.”

  “Yes, dear,” Mr. Nichols answers. “That’s my wife. She’ll show you to the ladies’ room. She does the cooking here.”

  I eye the porch. I’m either stepping into some sort of elaborate kidnapping plot, or these are warm, nice people. Either way, I need to use the bathroom, and I’d rather face the danger with an empty bladder.

  Dusty

  THE LITTLE FILLY THE universe just dropped into my world is the sexiest thing I ever laid eyes on. I wait until she’s already in the house when I turn to her driver.

  “Uncle Chuck, what have you done?” Besides renting a limousine.

  “You said you needed more bookings and to get more bookings, you needed more of those internet things.”

  “Reviews?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That girl did not come prepared to spend a vacation at a dude ranch. She’s got city girl written all over her.”

  “We might have spruced up the place in the ad.”

  He’s my uncle. I love him. Right now, I’d like to kill him. “You want to get my license taken away for false advertising?”

  “It’s not like she paid money for something she isn’t going to get. It’s a free trip. All-expenses paid. All she had to do was promise to leave a review.”

  “And you think she’s going to leave a good review after she finds out she’s basically been kidnapped and dumped here when she was expecting something else?”

  “That’s where you come in. You just need to show her a good time. Make sure she falls in love with Pair-a-Dice. She’s a city girl—nobody needs this place more than those city people.

  “City people live in the city for a reason, old man. They like it.”

  Uncle Chuck shrugs. “They don’t know any better.”

  It’s impossible to stay mad at my uncle for long. He’s got nothing but the best intentions, even if the meddling he and Aunt Charlotte do can get tiresome.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t need this complication right now. It’s hard enough renovating this place for a future tourist attraction while keeping the un-tourist parts working. “What was she expecting? What did you offer in the ad?”

  “It wasn’t an ad. It was a contest.”

  I’m not even going to go into detail with him about all the laws he probably broke with his contest or lottery or raffle. I’m sure she wasn’t a random winner, either. They probably handpicked her out of whatever entries they got. Likely they have ulterior motives. They’ve been too quiet about my bachelor status lately, and it should have sent up a bunch of red flags. I was just so relieved that they’d seemed to let it go and the matchmaking attempts had slowed down. I should have known better. “What does she think she won?”

  “A week at Pair-a-Dice Ranch.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “We spelled it Paradise. You know...i-s-e.”

  The muscles in my jaw constrict into a tight band. “And what does Paradise have to offer a city girl like her?”

  He throws his chauffeur hat into to the limo, exposing his bald head. “Relaxation. Nature walks. Horseback riding...”

  All things we currently have. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Gourmet meals. Spa. Massages.”

  Things we don’t have but are in the plan for someday.

  “Maybe a pool.”

  “A pool?” Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. A pool. That’s not even in the five-year plan.

  “You can just tell her it’s out of commission. The river is more refreshing anyway. And Charlotte’s cooking is better than gourmet, you know that.”

  As if a woman ready for an infinity pool would rather dunk herself in a river. “And the massages? What’s your plan there?”

  “We borrowed a table from that place in town for the week.”

  “Did you happen to borrow a massage therapist to go with it?”

  He looks sheepish, but I ain’t fooled. My family has given me plenty of grief over getting my massage therapy license while in college. At the time, I signed up because the instructor was hot. Turns out I liked it well enough to stick with it to get a certificate while I was working on my business degree. It’s a good skill to have, but I took a lot of good-natured teasing over the years.

  Until now of course. When they want me to grope the California hothouse flower.

  “That girl in there has every right to go to the police with this scam. What you and Charlotte pulled could get us into a lot of trouble.”

  “We just wanted to help you. She’s a nice girl. She won’t get mad.”

  “Get mad? Uncle Chuck, you brought her here under false pretenses. She probably took time off work to come. She’s going to be spitting mad and I can’t blame her.”

  “Then show her what’s great about Pair-a-Dice. She’ll have a wonderful time and then you’ll get the review you want so much.”

  Like one review is going to change everything. My aunt and uncle really don’t understand the internet at all. My only hope is that one mo
re bad review won’t sink me. The previous owners really ran the place into the ground. I have grand plans for this ranch, but I need to keep an income coming in to fund the improvements. Right now, my clientele includes hikers, fishermen, and a few horseback riding enthusiasts.

  Not one of them is looking for four-star accommodations. Some of them don’t even want a working shower.

  “Get her to stay, son. That’s the hard part. Once she’s here, she’ll love it.”

  I’m trying to stay patient. Really I am. My aunt and uncle helped my father raise me after my mom died. And when he died a few years back, no one was more surprised than me that I had an inheritance. Not a big one, but big enough to buy my own land. My family’s been very supportive of my vision and dug right in on day one to help me. But I still get frustrated from time to time. “The ends don’t justify the means.”

  “Don’t pull out your fancy college words now.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “You know very well what that means, and I didn’t learn that in college. Stop trying to distract me from the real issue here.”

  The front door opens, and my aunt comes out holding a tray of sweet tea, Ms. Ruby Grant shyly following.

  That girl does something to me. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never been hit so hard with want just from seeing a woman. She up and grassed me like a greenhorn. She’s not movie star pretty, which is not something I like anyway. No, she’s got an interesting face and a short, curvy body. I want to squeeze those sweet curves. Damn. If I don’t change my line of thinking, everyone is going to see the evidence of it in my pants.

  Real class act, Dusty.

  I don’t want to scare the girl. And I’ve already got six feet and four inches going against me. I know I’m a big man. Intimidating to some. Especially women. I’d like to say I’m a gentle giant, but there’s been a time or two when I’ve had to use what God me gave to protect what’s mine or fend off a bully or two from someone less able to defend themselves. I don’t have any problems using my fists or my strength to set things right when necessary, but it’s never my first choice.