lori king rough ride romeo
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Authors: Lori
Rough Ride Romeo
Crawley Creek Ranch 2
By: Lori King
Text Copyright © June 2015 Lori King
Art and Logo © Copyright Lori King Books
All rights reserved.
Edited by: Ekatarina Sayanova
Red Quill Editing
Artwork by: Jess Buffett
Jess Buffett Graphic Designs
Published by: Lori King Books
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other individuals or devices is illegal.
This work is fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely
coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author,
except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Blurb
Cowboys don’t cry, but Roman “Romeo” Freemont certainly has enough
tragic history to spend his days teary-eyed. Instead he’s turned to women and
liquor in an effort to soothe his aches and pains, but when a petite brunette with a
feisty temper comes crashing into his world, he realizes what he’s been missing.
Francesca “Franki” Scott has walked through fire herself. Nowadays she just
isn’t a people person, and she’s definitely not interested in a wannabe playboy
ranch owner either. She has a mission and it could mean life or death for
someone close to her if she gets distracted.
Closing the gap between these two wounded souls could mean surviving yet
another tragedy. Wil their determination to hide their pain from themselves be
their downfall, or will they come through this rough ride together?
Warning: Explicit romance
Dedication
To those who have loved and lost.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
The sound of an engine shattered Roman Freemont’s peaceful snoring, and
he choked on an inhale fumbling awake. His mouth tasted like shit, and his
tongue felt like it had been sanded down with fine grit sandpaper. The haze in his
vision could have been his hangover, or a thick fog bank, but considering the
height of the sunshine beating down through the windshield, he was more apt to
assume the former.
Shoving a hand through his shoulder length brown hair, he encountered
something sticky matting the ends of several pieces, and grimaced. It wasn’t like
this was the first time he’d slept off an all-nighter in his truck, but this wasn’t even
the first time this week. He could already feel Drannon and Vin’s disapproval,
and he hadn’t even seen them yet this morning. Hell, the sensation was strong
enough that the hair on his neck prickled.
Rubbing at his nape with one hand, he searched the scattered contents of his
old Chevy pickup for his cell phone. As usual, its battery was completely dead,
but he figured there were a dozen messages from the ranch already filling his
inbox. He tossed the useless gadget into the glove compartment, and climbed out
of the truck, stretching his long, lean form as he went. Drinking and cavorting
were the only medicine for the aches in his soul, but he could use some aspirin for
the twinges in his back right about now.
A quick glance around the parking lot of Mick’s Watering Hole assured him
that there was no one watching his walk of shame. There were half a dozen
vehicles on the far side of the lot, but they al stood empty, their owners off doing
their business somewhere along the six block town of Montford, North Dakota.
With no one watching, he made his way across the empty lot to the
convenience store next door. His head was pounding, and he could still taste the
bitters from last night’s beer. The small bell attached to the glass door sounded
like an air raid siren, and he groaned softly.
“Morning Romeo.” Amelia Dewitt called out from her stool behind the
register.
“Roman Freemont, you look like shit.” Brandon Bowers rested his hip
against the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were hidden
behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses, but Roman knew they were taking in his
hangover and cataloguing it in detail. Lately it was Roman’s natural state.
“Well good morning to you, too, sunshine,” he retorted, heading straight for
the cold case at the back and snagging a large bottle of pop. Caffeine would help
him face the day while it was too early to drink.
Bran didn’t respond to his comment, but Roman could tell he had
something he wanted to say just by the way his jaw ticked. Ignoring his friend for
the moment, he placed a bottle of aspirin on the counter next to his soda and
gave Amelia his most charming smile. “And how are you this fine morning
Amelia?”
“Better than you are I s’pose,” she answered with a playful wink. Her
graying hair was wound in a tight bun atop her head, and her plastic framed
glasses perched on the end of her nose. She was a comforting staple in small town
Montford, and one of the nicest people Roman knew.
“I’l admit I’m feeling a bit low this morning, but it’s nothing a hard day of
work won’t cure.” Roman responded.
“Day’s half gone already, son. You’d better get a move on if you’re planning
on accomplishing anything before the sun goes down.” Handing him his change,
she planted herself back on her stool and rested her elbows on the counter.
Before Roman could respond, Bran laughed.
“No worries there, Amelia. Romeo here wouldn’t know hard work if it bit
him in the ass.” Still laughing at his own joke, Bran slapped Roman on the back
hard enough to bring a frown to his face.
“Kiss my grits, Officer,” he snapped, throwing back the aspirin and taking a
big swig of soda to wash it down.
“That’s Sheriff Bowers to you, Freemont.” Bran said sternly. To a stranger it
might have sounded like the two men were at odds, but that was the absolute
furthest thing from the truth. A couple of decades ago, Brandon was one of
Roman’s biggest idols. He could remember following the three musketeers—also
known as Roman’s older foster brothers, Drannon, and Vin, who were best
friends with Brandon—all over their small town and out into cattle country. Hell,
they’d even taken him camping and fishing with them a time or two before they
forgot about everything but girls.
Irony seemed to be waving a red fag at Roman as he stood there in the
small shop. Now he was the one hell-bent on screwing his way into an early grave,
and Brandon was walking the fine line of the law.
“Whatever you say, Sheriff.” Roman drew out the last word pointedly.
“You’re right about one thing, Amelia, I need to get my ass in gear. Good to see
you Bran, do be careful when you take that stick out of your ass tonight after your
shift.” He turned and gave Bran a hefty slap on the shoulder before marching
toward the doors again.
“Don’t be going too fast now, Romeo, or I won’t have a chance to admire
that fine backside you’re planning on working,” Amelia cal ed out giving him a
wave, and laughing. He blew her a kiss as he stepped back out into the blinding
sunshine.
It was already hot outside, and he could feel the sweat and grime from the
night before clinging to his skin as he fidgeted and stretched taking in the small
main street of Montford. The town consisted of about ten thousand people
nowadays, but it wasn’t so long ago that it was pea-skin small and barely kept up
with the couple dozen businesses that occupied the main thoroughfare. It seemed
as if the whole town took a breath and then multiplied all at once. Before you
knew it, they even had their own big box store down the highway a bit. He’d
recently heard that a popular fast food joint would be coming to town, but until
he saw the arches, he wasn’t buying the story.
With a snap and a crack, his back twisted and he sighed in relief as the
tension eased out of his cramped body. It was past time he went back to sleeping
in a bed rather than slumped on the bench seat of his pickup, but he’d be
damned if he’d drive drunk again. He was tired of the lectures every morning
from the peanut gallery. Between his three brothers, Drannon, Vin, and Hawke,
and Drannon’s fiancé, Lacy, he had to relive his mistakes almost daily anymore.
After their makeshift mama-bear Marilyn told him she was too disappointed in
him to even comment on his state last time, he couldn’t even bring himself to face
her anymore. A quiet voice in his head reminded him that if he wasn’t drunk it
wouldn’t be a problem, but he hushed it real quick. Life was meant to be lived,
damn it. He was just enjoying it with a beer in his hand, that’s all.
Taking another swig of his pop, he headed back to his truck with his beat-up
straw hat pulled low over his brow to block the cheerful sun. The familiar scent of
tobacco and animals filled his nose as he planted himself in the driver’s seat and
shoved the keys into the ignition. Throwing the gear shift in the general direction
of drive, his heart nearly burst from his chest when his truck rolled backward into
the parking stall behind him instead of easing forward out of the lot. The sound
of grinding metal was followed by a loud crash and a woman’s scream.
Chapter 2
“Oh snot.”
Horror washed over Roman when he twisted around to find a woman
standing just inches from the tailgate of his truck. Thankfully, she looked
unharmed, but she also looked pissed off. By the time he’d thrown the door open
to get out, she’d darted around the truck and was in his face.
“What the hel do you think you’re doing? You just ran over my bike!” she
yelled, slamming her palm against his chest and knocking him off balance as he
tried to stand up. He landed on his ass on the seat with his legs spread off kilter,
and her right between his knees glaring daggers at him from her cobalt blue eyes.
Rich, brown hair was tied back in a messy braid, and a pair of aviator sunglasses
sat on top of her head, but it wasn’t her shades that drew his attention. It was her
fury, and the frustrated anguish that filled her curses. “God
damn
it! Why the hell
weren’t you...how the hell did you...
damn
it!”
Lifting his hands in an attempt to calm her, he murmured, “Easy there,
sweetheart—”
“Don’t start that country boy charm shit with me, bucko. I’m not buying it.
You just wrecked my bike, and you’re going to pay for the damages,” she
snapped, poking her finger into his chest. Standing in front of her now, the size
