Stone Cold Surrender (2 page)

on
a
ranch
high
up
in
the
mountains.
Corey
Westmoreland
was
his
father’s
youngest
brother
who,
at
fifty-four,
had

retired
as
a
park
ranger
after
over
thirty
years
of
service.

Stone
had
fond
memories
of
the
summers
he
and
his
one
sister,
four
brothers
and
six
male
cousins
had
shared

visiting
Uncle
Corey.
They
had
gained
a
great
appreciation
for
the
outdoors,
as
well
as
for
wildlife.
Their
uncle
always
took
his
job
as
a
park
ranger
seriously
and
his
love
for
the
wilderness
had
been
contagious.

The
one
thing
that
stood
out
in
Stone’s
mind
about
his
uncle
was
that
he
never
planned
to
marry.
In
fact,
other
than
the

women
in
the
family,
no
other
woman’s
foot
had
ever

touched
the
soil
of
Corey’s
mountain.
His
uncle
always
said
it
was
because
he
was
so
ornery
and
set
in
his
ways
that

marriage
wasn’t
for
him.
He
much
preferred
living
the
life
of
a
bachelor.

Stone’s
thoughts
shifted
to
his
brothers.
This
time
last
year
all
of
them
had
been
happy-go-lucky,
enjoying
every
single
minute
of
playing
the
field.
Then
the
next
thing
you
know,

Dare,
the
eldest,
got
married
and
less
than
six
months
later,
last
month
to
be
exact,
his
brother
Thorn
was
marching

down
the
aisle.
Everyone
in
the
family
began
ribbing
Stone,
saying
since
he
was
the
third
Westmoreland
brother
he

would
probably
be
next.

And
he
had
been
quick
to
tell
them
that
hell
would
freeze

over
first.

He
enjoyed
being
a
bachelor
too
much
to
fall
for
any
type
of
marriage
trap.
And
although
he
would
be
the
first
to
admit
that
the
women
his
brothers
had
married
were
the
best
and
more
than
worthy
of
their
undying
love
and
affection,
he
had
decided
a
long
time
ago,
just
like
Uncle
Corey,
that

marriage
wasn’t
for
him.
Not
that
he
considered
himself

ornery
or
set
in
his
ways;
he
just
did
not
want
to
be

responsible
for
anyone
other
than
himself.
He
enjoyed
the
freedom
to
come
and
go
whenever
he
pleased,
and
being
a
national,
award-winning,
bestselling
author
of
action-

thriller
novels
afforded
him
that
luxury.
He
traveled
all
over
the
world
to
do
research,
and
whenever
he
did
date
it
was
on
his
time
and
no
one
else’s.
For
him
women
were
a

necessity,
but
only
at
certain
times,
and
usually
it
wasn’t

difficult
to
find
one
who
agreed
to
an
affair
on
his
terms.

To
be
completely
honest,
Stone
had
no
issues
with
the

concept
of
marriage,
he
just
wasn’t
ready
to
take
the
plunge
himself.
He’d
made
a
decision
long
ago
to
remain
single

after
watching
a
good
friend,
who
was
also
a
bestselling

author,
become
hopelessly
in
love
and
besotted
with
a

woman.
After
getting
married,
Mark
had
decided
that

writing
was
not
a
priority
in
his
life
anymore.
His
focus
had
switched.
He
much
preferred
spending
time
with
his
wife

instead
of
sitting
at
a
computer
all
day.
It
was
as
if
Mark

had
become
Samson
who’d
gotten
a
hair
cut.
Once

married,
he
had
been
zapped
of
his
identity.

The
thought
that
he
could
lose
his
desire
to
write
over

something
called
love
totally
unnerved
Stone.
Since

publishing
his
first
book
at
twenty-three,
writing
had

become
his
life
and
he
didn’t
intend
for
that
to
change.

Doing
so
would
mean
losing
control
and
the
idea
of
losing
that
type
of
control
on
his
life
was
something
he
couldn’t
handle.

Stone
decided
to
check
out
the
woman
sitting
beside
him
once
more.
Even
with
her
eyes
closed,
he
immediately

liked
what
he
saw.
Shoulder-length
dark
brown
hair
and

skin
the
color
of
dark
coffee.
She
had
a
nice
set
of
full
lips
and
her
nose
was
just
the
right
fit
for
her
face.
She
had
long
lashes
and
her
cheeks
were
high.
If
she
was
wearing

makeup,
it
was
not
very
much.
She
was
a
natural
beauty.

He
glanced
down
at
her
hand,
the
one
gripping
his
thigh.

She
was
not
wearing
an
engagement
or
wedding
ring,

which
was
good;
and
she
had
boarded
the
plane
in
Atlanta,
which
meant
she
either
lived
in
the
area
or
had
come

through
the
city
to
catch
this
connecting
flight.
Since
they

were
on
the
same
plane,
unless
she
had
another

connecting
flight,
she
was
also
bound
for
Montana.

His
body
tensed
when
he
felt
her
grip
tighten
on
his
thigh.
He
inhaled
deeply.
If
her
hand
moved
even
less
than
an

inch,
she
would
be
clutching
the
most
intimate
part
of
him
and
he
doubted
she
wanted
to
do
that.
Chances
were
she
assumed
her
hand
was
gripping
the
armrest,
so
he