Long Time Gone (Rough Riders) Page 12
These third generation McKays and Wests are younger, for the most part, than their McKay parents were when they met, fell in love, and settled down. Since I’ve been forbidden from allowing anything to happen to the first generation (Carson and Carolyn, Cal and Kimi, Charlie and Vi, Joan) who were in their eighties at the end of Cowboy Take Me Away, this spin-off series will take place in the ten-year timespan between the last chapter and the epilogue of Cowboy Take Me Away.
What exactly does that mean? Since the characters in the Rough Riders Legacy series will be college-aged, their stories fall into the New Adult category of romance. Sierra, Kyler, and Hayden will be living away from the McKay stronghold in Wyoming. Not only will this allow them to learn to make their own ways; it also won’t be necessary for new readers to be familiar with all 20+ installments in the original Rough Riders series to follow the stories.
I’m so excited to bring my readers something new, and yet something they’ve been asking for!
Lorelei James ~ June 2015
Without further ado… Read on for the first look at the long-awaited story that reunites Sierra Daniels McKay and Boone West…
Exclusive excerpt
Unbreak My Heart
LJLA, LLC copyright 2015
I blame everything on the fever.
Everything.
My nausea.
My surliness.
My weepiness.
My utter lack of a reaction when he strolls into the exam room.
He gapes at me like I’m an apparition.
I continue to look at him blankly, as if it’s no big deal he’s here, right in front of me, wearing scrubs and a cloak of authority.
But the truth is I haven’t seen him for six years.
Six. Years.
I should be in shock—maybe I’m in too much shock. This definitely falls under the heading of trauma. Because on the day he waltzes back into my life? I look worse than dog diarrhea.
I mentally kick myself for not going to the ER. Or perhaps just letting myself die. Anything would be better than this.
Screw you, universe. Fuck you, fate. Karma, you bitch, you owe me.
This chance meeting should’ve happened when I’m dressed to the nines, not when I sport yoga pants, a ratty Three Stooges T-shirt, dollar store flip-flops and no bra. And the bonus? My hair is limp, my skin clammy, my face shiny from the raging fever I can’t shake.
Wait. Maybe this is a fever-induced nightmare.
“Sierra?” The beautiful apparition speaks my name in a deep, sexy rasp.
Pretend you don’t know him.
Not my most stellar plan, but I go with it.
I cock my head and frown as if I can’t quite place him.
His expressive brown eyes turn hard. “That’s really how you’re gonna play this? Like you don’t know me?”
I return his narrow-eyed stare because I’m too sick to fake an air of boredom.
“Fine. I’m Boone West. Your med tech,” he says sarcastically. “I’m here to take your vitals.”
I shake my head. My inability to respond isn’t from pettiness—I lost my voice yesterday, due to this fever. But my middle finger works fine and I use it to point at the door as I mouth, “Get. Out.”
“Nice try. But keep your arm out like that so I can take your blood pressure.”
My heart rate skyrockets, so no freakin’ way is he putting a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope on me.
Boone moves in cautiously as if I’m a feral creature. He smiles—not the sweet, boyish grin I once loved—but one brimming with fake benevolence.
My belly flips, which pisses me off. And I wish projectile vomiting was my superpower instead of this uncanny ability to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, every time.
I jerk away from him.
“Look, Sierra,” he says reasonably. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. Not like this. Let me do my job and we’ll talk afterward.”
I shake my head so hard my vision goes wonky.
“It’s not like you have a choice.”
Wrong. In full panic mode, I bail off the exam table and hug the wall, facing him as I creep toward the door.
“Whoa. Slow down. You came into the clinic because you’re sick. You can’t just leave.”
My throat feels like I gargled with gravel, but I manage, “Watch me.”
Then I throw open the door and book it down the hallway.
But my fever has the last laugh.
My body chooses that moment to fail me. Chills erupt as if I’ve been plunged into a deep freezer, followed by sweat breaking out as if I’ve been baking in the Arizona desert. White spots obscure my vision.
I sway before everything goes dark.
***
“She’s coming around.”
I recognize that voice.
Dr. Monroe.
I peel my eyes open and notice I’m back in the exam room.
“Hey girl. How’re you doin’?”
Girl. She seems to have forgotten that I’m not a girl, but a twenty-two-year-old college graduate with the world by the balls.
“I need to poke around, so lie still.” She lifts my shirt and starts palpating my belly. For such a tiny thing, she pushes hard enough on my innards that I swear I feel her fingers poking the inside of my spine.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Can you sit up?”
As soon as I’m upright, the whooshing sensation starts in my ears. My eyes burn but I can clearly see that Boone blocks the door. I grit out, “He goes.”
Doc Monroe gets right in my face. “A patient who acts like they’re trying to escape and then passes out in a waiting room full of people is hell on my reputation, Sierra McKay. Boone stays. You’re lucky he acted so fast and caught you before you hit the floor.”
“How did I…?” I gesture to the surrounding area.
“I carried you,” Boone said. “You snuggled right into me. Strange behavior from someone who doesn’t know me.”
Goddammit. I hate this. I hate him. I level my best glare at his smarmy face.
He remains stoic.
Yeah, you were always good at hiding your emotions, weren’t you?
“Sounds like you’ve got laryngitis too,” Doc Monroe says. “Boone, you didn’t get her vitals?”
“No, ma’am. Under the circumstances, maybe it’s best if you do that.”
The doc’s gaze locks to mine.
“He has to go,” I croak out.
“Sergeant West is here by government order, finishing the four week training stint in rural healthcare that the army requires for medical personnel at his level.”
She didn’t have to explain that to me. In fact, I really didn’t want to know.
Doc sighs and takes my temperature, which tips the thermometer at a toasty 103 degrees. She checks my eyes, my ears and my nose. She presses her thumbs down the center of my neck and beneath my jaw. She listens to my lungs. Lastly, she shoves a tongue depressor in my mouth and shines a light in my throat while demanding I say aaaaah.
She pats my knee. “It appears you’ve got strep. But I’ll send Sarah in from the lab for a throat culture to make sure.”
No wonder I feel shitty and none of Rielle’s natural home remedies worked on me.
Doc Monroe pokes the call button before she plops on the rolling stool and types on her laptop.
I stare at my knees, grateful I’m not wearing a drafty exam gown that leaves me even more exposed.
To Boone fucking West.
Two knocks sound on the door.
Boone steps aside as the lab tech hustles in.
“One quick swipe is all I need, no pokey pokes for blood tests,” she chirps merrily.
I gag when she jams the long cotton swab into my throat and swirls it around.
“All done,” she says with way too much fucking cheer.
She exits the room and Doc Monroe stands in front of me. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes until I get the lab results. Why don’t you lie down?”
; I curl up on my side. Doc pulls out the exam table extension. Then she covers me with a blanket. Part of me wishes she acted cold and clinical instead of showing maternal concern.
The door shuts with a soft click.
Everything aches. My throat is almost swollen shut so it hurts twice as much to cry. But the tears leak out anyway.
“I’m still here,” Boone states.
Go away.
“Since you can’t talk, you’ll damn well listen.”
He’s gotten bossier from his years in the military. But he struggles with whatever he wants to say since he remains quiet for longer than I expect.
“Of all the places in the country I could’ve chosen to complete this training assignment, I elected to do it here, in my hometown, because I wanted to see you again. Even when I suspected you’d kick me in the balls at best, or you were in a relationship with some undeserving douchebag at worst.”
I hate that he tells me his worst case scenario is seeing me involved with someone else. Right then, I wish I had a hot, rich boyfriend with a big dick to flaunt at him.
“I don’t know what surprised me more,” Boone continues. “To find out that you actually changed your last name from Daniels to McKay—which is why with all the damn McKays around here I didn’t know the S McKay on the patient chart was you—or that you no longer live in Sundance.”
Even if my vocal chords weren’t raw and nonfunctioning, I wouldn’t respond. What can I say? He expects me to defend my choice to test my business skills beyond the Wyoming border? Screw that. He left for the very same reason. I owe him nothing.
“We’re not done with this, Sierra. Not by a long shot.”
His footsteps squeak on the linoleum. The door opens and closes with a soft click.
I know I’m alone.
Nausea rolls over me. I close my eyes.
I just need fifteen minutes and this nightmare will be over.
***
When Doc Monroe wakes me, I don’t know where I am.
Then a cough and burning in my throat remind me.
“You tested positive for strep,” the doc says, helping me sit up.
Goodie.
“Two treatment choices. A ten-day cycle of penicillin in pill form or a shot of penicillin.”
“A shot,” I whisper.
“Good choice. You’ll feel better faster. You want me to prescribe a cough suppressant?”
I shake my head.
“Rielle’s opinions of western medicine have rubbed off on you.”
My father’s wife prefers natural remedies whenever possible. Most people attribute that mindset to her hippie-like upbringing. But the truth is before she married my dad, her financial situation dictated she find fast and cheap alternatives. She and I laugh that she’d rather be seen as a hippie than a cheapskate.
The doc pulls out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. She gets one affixed to the other and looks at me. “Drop your drawers. You get this shot in the butt.”
Great. I hook my thumbs in my yoga pants.
Just then, three fast knocks sound on the door before it opens a crack. “Doc, we need you right away in six.”
“Dammit.” She gestures to me. “Get someone in here to do this.”
That’s when I know the universe is giving me an opportunity for payback, because fifteen seconds later, Boone strolls in, a needle in his gloved hand, looking nervous.
So the fever takes control. Or the bad angel. Or the devil in my soul that he put there when he left.
“I’m here to—”
“Give it to me, right?” I say huskily in my best phone sex operator voice. I turn around. Peering over my shoulder, I lock my gaze to his as I shimmy my yoga pants down to my knees.
He hisses in a breath. He’s tempted to ditch decorum and drop his gaze from my face to my ass—which is completely bared by my thong.
My ass wins out.
Sucker.
And oops—I accidentally shake it at him as I lean over to rest my hands on the edge of the exam table.
“Hold still,” he says tersely. He preps the area with a cool swipe of liquid on my skin.
I clench; I can’t help it. Better that than him believing I break out in goose bumps from his simple touch.
“Relax,” he murmurs.
Then before I fully prepare myself, he jams it in.
A soft grunt escapes me.
He soothes me, gently curling his hand around my hip. “Just a little more.”
I know he’s dragging this out. Big surprise that the bastard gets off on causing me pain. The injection site starts to sting, sending electric sparks shooting beneath my skin.
“Done.”
Paper rattles and I look over my shoulder to watch him press a circular Band-Aid over the tiny dot of blood. Then he slowly sweeps his hand over my butt cheek.
I feel the pure male heat of him even through the latex.
“You can get dressed,” he says without conviction or even looking at my face.
Asswipe.
I don’t look at him as I yank my pants up.
Boone is still standing there when I turn around. “I’ll come find you when you’re feeling better so we can talk.”
I shake my head.
“You can’t escape the past, Sierra. More to the point, you can’t escape me. See you around, McKay.” Then he flashes that killer smile—my smile, the one he used to bestow only on me—and backs out of the room.
After that, I flee the office.
Two days later, I flee Sundance.
I tell myself I’m not fleeing from him.
I tell myself the only reason my dad let me know Boone stopped by a few hours after he saw me at the clinic was so I could avoid running into him again.
I’m in the clear now, with Wyoming in my rearview mirror and Arizona in my headlights.
But as the miles drag on, I can admit I did run from him.
I just didn’t expect Boone West to chase after me.
***
Unbreak My Heart releases worldwide on February 8th, 2016 in all digital formats as well as print… Announcements for preorder links will be posted on www.loreleijames.com as soon as they’re available
Thank you for reading the latest installment in the McKay family saga! If you’re so inclined to spread the word and the love about the Rough Riders world, please leave a review at your favorite e-bookseller site.
Rough Riders Series( in reading order)
LONG HARD RIDE
RODE HARD
COWGIRL UP AND RIDE
TIED UP, TIED DOWN
ROUGH, RAW AND READY
BRANDED AS TROUBLE
STRONG SILENT TYPE (novella)
SHOULDA BEEN A COWBOY
ALL JACKED UP
RAISING KANE
SLOW RIDE (free short story)
COWGIRLS DON’T CRY
CHASIN’ EIGHT
COWBOY CASANOVA
KISSIN’ TELL
GONE COUNTRY
SHORT RIDES (anthology)
REDNECK ROMEO
COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY
Blacktop Cowboys® Series
CORRALLED
SADDLED AND SPURRED
WRANGLED AND TANGLED
ONE NIGHT RODEO
TURN AND BURN
HILLBILLY ROCKSTAR
ROPED IN (novella, 1001 Dark Nights)
WRAPPED AND STRAPPED (November 2015)
The Mastered Series
BOUND
UNWOUND
SCHOOLED
UNRAVELED
CAGED (July 2015)
Single Titles
RUNNING WITH THE DEVIL
DIRTY DEEDS
Novellas
WICKED GARDEN (Three’s Company Anthology novella)
BALLROOM BLITZ (Two to Tango Anthology novella)
MISTRESS CHRISTMAS (Wild West Boys novella)
MISS FIRECRACKER (Wild West Boys novella)
LOST IN YOU (short novella)
Need You Series
(debuts Jan. 2016)
WHAT YOU NEED
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Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary erotic western romances and also contemporary erotic romances. Lorelei’s books have been nominated for and won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award as well as the CAPA Award. Lorelei also writes award-winning mystery under the name Lori Armstrong. She lives in western South Dakota.
Table of Contents
Copyright
A Note from the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Unbreak My Heart Excerpt
Other Books by the Author
About the Author