Page 18 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

My cell phone pinged, and I looked down, surprised to see I’d texted Avail sometime in the last several days that I wanted out of here.

I didn’t remember sending the text—oh wait. Yes, I did. It was after Betsy, my asshole of a horse, who even though he was a male horse, was named Betsy, had tossed me ass over teakettle.

I’d landed on a rock and had a bruise right on my left ass cheek for two straight days. With my supernatural healing abilities that meant it was one fucker of a bruise.

Yeah, I remembered that night. It was right after Emmet had laughed at me for putting the horse’s saddle on too tight. Well, I showed him. I rode that horse bareback now.

Take that douche canoe.

Betsy hated fucking around with saddles. And I was without one. Didn’t ride him very much now, anyway. Not ever since Jed showed me where the 4-wheelers were.

Another thing Emmet hadn’t mentioned. My phone pinged again, reminding me this fucker was just getting back to me now. Some cousin he was.

Avail

Max, I understand your feelings and will talk to grandmother if you insist. But do try to tough it out. It might be worth it.

He even texted like an asshole.

I snorted and put my phone away.

Surprisingly, Jed had turned out to be a wealth of information about this place.

He’d been a hired hand since he was seventeen, and who the fuck knew how long ago that was?

Even Prairie Dog Shifters aged slowly compared to humans.

“See ya later, Boss. Gotta go check on Dolly,” Jed said after dropping off another fresh tub of goat cheese.

I’d learned Dolly was the name of all of Jed’s favorite milking goats and cows. He was a huge Dolly Parton fan, and this was his way of honoring her, I supposed.

Though, I was pretty sure naming an animal Dolly because of the size of their,uh, teats was probably sexist or something.

Anyway.

Apparently, the farm/ranch/whatever-the-fuck had a more than decent dairy operation. Using both milk cows and goats, old Jed had been making everything from milk, to butter, to yogurt, to cheese and selling it to local stores and restaurants, and sometimes at a table at the rodeo and farmers’ markets.

I planned to look into all that once I could feel my eyeballs again. Grunting, I nodded my thanks as he left and held an icepack to my pounding head. I felt beneath the cold plastic packet and sighed.

At least the knot on my forehead was going down.

Fucking Emmet and these goddamn interviews. I’d dealt with more supes in the last week than I had in my almost forty years walking this godforsaken planet.

Why I let the slick-talking Wolf onto my property, I would never know?

But, for some reason, not only had I allowed it. But I let the blond-haired fucker talk me into a trial period for him and the other hopefuls who wanted a place on this ranch.

Or farm.

Or whatever the fuck this was.

Motley Crewd.

I thought of the name Avail had used in that announcement he put in the only worthwhile supernatural newspaper.

It would have been funny if I wasn’t hurting so badly. A crude lot, we sure fucking were. But then again, who else would answer that kind of ad but a bunch of unmated males barely hanging on to their humanity?

The Shifters who’d answered my asshole cousin’s notice werehardly more than a bunch of roughnecks. Tough motherfuckers who knew their way around a place like this a helluva lot better than I did.

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