Mustang Belle: A small town, rock star, cowboy romance (Mustang Ranch) Read online

  MUSTANG BELLE

  A SMALL TOWN, ROCK STAR, COWBOY ROMANCE.

  EVA HAINING

  Contents

  Also by EVA HAINING

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Social Media

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright ©2021 Eva Haining

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  DEVELOPMENTAL EDITING: Ria Alexander

  EDITING: Booktique Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in Federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr).

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by EVA HAINING

  Manhattan Knights Series

  Flawless

  Relentless

  Endless

  Complete Manhattan Knights Series Box Set

  Mustang Ranch Series

  Mustang Daddy

  Mustang Buck

  Mustang Hollywood

  Mustang Ranch Books 1-3 Box Set

  Mustang Christmas

  Mustang Belle

  Hall of Fame Series

  Fumble

  A Very Fumbling Merry Christmas

  Interception

  Screwball

  Standalones

  Wild Rugged Daddy

  A Christmas To Remember

  The Cardinal Brotherhood

  (Eva Haining writing as E.L.Haining)

  The Cardinal Brotherhood Books 1&2 Box Set

  Luxure

  Kadedus

  Gier

  Newsletter

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  www.evahaining.com/newsletter

  Acknowledgments

  As always, thank you to my wonderful husband, Simon, for getting me over the finish line on this one. It was a very emotional journey for me, and you didn’t have me committed when I kept bursting into tears about the story Knox and Belle wanted to tell. I love you so much.

  Thank you to Ria for telling me I wasn’t nuts when I trashed a huge section of this book and started over. I knew it was best for the story, but I needed the confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

  A big thanks to Lisa. You gave me the confidence to fall in love with Knox and Belle. Your willingness to read for me at the drop of a hat was essential to these lovebirds getting their happily ever after.

  Thank you to my editor, Nicki, you always find the best in my characters and help me produce a final book I can be proud of. Your hard work is very much appreciated.

  To my street team, I want to say thank you for having my back, even when I can’t find the words to tell you how much it means to me.

  And lastly, to my readers, I love you all so much. You’ve embraced the Mustang Ranch series and given me the joy of returning to the town of Kingsbury Falls time after time, finding new and exciting characters to write about. Without you, I wouldn’t be living me dream. Thank you.

  Prologue

  KNOX

  Life has a strange way of kicking your ass when you have your back turned. I put myself out there, thinking I was boyfriend material, only to have my girl swiped from under my nose. It’s bad enough to get dumped by someone you’re into, but when the guy they leave you for is a movie star, it stings a little harder—especially since I actually enjoyed the guy’s movies. Now, my ex is also a huge star, and I’m just the village idiot who everyone looks at with pity in their eyes. I can’t get away from it or her.

  I’m going back to the casual hook-ups. No muss, no fuss, no heartbreak. There are plenty of women in this town who are happy to warm my bed when the mood takes me, and for now, the occasional fuck buddy is all I can handle.

  Kingsbury Falls is my home. I’m constantly torn between leaving and starting over somewhere else or staying to take over our family farm. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I’m sick of being poor Thomas Knox, movie star, Maisie Bryant’s ex. The sooner everyone gets over it, the sooner I can move on and put it behind me.

  One

  KNOX

  I hate to say it, but I’ve never prescribed to the ethos that a guy can be friends with a woman and not want to sleep with her. We might say we don’t think of a friend that way, but I guarantee if that ‘friend’ offered sex, we’d be on them quicker than a duck on a June bug.

  I don’t make the rules, I just abide by them.

  The local bar is the sloppy way to get some action—the same faces, the same boring sex week after week. To get a thrill of any kind these days, I need to venture further afield. A town or two over and the faces become less familiar and more unpredictable when it comes to crunch time. I know I sound like an asshole, but a guy has needs, and when everyone I know is watching the latest blockbuster of my ex fake fucking her now-husband on the big screen, I feel like I should be cut some slack.

  I’m a hometown boy, and someday I guess I’ll meet a girl who’s looking for a guy who works hard and knows how to treat her right. In the meantime, I’m good with playing the field.

  As I wander through the town square on my way to pick up breakfast at the diner, I breathe in the early morning air. It’s something to be enjoyed around these parts. It gets hot as hell during the day and can feel like a struggle to fill your lungs when you’re battling the humidity.

  I have the same routine every day, including weekends. Working a farm doesn’t exactly lend itself to days off. It’s more of a sunup till sundown, seven-days-a-week kind of gig. I’m up with the roosters at the crack of dawn, seeing to the animals and breaking a sweat long before most people hit the snooze button on their alarm clock.

  We supply fresh produce to every business in town and the surrounding counties. It’s hard work, but it’s rewarding, and I love working outdoors. Our family’s farm has been around almost as long as Mustang Ranch, and it’s been passed down through the generations. Growing up, I had no desire to take on the land and responsibility, b
ut life had other plans. The farm is all I know, and now I feel pretty darn good about taking it over from my dad this year.

  When I reach the diner, all the usual faces are there. I say my friendly platitudes where needed before grabbing the same order I get every morning. They don’t even wait for me to pretend to look at the menu anymore. It’s bagged and ready for me before I reach the counter.

  “Thanks. I’ll be by later today with your order from the farm.”

  “Sure thing, Thomas.” Ellen owns the diner. She, along with my mother and the ex who shall not be named, are the only people who call me by my first name. To everyone else, I’m Knox. Whenever I get called Thomas, I feel like I’m being chastised like a kid. That feeling when your mom catches you doing something you shouldn’t and they use your full name, putting the fear of God in you—I still get that uncomfortable pit in my stomach at the age of twenty-five.

  I wolf down my breakfast—or more accurately, my second breakfast—as I drive back to the farm to get going on the deliveries I need to make today. Luckily, I have a very physical job. Otherwise, I’d be seriously overweight. I’m hungry from the moment I wake up until I go to bed at night. Farming is thirsty work and leaves me famished by the end of the day.

  More often than not, I wet my whistle at Cardinals, the one and only bar in town. The owner, my buddy, Kirby, is responsible for all our drunken stupors and bad decisions while under the influence. That alone makes him one of the most beloved guys in town. His establishment is like a small-town version of Tinder. Swipe left at the bar to avoid the clingy girls. Swipe right on the dance floor to head for the bathroom stalls and a quick hook-up. I’d hazard a guess that plenty of guys in this town lost their virginity in the stalls—underage and underwhelming, I’m sure.

  I used to model myself on the stylings of Jax McKinney, but he has long since hung up his bachelor hat and settled down to family life. It’s a sad day when you can’t rely on the town bad boy to stay bad. On the upside, with him off the market, I don’t have much in the way of competition for satisfying the ladies of Kingsbury Falls.

  When I think that this time last year, I actually believed I’d found a woman worth settling down with, it makes me cringe. I was foolish even to begin something with Maisie. I could see the chemistry between her and Mr. Big Shot. I chose to ignore it. I thought she was being cautious with me, not sealing the deal until she was sure how I felt about her. Strange that it turned out to be the opposite. It just goes to show that you can convince yourself of anything if you truly want to believe it.

  I’m going to take people at face value from this point on. If a woman wants to ride me like a prized bull, I’ll gladly oblige. If she wants to profess undying love to me, I’ll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, I’m going to think with my cock for a while and enjoy where it takes me. Tonight will be no exception.

  When I get back to the farm, I set about loading up my truck and heading out to deliver our fresh produce for the day. I could drive this route with my eyes closed. We guarantee delivery of one hundred percent fresh, and that means more running around for me on a daily basis.

  I live a life of four parts.

  Up at the crack of dawn, seeing to the animals, deliveries, then making sure the books are updated. Thankfully, I have an aptitude for figures. Then, at the end of the day, I get a little slice of time for myself. That means propping up the bar until closing or taking a woman back to my place and losing myself in her for a few hours. Either way, I’m buzzed by the time I fall asleep.

  Eventually, I’ll need to move back onto the farm, but I’ve been holding off as long as possible. It’s weird. I’ve been working on building my own house on the farm for a year, so it’s not like I’m moving back in with my parents or anything, but that’s what it feels like—a step in the wrong direction. Right now, I’m renting a cottage in town, and I love that I get some separation from the farm, but it’s not ideal, and it’s not sustainable long-term. Most guys in this town follow on in their father’s footsteps, running whatever business is their family legacy. I’ve just always felt there’s more out there for me—I don’t know what it is yet or if I’ll ever find it.

  I guess someday I’ll inherit the big farmhouse, but I don’t particularly like the idea of moving into that place when my folks are gone. I grew up in that house and have so many wonderful memories as a kid, but that doesn’t mean I want to live there again. It’s like a time warp, and if my recent decisions are anything to go by, childhood crushes and notions on life should be left where they belong—in the past.

  “Hey, Kirby.”

  “Hey, brother. What can I get you tonight?”

  “Dos Equis.”

  “I don’t know why I bother asking. Should I just hand you a bottle when you come in like they do at the diner?”

  “Probably. I guess I’m as predictable as the tides these days. Reliable old Knox.”

  “Old?” Kirby rolls his eyes at me. “You’re twenty-five. If you’re old, then I’m ancient.”

  “Your point?” I quip.

  “Remember, I’m the guy who plies you with alcohol. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

  “Let me mock you, Kirby. You’ve got it all. A wife who loves you, kids who adore you, and I have… this bottle of beer.” I chug it down in record time. Kirby flips the top on another bottle and sets it down in front of me in anticipation.

  “So, we’re doing the woe-is-you routine tonight?”

  “Fuck. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, aren’t I?” I scrub my palm over the scruff of my beard.

  “You’ve had a rough year. I get it. Plus, it comes with the job. You tell me your sad story and then I take your keys when you’re too wrecked to drive home. You’re a good friend, Knox, but you need to get over the breakup. Life’s too short to wallow in self-pity.”

  “I know. I’m just really fucking sick of everyone looking at me like I’m the biggest loser on the planet.”

  “They were doing that long before the breakup,” he says with a wry smile.

  “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

  “Yep. My wife tells me daily.”

  “You’ll get no sympathy from me. Lottie is far too good for you!”

  “True. I’m pretty sure it was a pity date when she finally agreed to go out with me. I wasn’t about to squander the opportunity to snag her for life.”

  “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

  “No argument from me, brother. You want another drink?”

  “Sure. Cut me off after number five. I have cows to milk in the morning. How sad is that statement?”

  “It’s not so much sad as it is creepy. Isn’t it like fondling cow boobs?”

  “I’m going to need you to shut up now. I’ve never once thought of it like that, and you’ve gone and made it weird. Now I have to change my whole career path.” He’s getting a good laugh at my expense.

  “We should put you on one of those dating websites. Knox enjoys getting down and dirty with farm animals. If you would like to be handled by an expert milker, DM now. No one knows nipples of any species better than Knox.”

  “I hate you.” I sling back another beer, considering whether to throw the empty bottle at his head. He just laughs harder, tears rolling down his cheeks as he makes milking motions with his hands. I try to keep a straight face and at least pretend not to be amused by him.

  It gets me thinking.

  What would I put in a dating profile? Better with animals than women? Hometown boy seeking someone with little to no desire to explore the world or find fame? Ex-boyfriend to the stars? I guess that would be star, singular, if I want to be accurate.

  I think I’ll stick to Tinder and bathroom stall hook-ups for now. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I open the trusty app and swipe left at least five times before finding someone who gets me hot under the collar. Sure, she’s not a stranger, but we’ve hooked up a few times, and she has zero interest in relationships, so that’s perfe
ct. I already have her number and tap out a quick message to see if she wants to meet at my place.

  She’s quick to reply, so I finish my drink and head for the door.

  “You’re not driving, are you?”

  “No. I’m just going to walk back to my place. You don’t have to steal my keys.”

  “Who are you hooking up with tonight?”

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Yeah, right. Gentleman, my ass. You’re no more a gentleman than I am a dancing elephant.”

  “All right, twinkle-toes. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to get my groove on. Don’t want to keep the lady waiting.” I give him a knowing wink. He has the woman of his dreams, and he’d never give that up, but I’m sure he remembers the thrill of a one-night stand. No strings. Hot sex and none of the responsibility.

  “Later, bro. Glove up! I don’t want mini Knox’s running around town.”

  “Yes, Dad!”

  By the time I walk to my place, I can see my fuck buddy’s car in the driveway. She’s eager—I like that. When she gets out of the car, I’m pleasantly surprised to see she’s wearing an overcoat. It doesn’t sound sexy, but when you put it into context in a place like Texas, it isn’t for warmth. It means one of two things—she’s wearing nothing but lingerie under that coat, or she’s wearing nothing at all. Either way, my cock is happy.