Untouched

Book 3: A Silver Creek Romance

by Maisey Yates

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

In the Silver Creek romance Unexpected, Cole Mitchell found love in the last place he ever thought to look. Now, in USA Today bestselling author Maisey Yates’ newest novel, Cole’s little sister Lark is determined to have her turn…
 
Having never left the family ranch, Lark Mitchell needs a little adventure—or at least a romance that isn’t confined to the internet. Her older brothers Cole and Cade have always been too good at protecting her innocence, but even they can’t stop her from taking a second job—where her boss just so happens to be the kind of bad boy she craves. Too bad he’s also the one guy in Silver Creek she should never touch…
 
When Quinn Parker introduces himself, Lark tries to quit on the spot. Everyone knows Quinn was behind the accident that ended Cade’s rodeo career. But when he holds her to her contract, she can’t help wanting to get even closer. As she begins to see the man behind the gossip, she sees that not all of the things people say about him are true…even if there’s plenty about this bad boy she has yet to discover.

Release date: January 21, 2014

Publisher: InterMix

Print pages: 353

Sample

 

 

It wasn’t like she even wanted any of this for herself.

Lark Mitchell looked around the completely unconventional wedding being thrown in her yard and fought the urge to cry.

Which was dumb as rocks, because there was no reason to cry. Seriously, the bride was wearing a black wedding dress. It was ridiculous. And, okay, the bride was also marrying the man Lark had spent the better part of two years completely fixated on, but that was no reason to cry.

It wasn’t like she loved Tyler. And in the year since he’d started dating Alexa, his new wife, and moved to New York, Lark had completely gotten over him.

No, this wasn’t heartbreak. She was just in the throes of that left-behind kind of melancholy that she was more familiar with than she’d like to be.

She’d felt that way when most of her friends had gone off to college and she’d stayed in Silver Creek to help out on the ranch. She’d felt it all through high school when other girls had gotten dates and she’d gotten the chance to tutor cute boys in English.

Just this sort of achy feeling that other people were going somewhere while she stood in the same place.

Or, in this instance, sat in the same place. At one of the florid tables placed around the lawn. This little wedding had come to Elk Haven Stables because Tyler was once a ranch hand, and because the bride in black was best friends with Lark’s sister-in-law, Kelsey.

Lark adored Kelsey, but she could honestly do without Alexa.

Which might be sour grapes. Maybe.

But damn, woman, marry a dude your own age. Tyler was in her own demographic, and he hadn’t known her in high school, which helped, because as awkward as she was now . . . high school had been a beyotch.

“Hey, sweetie.”

Lark looked up and saw Kelsey, holding baby Maddy on her hip and looking down at her with overly sympathetic blue eyes. “Hi,” Lark said.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m . . . so okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay? I had a crush on this guy for like two seconds, a year ago. I never even kissed him.”

“I remember how much you liked him.”

“Thanks, Kels, but I’m a grown-up, as much as Cole doesn’t like to acknowledge it. I’ve moved on. I have another man in my life now.”

Because she was sure three rounds of cybersex six months ago with a guy she’d never met counted as having someone in her life. And if not, it at least bolstered her lie. She needed the lie. It was so much better than admitting she was pathetic. And that she spent most days in her room doing tech support for various and sundry people while eating Pop-Tarts and streaming Doctor Who through an online subscription service.

Yeah. Saying she was involved was better than admitting that.

“Oh. Do you? Because Cole”—Kelsey narrowed her eyes—“Cole doesn’t know.”

“No. And it’s okay if it stays that way.” The idea of her brother finding the transcripts from those little chats she’d had with Aaron_234 was ever so slightly awful.

Almost as bad as admitting that the closest she’d ever come to sex was a heavy breathing conversation. Over the Net. Where you couldn’t even hear the heavy breathing.

The very thought made her cringe at her own lameness. It was advanced geekiness of the highest order.

At least she excelled at something.

“I’m not going to keep secrets from Cole,” Kelsey said, sitting down at the table. “I mean, I won’t lie to him if he asks.”

“He shouldn’t ask. It’s not his business.” Of course, Cole wouldn’t see it that way. To Cole, everything in her life was his business. Thankfully, Kelsey and Maddy had deflected some of that, but then there was Cade. Cade, who was the more wicked brother. The irresponsible one. The one who should be cool with her doing whatever and finding her way in life by making a few mistakes.

But Cade was even worse than Cole, in his way. The hypocrite. She always figured it was because, while Cole guessed at what debauchery was out there in life, Cade had been there, done that, and bought the souvenir shot glass.

She’d considered ordering the shot glass online. So to speak. But she’d never done a damn thing. So all her brothers’ overprotective posturing was for naught, the poor dears.

Although, Cole had nearly torn Tyler a new one when he’d suspected they might have slept together. Alas, no such luck.

She’d love to have a mistake that sexy in her past.

All she had was a greasy keyboard and a vague, stale sense of shame, which lingered a lot longer than a self-induced orgasm.

“Yes, well, you don’t want to keep your boyfriend from us, do you?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not. I exaggerated a little. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, so . . . is he someone in town, or . . . ?”

“He’s on the computer. He’s not . . . I haven’t talked to him in a while.” Like they’d ever really chatted about anything significant. It was more like a straight shot to “What are you wearing?”

“Oh . . . okay.”

“But the bottom line is that I’m fine. With this. Right now. Alexa and Tyler are welcome to their wedded bliss. I’m not in the space to pursue wedded bliss. I have other things to do.” Like sit on your ass and shoot zombies?

No. Real plans. To travel, someday. To have adventures. Maybe a meaningless fling here and there. In Paris? Paris seemed like a good place for a meaningless fling. Silver Creek certainly wasn’t. She knew all the idiots here.

Worse, they knew her. They knew her as a bucktoothed nerd who would do your calculus while you did the cheerleader. It was a poor set of assumptions with which to begin a relationship, so she just never tried.

It was better than doing the guy who was doing the cheerleader. Doing math was way less painful. Keeping it virtual was a lot less painful.

Otherwise you ended up watching the only guy you’d ever really thought you might have a shot with marrying another woman. Not that that was what was happening. Because she didn’t love Tyler, dammit.

But if she had married him, she wouldn’t have done it in a black dress. She was a gamer geek with limited social skills, but even she knew major life events were the time to drop your freak flag a little bit. Wear some lace. A pair of pumps. Ditch the Converse All Stars for a couple of hours.

Not that anyone had asked her, of course.

“I’m glad; I was a little worried about you.”

Worry for Lark’s well-being was apparently a virulent contagion at Elk Haven Stables. Cade and Cole had a bad case of it, and Cole had clearly infected his wife.

“No need to worry. I’m golden. I’m not in a picket-fence place right now.”

“Yeah, neither was I,” Kelsey said, shifting Maddy in her arms and looking pointedly at the little bundle of joy.

“Unless you can get knocked up driving by sperm banks now, I’m not going to be in your situation anytime soon.”

Kelsey laughed, the motion jiggling Maddy and making her giggle. “Yeah, steer clear of those clinics, or you might find yourself shackled to an obnoxious alpha cowboy for the rest of your life.”

“Already am, Kels. Two of them. We’re related, which means I can’t just ditch them. I’m not marrying a cowboy.” She looked back at Tyler. “I’m sick of cowboys, in fact. I’ll find someone metropolitan who knows that high fashion isn’t a bigger belt buckle and your Sunday go-to-meetin’ clothes.”

“Nothing wrong with wanting something different,” Kelsey said. “I guess Cole is my something different, so I can see the attraction to something you aren’t used to. I still rent out my house in Portland. If you ever want to go try something a little more urban . . .”

For some reason, the idea made Lark’s throat feel tight. “Uh . . . maybe another time. Cole is just getting all his social media stuff going for the ranch, and you know he needs close help with that. He’s death to computers.” All true enough, but in reality she could do most tech help remotely.

She would leave someday. Just not today. Or next week. Or next month. But that was fine.

“Well, that’s true,” Kelsey said. “But I’m not tech-illiterate, so I can help him a little. I do work on my computer, so I’m pretty familiar with everyday glitches.”

“But who would optimize your blog?” Lark asked. “It’s just starting to get huge.”

“True. The modern world is a wonderful thing.”

Kelsey was a health and wellness columnist, and she still had her column published in papers across the country, but since moving to the ranch, she’d started doing a lot of humorous posts about acclimating to life in the sticks, and thanks to her already established audience, it had become an instant hit.

And Lark was in charge of design and management of the website and its community.

Which was nice. It was nice to feel important. Nice to be needed.

“So you’re really okay?”

“Yes,” Lark said. “Stop giving me your wounded puppy eyes—I’m fine.”

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute, I have to go grab Cole.”

“Neat,” Lark said, reaching down beside her chair and pulling her phone out of her purse. She was itchy to check her email, because it had been a couple of hours and she hated the feeling of being disconnected.

She keyed in her PIN and unlocked the screen, her email client immediately loading about fifty messages.

She opened up the app and scrolled through the new mail. She had another one from Longhorn Properties. She’d been negotiating with the hiring manager, Mark, for a few days now. She hadn’t told anyone in her family about the offer, because she knew her brothers would get all proprietary and think they had to do it all for her.

Like she wasn’t smart enough to handle her own job opportunities in her own field. And yes, she worked for the family by and large, but she’d also done websites for several local businesses and had become the go-to IT tech for Silver Creek residents.

This would be her biggest deal by far. And the first time she’d be signing a contract for a job. But she was ready for the challenge.

She’d be setting up computers, servers, firewalls, and web filters at a ranch for troubled boys, and then doing a little bit of tech training too. It was a big undertaking, especially with everything she already did at Elk Haven, but honestly, she could use something to mix up her life.

Something that wouldn’t take her too far from the safety of her bedroom.

She had a little bit of a complex. She could admit that.

But she’d lost her mother so early, and then her father. Cole, Cade, the ranch, they might drive her nuts—but they were all she had. All she knew. Life felt horribly insecure outside of that. Terribly fragile.

Life was safe in video games. When you had armor and you could collect health right from the ground. Along with an AK-47 to take care of anyone or anything that might threaten you.

She skimmed the email and typed in a hasty reply, asking for more details on time frame and payment, then hit send.

“Is that thing welded to your hand?”

Cade walked over to her table and sat on the edge of it, his friend Amber in tow. Amber gave her an apologetic look. She would be annoyed with Cade silently, but Lark knew if push came to shove, Amber’s allegiance was with Lark’s obnoxious brother.

That was one relationship she had no desire to ever figure out.

“Nope, detachable.” She tossed the phone down into her purse. “Unlike your stupid face, which you’re sadly stuck with.”

“Very few people have a problem with my face.”

“Oh, dear, the tone of this conversation is lowering already,” Amber said.

He turned to Amber. “Women really like my face.”

Amber’s forehead wrinkled, her brows drawing together. “Do they?”

“If not my face, they like my . . .”

“No!” This came from both Amber and Lark in unison.

“My personality,” Cade said. “Sick people. You are sick people.”

“Yeah, we all believe that was going to be the next word out of your mouth, Cadence,” she said, using a name she’d assigned to Cade in childhood to piss him off.

Her brother hopped down from the edge of the table, wincing when his foot made contact with the grass, freezing, a pained expression on his face as he waited for what Lark assumed was a wave of pain to pass through him.

“Hey,” she said. “I didn’t think your leg was bothering you as much now.”

“It’s not,” he said.

“Lies. Dirty lies. What’s up?”

Cade gave her a hard look. But she knew he’d tell her, because he knew she had no problem harassing him until he did. “Nothing,” he said, his tone hard. “It’s nothing new. Just the same shit. It’s like there’s this nice little highway of pain that goes from my knee up to my spine. Not any worse.”

Just not any better. Not really.

She hated that. Hated that Cade couldn’t ride anymore. Hated that he hurt all the time. That day had scared years off of her life. She’d been convinced, when they’d gotten the call about Cade’s fall, that he was going to die too.

That she was really destined to lose everyone she loved. All of her family. That she would be left alone.

She blinked and tried to pull her mind back into the present. Cade wasn’t dead. He might be surly, and he might have a limp, and he couldn’t compete in the circuit, but he wasn’t dead. She really appreciated that since, as much as he drove her crazy, she needed him.

“Well, glad it’s not any worse.”

“Me too.”

“So, want to get hammered?” she asked, not that she made a practice of getting hammered—but it seemed like it might be a good idea.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “And Cole bought a lot of booze. His wedding gift to the newlyweds.”

Amber’s lips twitched. “You’re going to get hammered drinking champagne? Because Cole bought champagne. For the toast.”

“I have a talent where alcohol is concerned.”

“I know,” Amber said dryly. “I’ve held you hair, so to speak, while you puked off a hangover or ten.”

Lark made a face. “Sick. I’ve never had a hangover.”

Cade shrugged. “That’s because you live timid. I don’t.”

“And you’re all busted up to prove it,” she said, knowing Cade would rather joke about his condition than say anything weighty about it.

“But I’ve lived. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Indeed.”

“STFU, jackass,” Lark said.

He put his hand on her forehead. “You’re starting to speak lolcats. Get off the computer once in a while.”

“You don’t even know what lolcats is.”

“Something to do with cats and cheeseburgers. Amber texts me crap like that all the time.”

“At least she tries to modernize you,” Lark said, shaking her head.

“How did this become a commentary on me? At least I come out into the light every day.”

“Look,” Lark said, holding her—admittedly pale—arm out in a shaft of sunlight. “I don’t even sparkle!”

“Suspicious. I’m suspicious. Seriously,” Cade said, “I worry about you, in your cave all the time. You’ve got to live life, Lark, or it’s going to pass you by.”

“Are you seriously giving me advice?” she asked. “Name one thing in your life that’s organized, or settled, or . . . aspirant.”

“Fun, Lark, I have fun. With real people. Outside. Look around you; it’s in high-def.”

“You’re an idiot, and also, I have a life.”

“Virtually.”

And if that didn’t count as having a life she was screwed. She bit the inside of her cheek. “Annnnd?”

“And maybe you should get hungover, is all I’m saying.”

“But maybe have enough class not to go drinking all the champagne at a wedding to accomplish it,” Amber said, somewhat pointedly.

Yeah, if Lark did that here she really would look lovelorn and pathetic.

“Then I’ll hold off. Anyway, you don’t know everything about me, Cade.”

“Beg to differ.”

“You don’t.”

“If I checked your browser history I would.”

“Nuh-uh.” No one touched her computer but her, but even so, she didn’t leave certain things lying around on it. Secret shame was secret.

“Witty comeback,” he said. “Witty indeed. Why don’t you go talk to someone? Meet a guy.”

“Right. Meet a guy. Cole would be interrogating him before a full greeting exited my mouth.”

Cade shrugged. “You take the good with the bad.”

“You’re both mostly bad,” she said, not meaning it at all.

Amber rolled her eyes. “Have fun,” she said to Lark. “And catch up with us later maybe? You can help me haul his drunken ass to his room.”

“I say we leave him on the lawn.”

“Fair enough,” Amber said, turning and following Cade down to the table laden with drinks.

Lark bent back down and took her phone from her bag, trying not to think too much about her brother and his comments. Look what “living” had gotten him. And anyway, a hangover was hardly her definition of living.

She didn’t have to drink herself into a stupor to feel like she’d reached the heights.

She opened up her mail app and saw another one from Longhorn HR. She opened up the message.

The money offer had doubled, and the length of the contract was for six weeks, with the possibility of extension. And attached was the contract, to be returned as soon as possible.

She knew exactly what her answer was.

She fired off a quick reply and the promise to fax the signed contract over that night.

There. It wasn’t much. It was a local contract, and she would still be able to live at home while she fulfilled it. But it was something. A decision made on her own. A step toward meaningful independence.

She put her phone back in her bag and stood up, taking a deep breath. Then she headed over toward where the bride and groom were standing, by the cake.

She was going to offer her congratulations and sincerest well wishes. She wasn’t feeling quite so left behind anymore.

Quinn Parker was mean when he was pissed. Okay, he was mean most of the time, but especially when he was pissed.

And he was currently pretty pissed.

“You don’t have anything?” Quinn asked Sam, his right-hand man and basically the only person who could put up with his shit.

“Nothing concrete. It’s pretty tough to prove you didn’t do something, Quinn, barring a confession from someone else.”

“Beat a confession out of someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Quinn rested his elbows on the granite countertop and stared across the bar at the empty living area. The cabin was almost completely done now. Though “cabin” seemed like a misleading word for the place.

Five thousand square feet. Huge kitchen, a dining room big enough to seat twenty. A living room made for the same number. And a section of private living space for himself.

The rest of the grounds had a kitchen that stood alone, along with outdoor dining. Classrooms. And cabins that were much more like actual cabins. Small and rustic. Just right for boys who needed to get their heads on straight.

His new role as philanthropist didn’t sit too well with him. Especially because a few local news outlets were wanting to do a piece on the ranch, and that was the last thing Quinn wanted.

Because if they started looking at his present, they’d look into his past too. And that was a minefield. It would start with his family background and move on to his arrest record, straight down to being barred from the Rodeo Association.

No way in hell was he issuing an invitation for someone to open that Pandora’s box.

But he could just keep hanging up on reporters. The important thing was the ranch. And messing with Cade Mitchell’s head.

“I was thinking Cade was the guy we might nail, in truth.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I don’t know. You think he’s as injured as he said he was?”

“He got trampled pretty good. I saw the video.”

“Yeah, he got the hell beat out of him, that’s for sure.”

It had been an ugly sight. Quinn had been there, watching from the gates, when Cade had taken a fall off his horse, who had been spooked beyond reason, stomping and bucking. And unfortunately, Cade had been trapped beneath the animal at the time.

It was the worst injury he’d seen in his years on the circuit. It had left everyone there with a sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs.

But Quinn’s sick feeling had stayed. Because when the spike was found beneath the horse’s saddle, and when inquiries were made, Cade had pointed his finger at Quinn.

True, he’d never liked the bastard. Cade was the golden boy on the circuit. Mr. Good Time. Every buckle bunny was on him after events, every sponsor was after him for an endorsement. And all that was fine, because Quinn attracted his own women. The all-American good-time boy was nice for some. But some women liked dark and dangerous, and he wasn’t above catering to that. And as for endorsements, he frankly had a fortune on his hands now that his father was dead.

The man commonly billed as his father, anyway. Though Quinn, and everyone else in his family, knew differently. Whether they’d ever speak it out loud or not.

He didn’t need any of what Cade Mitchell had, no matter what anyone thought. And while Quinn had never been a particularly nice son of a bitch, even he had his limits. If Cade had taken a swing at him in a bar fight, Quinn would have knocked teeth out of his head and made that million-dollar face a lot less valuable.

Even he had enough . . . pride? Conscience? Something. He wouldn’t just ambush a man, especially when the move would injure an animal like this one had. The horse was fine, but it had been reacting to pure, biting pain.

Quinn might not like Cade, but he had no beef with the horse he was riding.

Bottom line, Quinn was a bastard. Cade knew it, the Rodeo Association knew it. Hell, the man commonly called his father knew it too, though he meant bastard in the more traditional sense of the word. Everyone else just thought he was a prick. But not matter how big of a prick he was, he wouldn’t do what he’d been accused of.

And the accusation had damn well ruined his life. Taken his credibility, taken the only thing he’d ever cared about.

Barred from competition. For life.

Damn it to hell, he had to fix that. He had to prove it wasn’t his fault. All of his appeals so far had been denied. Apparently, he needed evidence. He closed his eyes and felt a cold sweat on his back, the memory of his last hearing playing through his mind, more terrifying than the times he’d stood trial in court as a teenager.

I need evidence? Show me your evidence.

This ain’t a court a law, Mr. Parker. We don’t need evidence. All these men here, bein’ of sound mind, have come to a unanimous decision based on the testimony of Mr. Cade Mitchell.

He opened his eyes again and looked around at the cabin. Things were definitely starting to come together. A whole lot of things.

“I’m going to have a little job for you coming up, Sam,” he said.

“Oh, really?” The other man straightened and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“You and Jill, actually.”

Sam’s expression tightened. “All right.”

“I’m going to send you on all-expenses-paid vacation to Elk Haven Stables.”

“That’s the Mitchell ranch, yeah?”

“Yessir. If Cade Mitchell has exaggerated his injuries in any way, it will be pretty clear pretty quick. If I show my face over there, he won’t drop his guard.”

“I thought you wanted him to know you were here.”

“I do. And he will. But he doesn’t need to know you work for me. And on his ranch he’s bound to be relaxed. Just for the first week, at least, I want you and Jill there pretending you’re on an anniversary trip.”

“Won’t we need a reservation?”

“You have one. Mark called it in.”

“He’s a helpful sumbitch, ain’t he?”

Sam was obviously irritated with the directive, but Quinn couldn’t figure out why. A little all-expenses-paid alone time with his wife should make Sam happy. Although, Quinn couldn’t see the appeal, personally, since he had no intention of ever having a wife. Though Jill was a nice enough woman. Not his biggest fan, but he did monopolize a lot of her husband’s time, and even more of it since Sam had been in Silver Creek helping him get things together.

“Yes, he is. He’s also arranged a contract for me that will prove very useful indeed.”

“Aw, shit, man, what did you do?” The lines on Sam’s face looked more drawn.

“You say that like you think I did something bad, buddy. I think I’m offended.”

“Did you?”

“Depends on your perspective.”

Sam shook his head and pulled his cell phone out of the front pocket of his shirt. “I’ll have to call Jill and see if she’s up for this. Otherwise it’ll be me staying in that cabin by myself, looking like a nut job.”

“Mark might be willing to come down and stay with you.”

Sam flipped him off on his way out of the room, grumbling as he dialed his wife.

Quinn braced himself on the counter, palms flat on the granite surface. Yeah, he was pretty sure Sam would think what he’d done was a very bad thing.

Cade would think so too.

And that made Quinn feel nothing but good. Because Lark Mitchell had signed a contract to come and work for him for the next six weeks.

It was a good thing to keep your enemies close. But it was better to keep their little sisters closer.

Because there was nothing on God’s green earth that would piss Cade off more than having Lark in close proximity to Quinn. Like sending your lamb to bunk with a wolf.

Quinn smiled and pushed off from the counter. Oh, yeah, if Cade Mitchell had secrets, Quinn would find them. If Cade had a weakness, Quinn would damn well exploit it.

Quinn Parker was mean when he was pissed. And Cade had sure as hell pissed him off.

***

“Die, zombie bastards! Die!” Lark took another sip of her Rockstar and set it back down on her desk, clicking her mouse button furiously and unleashing a a hellish rain of shotgun fire on the army of undead monsters schlepping their way across her computer screen.

Today she was starting her new job, and she was determined to start it right. Some people chanted little mantras about their personal success and being good enough and smart enough. Lark just wanted to blow the hell out of Nazi zombies.

And of course she’d had an energy drink, the breakfast of gaming champions. She was ready to take on her new job as head tech goddess of the Longhorn Ranch, part of the Longhorn Properties family.

She fought the urge to crush her can against her head like a frat boy. Mainly she resisted because she’d tried it once and had succeeded only in smacking herself in the head, but also, she was self-conscious enough to know what a douche move that was.

She pushed away fro