Read Desert Heart (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 4) Online
Authors: Anna Lowe
Tags: #Shapeshifter, #Paranormal, #Twin Moon Ranch, #Werewolf, #Romance
Desert Heart (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 4)
Desert Heart
The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch
Book 4
by Anna Lowe
Desert Heart
Copyright 2015 by Anna Lowe
Editing by Lisa A. Hollett
Cover art by Fiona Jayde Media
www.FionaJaydeMedia.com
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
Desert Hunt
(the Prequel)
Desert Moon
(Book 1)
Desert Wolf 1
(a short story)
Desert Wolf 2
(a short story)
Desert Wolf 3
(a short story)
Desert Blood
(Book 2)
Desert Fate
(Book 3)
Desert Heart
(Book 4)
Happily Mated After
(a short story)
Desert Yule
(a short story)
Desert Rose
(Book 5)
Desert Roots
(Book 6)
Desert Wolf
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Desert Wolf
(Book 1.1 in the series).
Lana Dixon may have won her destined mate’s heart, but that was in Arizona. Now, she’s bringing her desert wolf home to meet her family — the sworn enemies of his pack. How far will they push her mate to prove himself worthy? And is their relationship ready for the test?
Sneak Peek: Happily Mated After
As oldest daughter of the retired alpha, Tina Hawthorne lives to serve her pack. She’s never been tempted to throw caution to the wind for a man — until Rick Rivera returns. The sweet boy from the adjoining ranch is all grown up, but that doesn’t make the irresistible human any more suitable as a mate. Especially with a dangerous new foe haunting the night and with Rick harboring a few secrets — and enemies — of his own.
There’s more than meets the eye on Twin Moon Ranch, home to a pack of shapeshifting wolves willing to battle for life and love.
Tina pulled in a long, steadying breath, wishing she could tell her brother to do the same. He drove the pickup down the rutted dirt road, muttering and glaring at every bush. Another five minutes of that and it wouldn’t surprise her if one of them burst into flames. His left hand was clenched white on the wheel; his right scratched at his ear.
“Damn ranch.”
He didn’t mean Twin Moon Ranch—their home, their legacy. A place their father had toiled over for more than a century. Under the leadership of her brothers, Twin Moon pack was prospering. Their finances were solid, the future promising.
No, Ty wasn’t cursing over things at home. He was cursing the neighboring property. Seymour Ranch.
So many memories there. So much heartache.
Tina wound a length of her hair around her finger and tried sending out calm vibes. She sure could use some—and her brother could, too. Ty was just like their father: he hated change, especially when it came to their corner of Arizona. Every stranger, every new face was a cause for suspicion. And in some ways, he was right. Even when things on the ranch ran smoothly, the outside world didn’t cease to pose a threat. There was always one danger or another lurking out there. They’d had to fight off rogue shifters twice in recent years, not to mention a vampire intrusion. Tension with rival packs was a constant, too.
She watched prickly pear blur past, waving their thorns in warning. Trouble was always afoot. The only question was where it would come from next.
“Damn that old bat and her will,” Ty continued.
“Ty!” That, she wouldn’t stand for. “Mrs. Seymour was a sweet woman. Don’t you ever forget how nice she was to us!”
Ty clenched his jaw and wobbled it right, then left—the closest he ever came to retracting his own words. His gaze, though, went softer. He had to remember the home-baked cookies, the Thanksgiving feasts. Or at least, the couple of feasts their father had let them attend before he decided to slam the door shut. Mrs. Seymour had given them a little taste of normalcy, especially after their mother had taken off. She’d always had a gentle smile and soft words for the Hawthorne kids. For everyone, actually.
“Damn her will, then,” Ty muttered.
That, she had to give him. Although Lucy Seymour had passed away several years ago, there were still surprises popping out of her will—or rather, her wills. Because an addendum to the original had recently surfaced. The lawyers had gone over it with a fine-tooth comb and declared it legit. Unusual, but legit.
“Secret heir?” Ty scowled. “What was she thinking?”
“She must have had her reasons.” Although for the life of her, Tina couldn’t think why Lucy Seymour would leave everything to a secret heir. The rumor mill was rife with speculation on who that might be, since the Seymours had been childless. An illegitimate son, maybe? An old friend? A former lover?
Whoever it was, he or she was keeping a low profile, letting lawyers and the new manager—a person also specified in the will—handle things for now.
“Damn thing, bringing in a new manager out of nowhere,” Ty grunted.
“It is odd.” Dale Gordon had been foreman of Seymour Ranch for decades. He’d run things capably enough in the period of limbo that followed Lucy Seymour’s death. Why rock the boat now? “I bet Dale is delighted.”
Ty snorted. “I bet.”
She sighed. “Look, we’ll be there in another mile. And, who knows? Maybe we’ll find out the new manager isn’t such a bad guy.”
“Right.”
Dale Gordon was no saint, but he was a known entity, while the new manager was not. And in Ty’s mind, a man was guilty until proven innocent.
He did, however, stop scratching his ear long enough to snag one of the cookies Tina held on a plate in her lap.
“Hey!” She slapped at her brother’s hand. “Those are for the new manager. Our new neighbor.”
“Perfectly good cookies…”
“We’re showing that we’re friendly.”
Ty’s scowl etched deep lines on his weathered face.
“You look just like Dad when you do that,” she murmured.
He scowled deeper then went through a series of facial contortions to adopt a look of ferocious displeasure that was uniquely his own. Tina held back a chuckle. Her older brother had spent his entire childhood wanting to be a big, bad alpha just like their father, only to realize he wanted to be nothing like the old man at all. He’d softened up a little, Ty had, letting out a little more human and less wolf. Mating had been good for him. Parenthood, too. Tina sent out a silent thanks to whatever fate had paired her brother with a woman like Lana.
Ty waved the cookie in the direction of Seymour Ranch, then shoved it in his mouth. “You planning on buttering the guy up?”
If the front bench of the truck hadn’t been so wide, she’d have jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “Definitely not. And it could be a woman for all we know.”
Five years ago, Ty might have laughed that comment away, but now he knew better. Another thing he’d learned from his more-than-capable mate.
They drove on in silence. Ty took the last two turns and slowed to coast under the double S brand hanging from the Seymour Ranch gate, then pulled to a halt in front of the homestead. A tall figure separated itself from the shadows of the porch and stepped into the sunlight to greet them.
Tina blinked and bit back a gasp.
The new manager was no woman.
The new manager was no stranger.
The new manager was…
Christ, not him.
Tina brought her hands to her eyes, then peeked out, but even that couldn’t shake reality away. It really was
him
, in the flesh and raging-hot blood. That easy smile, that athletic frame were unmistakable.
She told herself to straighten her shoulders and pretend there was nothing to notice, nothing to remember. But who was she kidding? Rick was back and her body and soul were already singing for his touch.
“Coming?” Ty grumbled, shoving his door open.
She slid out slowly, holding the plate of cookies before her like a shield. Knowing damn well she’d never find any form of defense against the appeal of this particular man.
The Seymour Ranch manager strode over with the easy, fluid movement of an athlete in his prime. Flannel stretched wide over shoulders rounded with muscle. The checkered pattern across his broad chest led to a waistline that promised rippled abs. He stood balanced on the balls of his feet, at ease yet ready for anything.
Her brother offered him a stiff hand and a glare. “Ty Hawthorne.”
Rick didn’t blink, nor did he wince at the squeeze Ty must have been hiding in that handshake. His eyes might have been more guarded than she remembered, but the easy, honest smile was the same.
“I remember,” he said, nodding. “I’m Rick. Rick Rivera.”
Of course he would remember Ty. He’d remember her, too. The question was, how would he see her now? As a passing fancy from foolish days as a youth, or as something more?
Tina stopped breathing when he turned her way. Part of her mind jumped to the memory of the kiss to end all kisses, the night to end all nights. Had that been just another brush of the lips, another ordinary night to a man like him? She could still taste the rich flavor of him. Still feel the sparks shooting through her body. And Christ, that was over a decade ago. That shared night under the stars when they’d lain skin-to-skin, two giddy teenagers flushed with a high of their bodies’ own making? Did he remember that as more than just his first time?
Because men moved on from their conquests and didn’t look back, right? Especially men who went on to pro baseball careers with million-dollar contracts, as Rick had done. Tina knew; she’d been following his career all along. A little too closely for her own good. The earnest kid from humble beginnings—son of the cook at the ranch next door—had made it to the big leagues.
And now he was back and looking at her with an expression that gave nothing away.
Fast-track careers like his came with a thousand drooling groupies, she knew. And though most of the pictures she’d seen over the years showed Rick swinging in one home run after another, a few photos captured him with eye candy clinging to his arm—women with plunging necklines, silky dresses, and bulging cleavage. How could the memory of a couple sweet nights with a country girl like her compete with that?