Madison could almost hear the anger in Maisey’s voice through the text.
You can’t say no again Desiree.
Even her profile picture was snarky, with her head tilted down and eyes rolled, her black silky hair was ultra-modern with electric blue highlights. Three times she’d made plans with these ladies who were her closest friends. And three times she’d canceled them. Well, she called them her closest friends, but they were really only social media close. She’d never actually met them in person. They’d connected through an online writing group and now they talked every day. They shared everything. At least, all the others had. She hadn’t told them anything deep or personal, just where she lived and a few random things—all writing related. They didn’t know much about her and that was fine with her.
We’ve already got this planned and the spot is discounted because the ranch is new. You’re going. Deal.
Maisey’s text confirmed the worst. Stuck. With people. For a week-long writer’s retreat at the Dawson Creek Ranch in Wyoming… Wyoming? She couldn’t even remember where that was on a map. Where were Mr. Tanner’s fifth grade geography lessons when she needed them? Madison’s stomach clenched just thinking about it. Her and three other authors, authors with real lives besides what they wrote, would now be stuck in a small cabin for seven long days. How would she ever be able to write, or even find peace, with people everywhere she went?
Her phone chirped one more time and Annabelle’s picture popped up. She was a petite blonde with perfect, flowing, hate-her-for-that-one-feature, hair.
I know Maisey can be pushy, but it’ll be good for all of us to finally meet, brainstorm… maybe write that series together we’ve been talking about for years. There’ll be sexy cowboys to feed the imagination. Come on, at least pretend to be excited…
Annabelle always treated texting more like an email, but despite that she was right. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t muster a little excitement to meet the women she’d been chatting with for years? Her thumbs flew over the buttons with a quick reply.
I’m still working on excitement. Deadline. TTYS
Three dots appeared as Annabelle typed a response.
Oh, BTW… no pen names at the retreat. We’re just us… Maisey’s rule.
Her heartbeat couldn’t have possibly drummed any faster. None of the ladies even knew her real name. No one but her accountant. Her parents didn’t even know she was a writer. Her writing world and her real world were two things she’d never let mix. In fact, Madison, her real-world name, was all but dead. She didn’t even get mail under that name anymore. And if she died, it would be Desiree Scarlett people mourned. No one knew or cared about Madison McCartney. Her family back in Little Springs, Kansas, might but not for long. She hadn’t even talked to her mother since Christmas…seven months ago. They were rural, conservative, Christian people and they wouldn’t understand her life. While she was nothing like her sultry characters, they wouldn’t understand she wrote those types of stories to put food on the table.
Madison didn’t bother to reply to Annabelle. What good would it do? If she tried to convince them to let her be Desiree, they would accuse her of hiding behind her name, as they’d done before. It wasn’t like she could claim to really be Desiree Scarlet. Though, to her mind, there was nothing wrong with it. It was safe being someone who didn’t exist. She could walk down the aisle at her local Whole Foods and no one had a clue who she was. Not so for other authors like her.
A text from Danica came next, her picture showing her cocoa face and her silky black hair pulled back.
I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow, mmmmmkay?
Now she couldn’t ignore that.
Tomorrow? What do you mean tomorrow?
Danica sent a gif of a little girl waving. No! They couldn’t have planned this whole trip so quickly! It was July 14th, why would any place need to run a deal right after Independence Day? Madison scrolled back through all the texts from her friends and, sure enough, at the top they’d said they had to take this week to get the discount because the place had booked up so quickly. She only cursed in her books, but at that moment she felt like letting one fly. Now she’d have to do laundry and pack instead of working on her deadline.
This better be worth it.
Danica didn’t reply.
* * *
Randal Kent watched the huge black Durango lumber up the drive. The last of the guests for the week had finally arrived. Now he could get back to work. Luke Dawson, celebrity in the little town of Shady and owner of the Dawson Creek Ranch, was trying out all sorts of techniques for welcoming guests. His good friend and rodeo star Brayden acted as foreman for now. This week, the few wranglers they employed had to be out looking busy and waving to all the guests. Luke paid the bills, but being out in the guest areas looking busy sure felt like wasted time.
It might’ve been good for business, he wouldn’t know. He was sweaty in his chaps and ready for a long cool drink. Maverick pawed the earth with a huge hoof as he stood, then flung his mane, twitching to get moving. The Durango pulled to a stop and all four doors swung open. Shapely legs appeared from the two doors he could see, but those of the passenger caught his interest first. Long and pale, they led up to a skirt that brushed her mid-thigh. She had coppery hair that fell in huge curls down to the center of her back. Her sunglasses kept him from seeing much else. Now he definitely needed a cool drink.
He dismounted and left Maverick in the corral since he hadn’t been doing anything but sitting there anyway. As he strode toward the tardy group, he dusted off his chaps with a quick slap. The dark-haired driver took him in with a sweeping glance down his person.
“Well, they certainly have some fine-looking help around here.” She whipped out a purple phone and snapped his picture before he could stop her.
He tipped his hat to her because it was expected, but she wasn’t going to get much else from him. It wouldn’t be tough for him to think up a name in his head for her. The red-head sucked in a breath and glanced away. He strode past Miss Obvious to Miss Legs. “Can I help you with your bags?” Or anything else?
If Luke knew he was playing favorites, he might get in trouble. He’d spent his whole life being quiet and careful, and this seemed as good a time as any to make himself known. This lady would leave at some point in the next week and never remember him. What did he have to lose?
She backed up a step and bit her lip. “I think I can get it. Thank you…?” Her lovely narrow eyebrows rose in question.
She wanted to actually know his name? That was a first today. He’d seen eleven families arrive that day and the most he’d gotten was, “Look at the horse, Mama!” from a cute kid with curly pigtails. “Randal, ma’am.”
“Oh…” Miss Obvious fanned herself and stared off into space. “He called you ma’am, Madison! Be careful of that Western charm.” She smacked her gum loudly. “I’m Maisey, by the way.” He liked her less and less the more she opened her mouth.
Another woman walked around the back of the Durango. Everything about her was silky chocolate. She may have been a few years older in that her clothing was more conservative. She had subtle laugh-lines around soft brown eyes, and there was wisdom within them that none of the others had. “Thank you, Randal. I think we’ll just check in and then get our bags. If we need any help, we’ll come find you.”
Despite the fact that she’d virtually dismissed him, he liked her. This week would be interesting. With the prevalence of soccer moms in the three other cabins and all eight of the rooms in the ranch house, this one group of ladies, would certainly keep him on his toes. They didn’t look like they were the quilting bee type, but why were they there in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming?
He tipped his hat one more time. “Nice to meet all of you. We don’t keep a large staff here. So, I’m sure I’ll see all of you around.”
A blonde with piercing blue eyes came around and joined them. They made quite the group. He’d make it a point to keep an eye out for them. His first month and a half had been a little boring, mostly kid’s camps that were banking on the discount Luke had advertised. The main exception being the big rodeo they’d held on July 4th, headed up by Brayden Towne, the temporary foreman.
They were so close to Yellowstone that homeschooling moms had lapped up the opportunity. Dawson’s Creek was still a ranch, with all the dangers that went along with it and most of the parents just didn’t understand the dangers involved, even after signing the waiver. He’d never been one to talk much, but a few weeks of ten-year-old girls begging for him to tell their mothers to get them a pony and he’d been ready to walk away. He’d signed on to wrangle horses and help Brayden and Luke, not play dress-up and nanny. But this—the sweet red-head—looked much more promising.
