The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Iron Spur Ranch 1

  The Private Stable

  Rachel Price finds refuge from her abusive boyfriend on the Iron Spur Ranch. After applying as a horse handler, Wyatt Black and Ethan Ryder are the cowboys assigned to show her the ropes.

  It’s difficult for Rachel to understand why any man would be interested in her. She’s battled weight and self-esteem issues for as long as she can remember. But the men can’t seem to get enough of her—curves and all.

  When the two cowboys seduce the timid brunette, she easily slips into their world of dirty sex. They introduce her to new possibilities and teach her what it is to really live again. As their relationship develops, she is continually curious about what goes on in the private stable. When she finally discovers the exclusive BDSM club at the far corner of the ranch, she craves to learn more—and the men deliver.

  Genre: BDSM, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 51,224 words

  THE PRIVATE STABLE

  Iron Spur Ranch 1

  Stacey Espino

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  THE PRIVATE STABLE

  Copyright © 2012 by Stacey Espino

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-116-9

  First E-book Publication: December 2012

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of The Private Stable by Stacey Espino from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Stacey Espino’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Espino’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the two winners of my Name That Cowboy Contest.

  Crystal Hynds, who came up with Wyatt, and Susan Foulkes, who came up with Ethan.

  Thank you, ladies!

  THE PRIVATE STABLE

  Iron Spur Ranch 1

  STACEY ESPINO

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  The glass shattered only feet from her head, a few shards grazing her cheek and bare shoulder. Rachel’s entire body tensed, her heart pounding in her ears. She dared not breathe.

  “You couldn’t remember to put cheese on my fucking sandwich?”

  “We don’t have any left,” she said, her mind racing as she tried to think of ways to pacify him.

  Jason breathed so heavily it sounded like an enraged bull pacing in front of her, not the man she had planned to spend the rest of her life with. “And you couldn’t think to get your fat ass out of the apartment to buy some yesterday?”

  “We–we’re out of grocery money.”

  Mentioning their financial troubles when he was borderline drunk wasn’t the best idea. He reached for something else on the table, and she instinctively squatted down and covered her head with her forearms. I can’t believe this is happening to me. And it wasn’t the first time.

  “Stupid bitch! I don’t know why the fuck I put up with you.” He kicked over her plant stand before storming out of the apartment. After slamming the door forcibly behind him, the pictures on the walls rattled in protest. At least he hadn’t tried to hit her today. It always felt more demeaning when he struck her with his hand, the violation somehow more personal.

  Silence settled over the apartment, like a blanket of snow on an abandoned field. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but he always made her feel like the bad guy. Was she supposed to feel guilty? Shouldn’t she be more important than a slice of cheese? Rachel’s world was so isolated and sheltered that she wasn’t sure what she should feel any more. Jason only succeeded in making her feel ashamed of her life and very, very alone.

  She stayed rooted in place for several minutes, too afraid to move until she was one hundred percent sure he was gone. When all remained silent, she dared to peek open her eyes.

  Her favorite plants were strewn across the beige carpet, dark soil everywhere. She crawled over on her hands and knees and began to gather the mess into a makeshift pile. Tears welled up in her eyes, not for the damage to her things, but for the life passing her by. Rachel mourned for the girl she used to be, one full of hopes and dreams. One who would never put up with an abusive boyfriend. Now she felt violated and angry, hurt and scared. It had been the same cycle for the past few years. He’d get drunk and go into a rage over the slightest thing, everything negative in his life suddenly her fault, and then he’d apologize and shower her with sweet words and false promises. After a few days he would be back to his old ways—insulting, demeaning, and threatening. He had her confidence at such a low that she didn’t even have the balls to stand up for herself anymore, certain there was nothing for her beyond the four walls of their apartment.

  Rachel got to her feet and looked out the fifth-story living room window. The skies were gray, but the city always seemed to be covered in a somber haze. It was her perpetual prison.

  Where could Jason be going at this hour? Why should she even care after the way he’d treated her? These days Jason didn’t even need a drink to be an asshole. She wondered what she ever saw in him at all and doubted she even knew what love was at this point in her life. A good day was when she managed to keep his
anger at bay. Dreams were a thing of the past.

  She had no family for miles, and Jason had successfully alienated all her friends. Rachel wanted to leave, but how? Without a penny to her name, no formal education, and no family support, she was essentially trapped. Although, she knew the biggest hurdle was within.

  After she finished cleaning the mess of glass and soil Jason had made, she trudged to the bedroom. She undressed in front of the full-length mirror, something she rarely did these days. Today she was celebrating a full-blown pity party, so getting a full view of her excess pounds and imperfections seemed appropriate. She couldn’t complain too much, not when her expanding figure kept Jason away from her at night. In fact, she couldn’t even remember the last time he’d made a sexual advance toward her.

  Unfortunately, she doubted any decent man would give her the time of day, either. And Jason was sure to remind her of the fact.

  Her best days were behind her, and she had little to offer besides more baggage than one woman should carry at twenty-eight. What did she have to show for her life thus far? She had no husband, no children, no career…and nothing remotely satisfying to reminisce about. It would be nice to have something to wake up for in the morning or to experience the peace and security of true love.

  She stepped close enough to the mirror to see the pupils of her green eyes. She felt haunted, witnessing a shadow of herself that needed help to be set free. “What are you doing with your life, Rachel? Why do you let him treat you like this?” She grew angry at her reflection for the injustices she let her boyfriend commit against her. But in actuality, she only had no one else to blame.

  When she heard keys in the lock, her blood ran cold. She rushed to turn off the bedroom light before Jason realized she was still awake. She tugged on the nightgown she’d set on the end of the bed, struggling to get her arms in the sleeves, and then slipped under the blankets. If she pretended to be asleep, she wouldn’t have to deal with him. Rachel was tired of fighting and even more tired of cowering. Her zest for life had vanished once she forgave Jason the second time. Deep down, she knew he’d never stop mistreating her, but she held on to the dream, the slim hope he’d change his ways. Now she was surviving each day rather than living life.

  He didn’t try to keep quiet. His heavy footfalls approached the bedroom, making her nerves fire hot. She clenched her fists so hard that she swore her nails would leave permanent impressions in her palms. It was a comfort measure her body relied on in times of undue stress. Pain. When she was a little girl, her mother would let her squeeze her hand as hard as she could if she was scared. Only this wasn’t a visit to the dentist. She was terrified of the man who was supposed to be her white knight, the one to dry her tears, not create them.

  He didn’t even apologize or ask her what was wrong like he usually did within hours of a fight. It was then that she knew their relationship had crossed a new line, and things were only bound to get worse.

  * * * *

  The next morning she walked to the gas station at the corner and made a collect call to her mother. It was something she had to do. “Hi, it’s me, Rachel,” she said. They hadn’t talked in months because Jason said her mother was a bad influence, only trying to break them apart. Rachel was afraid he’d find out she called, so she didn’t dare use the phone in their apartment. Rather, she waited until he left for the day before heading out.

  “I’m glad you called. How have things been lately?”

  It was so good to hear her mother’s voice. It brought memories of hot cocoa on rainy nights, star gazing on the front lawn, and the comfort of her array of teddy bears when she slept. If only she could turn back time and be a kid again.

  She desperately wanted to spill her guts and tell her mother every sordid detail from the past couple years. She wanted to tell her about the times he’d slapped her, pushed her, destroyed her things, or called her a fat slob. She wanted to tell her how scared and lonely she was, how she wished she was home in her childhood bedroom, and how it was a chore just to face each new day. But her voice stopped working and tears clouded her vision.

  “Rachel?”

  “Fine, Mom. Really good.”

  “You sure? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  Rachel had wanted to prove her mother wrong when she’d first said Jason was a bad choice. She’d been young and convinced she was in love. Now she wished she could turn back the wheels of time. Rather than tell the truth, she decided not to burden her mother with her troubles. Rachel was an adult now, twenty-eight, and it was up to her to change her own life.

  “I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you.”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  She hung up the phone shortly afterward and looked for a quick hideaway because the floodgates of her emotions broke free. The scent of gasoline and cigarette smoke whirled around her, clogging her senses. A car honked when she’d stepped off the sidewalk without looking both ways. She was a complete mess. Rachel ran across the road to the small parkette. Being a weekday, there weren’t many people nearby, giving her the privacy she desperately needed. She sat on the bench facing the large, concrete fountain, trying to analyze her situation rationally, without the burden of emotion—especially fear. Fear of Jason’s anger, fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of just about everything. It was so much easier to go numb, but after hearing her mother’s voice, she was transported back to better times. Everything she’d planned for herself as a young woman had fallen through. Now she was drowning in regret, desperate for a lifeline.

  Two nights later, she fully planned to talk to Jason about their relationship. He hadn’t spoken with her since the sandwich incident, and the tension was killing her. At times she prayed for anything but silence. Even a volatile outburst was preferable to the waiting, the painful anticipation. She figured it could only go one of two ways—he’d throw her out or change his ways. Contemplating the unknown variables was driving her mad. But anything would be an improvement to her current predicament.

  “Jason?”

  He was watching television, as usual, the volume near deafening.

  “Jason?”

  She knew he could hear her, choosing to ignore her instead. When she started to walk back to the kitchen, he finally snapped, “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to talk. About how things have been going lately…between us.”

  He turned his head to look at her. His features were set, his eyes lethal. She’d become a problem in his life that he’d rather not deal with. Those same eyes once looked at her with affection, but she could scarcely remember those days.

  “And how the fuck are things, Rachel?”

  “Not the best.”

  “You’re just trying to make my life more difficult. I work my ass off—for what?”

  Jason had a job delivering newspapers in the mornings and evenings. It only took him a few hours a day, and she was the one to find him the job in the first place. He still didn’t have the right to treat her as less than human because he earned more than she did.

  “I’m trying to get another job. You know that.” She’d been laid off from her factory job nearly a month earlier, creating more financial tension. The economy in the city had taken a downward spiral, and their fragile relationship couldn’t handle the trial.

  “Who would hire you? You think any business would want a woman like you to greet customers?”

  “A woman like me?”

  “Look at you! Why do you think I’m hardly home anymore?”

  Rachel wanted to be transported far, far away. She couldn’t take it anymore. He dismissed her with a disgusted curl of the lips before returning his attention to the television screen. Jason laughed at his program, not bothering to consider her self-esteem was crumbling down around her feet. She stood there for the longest time, knowing in her heart that this was the last week she’d put up with Jason’s garbage. There was nothing to hold on to, no spark to rekindle. It was time for her to grow a fucking bac
kbone and take that terrifying leap into the unknown.

  Chapter Two

  After Jason left the next morning, she knew he wouldn’t be back until well after dinner hour. He was staying out longer and longer hours, and she partially suspected he had a relationship on the side. It didn’t matter. It was time for her to act.

  Rachel’s heart beat like a piston, making her feel light-headed and dizzy. She grabbed her purse and rushed off to the local coffee shop, certain everyone she passed knew her intentions. As she navigated the streets she felt like a secret agent, cautious not to get caught. She chose a quiet corner table and went through the free local classified ads. Knowing she was actually going through with leaving her abusive, controlling boyfriend made her feel empowered. She actually saw a light at the end of the tunnel. She only planned to take her clothing and personal items when she left, not willing to create more waves than necessary. Her freedom was more important than monetary items. She’d finally realized that the risks she’d face did not outweigh the prospect of living even another day with Jason. But she also wasn’t naïve enough to think she could live independently without a job or place to sleep for long.

  It was the reason one of the employment ads jumped out at her. She immediately circled it with her highlighter and then reread the ad several times. It was too good to be true. Or maybe everything in her life was leading her to this moment.

  Iron Spur Ranch seeking experienced horse handlers and instructors. Competitive wages. Room and board included.