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Prologue
Dev stared in the cracked mirror at the no-tell motel and hardly recognized herself.
She’d hacked off her once waist-length chestnut-brown hair. What remained of her locks had been dyed black and slicked back into a hipster-style pompadour on top and cut close on the sides. Her gray eyes peered back at her from behind chunky black-rimmed glasses with clear lenses, looking far older than her sixteen years.
A few freckles popped across her fair skin—skin that didn’t bear a trace of the makeup that normally hid the spots. Her slim curves were disguised behind carefully selected clothes, a tight under-layer of bindings to flatten her breasts then a looser button-down shirt over the top, giving her a remarkably androgenous look.
She didn’t look like the girl who’d run away from home six weeks ago. She didn’t look like a girl at all.
Which was good.
If she could fly under the radar as a guy, her stepfather wouldn’t find her. For her safety and freedom, she had to make sure he didn’t.
Hell, the traffickers he’d sold her to probably wouldn’t want her anymore, either. It wasn’t a guarantee, though. She understood that. She hadn’t had a moment of relief from her fears since the day she’d run, knowing the criminals were on their way to collect her. No matter what she did, there were parts of her that couldn’t easily be changed, and those were the bits that most interested her would-be owners.
They didn’t care about the rest of her.
And no one else gave a fuck about the orphan girl who’d been left in the clutches of an evil man.
She gritted her teeth, setting her jaw.
Her stepfather and his goons wouldn’t find her. She’d do everything possible to hinder them. If losing her pampered rich-girl life, fleeing into the night, and chopping off her beautiful, silky hair was what it took, so be it.
She’d transformed.
She was no longer a she…but a he.
Devon Greeley ceased to exist. In her place emerged Dev Magnus, drifter, waiter and occasional bartender. And soon-to-be the newest resident of the tiny town of Daly, Wyoming.
* * * *
Three Years Later
Nerves eating at her stomach, Dev arrived at her friend Briar’s house around mid-morning, dressed in jeans and a windbreaker, her hair carefully styled back into her usual style. The thing was, though, she was about to reveal the secret she’d hidden from everyone for three years.
Dev could trust Briar, however. Briar had come from a rocky—if different—past, too. She knew the world wasn’t always peachy keen. She knew shadowy realities hid in the world’s dark corners, just waiting to prey on the innocent.
It would be good to have a confidante. A friend. And in all truth, Dev wanted something from Briar, otherwise she wouldn’t be sharing her secret, at all.
Today, in the bright sunlight of Briar’s sitting room, rather than the dim lighting of the bar where they worked, the truth would be revealed. And hopefully, they could build a stronger bond of camaraderie in the shared knowledge.
“Coffee?” Briar asked as they walked into the sunroom of Briar’s ranch house, where she lived with her two men, Jax and Ram. Multiple partners were a reality in the town of Daly, which was still a cow town where the men far out-numbered the women.
“Yes. Please,” Devon said around the knot in her throat, adding a nod to accept the offer while nerves continued to tangle in her belly. As her friend headed into the kitchen, Dev blew out a breath, on edge and jittery. Shaking out her hands, she walked over to one of the large picture windows and looked out over the field in the distance, where cows grazed in a pasture to the west of the house.
The Last Chance Ranch was huge, and after talking with Briar, she’d learned Briar didn’t use all of it for her operation. Large sections of the acreage had gone wild and would need hard work to return the land to usable condition. Dev supposed that was to be expected, since the place had been vacant for years before Briar had been found and given her inheritance.
Last night, when she’d question Briar about her plans for the Last Chance, Dev had discovered she might have an opportunity here, a possibility to birth her dream—not that her friend realized it. Dev had only voiced questions about a small, unused parcel on the south side of the ranch.
Her hand trembling now, she unzipped her loose coat and shrugged it off her slim shoulders. Beneath the windbreaker, she’d worn a clingy tee that left no doubt to her small but womanly assets. Without the extra covering, she felt almost naked and vulnerable since she’d gotten used to the armor of her disguise. After setting the jacket over the back of a chair, she crossed her arms over her middle and turned back to the view outside.
It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright. Everything is okay. It’s been years. He’s not finding you, she told herself, a mantra she chanted every night when she climbed into her bed.
Still, her problems seemed as enormous and unmovable as the hazy mountain ridge that rose through the frost in the distance.
Her gaze shifted closer and settled on two of the ranch hands as they rode into view, each on a majestic sorrel horse, the steeds’ coats gleaming under the midmorning sun. Her heart ached at the sight, both for the loss of her horses she’d grown up with and her unshakeable attraction to those two men.
She winced at the immediate arousal that fluttered in her core, overpowering her sadness. Cannon Moffitt and Hawk Quidell. They were new to Daly, arriving just weeks ago—at least, that’s when she’d first seen them. And every time she laid eyes on the pair, needy sensations taunted her with what she couldn’t have. Could never have.
