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Medley - I'm the vice president of an all-female MC located at a huge ranch which breeds horses and other livestock. I'm not pretending to be a biker or clueless on how keep the ranch afloat; I am a woman who fights hard for my club and those I hold dear.
Ivar - Being wealthy doesn’t mean you have everything your heart desires; family is important and the reason why I want my half-sister to come live in the city me. When I arrive at the ranch to bring her home I’m confronted with Medley, a feisty woman who stands up for my half-sister and puts me in my place. Medley is captivating, loyal, and family driven; willing to do anything to keep her sisters safe. Claiming this woman as mine is easy, getting her to acknowledge my claim is taking one step at a time. Especially when she’s focused on keeping the members of her MC safe and whole.
Life is never easy, a future never granted, and love never guaranteed.
**WARNING; each book in the Cowgirl Bikers MC series is a standalone short story featuring a new couple and can be read together or separately. Includes: Love at first sight. Off the charts chemistry. HEA. And each story will leave you wanting more cowgirl bikers!**
CHAPTER ONE
– MEDLEY –
“Oh no,” Cassia grumbles and I look up from removing manure from the stall I’m working in.
I place the manure fork against the wall and stroll out.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when I see her staring out of the stable with a concerned expression on her face.
Cassia releases a deep sigh. “I told him not to come. I mentioned it in our emails, text messages, hell, smoke signals, whatever. To think we haven’t seen one another in five years, besides the casual texts and emails. He didn’t even come to Dad’s funeral for that matter, and now all of a sudden, he wants me to come live with him in New York. New-freaking-York, VP!”
She shoots me a look of utter horror and I’m sure I’m wearing the same expression because I can’t believe the shit she’s blabbering about.
“Ivar wants to come and get you?” I ask to make sure I understand her correctly.
Seriously? Now the guy wants to swoop in and demand she drop everything to live closer to him? Ivar is her half-brother. Same mother, different father. Probably the reason why he didn’t come to the funeral because he didn’t get along with her father. He was eight years old when her father and his mother got together and Ivar left to join the Navy as soon as he was old enough.
Ugh. Ivar. Just his name brings back the horrible, shameful memory I have of him. I had the biggest crush on the dude because he was seventeen when I first met him and I was ten. Yes, my first crush and I was stupid enough to melt into a puddle. He made fun of me when I swooned all over him so the crush didn’t last long, but still…a hate-crush can be just as fierce.
“No. Ivar is here,” she grumbles in frustration and reaches out to grab my arm. “You have to help me.”
I snort at her train of thought. “You do realize the dude is a SEAL. You’ve mentioned it a time or two. I mean, I can hold my own during a fight but I hate to tell you chicky…my abilities have limits. So…I guess you’d do best to run while I keep him busy, because a head start is all you’re getting from me.”
She bobs her head and is about to leave but she leans in and whispers fiercely, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this and don’t let Ivar know you’re aware but he was medically discharged due to an incident that caused hearing loss. Look at him directly. Ivar reads lips or catches most words and guesses his way through a conversation. It’s what he does when we video call. He tries to hide it from the outside world but…shit. Gotta go.”
Cassia dashes off and I turn to see a large frame sliding out of the back of a limousine, his head turns our way and I know he just saw her run off. The man is well-built and I can tell from this distance the three-piece suit he’s wearing is tailored to perfectly complement his body.
His hair is still pitch-black and smoothed back. He used to have it a bit longer on top but now it looks like he has it tied back into a knot at the back of his neck. It’s definitely a strange combination with the whole classy, billionaire style he’s going for.
Damn. My hate-crush morphed into a wet dream I want to sink into. Annoyance hits. There’s no way I’m going to be thrown back into the past and turn into a puddle at his feet. I might have been ten years old but I swore to myself I’d never swoon over any guy ever again.
And who the hell does this asshole think he is? Coming here on our property, thinking he can demand his sister to come with him to New York. The city life versus country life. What a jerk. When Ivar steps closer it’s clear the man is used to luxury instead of working his ass off. SEAL or not, I bet he’d hurl if he was ankle-deep in manure like I was mere seconds ago.
Striding toward me he slants his head and gives me a hard look and rumbles, “Mind telling me where Cassia ran off to?”
“Mind getting your ass back into your fancy limo and getting the hell off my property?” I bluntly order and place one of my hands on my hip and flick my Stetson slightly up with the other to make sure I can give an equally hard look back at the man.
The corner of his mouth twitches and his hard look slightly shifts into appreciation as he lets his gaze slide over me. Feeling scrutinized, I cross my arms in front of my chest and give him a fierce glare in return.
He’s not making any moves so I reach out for the manure fork and am about to turn when he says, “I guess we got off on the wrong foot. Let me introduce myself, I’m–”
“Ivar Larksson. Yeah, believe me, I don’t need the reminder.” I give a snort and give him another condescending look. “Your half-sister doesn’t want to go live in New York. She’s fine right here, surrounded by all her sisters who have been there for her when she needed them the most. Now, like I said…get off my damn property.”
He steps closer and I slowly tip my head back to look the man in the eye since he towers over me. Maybe a load of people would feel threatened but I’ve seen a lot over the past few years and there isn’t much that can let me feel the heat of the Devil’s tail.
“Who are you to judge,” he growls in a menacing tone.
“Medley Wesselings.” I shoot him a grin and make sure he can read my lips when I add, “You were a dick when I was ten and I see life made you an even bigger one. And yes, I am allowed to judge when you come barging in here with your fancy suit barking for your sister and wanting to drag her with you. Look around, buddy. This right here is what she loves and enjoys and you want to take it all away and then what? Get her a desk job? Let her soak in luxury to fill her time painting her nails next to the pool so she can work on her tan lines? That’s clearly your vision of what women should have in their lives. Wake up and smell the manure, buddy. She’s allowed to chase her own dreams.”
A slow smile transforms his face. “I’ll be damned. Medley Wesselings.”
