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CHAPTER1
Kalie Parker didn’t know if she hated men or if she just couldn’t find one that could satisfy her needs. None she’d dated gave her a sense ofI can’t live without you.
“How did the break up go?” her friend Stacy asked.
She gave a little laugh as she stood in front of the picture window on the tenth floor of her apartment building, talking on the phone to her friend. “I didn’t have to say a word. He just understood and left. Do you think it’s wrong of me to expect a man to take control in bed? Am I wrong for liking it a little rough?”
Her friend laughed. “No, but I think you’re dating the wrong kind of men.”
“Oh, so who should I be dating?”
“Maybe a construction worker or a cowboy. Someone other than the office types you’ve been going out with every week,” she said.
“Oh yeah, I want to date a man with a tool belt hanging around his waist and every other word is a curse word.”
Memories of the construction workers screaming obscenities that she did her best to ignore as she walked down the street came to mind. No, just no. She had imagined a handsome man with rippling muscles wearing a suit, but so far, she’d found none she wanted to know past the second date.
“Well, at least he would know how to use those tools hanging below his belt,” her friend said with a laugh. “A good drill, a hammer, and maybe even some rope to tie you up with.”
She laughed. There was that. “You are such a naughty girl who has deliciously wicked thoughts. It’s been two years since I’ve found anyone to have sex with that I couldn’t wait for them to touch me. Two frustratingly long years.”
“You didn’t have sex with this last guy?”
“Oh, hell no. We didn’t last that long. There was no spark. Not even an ember when he touched me. And our dates were so boring, I couldn’t imagine what he’d be like in bed. A real snooze fest. So no, I’m still in this long dry spell and I’m ready for it to end.”
Sinking down into a chair, she picked up the mail and opened the envelopes, most of which were charity requests. But there was one large envelope from a law office in a place called Blessing, Texas.
What the hell was this?
“So are you going back to that dating site again?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I should look for something a little more risqué. Maybe someplace where the men are guaranteed to be manly, not wimpy.”
“Good luck with that. Here in New York City, it’s hard to find them unless they play professional sports. So many men work on Wall Street and, well, those suits look awfully nice, it’s just when you peel back the layers, you find a wimpy white body that hasn’t seen the sun in years.”
Working from home every day, it was hard to meet good men she wanted to take to bed.
“Ain’t that the truth,” she said as she ripped open the envelope and started to read. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath seized in her throat.
“Stacy, listen to this,” she said not certain if what she was reading was real. “Dear Miss Parker, we regret to inform you of the death of your grandparents. In their last will and testament, they left you the Sweet B Ranch in Blessing, Texas. If you do not wish to own the ranch, I have a buyer interested in purchasing the land. Please come to Blessing, Texas, in order to sign the paperwork. Your grandparents included a special request in the will that you remain at the ranch for two weeks before you decide to sell.”
“Oh my God,” her friend said. “Did you know about this?”
Sitting there stunned, she stared at the letter. It was official looking.
“No,” she said. “All I knew was that my father had a falling out with his family before he married my mother. I didn’t even know his parents were still alive or I would have gone and seen them.”
When she cleaned out her parents’ home after their deaths, there had been no pictures or anything about her father’s family. On her mother’s side, she had cousins, aunts, and uncles, but nothing on her paternal side.
“Where is Blessing, Texas?” her friend asked.
“I have no idea,” she said, growing very intrigued. “Hey, I’m going to call the lawyer and see what he tells me.”
The irritating noise of honking vehicles reached her tenth-floor apartment as she disconnected the call from her friend. It was still afternoon in Texas as she dialed the number listed on the letterhead.
“Nathan Alley’s office,” a young woman said.
“Hello, this is Kalie Parker. I received a letter from your office regarding land that my grandparents left me,” she said.
