Weekend Surrender (The Surrender Trilogy, #1) by Lori King
Dedication
I have three groups of people to dedicate this story to. First, I must dedicate it to my Brat Pack. You ladies motivate and support me in ways that you will never understand, and I love you for it. Second, to all of my friends who have encouraged me to make the choices that are right for me, even if it goes against the grain. You know who you are, and I want you to know that I appreciate you. And last but certainly not least, this is for my husband and children who keep me grounded while pushing me to reach for the stars. I love you four more than you can ever know. As always I hope to Live, Laugh, and Love like today is my only chance.
-Lori
Chapter One
Rachel slammed the closet door behind her as she emerged dressed in her sexiest, country cutie clothes. Her stonewashed blue denim miniskirt barely covered the bottom curves of her ass cheeks. It was paired with a man’s red and blue plaid dress shirt, and the shirttails were tied just under her perky B-cup breasts. She left the buttons open so her tits were clearly visible rising out of the top of her blood-red satin pushup bra.
Her tanned midsection was completely bare except for the crystal belly ring that dangled in her belly button. From the back she knew the view would be of the half dollar size daisy tattoo she had gotten when she turned eighteen, just above the top of her black belt. The hand-tooled leather was clasped between her hips bones, with a large belt buckle in the shape of a star. On her feet were a pair of black cowboy boots with silver embellishments, and her long, slim legs were bare.
She was dressed to kill with every intention of causing a few heart attacks tonight. Her chestnut brown hair hung down to the middle of her back in large wavy curls, and she ran her fingers through it carelessly as she walked.
Her makeup was applied with precision so her oversized chocolate brown eyes were nearly as prominent as her blood-red lips. She had always hated the fullness of her lips, but men seemed to love them. Mitch always called them dick sucking lips.
She hated Mitch now.
Mitch deserved Connie Sanders. The bleach blonde tramp had been trying to sink her claws into Mitchell Edwards for more than six months, and she had finally gotten her way. Well screw them both. If plastic boobs, and a spray-on tan was what Mitch got off on, then he deserved Connie.
Rachel was going to go out and find a man to fu-ck her heartbreak away. She wanted raw, dirty, raunchy sex. Not the soft, gentle missionary sex Mitch seemed to favor. She wanted to be shoved against a wall, or held down by her wrists as a large muscular man devoured her completely. That’s why she created this plan.
It was a Friday night, and that meant a packed house at Robin’s, the local bar that Rachel had waited tables at through college. She had met Mitch there, and he would no doubt be there tonight playing darts with his cronies, while Connie giggled and preened over a watered down margarita. So in order to prove to the world that Rachel Lia Morgan was completely and utterly over her ex-boyfriend, she was going on the prowl on his turf.
There were usually dozens of hot men at Robin’s on the weekends. All of the local ranchers and ranch hands from the outskirts of Stone River usually hit the bar on Friday night looking for some action. Never before had Rachel considered indulging in a one-night stand, but tonight was her night.
She spritzed a little bit of her favorite perfume on her throat, and then grabbed her small purse. On her way out the door she noticed her cell phone was blinking with a missed message. She climbed into her silver Ford F150 as she hit the play message button.
“Rach, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to apologize. I didn’t mean for you to find out about Connie like that…Rach? Please call me so we can talk this out. You can’t just throw two years out the window. I made a mistake, damn it—”
The voice clicked off as she hit the delete button, and dropped her phone back into her purse. Mitch could beg and plead all he wanted, but she had already made her peace with their breakup. She wasn’t interested in his excuses anymore. She turned the volume up on her truck radio, so Miranda Lambert’s tune “Mama’s Broken Heart” blared out the windows into the night, and headed toward her freedom.
The bar’s parking lot was packed with work trucks. With exception of only a handful of cars that probably belonged to the female patrons of the bar. Rachel backed her truck into a small parking stall at the back edge of the lot, right next to a black Dodge Ram Quad Cab that looked like it had rolled off the lot and onto the ranch just a few hours ago. Realizing she had parked rather close to the truck, she carefully opened her door, and slipped out into the small space.
A large masculine hand covered hers, where it rested on the top edge of her truck door, and she gasped.
“Sunshine, if you nick my new truck with your door, I’m going to have to spank that cute little ass raw.” The voice in her ear sent a shiver over her skin, and she flushed at his words.
She turned her head to see who was behind her that would have any right to speak to her like that, and she nearly groaned out loud when her brown eyes met those of Parker Brooks. Parker Brooks was one of the four Brooks brothers who owned Brooks Pastures-a local cattle ranch. The four brothers shared two things in common, their love of ranching, and their smoking hot good looks. Dark hair, dark eyes, long lean muscular cowboy bodies, all tucked up under a cowboy hat. It made Rachel’s blood sing just thinking about the four of them.