WHISKEY GIRL excerpt (Wild Men Texas Book 1)

Chapter 1

Macey

It is a truth universally acknowledged in the town of Darcy, Texas that Macey Henwood and Logan Wild will never get married—to each other or anyone else.

And that’s the way Logan and I like it. 

We enjoy our best-friends-with-benefits status to the fullest, and the reason why it works? We have rules.

Only once a year (okay, close to once a year).

Never in a bed.

No after-sex cuddling.

No strings.

Don’t break the rules. 

Ever.

I stand behind the bar of The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel and stare out at the empty booths and tables. Daddy’s due to check in any minute, and not one customer’s here to calm his nerves. We need to stay out of the red this month, and without a single wedding on the calendar, I don’t think we stand a chance. 

The door of The Cowherd bursts open, and Ginny, my best friend since I was in diapers, calls out as she races up to the bar.

“Macey, you didn’t tell me you’re about to get hitched!”

I nearly drop the glass I’m cleaning. “What the hell…”

“Your daddy didn’t fill you in?” Her face falls. “I kind of wish I hadn’t beaten him here. I don’t want to be the one to break the news.”

My gaze narrows on her suspiciously. “What do you mean about me getting hitched? Is this some kind of a joke?”

“Not exactly.” She jumps off the barstool. “Maybe we should wait for your parents to arrive.”

“Virginia Rattles.” I grab Ginny’s purse strap and pull her back into the bar stool as she tries to make a quick getaway. “What exactly is this ‘getting hitched’ news that my daddy didn’t care to share with his oldest daughter, the one who runs his bar for him and makes sure he has enough money to pay his mortgage and his rehab bills each month?”

“You’re getting fake married!” Ginny covers her mouth with her hand, but not fast enough for me to catch the wide smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

I stare at her, waiting for the punch line.

When she just keeps smiling at me behind her hand, I reach for her wrist and pull at it so I can look her full in the face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your parents are throwing a Wild Darcy Derby this weekend, and the winner of the race gets thrown a symbolic wedding and reception, with you!”

“What the heck is a Wild Darcy Derby?” 

“Oh, Mace, it’s going to be spectacular!” Ginny bounces up and down on the stool, causing her dark hair to fly off her neck. “All the single men in town are going to race on horseback. They’ll be riding to win a date with one of Darcy’s local singles. Mr. Wild has agreed to set up a course on Wild Ranch. Each time a contestant crosses the finish line, they’ll choose someone to have drinks and dinner with here at The Cowherd that night. And you’re the main prize—the winner of the race gets you as his date, but even more exciting? You and the winner will re-enact a Jane Austen-themed wedding right here at The Cowherd Whiskey Chapel. Your daddy swears it will make more residents want to sign up to have their own weddings here. Which will…”

“Help our bottom line,” I finish for her.

“Precisely.”

Oh, God.

“Everyone who participates has to be twenty-one, and there’s no maximum age limit,” Ginny continues. “Or prejudice. Anyone—male or female—who’s single and looking for a man will wait at the finish line. Your mama’s calling it a modern version of Jane Austen’s romantic tales.”

“I’m not doing it.” I throw my dishtowel on the bartop.

“I know you’re never marrying,” Ginny begins in a soothing tone. “But that’s why I’m so excited about this event. Think about it, Macey—you can experience a wedding without having to actually become somebody’s wife for real. It’s like the best of both.”

Before I can argue her further, the door bangs open, and my parents hustle toward us with big smiles.

“I’m glad you two are getting along so swimmingly,” I say. “But just because you remarried—again—doesn’t mean you can outvote me. I won’t go along with the Wild Darcy Derby. I run this bar, and I get the final say.”

“Baby.” Daddy’s blue eyes plead with me. “Everything’s all set up. And it’s only a few days away. We can’t let the town down now.”

Mama’s lips are painted her customary bright red as she brings them to my cheek. “I love the idea. Your daddy outdid himself when he came up with this one. It could be very profitable for The Cowherd.”

I wipe her lipstick off my face. “I don’t want to make a profit with a gimmick.”

Daddy frowns at me. “But that’s what our Jane Austen-themed weddings are! We’re the little forgotten town in the middle of the Texas hills with only one claim to fame—we’re the place Jane Austen practically founded on Independence Day.”

“She didn’t found it!” I nearly shout. “Everyone knows the town founder was a British asshole who cheated on his wife. And the only way he could drag her to America with him was to appease her bitter heart. So he made up some crap about kidnapping Jane Austen’s ghost and bringing her along with them.”

“Watch your language, Macey,” Mama tsks me before adding, “The founder was an asshole. But Jane Austen’s ghost legend isn’t made up. It’s all true.”

“I don’t want to be a part of the derby,” I say again.

My father gives me a stern look. “Our family survives off the perks of having a ghost—real or not—” he says, glancing first at Mama and then at me, “In our bar. So whether we mix drinks in her name or throw a Wild Darcy Derby in her honor, what’s the difference?”

“One big difference is that I don’t have to fake marry someone when I mix drinks,” I say. “I’ll serve the couples, but that’s it.”

“Oh, Macey, leading off the Derby with a wedding is so romantic!” Ginny says. “I would participate if Dave and I weren’t together. Since you’re my best friend, I can live vicariously through you.”

“And it’s not a real marriage,” Daddy says, eyeing me knowingly. “The legend states that the marriage must be legal in order for the ghost to be freed. This event is just a way to attract more real weddings to be held here. The deadline for the soul mates to marry is next July fourth. That’s less than a year from now, which means we need to get things moving.”

“So the July fourth deadline is the only reason we’re doing it?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Something tells me that’s not all this is about.”

My parents look at each other and then at me. Their guilty expressions say everything.

“Your daddy made a small mistake,” he whispers.

My stomach plummets. “What is it this time?”

“When I was at a low point the other month…”

“You mean a binge.”

“Right. I spent our rainy day fund on whiskey.”

“What?!” I rush to the safe and punch in the combo.

When it clicks, I open the door and reach for the thick envelope inside. Sure enough, it’s empty.

“I changed the combo like I always do after you get out of rehab,” I say. “How did you get in?”

“It spelled Logan Wild,” Daddy says. “Too easy, darlin’.”

I flush.

Logan Wild.

I take a big swallow of my iced tea and lean closer to the air conditioning vent. Just thinking about Logan gets me hot and bothered. The way he looks after working at Wild Ranch all day, his cowboy hat low on his head, those whiskey-colored eyes zeroed on me like lasers, and his sweaty, fit body in worn jeans and chocolate cowboy boots. 

I take a deep breath and close the safe. “I’ll work harder on the code,” I promise. “But no freaking way am I waiting around at the finish line for some guy in town to ‘marry’ me.”

“Um…your daddy already put your face on the flyers he distributed around town this morning.” Ginny’s eyes widen. 

“You didn’t,” I say to my father.

Daddy nods. “That’s right, darlin’. And you know why? Because you’ll be representing Elizabeth Bennet. You’ll be the only lady dressed in true Regency costume. The other ladies will pick their own dresses and the men their suits, but Eloise from Darcy Bridal Boutique has agreed to lend you her window costume from the time she sewed an exact replica of Elizabeth Bennet’s gown from the BBC movie.”

I slump against the bar. “Oh, God. This is all so ridiculous that I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Be respectful, Macey.” Mama eyes me disapprovingly. “Jane Austen’s ghost is a living being, with a soul just like you and me. You’ll hurt the poor dear’s feelings if you complain about her. She’s already a prisoner in our bar—the least we can do is treat her kindly until she’s freed.”

“That ghost is never going to be freed, no matter how many weddings The Cowherd throws or how many ways you two try to find the magical couple.” I brush a stray hair out of my face impatiently. “The legend isn’t real—it’s town gossip, a folk tale. And by next July fourth, when no wedding has succeeded in opening the cell door, y’all will know I’m right.”

“Mace…” Mama says as she furrows her brow and eyes me uncomfortably.

I glance away from her and down at the white scar line on the soft inside of my wrist. Some memories will never fade, no matter how much I wish they would. 

“I’ll do the damn fake wedding,” I say. “For the sake of our family business only. But right now, I need to close up for a bit. I have an errand to run.”

I tell Ginny I’ll call her and wave goodbye as the three of them leave. Before leaving myself, I walk down the long, lonely hallway to the liquor room, which doubles as my office. I shut the door behind me and sink down into the chair at my desk. I stare across the room at Cell Number One, the lone jail cell from our former town prison that supposedly has held Jane Austen’s ghost since she was brought here from England under a witch’s cruel spell. No one can release her from her cell except for the magic of two soul mates coming together in marriage. And if the right couple isn’t discovered by next July fourth, the ghost will be forever trapped in the bar.

It’s a story I’ve heard my entire life and one my mother swears is going to keep me from my own soul mate if Jane doesn’t get set free. All because of some dumb scar I’ve got on my wrist, a scar Mama is convinced makes me as cursed as Jane Austen’s ghost.

Well, I decided a long time ago not to deal with any of that crap. As the oldest child of two parents who never figured out how to make their relationship work in any healthy way, I’m not going to repeat their mistakes. The easiest way to do that? Follow the same path Logan does:

Don’t marry. 

Don’t commit. 

And don’t give your heart away.

But I do have needs. And if my parents are going to make me play Elizabeth Bennet and be a fake wife for a night, then I’m damn sure going to guarantee that my Mr. Darcy gives me one hell of a good time.

I just have to ask if he’s on board.

Chapter 2

Logan

I’m hotter than blazes.

It’s over a hundred degrees, and we’ve been out in the fields since dawn. 

My cousin and best friend, Blake Wild, whose parents own the ranch next door to ours, is helping my brothers and me out for the day. His father and mine share the profits and the labor of our two ranches. Plus, Blake’s siblings are currently living out of state, and he takes every chance he can get to hang out with me.

Blake grimaces as he steadies the fence post while I hammer in the last nail. “I think I got a fucking splinter.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Reid, my brother closest to me in age, says mockingly.

Lightning fast, Blake grabs the hammer out of my hand and hurls it at Reid, who catches it effortlessly with an arrogant smirk. 

I resist a familiar urge to pop Reid one. My brothers and I fight more than we get along. If Blake weren’t here, I’d have lost my temper about ten times already today. 

Reid flashes a lazy smile at the death looks Blake and I give him, and then the cocky bastard hops back onto his horse. “Let’s do one ride around the back field before we head to the barn. This summer heat sucks.”

We’ve spent the day’s hours fixing fences and moving cattle between Wild Ranch and my cousins’ neighboring ranch. But all I really want to do is sit in my one-bedroom cottage on the edge of my family’s property and paint. 

My dad calls it, “that crazy painting hobby of yours.”

My “crazy hobby” has been my passion since I was a kid. And my two-room cottage at the edge of Wild Ranch is my sanctuary where I live and paint after a long day of rounding up cattle or goats or sheep. Ranching is in my blood, but other than bronc riding, I can barely stand to put in a full day’s work without cutting out a bit early. And no matter how many talks I’ve tried to have with my father over our differences, Roy Wild stubbornly refuses to see me as anything but a cowboy.

“Logan, let’s go!” Reid calls out from atop his horse. “We still need to get the feed.” 

I give the fence one last tug to make sure it’s secure, and then, I spin and take one stride before I slip a boot into the stirrup and swing my body up into the saddle—as easy as getting out of bed in the morning.

I nudge Dexter to follow Reid and Blake and wipe the sweat off my brow, grateful for the protection of my cowboy hat. I’d be sunburned far worse right now without it, and a case of sunstroke wouldn’t come close to stopping my father from making sure all four of his sons put in a day’s work. 

As Blake, Reid, and I reach the far field, I glance in the direction of The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel. I scan the distant porch and lone picnic table nestled underneath the large oak tree. No sign of Macey. 

If there’s one thing I’d give up painting for tonight, or really any night, it’s to hang out with my best friend. Although between myself and Dexter, I have to admit I want more than just talking tonight. No matter how many ways I try to forget her, no woman lights me up the way my sassy next-door neighbor does.

I haven’t made love to Macey in nearly a year. I know the rules—hell, we made them together. And I’d do it again. Because if I’m honest with myself, it’s all I can give. I’m a cowboy through and through, and I ride without worrying about the fall. 

But love is different than cowboy life. I watched my parents long enough to realize that even a good ride ends. And no commitment means no pain when the inevitable break-up happens. 

I reluctantly turn away from the saloon and follow Reid across the pasture. Blake, who’s riding about five lengths ahead, glances over his shoulder and grins at me. “Beat you there,” he says before taking off at a gallop.

I urge Dexter to race after them. He kicks into high gear for the last hundred yards, and we just pass by Reid and Blake, coming to a stop outside the barn.

“Hey.” Luke Wild, my cousin from Montana who’s in town visiting with his brother, Chase, waves to us from just inside the barn. His dark hair is damp with sweat as he takes off his cowboy hat. “Chase and I picked up the feed and unloaded it.”

“Thanks,” I say gratefully. “You saved us another hour of work.”

I jump down and lead Dexter over to the water hose. Within a few minutes, Jesse and Ty, my other two brothers, join us. We untack and take care of the horses, all the while trying to convince Luke and Chase to stay in town for the night.

“If you drive back now, you’ll get caught in traffic up in Austin,” Reid says. “Have dinner up at the house, and get an early start in the morning.”

I know something that will keep Luke around, at least for the short term.

“Since we’re done for the day, I’m thinking of taking a turn on Prince,” I say casually.

“Woo-hoo.” Blake flicks his gaze to Luke. “Bronc riding was your specialty.”

Luke shrugs noncommittally. But I know my cousin better than that. All the Wild cowboys know our way around a rodeo, but Luke was the most committed bronc rider I’ve ever seen. And then one day, his dream was taken from him. 

We all head for the rodeo pen at the back of the property with Blake and Chase making a bet on how long I can stay on Prince this time.

“You haven’t competed much this year,” Blake says. “And even though Prince is easier than a random bronc they’ll give you at the rodeo, he still isn’t like riding your Harley.”

Luke chuckles.

“I can still ride,” I say. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Bronc riding is definitely dangerous, but I took to it as a teenager, and I’ve competed in a bunch of local rodeos. Despite the time it takes me away from ranch work, my dad doesn’t mind because it’s free advertising for Wild Ranch. 

We have a few broncs we loan out to local riders. We take good care of them, and once they’re done with the rodeo, they live peacefully into old age on our ranch. 

Prince is still in his prime, and he’s my favorite bronc to practice with. I can’t compete with him, but he’s been a great partner nonetheless.

When we reach the pen, I find the ranch hand was just about to turn him out into the field for the night. 

“Just one ride,” I tell him.

Ty and Jesse help me onto Prince, and the bronc is raring to go. I slide my hand into the rigging, all while the gate’s still locked.

I’m concentrating on what I’m about to do because, as much as I’m a casual rodeo guy, riding a bronc and staying healthy is no joke. It requires all my focus. One look at Luke’s scar makes me never forget how easily one second can go wrong in a rodeo ring.

“Hey,” Blake says quietly to me.

I glance down at him. “Yeah?”

“Your girl’s here.”

I look over the gate.

Macey’s leaning over the top rail of the fence. Her dark hair is loose and flowing around her flushed face. Her whiskey-colored eyes are focused on me, and I can just make out the way her pink lips are half-parted in anticipation.

She’s so beautiful my chest aches.

“She’s not mine,” I say automatically.

“Maybe not, but she’s only got eyes for you,” Luke says from my other side.

I don’t tell him how that fact changes nothing between us. 

Macey Henwood isn’t mine. She’s a wild mare who doesn’t belong to anyone. 

But right now, I’ve got her full attention. So…I’m going to make sure I show her one hell of a ride.

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