Lenox Ranch Cowboys Bundle

From Reins & Ribbons:

Garrison's been patient long enough. It's time to win his bride.

Dahlia Lenox is tired of ranch life, rules and
restrictions. The poker table is her domain and the one and only place she
yields to no one’s rules but her own. The biggest win of her life, a prize that
could free her from small town life is calling and she can’t wait to claim the
prize. Nothing is perfect though and leaving town means leaving the only man
who ever made her ache to be his, Garrison Lee. Surrendering to him is not an
option. Garrison wants everything from Dahlia including
her obedience in bed. He’s been patient. He’s been courteous. And he’s been a
damn gentleman. All that’s gotten him is a brush off from Dahlia each of the
three times he’s proposed. When Dahlia risks everything to escape him forever,
Garrison is forced to raise the stakes in a single hand of poker… winner to
take all. 

From Reins & Ribbons:

My mouth fell open at the sight of Garrison Lee. What was he
doing here? I asked him as much. He arched his brow at my less than
conciliatory tone, and then settled himself across from me. The stage lumbered
into motion.

“I'm going to Carver Junction, the same as you, sugarplum,”
he replied.

“Yes, but why?” I huffed. While the very sight of him
had my heartrate galloping faster than the horses pulling the stage, he was
going to ruin everything.

“To see a man about a horse.”

I didn't believe that reason for a minute. “Really?”

“I'm taking the stage there and hopefully, if I am
satisfied, riding the animal home. You look as if you doubt me.”

I pursed my lips.

“I do run a horse ranch.”

His bent knees bumped into mine when the stage lurched in a
deep rut. I shifted so we would not touch, under the guise of settling into our
journey. He grinned at my action and I hated that that dratted dimple formed in
his right cheek. How could the man be so handsome, so ruggedly appealing while
I wanted to hurl myself across the small distance between us and strangle him?

A crease ringed his hair where his hat had been, and I
wanted to run my fingers through the dark locks to remove it. Then I'd run my
hands down his cheeks to feel the rasp of his whiskers. He'd trained my body to
respond to his very presence—his voice, even his manly scent. We'd kissed—oh,
we'd most definitely kissed—and done a few other unseemly things in the few
months he'd been calling on me. Just thinking of them made me feel warm all
over.

I also wanted to kick him in the shin for interfering in my
plans.

“You never mentioned you were making a trip when I saw you
the other night,” he countered.

I sniffed. “I didn't see reason.”

“I had my tongue in your mouth and my hand on your breast.
That gives me reason, sugarplum.”

“I am not your sugarplum,” I snapped. The breeze
loosened a curl from its pins and I batted it off my face. “And your hand was
not on my breast, it was on my dress.”

We'd been courting since the spring, even though we'd known
each other since the schoolroom. He'd even recently asked me to marry him,
which I'd quickly refused. He didn't back away as I'd expected, instead continued
his pursuit with more vim than before. Even with my negative response, he'd
kissed me… and I'd let him. With every visit, with every quiet ride, he'd asked
for my hand again and kissed me some more… and I'd let him again and again.
He'd even placed his hands upon my person, but only over my dress. I may have
made it seem to be of no importance, but it was everything. His touch, his
attentions, his unwavering interest was what made me breathe. I just couldn't
let him know that.

“We're alone for the next two hours and you want to argue
over hand placement?” He slid down the seat an inch or two, settling in, his
legs widening, most likely trying to find comfort in the confined space. “I can
think of much more enjoyable ways to pass the time.”

“We aren't married, Garrison.”

He sighed. “I have tried, on three occasions, to rectify
that. You know good and well I won't fuck you until we are wed. That does not
mean we can't play a bit.”

I pursed my lips, but beneath my corset, my nipples
tightened.

“Why are you going to Carver Junction?” he repeated. “Are
you meeting a man?”

My eyes widened. I hadn't considered what he thought
my reason for travel was.

“No.” Well, sort of. I was, in fact, going to play Poker and
with every game to date, I had been the sole female. No one at home need know
about my clandestine activities and neither did Garrison. “I am visiting my
friend Opal. I will spend the night and return tomorrow.”

“Why have I never heard of her?”

“I don't tell you everything, Garrison,” I snipped.

“I am well aware of that,” he muttered. “That is why I am
questioning you now. What's her family name?”

“Banks.” That was the first name that came into my head.

He eyed me, but I was well versed in bluffing. Garrison,
though, seemed to be the one man who could see even through that. He was also
the only man I could ever love, but I'd never tell him. I'd never let it show
either, for only then would he see the real me. Beneath all the bickering and
banter I struggled. I hurt and once he discovered the truth, he wouldn't want
me any longer. I'd rather have him this way, grumpy, than not at all. I took a
deep breath and tilted up my chin.

“She will meet the stage?”

I shrugged and tugged at my cuff. “Perhaps, but if not, it
is a short walk to her home.”

“Miss Trudy allowed you to travel unaccompanied?”

Miss Trudy was one of my adoptive mothers. She, along with
her sister Esther, had adopted me, along with seven other orphaned girls after
the Great Chicago Fire. We'd moved west as a family and settled into ranch
life. After owning a Chicago brothel, both women found solace and peace in the
Montana Territory. I just wanted to escape the quiet, rural life for the big
city and the winnings from my Poker playing would afford me that.
Unfortunately, Garrison was putting a damper on that plan, in more ways than
one.

“Of course. It is only one stage stop.”

He sighed deeply then ran his hand over his face. “You are
the most vexing person I have ever met. I don't know why you won't just marry
me already.”

“I've known you since I was five years old. We've hated each
other since that fateful moment when you shoved snow down the front of my
coat,” I grumbled.

He shrugged. “I wanted to get your attention.”

“I was five. You were much older.” I pointed my
finger at him. “You should have been nice.”

“Nice? You put mud in my hot chocolate.” He frowned and then
laughed at the memory.

I remembered that. I'd done it because I'd wanted to claim his
attention. Looking back, the snowball was the typical response of an
eleven-year-old boy.

“You dipped my braids in ink,” I told him, prompting him to
his continued indiscretions.

Our history had not been one of friendship, more like
one-upmanship. It had been childish prank after childish prank, but things had
changed as we got older.

It was his turn to point. “You told Esther Marin I liked
her. She was fifteen.”

“So?”

“I was twenty-two! I would never dally with a girl of that
age.”

I'd also been fifteen then, and he hadn't dallied with me
either. Only winked at me a time or two to get my goat. Now, though, I wasn't a
girl anymore and I longed for his attentions, even while I was pushing him
away.

“Well, she liked you,” I replied grumpily.

“She's cross eyed!”

I humphed. “She needed all the help she could get.”

“She's married to Herbert Barnes and has two children. She's
not the one that needs help.”

I narrowed my eyes at his barb. I was twenty-two and unwed.

“You cut off the back of my skirt so my drawers showed! You
ruined me for all the boys in town.”

“That is a sight I will never forget. I liked the lace
edging.”

He winked.

I groaned. I hadn't been able to show my face in town for a
month after that.

“If it ruined you for all those boys, then good.” He
nodded his head. “It did its job.”

I frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He ignored my question, stroked his fingers over his jaw.
“Yet through all of that, you kissed me in the coat room at the fall dance.”

“You dared me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and his gaze
dropped to my bosom.

“And see where that got me,” he grumbled. “A woman who
refuses to marry me.”

We were quiet for a few minutes as he watched the prairie
through the open window. I stared at his profile—his strong brow, square jaw
and wayward dark hair. He was a much better view.

“Where did you meet Opal?” he asked.

He was like a dog with a bone, not giving up. Either we
needed to arrive at Carver Junction or I needed to turn his thoughts elsewhere.
I was a proficient liar, but not good enough to withstand his scrutiny for the
remainder of the journey.

“You're right. Why bicker when we could be doing much more
enjoyable things?”