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Written in Wild Adventures
A MOONSHINE SPRINGS SHORT STORY
ZOEY DRAKE
EV’S LATE NIGHT PUBLISHING
 Contents

1. Reagan
2. Rhett
3. Reagan
4. Rhett
5. Reagan
6. Rhett
7. Reagan

Also by Zoey Drake

About the Author
Written in Wild Adventures

Copyright © 2023 by Zoey Drake All rights reserved.

All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any medium, whether electronic, internet or otherwise, without the
expressed permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are the
product of the author’s imagination or are the property of their respective owners and are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual
events, locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. All trademarks and trade names are
used in a fictitious manner and are in no way endorsed by or an endorsement of their respective owners.
Chapter 1
 Reagan

I ’m so screwed.
Looks like the weatherman is wrong, yet again, because all around me lay piles of snow drifts. I,
being the amazing person that I am, managed, in my infinite wisdom, to find the only pile of black ice
on Willow Springs property.
So here I lay looking up at the sky while tiny white flakes flutter down on top of me. Each one
with a silent laugh as if to say I told you so. I glance down at my leg. It won’t move. My foot is turned
in a weird angle to the inside. I try but nothing moves.
My normal range of motion is gone. A dead limb. Everything from the knee down feels like it’s
gone. But I can still feel the pain. It’s an odd sensation.
Waves of adrenaline crash through my body one after the next. My heart beats rapidly in the cage
it’s being held in. My heart…my heart. I lift up my wrist. Yes! I’m still wearing my watch.
My phone was misplaced somewhere when I went down. The ground is hard beneath my skull.
Tingles run up and down my spine. Thank God I didn’t hit my head when I landed. A miniscule bit of
good news.
It’s the perfect weekend to have an accident when I think about it. Cassidy Mae, Beau, Remington,
and Faith have gone to Whiskey Run for a couples retreat.
You can hear the sarcasm in my words, right?
I reach down to press the button on the side of my watch.
The all too familiar voice responds back to me. Rhett… He’s the only one in town. It only takes
one ring for him to answer. “Reagan, is everything alright?”
“Rhett, I’ve had an accident.” My voice is laced with trepidation. I’m breathing through the pain
with each breath because I can feel it radiating everywhere.
“Don’t move. I’ll be there in five minutes.” His voice is brash as he talks into the phone back to
me and I hear him rushing around. We hung up shortly after.
The faint sound of sirens cut through the silence of the peaceful winter wonderland, or some may
call it death trap, around me. I have to smile because of course Rhett would call 911. Typical boy
scout.
 I have to think about anything other than my current predicament.
I can admit it. I’ve had a major crush on my brother's friend since we were kids. Beau would flip
his shit though if he knew half of the thoughts or dreams I had about his friend.
Rhett’s jacked up truck flies up the driveway and slams on the brakes right in front of the
bunkhouse, cutting off my thoughts.
The ambulance pulls in behind him and the EMT’s rush from the truck like they’re on fire. Bags,
I’m sure filled with medical supplies, and a stretcher accompany them. Rhett runs over to me
cautiously and drops to his knees on the ground.
“It’s going to be okay, Rea. We’ll get you all fixed up.” His hand caresses the side of my face as
soft as a feather. I love looking up into those deep green eyes of his. I could get lost in them so easily.
If I stare long enough maybe I can drift away.
Cute dimples that peek out when he smiles at me like he’s doing right now are also charming. My
heart flutters like a teenager with her first crush even though I’m in my twenties.
Focusing on him is taking my mind off other things like the fact that the EMT’s are trying to get a
stretcher in place to roll under me. I feel them as they slide it beneath me and I cry out in agony when
my leg shifts with the movement. Thousands of knives feel like they’re stabbing me from the inside
out, slicing along the way.
Not so silent tears stream down my face. They tell a story of pain.
I feel hands touching me, but it’s faint. It’s a pressure, but I’m in a subspace.
I remember being lifted into the ambulance and Rhett turning to jog back to his truck. The EMT
tries twice to find a vein in my arm without any luck. Instead fentanyl is shot up my nose to relieve
some of the pain. It has an instant effect.
Each bump and dip in the road makes me cringe.
Laying back my eyes close as I try to relax. Luckily the hospital is only a few miles down the
road. We are there in no time and I’m being hauled out of the ambulance and taken through the
emergency room.
Rhett rushes into my room as if he’ll miss something and pulls up a chair beside my makeshift
bed. He asks how I’m doing, but I think it’s pretty obvious. An hour later, they’ve done scans on me.
It’s determined I have dislocated my entire knee. My kneecap is currently in the opposite position of
where it should be. The nurses move me here and there as they take more scans and I grit my teeth to
not yell at them.
The scans finish quickly and I’m provided with more pain medicine. It makes me loopy but I don’t
care. The doctor tells me it’ll be just a little while. They’ll give me a light anesthetic to put me under
so they can relocate my knee.
The drugs flood my system and my world goes black.
I don’t know how long it is later that I’m finally awake but the world is blurry. My mouth feels
dry as I try to move my tongue around collecting saliva to wet my lips with. Rhett and I spend the next
eight hours in the emergency room waiting for scan results and to be seen by the physician to make
sure their relocation of my knee is correct.

WORRY THREADS through my core at the thought of having to climb into his jacked up truck. I cannot
put pressure on my leg because of the pain. “It’ll be okay, Rea. I got you.” He wheels me to the
entrance of the hospital and leaves me there while he runs to get the truck. A few seconds later the
low growl of his truck engine tingles my ears.
He stops in front of the door and hops out.
I’m wheeled over to the truck and he opens the door. “Rhett… I can’t.”
“Put your hands around my neck. I’m going to lift you gently into the passenger seat.” I obey his
instruction and am gently lifted. After he makes sure I’m all in, he shuts the door and jogs the
wheelchair back over to the entrance of the hospital.
“Ready?” He asks as he hops back into the driver's seat. The corners of my mouth curve into a
small smile. Why is he so handsome? Why do things have to be so complicated?
My eyes trace over every hardened line of his ruggedly handsome face. His square jaw gives way
to sensual lips in desperate need of kisses. His profile is clean cut only pronounced more by the fact
that he’s shaved recently. Notes of his aftershave hit me with each draft of air sent in my direction.
It’s odd because normally he has a full beard. I think I’ve only ever seen Rhett without a beard a
few times since we all hit puberty.
Dang it. These must be really good drugs. At least I have something to blame my ogling on if he
catches me. His hair is the color of the darkest dark chocolate you can find.
By the time we pull back into the ranch I’m floating on the fluffiest cloud being serenaded by tiny
cherubs announcing my return to the kingdom. Rhett pulls back up to the main house where I live.
I turn and smile at him when he parks the truck.
“Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” I reach out to touch his face, not worrying about
the consequences.
A chuckle rumbles from between those perfectly plump and kissable lips. My tongue sneaks out to
wet my own. “Okay, Rea. I think you’re getting a little too much enjoyment out of those drugs. Let’s
get you inside. I need to call Beau.”
“No!” I yell. “I mean, no. Don’t bug Beau on their holiday getaway.”
“Reagan…”
“Rhett… so help me if you pick up that phone.”
“Fine, but I’m staying with you.”
“Deal.” I offer my hand in agreement as a smile tips the corners of my mouth.
In the time it takes to discuss him not calling my brother he’s already gotten out of the truck,
walked around the front, and has opened my door for me.
He leans in and I inhale him like cocaine, a hit of drugs right to my blood system. This is what
Rhett Andrew Colton does to me.
He places my hands behind his neck and makes sure I’m holding on before gently pulling me
down from the passenger’s seat. Turning himself away from the truck he uses his sexy ass to close the
door with his limit on hand use. The gravel creaks and groans as he walks over it. Each step is
carefully determined making sure he’s taking my comfort into account.
We get to the front door of the house and he gently slides me down his body. “Where are your
keys?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “I’m not telling you, but you’re more than welcome to search me.”
“Reagan, I’m serious. I don’t want you putting weight on that leg for too long.” He runs his hand
over the door frame and a few seconds later he pulls away with the spare key.
He speeds through unlocking and opening the door before picking me back up yet again. This time
he closes the door with a soft kick to the bottom. Rhett walks over to our leather couch situated in the
middle of the living room and lays me down softly. My arms unwind themself from around his neck
and I frown at the loss of contact with his soft skin.
His eyes are filled with concern and savage inner fire. I bet he’s wild in bed. Jeez, there I go
again with my head in the gutter. I bite my bottom lip and turn away to allow my eyes to linger on
anywhere but him.
I hear his solid footsteps as they leave the living room and head to the kitchen. For a few minutes I
wonder what he’s doing and if he plans to come back over, but the longer I think about it the more
drawn my eyes become. Exhaustion consumes me like a magic spell and I’m lost to the darkness.
Chapter 2
 Rhett

W hen Reagan called me earlier today my heart had been in my throat. And unfortunately it
isn’t because my friend's little sister had gotten hurt.
No, it’s because over the years, and especially last year, she’s become somewhat of a crush for
me. One I could never admit to for fear of immediate death by Beau.
He loves his sister fiercely and without reserve. He also knows the reputation I used to have with
the ladies. I claimed way more attention than was needed and was labeled as a playboy. Since we left
high school and I graduated college I’ve moved away from my party boy tendencies.
Shit, I haven’t even fucked anyone for over a year. It’s hard to fuck someone when your heart
belongs to another. It belongs to Reagan. It always has and probably always will, but she can’t ever
know this information.
I sit here in the chair beside the couch where Reagan is peacefully sleeping. My eyes drift over
her body, tracing each dip, freckle, and tan line. She is exquisite. A perfectly formed nose and sensual
lips. Thick, dark hair circles her face as she sleeps, almost concealing her beauty. It curls over her
shoulders and reaches out to brush against her porcelain colored skin.
She has a wild sort of beauty about her. Each part has been delicately created to make me crave
Reagan Harper Montgomery something fierce. It’s a nonselective hunger stoked by my desire to do
wicked things to her body.
A moan rumbles through her as she sleeps, but it isn’t a moan of utter and blissful desperation: it’s
one of pain. Her eyes squeeze tightly. A cringe rocks her body when she tries to move. I want to fix it
so badly but I can’t. All I can do is be here for her.
A few days in a house all alone with Reagan.
What’s the harm in that, right?
I chuckle because I know exactly what the harm in that is. Every time I’m near her I smell the
amber jasmine perfume she wears and drown in it. The scent, a hit to my senses, makes my dick want
to push against my pants for freedom. It burns with need to be inside her. To feel her slick, tight walls
squeezing the cum from my balls.
 Fuck, I really need to get laid… but the only one I want is laying in front of me in a ocean of pain,
doped up on drugs. I want her, but when I take her I want all of her focus on me and the pleasure I
derive from her body. I want her moaning my name and screaming as she comes.
A pair of magnetic gray blue eyes find my own briefly before a yawn escapes her mouth. “How
long have I been out?”
“Just about an hour or so.”
Her round lips rise at the corners ever so slightly. “You’ve been sitting there being creepy the
whole time?” She jerks in pain when she tries to move her legs and reality sets back in. She’s had an
accident and it’s going to take a while for her to mend.
I offer kind words in a soothing tone, while my fingers smooth through her jet black hair; so
similar to her brothers. Fuck, do not think about Beau right now.
She leans into me accepting whatever comfort I’m willing to give her. A small hand encloses mine
and I feel the warmth of her palm against my own. I trace my thumb over the inside of her wrist and
feel her pulse. Bump. Bump. Bump - with each breath she takes. Her heart rate is raised and I know
it’s because she’s in pain.
“Hey, Rhett. I need to… can you…”
“Spit it out, Rea.”
“I have to pee, okay? I don’t even know how I’m going to do it.” She raises her upper body from
her position on the couch and takes a few deep breaths. Gritting her teeth she moves one leg followed
by the other off of the couch. Her movements are jerky and laden.
She tries to push herself up from the couch but it doesn’t work.
“Let me help you.”
Chapter 3
 Reagan

S tabbing pain shoots up my leg and I have to swallow back the bile that rises. Nausea follows
and I lean back just to catch my breath.
Tears start to clog my eyes. My nose starts to run and I tell myself I don’t want to ugly cry, not in
front of Rhett, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to help it.
Every time I set my foot down my knee screams out in agony. I try to lift myself up from the couch,
but it’s too hard. It feels as though an anvil is sitting upon my chest making it hard to breathe. Stopping
me from rising.
Each try just makes things worse. After the third try I’m a mess of tears and snot. Rhett is there
sitting beside me, rubbing my back and telling me it’s going to be okay, but how does he know?
Because this doesn’t feel okay to me and I wonder if it will ever feel okay again.
His eyes furrow as he watches me try everything I can think of to get off the couch, but when it
comes down to it, I know I’m going to need his help.
“Rhett… I can’t…”
“I got you. Wrap your arms around my neck and I’ll lift on three, okay? I’m going to try and go as
slow as I can, but I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”
I sniffle, nodding my head. I understand. What seems like an hour, but is probably only five
minutes later, I’m in a standing position. My bladder is screaming at me for relief so I try and make
my way to the bathroom down the hall. Rhett holds me around the waist so I don't fall.
Luckily when I left the hospital I was provided with a walker. So I have a little more help than
just Rhett.
My steps are wobbly, my right leg is shaky since most of my body weight is leaning on that side.
He starts to walk into the bathroom with me and I stop him. “What are you doing, Rhett? You are
not going to watch me pee.”
“What if you need help?”
“I don’t stand up. I won’t need help. Last time I checked I learned to go to the potty by myself
when I was a little girl.”
Rhett releases his grip on me, understanding lighting up his eyes. “I’ll be out here if you need
anything.”
I hop over to the toilet and lower myself down slowly, biting my lip over the urge to scream. A
sigh slips from between my lips as I release my bladder. A silent tear slides down the side of my
cheek, stinging my nose on the way by, and I reach up to wipe it away.
His hands are in his pocket and he is leaning against the wall when I open the door. Dimples show
as he gives me his signature grin. My lips reply in turn, but it's quickly replaced by a grimace. He
helps me back to the couch.
“What else can I get for you?” He asks and his deep voice strums through my veins. Every time he
speaks it’s like a firecracker inside my body sparking up until it burns out and I go back to realizing
that he is my brother’s friend and Beau would kill both of us.

BEAU, Cassidy Mae, Remington, and Faith are all due back to the ranch tonight. Home from their
married couples vacation. I love my family, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes the mushy, lovey
dovey stuff is over the top. Or maybe I just want it for myself and am mildly jealous that it hasn’t
happened yet.
Rhett has been by my side constantly. He makes me food and gets me whatever I need. He’s been
sleeping in the living room every single night on the couch. It has to be uncomfortable. He’s taller than
the length of the couch so he tends to crunch himself to fit.
A few nights he even slept on the floor.
The day he brought me home from the emergency room he took my bed apart upstairs and brought
it down to the living room so I was more comfortable. He’s been getting me ice for my leg every day
and meds every four hours.
We’re currently sitting here watching Judge Judy. She is the goddess of all judge shows. Hands
down. I will never, ever deny it! Anyone who can say you have two ears and one mouth for a reason
should definitely get my viewership.
The current case is something silly and petty. A snort rises from Rhett’s lips and I look over at
him. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you watch this garbage.”
“Because some days it makes me feel better about myself, okay? Because even though my leg is
messed up and I’m in an incredible amount of pain I’m still not one of those people with their phony
stories and tears.”
A contemplative look crosses his face as though he’s running through every word of what I just
said. His eyes focus back on the tv and I can’t help but marvel at how sexy Rhett is.
He’s so damn charming I can’t help but be drawn to him. Bug zapper and fireflies be
damned.
 I always saw Rhett as the jokester, but the last few days I’ve found there is a real person in
there just begging to be set free. It’s as if he’s revealed a whole other light to himself that's been
clothed in darkness for too long. I’ve often wondered if the persona he carries is just another
beautifully painted facade.
My phone lights up on the coffee table as an alarm goes off. Time to take more pills.
Rhett called off work for the last few days just to take care of me.
When Beau left he put me in charge of the horses and taking care of the place. Ha, see where that
got me, right?
Rhett has taken up the load, going out every morning to feed the horses and do turn out. At noon he
comes back and fixes food for me and himself then heads right back out into the barn to pick stalls and
fill up water buckets.
A part of me feels guilty for him having to pick up my slack, but he never seems to complain about
it. Then again, I’ve never seen Rhett in a bad mood.
Judge Judy ended a while ago, but we haven’t moved from our spots on the couch just enjoying
the comfortable silence between us. I have no idea what’s currently on, but I also have no desire to
mess with it at the moment.
The door jerks open and I jump. “Honey, we’re home!” Beau singsongs to me. He has no idea
Rhett’s here too. The wide grin he enters with drops as he looks between Rhett and I sitting on the
couch.
“What’s going on here?” His voice is deep and angry sounding. Then his eyes rove over me until
they land on my left knee. The one that’s currently in a cast. “Rea, what the hell happened? Why didn’t
you call us? We would’ve come home.”
“That right there is exactly why I didn’t call you. See the way you’re acting right now? Like an
angry father. Newsflash bro, I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need to call you every time something
goes wrong.”
His brows pinch in a furrow. “So, he’s the answer?”
“Yes, Beau. Rhett is the answer. When I called he was here and he didn’t mind my bothering him.
Although, I do feel bad he’s been taking care of me like I’m the Queen of France.” I turn sympathetic
eyes toward Rhett but his eyes are planted on Beau. His shoulders and stance are stiff. His mouth is
formed into a grim straight line.
Gone is the easy go lucky man I’ve had for the last few days. Angers spike and tension sizzles in
the air as they stare each other down.
“Well, thank you for taking care of my sister, but we can handle it from here.” Beau says coldly
like they’re not close friends.
“Chill, bro.” Rhett steps back putting his hands up in a non-defensive pose.
Chapter 4
 Rhett

I t’s been a couple months since it all happened. I remember it like it was just yesterday when I
pulled in and saw her laying so still on the ground. Reagan has been in therapy for the last couple of
months regaining her strength.
Beau has been cold to me since he returned from spending a week with his wife and friends.
His shitty mood won’t dissuade me from checking in on Reagan though. We only spent those few
days together, but they were precious to me. She is precious to me.
So like clockwork every day I come over under the guise of checking on her to just spend time
together. Am I using her injury as a way to be close to her? Absolutely. Do I care? Maybe I would
have yesterday or a couple months ago, but now? Nope… my fucks have vanished into thin air
The front door creaks as I open it slowly, giving my eyes a chance to see the room fully before
entering. The way Beau has been acting lately I feel like I’m always on guard. Like somehow he’s
going to pop out of the woodwork and scream boo so hard I shit my pants. I’ve never been afraid of
my friend before and I shouldn’t be now. Reagan and I aren’t together, but somehow it feels like I’ve
broken the bro code.
Reagan is every bit worth it though. One hundred percent worth any beating he’d ever try to give
me.
The room looks same as it always does - leather couches, rugs, handmade lamps, and a coffee
table engraved with horses sits proudly in the middle.
There in the recliner sits Regan, leg propped up watching you guessed it… more Judge Judy. I
will never understand the appeal but if she wants it then who am I to tell her no?
“Uggghhhhh, he is impossible!” An expression clouded with anger hovers over those gorgeous,
yet stormy, gray blue eyes.
“Hey, Reagan.” A smile finds a way through her mask of frustration even though she tries to
disguise the evident irritation she’s feeling. Every damn smile from her sends my body pulsing.
“What’s wrong?”
A shadow of annoyance crosses her face. “I need to get out of here, Rhett. It’s been weeks and I’m
tired of staring at these same four walls day in and day out and as much as I love Judge Judy
eventually it gets boring.”
“Where do you want to go?” I ask, blinking with bafflement.
Her tension melts only briefly. “Camping.” I try hard to conceal my chuckle over the
ridiculousness of her request. She can walk, but not very well or long. She’s slow. How in the world
does the girl think she can go camping?
My face must be betraying my mind. “Seriously, I can do it, Rhett. Beau is being a mother hen and
I swear to God I love him, I really do, but I’m also about to murder his ass. And I’m to the point
where I won’t even feel bad about it.” She blows out a huff as red paints her cheeks.
“And… where do you want to go camping?”
“Anywhere, let’s go out West, do a road trip, rent an RV, and just go exploring.” I nod at her
thoughts. I have more than enough money to rent an RV for the both of us for the week, plus all the
activities along the way. My concern is if Beau will actually let me take her off the property.
“I don’t know, Rea.”
“I swear to God Rhett if you tell me it’s because Beau will say no then I’ll dig a grave right
beside his for you.” There’s my feisty little crush.
I exchange a smile with her while shaking my head.
She starts to laugh and it’s so damn infectious. There’s the smile that will bring me to my knees.
The smile that will get her whatever she damn well wants from me. I can’t tell her no. I’ve been
where she’s been, stuck in a room unable to leave. I broke my leg once and was laid up for weeks.
“Okay, let’s do it.” I give in way too easily but the excitement streaming from her is completely
and totally worth it. Now I’ll just have to convince Beau.

IT TAKES me only a matter of days to get everything set up. I rent us a small RV for a week and a half.
If she wants a road trip I will give her one to remember. We’ll stop at all the prettiest sites across the
states. Hell, we’ll stop wherever she wants to. Reagan Harper Montgomery deserves all the beautiful
things and I am damn well going to give them to her.
The gravel crunches under my tires as I pull up and park the RV right outside the bunkhouse. An
immediate thought hits me. Why does Reagan still live in the main house when there is a perfectly
good bunkhouse completely unused? Don’t Cassidy Mae and Beau want privacy? I sure as hell
would.
Not to mention if she lived out here… It would be so easy to be alone with her. The things I’d do
to her body if only given the chance.
We’d be living out of an RV for the next week and a half touring the United States.
Us, alone, in an RV, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing separating us from God’s creation. A
beautifully painted picture stroking watercolors across the sky.
 The possibilities are endless and I can’t wait to explore each one. She is up and walking these
days and sometimes I wish she still needed my help getting around. I love holding her waist as she
walks so I can feel the heat of her body against my skin.
Fuck, I get hard just thinking about it.
“Hey, what’s the RV for?” Beau says with a quirk of his eyebrow, catching me off guard.
My mouth curves into an unconscious smile. “Going on a cross country trip.”
His brows furrow as confusion paints a mask over his face. “With?”
“Reagan.”
His mouth thins as the revelation sweeps over him. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Reagan and I are going on a road trip together.” This time I say it slowly making sure he hears
me correctly.
His nostrils flare with disapproval. “Like hell you are.” This is Beau. One of my closest friends,
but I knew this day would come. I’m going to have to tell him one time or another about my feelings
for his sister. How… I can’t stop thinking about her? How… I can’t stop wanting her to be mine?
“Look, Beau. I love you like a brother man but you need to chill. I was here when Reagan got hurt.
I was the one taking care of her for the four days y’all were gone. I’ve been here every single day
checking in on her. She needs this. She needs to get out of this house and have some fun. It’s
suffocating her staring at the same four walls. Can’t you see that she’s not as happy as she used to be
before all this happened? I don’t want her to be depressed. I’ve seen it happen one too many times.”
I show him no signs of relenting on this.
“And what exactly makes you think you are the right person for the job? I know you Rhett. I’ve
been around for years. You may treat women right but I can tell you it’s not good enough for my baby
sister. Look, I’ve known you for a long time but I can’t condone you dating her. You aren’t good
enough. She deserves better.”
Anger wells up inside me. Beau basically thinks I’m trash on the side of the road. I want to
provide him fucking wrong. I will take Reagan on this trip and I will make damn sure she gets all her
dreams.
I sigh in defeat and acceptance as I run a hand through my hair. “You’re right, she does. But I’m
going to do my damndest to prove to her I’m worthy.”
“Wait…” His brows furrow and I immediately see the light bulb go off in his brain. “Nope…
no… no way. You like her?”
“Have for years, Beau, not sure why you’re just now putting two and two together.”
“Fuck.” He says as he runs his hand through his dark onyx hair. “Fuck.” He repeats it again as if
he has no other words to say.
Before I get to the house my journey is interrupted again. “Hey, where are you going in that big ol’
fancy motorhome out there?” I turn to see a pregnant Faith and Remington walking up to the main
house holding hands.
 I love the two of them, really, I do, and last year was a hell of a ride for those two, but they act as
if they’re still in that honeymoon phase of dating.
I thought married couples were supposed to be boring. I shake my head and keep walking. They
surround me as we finish the rest of the walk to the house. “So…”
“Reagan and I are going on a cross country trip.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. She grabs onto my arm. “Wait, and… Beau is cool
with it?” I shake my head and keep walking. Eventually we hit the door and it slowly opens.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Her presence suddenly brightens my mood from talking with Beau. A hint
of her perfume hits when I lean in to grasp her around the waist and pull her to me for a hug.
“Always.” For the first time in months she looks blissfully happy. My eyes catch her lips and the
desire to kiss them takes over but I take a step back. Later… when we’re alone and we can talk.
Chapter 5
 Reagan

W e are on the road forty five minutes later. Our journey today will be a long one. One I’m not
entirely sure will be happening based on the murderous look Beau had on his face when he
came back from tending to the horses this morning.
I’d heard the RV pull in by the bunkhouse and did the typical thing; peeked out the window enough
to spy.
Luckily by this point I’ve moved back upstairs into my own bedroom and am able to pack my
suitcase and add some additional fun items. A road trip with the guy I’ve been crushing on for years.
Alone in an RV. The possibilities are endless.
I eavesdropped on Faith, Remington, and Rhett outside. I want what Faith and Remington have.
The kind of love that eclipses years and overlooks the minor things to find its way back to each other.
My parents had that type of love.
I look at Beau and I see the love he has for Cassidy Mae. Maybe Rhett and I won’t ever amount to
anything. Maybe he’s just around for the here and now, but I’m not going to waste time trying to figure
it out when I can be living life.
He clears his throat in the seat beside me. “Okay… so where to? I realize we probably should’ve
figured this out before we left but I kinda really wanted to just get out of there.” I notice the faint tic of
his face and the way his knee bounces beneath the steering wheel. Guess I didn’t realize how nervous
he is.
“Vegas.” I have always wanted to go there and I know Rhett will take me without hesitation. It
seems Rhett has always had a soft spot for me.
He chuckles, looking over at me with a quirked eyebrow. “Anywhere else?”
“A few places. I figure since we have this big ol’ thing we can camp along the way, right? I want
to see Monument Rocks in Kansas. Ohhh and then Maroon Bells in Aspen, Colorado. Monument
Valley in Utah. Ooooo and then there’s Arches National Park in Utah too.”
His laugh is deep, warm, and rich. Like the best type of air hug. I can’t wait to hear more of it.
“You realize this trip will probably be more than a week and a half if you plan to see all of those
places, right?”
I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye. “And you mind spending that much time with
me?”
“Never.” The dimples appear and I can’t help but swoon. What is it about dimples on a guy that’s
so attractive?
I really hope there isn’t a hands to myself policy on this trip because I have a feeling I’m going to
be crashing into it like a wrecking ball.

OUR FIRST STOP had been Monument Rocks in Kansas, or the “chalk pyramids” as they tended to be
called. The whole rock face is made up of chalk, giving it the obvious name. While we were there we
discovered Monument Rocks was the first national natural landmark in the United States at the time.
So much history hidden in a massive clump of chalk.
We’d set up camp at the local campground to make sure we were well and rested when we got up
the next morning for the rest of our drive. I slept like shit that night. I could hear him breathing and I
kept wondering what it would feel like against my collarbone. Against my ear as he whispered dirty
things into it.
I’m dying a slow death. I’ve never been so aroused in my life and it wasn’t like he was doing
anything special. He was simply being the same old Rhett. Only this time, we were alone together in
an RV in the middle of nowhere.
I swear every stop we make along the way is even more breathtaking than the one before. If I
happen to die any of these nights at least I have good memories. Now there is only one stop left
between us and Las Vegas. One more night of cranked up sexual tension.
One more night of having to get myself off so I can get some peace and rest. I wake up at some
point during the night to light groans and moans. It isn’t just a dream. Is Rhett… is he getting off? I
have my answer when my name falls from his lips so softly I almost don’t hear it.
At least it isn’t just me that feels whatever is happening between us. Rhett and I have always had
a spark. I’ve never met another guy who makes my heart flutter so much. Every time I’m around him
it’s like fireworks are going off around us just waiting. Maybe trying to prompt us into having our
own fireworks show.
A show I’m completely on board with. I just don’t know how to make a move. Or… even if he
wants me to make a move. Nothing will make this trip worse than trying to seduce someone who
doesn’t want to be seduced. Then having to spend the next week in an RV alone with them? No thank
you.
The interstate takes us directly to Arches National Park. Sandstone arches created thousands of
years ago stand proudly around us. I can see twenty just in my line of sight, but I know there are
probably many, many more. It looks like something you’d see in a movie. It's so picturesque. The sky
is cloudless and the most gorgeous shade of blue today making everything seem brighter and more
alive.
A hawk soars above us as we sit in the RV and look at the arches surrounding us. I wonder what
he thinks as he proudly flaps his wings with each push.
I gawk at everything with wide-eyed wonder. I still can’t believe I’m finally here seeing them in
person. Rhett is making dreams come true this week.
He won’t let me pitch in and pay for anything. I feel bad about it, but every time I pull out my
wallet he shakes his head no. We spend only a short while longer looking at the gorgeous arches
before we decide it’s time to move on. Our destination awaits us.
My pulse thrums inside my body with all the ideas of what we can do while we’re in Vegas. All
the shows, the casinos, the other late night activities. We actually got a hotel room for a couple days
for this one.
It will be so nice to sleep in a real bed again.
We stop to pick up sandwiches for lunch and I get a soda as well. Caffeine will do me good right
about now because who falls asleep when they’re about to experience Vegas for the very first time in
their life. Not this girl.

IT ’ S BEEN a long trip and my leg isn’t exactly happy but icing it at night while we sat around the
campfire seemed to really help. We made s’mores and just talked under the stars until we were too
tired to keep our eyes open. Then we’d haul our sorry asses back onto the RV and crash for the night.
I can’t wait to get out and stretch my legs. My eyes don’t have nearly enough time to take
everything in as we drive down the strip. People are walking everywhere - some holding hands,
others clearly drunk, and others simply enjoying their time while in Sin City.
We leave the RV with the valet. We desperately need to sleep in real beds for one or two nights
and then we can proudly go back to our journey-across-America-sleeping. Check-in is a breeze and
before long we’re at the door to our room.
“The Honeymoon Suite.” The concierge says to us as we approach.
“The what?” I respond before thinking it through.
“The Honeymoon Suite. On behalf of the hotel we wish you congratulations on your wedding and
hope you have an enjoyable time on your visit.
“But we’re n…” I don’t even get the words out before Rhett pulls me into him, his arm firmly
planted against my waist.
“I’m sure our time here will be perfect. If you don’t mind, my wife and I have plans for this
evening.”
 “Certainly, sir.” Rhett tips him and he leaves, closing the door silently behind him.
I turn to face him, eyebrow raised. “Your wife, huh?”
“Well…” A bashful blush creeps up his cheeks. I have never seen him blush in my life, but it’s
fucking adorable. “It is Vegas.” He brushes it off with a shrug of the shoulder, but I can see the desire
lurking behind his eyes. The want that’s been steadily increasing each time he’s looked at me this
week.
Every single time I’ve felt his gaze on me, my heart has turned over in response.
Silence looms between us now for a moment before his lips crash against mine. I almost fall back
but he pulls me roughly into him and hangs onto my waist. He ravishes my mouth, sending my stomach
into a wild whirl. Long gone are the butterflies replaced with overwhelming need.
I give myself freely to the passion he puts into our kiss. It’s our first kiss and electric isn’t even a
good enough word to describe it. There are those damn fireworks again.
His tongue traces the outsides of my lips and I open for him. My pulse grinds out a frantic beat as
his kiss sings through my veins. Each touch of his lips or his tongue sends another spark of burning
desire through my core.
I don’t know how we waited so long for this kiss. It’s magnetic.
He raises his hand to my chest and I wonder what he’s about to do but far be it for me to stop him.
Putting his hand over my heart he closes his eyes. “Your heart is furious.” He pulls my hand up
and places it on his chest. “It matches mine. Why have we waited this long, Reagan?” His words
come out tentatively in a hushed whisper.
Rhett doesn’t even give me time to respond before his lips are attacking mine again with fervor.
His lips are demanding to the point of possession.
I feel his hand sneak downward tracing the top line of my breast, while his other takes my face,
holding it gently. Tingles run up and down my spine from the connection. It just feels right, like this
was meant to happen.
For years I’ve watched Rhett date other girls. I’ve watched girls break his heart and I’ve watched
him break theirs. I know there’s a big chance he’ll do the same to me but I’m willing to risk it
anyhow. For him. For this.
I can feel the eager anticipation from him as we continue to kiss and the world falls away. It’s just
Rhett and I in our own little love bubble.
As the kiss deepens I try to throttle the current of emotions swimming through me. His hand is still
above my breast but I need more. My body aches for him to touch me further.
Fingers creep beneath the neckline of my shirt and fingertips brush against my nipple ever so
gently like a feather. I am powerless to resist my attraction to him. My hand skirts down his body so I
can feel each bump of his abs. The ridge beneath his pants grows hard the longer we kiss and I smile
inwardly. Our kiss is turning him on.
Why do I feel like a teenager with a crush again? I don’t have an answer, but I don’t want to stop
either. He pulls back and I instantly feel the loss of connection when he removes his fingertips from
me.
“As much as I’d love to devour you whole right now. We need to go see Vegas. It’s why we came
here after all.”
I pout at him. “What if I don’t want to leave the room?”
“I do. I need a break. If we keep going I’ll embarrass myself wth how bad I fucking want you right
now. So… let's go out, enjoy ourselves, and see where this night takes us?” I nod my agreement.
Here’s to the perfect night out with Rhett.
We hit up the casino first. The sounds of the machines going off and someone winning a jackpot hit
my ears as soon as we walk in the door. Everywhere I look people are excitedly playing slots hoping
for that one shot to win.
Rhett slides his big palm against mine and wraps our fingers together before pulling me slightly so
I follow him.
Chapter 6
 Rhett

I ’ve had a hard on for the last four days. It’s a constant companion around Reagan as if my body is
just waiting; to explore what lies beneath her clothes. I’ve seen her in a bikini many times over the
years, but I want to see it all. What color are her nipples? Do I make her wet when I turn her on?
We only stay at the casino for a little while before we move on. Technically you come to Vegas to
gamble and live the high life, but I have a high without even gambling. Reagan is the best gamble I’ll
ever take. This week and a half will change things between us. Every once in a while I find us a
bench to sit down on. I don’t want her to wear out her leg. It’s not as strong as it used to be. My desire
to care for her and make sure she’s comfortable overwhelms any other thoughts.
We walk down the strip and stop at the fountains by the Bellagio. I lean down and my breath
brushes against her sensitive skin before I murmur to her. “Hey, look. Another show is about to start.
Let’s watch.” She turns to me and her face radiates with happiness.
Reagan is completely gorgeous.
The fountain captures her attention once more and I lose contact with those beautiful silver blue
eyes. I wrap my arms around her waist fitting perfectly in those sexy as hell curves she has while my
chin rests upon her head.
All I can smell is her shampoo and there goes my dick again. She is going to be the death of me
this weekend. We watch the end of the show before continuing on. A few bars later we’re both feeling
it. Liquid courage and all that. If this is my one shot I’m taking it.
We stop for another rest break when the sight of a bride and groom traipsing down the street arm
in arm steals our attention. They look so happy.
“Let’s get married.” I say it out loud before I can think better of it.
“What?” She asks me incredulously.
“Marry me.” I say slipping my hand under her hair to hold the back of her neck. “I feel this
connection with you, Rea, and I want to keep it forever. More connection than I’ve ever shared with
another woman. What’s the point of coming to Vegas? We should do it. Get married.”
I can see the wheels as they spin in her head going over everything that can go wrong with this
plan. “Don’t think.” I say it softly before leaning in to take her lips with mine.
 I love how she’s always been so easy to talk to. She’s freaking gorgeous and who wouldn’t feel
like the luckiest fucking guy with her as his wife? “You’re serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” Yes, the alcohol may have been making
me a little more courageous than I’d been sober but I’m taking what I can get.
I lean in and kiss her cheek, feeling her body respond to mine with desire. “This is crazy, Rhett.”
“I’m crazy about you, Rea. I have been for years.”
Tears line her eyes. “Really?” Her tone sounds so hopeful.
“We have forever to figure out the rest. Marry me, Reagan. I will get down on one knee right now.
I’ll buy you the biggest damn ring. Just say yes.”
“I…” Her eyes drink me in. “Yes.” She whispers as she runs a hand through my hair. “Let’s get
married, but just so you know… Beau will hate this.”
“Beau will learn to deal with it, Reagan. He’s not going to stand in the way of forever with you at
my side.”

WITH RINGS in hand we find a little chapel and get hitched. Every part of her smiles the whole way
through the ceremony. We say I do and now I’m going to take my wife, for real this time, up to our
room so we can consummate this union.
All the plans I make to go slow with her when we get back to the room fly out the window. The
beast comes out as soon as the door closes. I pounce on her, sliding my hands to her cheeks I tilt her
head for a kiss.
My body burns for her and all the passion, hard ons, and dreams I’ve been having about her rush
to the surface. I’ve always wanted Reagan, but this is a different level of need.
“Bed.” I gasp into her mouth.
I separate from her briefly to walk her backward, making sure she doesn’t trip and fall.
Absolutely nothing is going to get between me and being inside her. I’ve waited years for this
moment.
My arms wrap around her waist as we kiss. I need her too badly. Her small hands drop to the
waistband of her shorts and desire floods my veins. I strip probably the fastest I’ve ever stripped and
I watch her gaze rove over me in approval.
Heat lingers behind her eyes. “This okay?” I say as I reach down to the hem of her shirt to lift it
off. She nods and it’s all the answer I need before I shred her shirt, leaving only a black satin bra
concealing those gorgeous tits from me.
A matching thong covers her bottom half and I need it gone so I can properly take her in. I raise
my hands to her hips and wait for her approval. When she nods, the ripping of her thong ricochets
across the room.
 A ripple of pleasure zips down my spine as her hands touch me all over. I crawl onto the bed over
her, leaving gentle kisses as I make my way to her mouth. “We need to speed this up or I’m not going
to last long. Wanted this for too long, Rea. Wanted you forever.”
Words pour from my lips, but I don’t care. She’s my wife now.
Delicate hands grasp my rock hard cock. A soft twist at the tip has me almost blowing my load. It
shoves me into motion. My hands go on an exploratory journey over her luscious tits, over her tight
stomach, and down further.
Her lips part and her breathing increases as I make my way to where I want. I lean down and pull
her lips to me as I line my now bare cock up with her slit. My cock runs along her center. She’s
drenched. My fingers find her core and I grin. “Are you wet for me, Reagan? Do you want this
dick?”
“Please.” She whispers as I suck one of her breasts into my mouth while twisting the other. “Yes,
Rhett.” My name on her lips is fucking heavenly.
She is writhing below me in ready desperation. I slide a finger between her folds and holy hell
she’s tight and fucking divine. Perfection, a goddess. Her body clings to me, gripping me, and urging
me for more. She’s so damn wet and warm.
I want to explore every part of her, but we can do that later. Right now I just need her. “I need to
fuck my wife but I want to watch you come first.”
My tongue teases a taut dusky nipple before it makes a path down her ribs to her stomach. Kisses
are feathered on every single inch of her skin until I come to the hidden wonderland between the apex
of her thighs. I eat her out like it's my job while her sounds and quivering thighs only encourage me
more. Small fingers comb through my hair tugging and pulling me where she wants and it’s almost
erotic.
She squeezes around my fingers, her arousal coating my face.
I find her mouth again and wonder if she tastes how sweet she is on my tongue. A soft moan slips
out. “Rhett…” My name is spoken breathlessly, the feel of hot breath lingers against my skin.
“Condom?”
I sit up straight. “Shit…” How in the fuck did I forget condoms? I hoped but I never expected her
to go for it.
“It’s okay, I want this. I’m clean...”
“Yeah, I haven’t had sex in months.. You on the pill?”
“Yes.” With each answer her voice becomes low and sexy. My cock throbs with an aching need.
Each throb aligns with the pounding rhythm of my heart within my chest.
Her eyes widen as she looks down at the size of my erection, and a smug grin takes over my lips. I
swear it feels like it’s going to burst. “It’ll fit baby. You ready for this cock, wife?”
My nerves are shot with anticipation, but my body is so ready for her.
“Fuck me.” My name slips out as a moan.
 “You ready?” I’m as eager and erratic as a summer storm. Lowering myself I feel her bare skin
against my own. She looks like a sexy goddess beneath me. Her legs part for me, begging for relief.
My dick rubs against her wet slit and she reaches up to pull me down, her small hands gripping
my ass.
She moans, head thrown back in pleasure as I push into her. “Oh, God. That feels….”
“Yeah.” It’s fucking heaven. I want to claim her and make her mine - solidify that this is real and
happening. Her body was made for me. I’m fucking the girl I’ve had a crush on since the first day I
saw her and she’s now my wife.
It’s weird to say, but I fucking love the way it tastes on my tongue. Wife.
We were like two waves in the ocean, crashing down. I want to take it in.. drunk on every damn
emotion I’m feeling and save it stashed in my memories.
She’s completely responsive. I grab her hip and move around until I can find the place that makes
her whimper the most. The need to get her off hits me hard. I want to feel her clamping down on my
cock and stealing the life from it.
The urge to empty my balls is insane. I have never felt this way with any other woman. God, it’s
exhilarating.
I move the hand at her side up into her hair and grip it tightly, keeping total eye contact, making
sure when I mash my lips against hers she has nowhere to go. I snap my hips with each thrust into her
warm core and swallow each cry that springs from those perfectly pouty lips.
Pleasured cries. It’s what I want to call them. I feel her fingernails dig into my skin and I wonder
if she likes a little pain with her sexual indulgence. There are so many things running through my head
on overdrive. All the things I want to do to her and with her creep into my thoughts.
Her breasts heave with each thrust. They’re not huge, but definitely a good handful and those tiny
little dusty pink budded nipples make my tongue water. Her body is losing control and relinquishing
itself to the need.
When she whimpers I feel my balls draw up and a spark of electricity shoots right to the tip of my
cock..
“More?”
“Yes. Harder. I need you, Rhett.” She moans out, her eyes glazed over in pleasure.
I slam into her harder, snapping my hips with each thrust.
The noises she makes shoot a rush of lust roaring through my veins. As she comes her tight
channel clenches down on me and I try so hard to fight off the orgasm, but it’s futile. She feels too
damn good.
As her body pulses and pulls me under I give up control. With one more thrust I’m coming,
burying my face in the crook of her neck to soften my curses spewing from my lips.
We lay there breathing heavily. I roll to the side so as to not crush her because my arms can barely
hold me up right now. Coming took all of my strength. She milked me dry.
 I can’t stop thinking about how responsive she is to me.
I swear to God my cock twitches and thickens just a little even thinking about it. Sex is good, but
with the right person, its fucking phenomenal.
There will be backlash when we get home out of our little honeymoon bubble, but we'll face
whatever comes our way. She’s worth it. Ever since Remington’s accident we’ve been flirting and
hanging out. Now, she’s all mine, forever. I lean over to kiss the corner of her lips as they turn up into
a smile. Gorgeous gray blue eyes turn in my direction and I get lost in their depths.
I feel nervous asking her this, but I need to make sure. “I wasn’t… too rough with you?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It was life shattering.”
Chapter 7
 Reagan

I wake to the sun on my face as it sneaks through the curtains showering us with light. There’s a
delicious ache between my legs that reminds me of all the dirty things I did with my husband last
night. Wow. For the last year we’ve been flirting with each other - soft touches, innuendos, and sexual
tension. It all came to a head, literally and figuratively, in one night. The best night of my life.
We’re going home tomorrow. Today is the last full day we’ll have before it's back to the real
world. My eyes graze over the sexy as hell body beside me and he groans. “Are you watching me
sleep, wife?”
“Yeah, I am. You’re cute when you sleep. So damn peaceful.”
He runs his hand down my leg under the covers and sparks start to erupt within. I am so horny for
my husband. I had him only hours ago, but I want him again, and judging by the tent he’s holding under
the covers he wouldn’t mind going again either.
“How are you feeling, Rea?” The sincerity in his voice causes the flower inside my chest to
blossom.
“Um… I’m a little sore, but totally worth it.”
He chuckles in a deep timber. So damn sexy. “So damn worth it. How’s this for a road trip? Did
you get everything you wanted?”
My gaze slowly and seductively slides down his uncovered bare chest. I lean over and he pulls
me to him. Our lips connect in heated passion and his tongue slips into my mouth.
His hand reaches out, going on a lust- arousing exploration and sears a path down my body. I
moan softly in arousal.

F ORTY FIVE MINUTES later an incessant buzzing pulls me from Rhett’s arms. I pick up my phone. The
same one I haven’t touched since we arrived in Vegas. Several missed calls and texts line the screen.
The one that worries me the worst is the one from Beau.
BIG BRO: I need you to call me immediately when you get this. I’m serious, Reagan. I will come
find you.

AS I LOOK through the photos and my messages from last night I find one very incriminating one. My
heart is in my throat and my gut is doing somersaults. I sent a picture of Rhett and I to Cassidy Mae
and Faith with the words… look who just got hitched. The gorgeous ring Rhett bought for me, front
and center. A copy of our marriage license in the background.
My phone dings again with a new message. Beau. He’s going to keep calling until I respond. I
answer the phone cautiously. “Hello?”
“The next words out of your mouth better be April fools or just kidding. Please tell me you did not
marry him.” I remain silent because I don’t want to lie.
“Who is it?” Rhett asks as he walks out of the bathroom. I hold my hand over the speaker and
mouth Beau. His eyes widen only slightly before a small chuckle leaves his lips. As he sits down on
the bed I playfully smack him and he gives me those gorgeous dimples.
His arm around my waist, he pulls me in close. “Put it on speakerphone.”
So I do. “Beau, man. How are things going at the stables? Anything new we should know about?”
I can feel the anger as it pours through the phone. He’s on the tipping point and ready to fight
someone. “I don’t know Rhett. Is there anything new I should know about? Like oh, I don’t know.
How you fucking married my baby sister without asking my goddamn permission?”
“Beau.” He says in a very placating manner.
“No, don’t you Beau me. Reagan, are you still there?”
“Yes.” I say quietly, hesitating to add more.
“You will go and you will get an annulment. This trip will be chalked up to a stupid, drunk
decision.”
“NO.” My voice is firm. I refuse to be bullied by Beau. “I am an adult Beau. You are not dad. You
do not need to treat me like dad. I love Rhett. I think…” I look over at him and lift my hand to his
cheek and rub it against the scruff of facial hair that’s been growing since we started our journey. “I’m
in love with him and there is nothing you can do about it. I married him willingly, I said yes. I meant
every one of my vows and I’m not breaking them just because you don’t approve. All because, what?
Rhett didn’t get your permission? So the fuck whatever, dude.I deserve a happily fucking after too,
don’t I? You have Cassidy Mae, Remington has Faith and now I have Rhett. We’re going to be one big
happy family.”
“Reagan…” He growls out my name.
“Beau Andrew Montgomery so help me if you say one more word, we’ll go home to Rhett’s house
and never come back to the barn. You don’t approve of this marriage so fucking be it. But it happened
and I’m not taking it back. So either accept it or don’t. He’s your friend for Christ’s sake. If he was a
terrible human he wouldn’t still be around.”
A loud sigh comes through the phone. “Fine.”
“I’m fucking serious, Beau. One word…” My chest flushes with anger. My breathing is heavy.
Rage bleeds into my veins.
He hangs up the phone before I even have the chance to say goodbye and I stare at my phone like
it’s just disappointed me. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”
A small tear slips from my eye and runs down my cheek. My emotions right now are going
haywire. I don’t know how to feel. When Rhett wraps his big arms around me I feel a comfort and
safety that I’ve prayed for my whole life.
With a soft voice, he whispers in my ear. “We can get an annulment if you want, Reagan. I don’t
want to cause trouble between you and Beau. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it for you. I love you that
much.”
I lean over and hungrily take his mouth with mine. “Fuck that… didn’t we say this was forever?”
 Also by Zoey Drake

The Moonshine Springs Series

WRITTEN IN THE SAND
WRITTEN IN LOVE LETTERS
WRITTEN IN WILD ADVENTURES

Silverbell Shore Series

BINDING TIES

Sweet and Sexy Standalones

MELTING WYNTER
SECOND CHANCE RESCUE

Holiday
A WHISKEY RUN CHRISTMAS – YOUNG ADULT
A WHISKEY RUN CHRISTMAS - A STEAMY HOLIDAY NOVELLA

Dark Standalone Co-write

DIRTY MONSTERS

Freebie
THE MYTH OF LOVE
 About the Author

Zoey Drake is a hopeless romantic with a serious Chipotle addiction. When she isn’t searching for her next book boyfriend, she’s writing
him. Although she has West Virginia roots, she currently resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog, Sir Cooper Ryder. When she’s
not writing, she can be found curled up on the couch with Cooper and a cup of tea, reading her favorite author’s next book!
Another random document with
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 Tibetan Woman using a Sling for throwing Stones

They possess a long barrel, not always perfectly straight nor cylindrical; they are
smooth-bore, the explosion being caused by a primitive fuse attachment which,
when lighted by means of a flint and steel, applies the fire to a small cup of
gunpowder at the side of the barrel. They have a peep-hole [159]sight, but this is
absolutely devoid of mathematical accuracy, and the bullets and gunpowder
used by the Tibetans are home-made and of inferior quality. Pebbles, or small
pieces of iron, are frequently used for ammunition. A movable prop is necessary
in order to enable the long weapon to be held in a horizontal position, and this
should in a way facilitate accurate shooting. Apart from the various faults of the
matchlocks themselves, an additional difficulty arises in Tibet even when firing
with more perfected weapons. Shooting at great altitudes, it may be pointed out,
involves special sighting of one’s rifle; the variation in the trajectory of a
projectile being considerable, at 15,000 or 16,000 feet above sea-level, owing
chiefly to the rarefied air. The clearness of the atmosphere also prevents the
correct estimate of range. For instance, with my ·256 Mannlicher rifle, with the
usual sight at 100 yards, it was necessary at that altitude to aim about a foot
lower than the target in order to make a bull’s eye.

When people get to high elevations for the first time, and until they have the
cause explained to them, or learn it for themselves, this is a constant puzzle,
and frequently leads to the condemnation of a good weapon. [160]

It must be said for the Tibetan that his eye is generally fairly accurate and his
hand steady, and with bows and arrows I have seen some archers make quite
creditable performances. These are, however, now looked upon as obsolete
weapons by the natives. The soldiers as well as civilians are armed with
matchlocks.

Men and women in Tibet are extremely skilful in the use of a rope sling, which
they always carry about their person, and with which they can fling stones long
distances with great precision. It is not uncommon, as I have said, to see them
strike in this manner a picked recalcitrant sheep in a large flock, or a distant yak
which they want to drive to camp. Even children, through constant practice, are
adepts at stone-throwing.
 Tibetan Games. Stone-Throwing

All over Asia, as we have seen, is found the ancient custom of “stone-fighting,”
either as a sport or to settle disputes between factions; and although in Tibet
these combats do not assume such gigantic proportions as in Corea, for
instance, where thousands of combatants are engaged in fierce fights, still in the
Forbidden Land, too, there is plenty of scope for broken skulls and bruises. The
battles are generally fought between the male members of two or more rival
families, [161]and seldom between large factions or guilds, except in big towns
such as Lhassa or Shigatz, where these stone fights occasionally assume
alarming proportions. They are undoubtedly a speedy and practical method of
settling controversies among rival families, besides affording some considerable
amusement and excitement to the gathered crowd of spectators watching the
progress of the combat well out of range of the missiles.

Stone-throwing in a different form, as a sport, is indulged in on festive occasions

by young men. Some large rocks, more or less spherical, and some 30 to 50 lbs.
in weight, being collected, and the participants in the game having divested
themselves of their heavy coats, which are left hanging from their waistbands,
the rocks are lifted and swung over the head and flung some considerable
distance, often ten or twelve yards, either into an appropriate hole or near a
mark-stone. This exercise generally takes place near a mani wall, such as is
represented in the illustration in this book. Another form of the same game
consists in kicking to or near a particular spot a small stone with the instep of
one’s foot, swinging one’s stiffened leg as if it were a golf-club.

Wrestling is one of the few other sports noticeable [162]in Tibet. It is, however, not
commonly indulged in, and is done according to no rules. It is, in fact, in the
“catch as catch can” style, with additional biting and vicious kicking until the
victor can firmly hold the helpless vanquished flat under him.

The amusement which always causes much mirth among Tibetans is

tobogganing. They do not always indulge in it as a sport; but when opportunity
offers, for instance, to save themselves the trouble of long and steep descents
on snowy mountain slopes, they greatly enjoy the fun. I have seen Tibetans slide
on their backs at a terrific pace for a hundred or two hundred yards down
precipitous inclines, laughing and yelling, with their heavy sheepskin coats
collected in front, and their legs up in the air except when required for steering
purposes.
 Tobogganing made easy

With the exception of the above, I do not recollect seeing any other national
sport; nor, as a matter of fact, do Tibetans indulge much in sports of any kind—
partly owing to the great altitudes which they inhabit, where violent exercise
leads to considerable personal discomfort and suffering; partly because of a
somewhat depressed nature. Although not always devoid of considerable
humour, [163]the Tibetan can seldom be roused from his normal sulkiness and
made to put forth superfluous exertion either for his own delectation or that of
others.

Also, the nomadic existence which he leads from one end of the year to the
other, is full of ever present wild excitements and surprises. He often travels over
snowy passes several thousand feet higher than the highest mountains of
Europe, where precipices and avalanches and land-slides or falling rocks are of
daily occurrence, and any devised sport becomes in comparison rather tame
and uninteresting.

Naturally, there is no such thing in Tibet as training to be an athlete, nor are the
few sports and games specially taught to the children. They are merely picked
up from one generation to the other by imitation. The Tibetan is extremely hardy
and wiry.

Amusements which are the result of prosperity and happiness are not plentiful in
Tibet. Playing cards and dice and a primitive sort of chess, and one or two more
elaborate games imported from China and Nepal, are occasionally to be seen;
but perhaps the most interesting to us is their dancing, notably their war-dances,
curious in people so little martial. With a sword in one [164]hand and a kata in the
other, and with the knees bent, the dancers keep time to the beating of a double
drum and the clapping of hands from the spectators. They attempt some more or
less clumsy revolutions on their heels, but the movements of their arms are quite
graceful. Alternately each bent arm is raised in front of the head, while the other
is held far back, and they manage to give a pretty semi-rotary twist to both
forearms and hands when they have reached the highest and lowest points
respectively.

As the dancers and musicians get excited the movements of the arms and legs
are greatly accelerated, and some of the best dancers can move their limbs so
quickly that on looking at them one’s eyes get confused to such an extent that
only a shapeless moving mass is distinguishable. Owing to the rarefied air, they
cannot, however, keep this up very long, and, panting, their lungs in convulsion
and eyes bulging out of their sockets, they abruptly end the dance with a
suggestive and humorous—often too humorous—posture, or else with a leap in
the air, doubling up the body and resting the head upon the knees before the
feet touch the ground again.

Tibetan Dance with Sword and Kata (Veil of Friendship)

The most appreciated dancing, from a Tibetan [165]point of view, is when the
performer can continue his evolutions, bringing his legs forward alternately with
knees bent low and almost touching the ground. In a way, this dance is not
unlike Russian peasant dancing. The best dancers give solo performances,
while the rest join in a circle round and round them until they get tired out and
dizzy.

The women’s dancing has precisely the same characteristics, except that it is
done with no sword. Only a kata is held in the right hand, and the contortions are
less exaggerated, and, therefore, more graceful. The abrupt end also is done
away with, together with odd posturing. The women, whenever I saw them
dance, usually danced singly to the accompaniment of softer and more
sentimental music than was the case with the men. They added sad, melodious
chanting to their movements, weird and wild to a degree, yet full of expression
and quite pleasing to the ear. [166]
[Contents]
 CHAPTER XV

The Tibetan in his normal life is occasionally an amusing being, full of coarse
humour, and with a bounce which carries him through his existence. When
alone, he is quiet in his manner, and will spend his leisure hours spinning wool
or in some other such feminine occupation, while his women-folk do all the hard
work about the tent. As will be seen by the illustrations in this book, both Tibetan
men and women look clumsy and heavy. Anatomically, they are well-built, small
but wiry, and rather thickly set, but very seldom with any great abundance of
flesh and fat, except the Lamas, who lead a lascivious and lazy life.
 A Typical Tibetan

Tibetan clothing is mostly responsible for the funny appearance they present,
men wearing sometimes three or four coats, skin or woollen, one on the top of
the other. The sash or belt, which is intended to be at the waist, is usually
considerably [167]lower down owing to the weight of the variety of articles the
wearer constantly carries stored away round the waist in his outer coat,—
wooden bowls, balls of butter, bags of tsamba, a bundle of wool for spinning with
the distaff, the prayer-wheel, and a quantity of rags,—which bulge out at the
waist all round his body and drag down his coat. This often gives them the
appearance of being quite short-legged, though, of course, they are not really.

Men and women wear picturesque, most comfortable and practical long boots,
the legging being usually red or white, the thick soles of rope well protecting the
foot all round. These boots are largely manufactured in Lhassa and Shigatz, but
people also manufacture them themselves. Officials wear leather boots of the
Chinese type, with thick wooden or leather soles with a few huge iron nails
underneath and a curled-up toe.

Among the coloured illustrations will be found paintings of Tibetan women—from

babyhood, in an ample and striking robe of white and blue checks; at the age of
twelve, with shaggy hair hanging down the back and shoulders and a sufficient
collection of ornaments round the neck; an older dame, of middle class and age,
in her everyday costume, with [168]a sash enveloping nearly one-third of her
body; then a lady of rank and beauty, fully decorated with amber necklace, gold
and malachite brooch, elaborate earrings, and a much-adorned aureole upon
the head. She sits modestly on bags of borax, and displays feet of some
considerable size. Well, that is the fault of the ample and padded boots which
she wears, and not a fault of the foot inside—not small, mind you, but generally
well-formed—nor of the painter who depicted the scene.

Next we have a religious lady praying before a tent shrine, turning her back to us
and displaying in its full glory her Tchukti—that is to say, three broad bands of
three sections each alternately blue and red. These bands of heavy cloth reach
from the shoulder to the feet, and they are ornamented with coral or malachite
beads, silver coins and bells, and at the lower end a row of little brass or silver
bells is generally attached. Nearly all the money earned by the woman (and
frequently that of the husband) is sewn on to the Tchukti, so that the family
fortune—when this fortune exists—hangs down women’s backs to a number of
neat little tresses of the woman’s hair to which it is attached. When the Tchukti is
worn the hair is parted in the middle and plastered down with melted butter. [169]

Last, but not least, you will find the portrait of a Tibetan old lady, who somewhat
resented being sketched and had not her sweetest smile upon her face. Rather
bony and toothless, with a wrinkled skin which would put to shame a crocodile,
one leg stretched out because she had a rheumatic pain and could not bend it,
she used quite bad language when I quickly portrayed her. She predicted and
wished misfortunes of all kinds which should descend upon me.

Perhaps you will notice, in most of the illustrations representing Tibetans, that
the people depicted in them have their eyes half-closed. This is one of the most
characteristic points about a Tibetan face, especially when out of doors and
conversing. First of all, as you know, the Mongolian eye is elongated between
heavy lids, and does not afford an extensive view of the iris at any time; then,
owing to the intensely brilliant light, the severe and constant winds, and plentiful
snow, the natives get into the habit of accentuating the squeezing of the eye-
aperture for protection. This causes crow’s-feet to appear on men and women at
an early age, and a much corrugated forehead and brow.

I had occasion on this journey to pay a visit to [170]a quaint tribe of Tibetans
calling themselves the Kam-par, or people from Kam (Tibet). They possessed
extraordinary features—from intermarriage with some tribe of Nepal, I should
think—intensely cruel faces in many instances; others quite refined, especially
those of the better class. The young man whose portrait I give, very girlish-
looking, with an elaborate hat ornamented with gold embroidery, was the son of
the chief, and quite a nice-looking boy, with suave manners and a humble voice.
He had long hair in waves upon his shoulders, and a short pigtail behind. But
some of the older men, such as the one I portrayed, had brutal faces, and their
manner was somewhat coarse, sulky, and blunt. They possessed highly
developed cheek-bones, slits of eyes, and prominent drooping lips. The nose,
however, was more developed than on other Tibetans.
 Woman and Child praying before a Shrine inside a Tent

These people, like most other Tibetans, practise a form of cannibalism which is
not at all uncommon in Tibet, especially in their funeral ceremonies. The Lamas,
as is well known, often drink human blood out of bowls made of human skulls.

This tribe, a nomad one, was, among other employments, given to a certain
amount of brigandage; [171]and, in fact, among them I found a well-known
brigand—a long-lost friend of mine—whose portrait I also give in these pages.
He possessed quite a striking-looking head, with a good deal of determination
upon his features, a fierce moustache, and masses of curly hair trimmed straight
at the height of the shoulders. He always shouted at the top of his voice
whenever he spoke; always heartily laughed at everything you said; and, to
show his approval, struck you upon your shoulder with his ponderous hand after
each sentence. He was one of the most powerfully built men I have ever met, his
strength being quite extraordinary; and, for a brigand, quite an agreeable
companion out of business hours.

Polyandry, when the wife is shared among brothers, as is the case all over Tibet,
is practised by this tribe also; and when I met them they were employed in
conveying salt and borax, from Gyanema over the Darma Pass into India. These
Kam-par occasionally travel as far down as Tanakpore, the borax and salt being
carried entirely on sheep-back.

When one got over the peculiar expression of their faces, the Kam-par were
amiable enough.

Their women were highly decorated with [172]numerous brass ornaments with
pendants, and silver bracelets inlaid with malachite. Teeth of musk-deer were
freely used as ornaments, as well as being used for such useful purposes as
picking one’s teeth, cleaning the nails, and so on.

The chief wore his hair parted in the centre, and plaited into small tresses which
joined into a single pigtail behind. The skin was of a sallow yellowish colour. The
upper portion of the eye, as is often the case in people who are constantly
exposed to a brilliant light, was much discoloured, and a peculiar whitish tinge
veiled the entire iris of the eye. In the way of clothing they showed a marked
preference for bright red and yellow textiles, and on their visits into Kumaon they
had invested their savings in buying old regimental brass buttons, with which the
women were freely ornamented. Bracelets of glass beads, and also necklaces of
coral and amber, were displayed with pride.
 Tibetan Boy in his Gold-embroidered Hat

These people had beautiful tents, the inside being most comfortable, with
Chinese carpets spread on the floor, cushions to rest the head and back upon,
and cured skins spread everywhere where they might come in useful. Elaborate
altars, some double-tiered, with as many as seven images of Buddha, were to
be seen, and upon them [173]burning lights galore, incense-sticks alight filling the
tent with saintly fumes. Bags of butter and chura and sweet paste hung from
every tent-pole. All round the tent, inside and also outside, were high walls of
double sacks of borax. Outside, on high posts, with an ingenious contrivance to
prevent animals going up, a lot of meat was prepared, with salt, in thin slices,
and exposed to the sun to dry.

As is always the case, with this tribe too travelled a number of Lamas, who
practically controlled everything. One of these Lamas had as repulsive and
murderous a face as it is given to any human being to possess. True enough,
his first boast was that he had killed three people (the natives said a good many
more). His manner towards the people was most brutal. He was a tall man of
marvellous muscular development, and between his most repulsive lips, which
never seemed to close, he displayed a set of most powerful long pointed teeth,
such as those one would see in a wild animal. His head-gear consisted of a
vizor made of long, bristly hair—not unlike the half of a chimney-sweeper’s
brush—which he fastened round the forehead and back of the head with a
string.

This gentleman was inclined to be overbearing, [174]even intrusive; and, to show

his courage as well as muscular power (possibly to frighten me), he thumped
and knocked about his people in a merciless manner, always taking care to
select the helpless and weaker ones. His brutality irritated me considerably. I
was standing near his tent, and he came in with a long knife—he had been
making himself a stick to beat the people with. He was still foaming with rage.
There was a woman, his servant, sitting near the fire, and he asked her whether
the tea was ready in the raksang. She replied it was not, upon which he
administered a terrific kick in her stomach which would have killed any woman
but a Tibetan. I could stand no more. I seized my rifle by the muzzle and applied
the butt upon his face in a fashion which somewhat flattened his nose more than
it originally was and loosened some teeth. All bullies are cowards in any country,
and he made no reply whatever.

No doubt I shall be blamed—as I have been before—for administering my own

justice in other people’s countries, but I cannot help feeling that the weak should
ever and at any cost be protected against unwarranted attacks of the brutally
strong.
 A Brigand

Another similar, but more comical, incident—[175]one of many—occurred another

day, when a shapeless figure, almost bent over in two and walking unsteadily
upon his feet, approached my camp. We were in a barren, desolate spot, cold
and dreary, and my men had put up chokdens of stones all round the camp.
The queer stranger had a most comical appearance, his waist down to his
knees, so full was his coat with stores of all kinds. He bowed profusely, his
shaggy hair flying—as much as it could fly, for it was so dirty and entangled—in
the breeze.

“Who are you and what do you want?” we asked him.

“I am a poor, poor man, with no food and no friends.”

I well knew this to be a lie, as I had had similar visitors before. He was a mere
Tibetan spy—a soldier in the disguise of a beggar, to come and find out all about
us.

“What do you want?”

“I am hungry and have pains in my inside for lack of food.”

I ordered my cook to give him plentiful meat and rice and some sweet paste. A
little of it he ate; the rest he stored away in his coat, wrapped up in dirty rags.
[176]

“Is there anything else you want?”

“Yes, I would like some tchah (tea).”

A jug of tea was handed him.

“Anything else you wish from us now?” we inquired of the Tibetan, who, while
pretending to sip the tea, was counting the number of my men, was trying to see
how many rifles we had, and was taking in everything all round with his ferreting
eyes. But although he was a splendid actor, his infirmities, I had detected at
once, were all put on for the occasion.

“Can I be allowed to prowl around your camp and see what I can pick up—
anything you have thrown away?”

“Yes, certainly; but mind you do not pick more than you expect.”
 A Tibetan Spy in the Disguise of a Beggar approaching the Author’s Camp

The man crawled about camp—I ordered my men to pretend not to notice him—
while I observed him closely, all the time pretending to be busy writing. By
means of a small looking-glass I could watch his movements even when he was
behind me. The fellow was examining all my baggage carefully, and especially
our rifles which lay about. Having persuaded himself that none of us were
looking at him, he raised the flap of my tent and had a good look inside. When
he [177]had finished his inspection he came to bid me good-bye.

“Have you had all you want, do you think?” I asked him.

“Yes, indeed. He was grateful. He now wanted to go.”

“Before you go, I want to give you a remembrance to teach you that when you
accept people’s hospitality you should not practise treachery.”

Snatching out of his hand a long stick he carried, I applied to him a good beating
—not that it hurt him much, because he was so padded with articles he had
stored in his coat. In fact, in trying to struggle away, his sash got undone and he
dropped a number of little bags containing tsamba and butter, provisions which
were evidently intended to last him several days on his spying expedition. Also
two daggers.

My men, who entered fully into the spirit of the joke, chased him out of camp
with a well-directed shower of stones. Needless to say, “the starving Tibetan
cripple” outran them all. From a high point of vantage I watched him with my
telescope. When some distance off he went among some rocks, picked up his
matchlock which he had hidden there—and continued his flight. [178]