The Cowboy Who Strolled Into Town by Riley Moreno

most nights; or a Satanist cults meeting place or even the playground of a deviant orgy group. I did not expect him to come out as the owner of the property. Diesel had said the owners weren’t around!
    “Oh,” eloquent me, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    “You’re trespassing,” he growled. That got me out of my comatose state.
    “I am not!” I screeched as if he’d accused me of adultery in 1865. “I paid rent and everything. The Sherriff said I could stay here and send my checks to PO Box account. You did receive my check, didn’t you?”
    He looked dazed like I’d sucker punched him.
    “What’s your PO Box number?” I ask on a whim. His slack jaw and over bright eyes are rousing my suspicions.
    “Okay so I lied,” he concedes but he doesn’t look too pleased about it. “But I need this property two days from now.”
    “What for?” I ask.
    “That’s private,” he says. His evasion makes me angry. What I should be doing is calling the cops on this freak who entered my house and tried to terrify me with my second eviction in 24 hours, no matter that he was very handsome and made me a little wet between the legs. But I won’t. I’m alone, in a house this man is capable of getting into. Let’s just resolve this rather than enrage him with threats of arrest and end up being murdered.
    “Well tough,” I shrug.
    “Can you clear out for two days?” he asks. “Loan me the use of it? I can pay you handsomely. You can stay at the Waterville hotel, huh, imagine not doing your dishes. Or take a trip, go see the Grand Canyon.”
    It was tempting. The man himself was tempting. But I pushed both thought in the back of my mind. I have no idea what he wants to do here, and I’m not packing all that damn crockery again just so people won’t use it.
    “No,” I say as politely as I can manage. “I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” The shadow of a smile that had been playing in his eyes disappeared completely. For a fraction of a second I thought he might attack me but he seemed to rein it in and shrug with an effort. “Your funeral,” he muttered ominously and left. I followed him to make sure he was out of my door. He paused at the threshold of the front door and glanced back at me, his eyes piercing in to mine and I felt myself flush. He sneered and lifted his middle finger, and sauntered out of my house.

Chapter Four
    The Family Man
     
    Diesel Wake could feel the swell of Sonya’s breasts against his chest. She didn’t sleep she sprawled. Her honey caramel hair tickled his face and he tucked them behind her ears gently. He cupped her cheek, and kissed the tip of her nose, his other hand snaking around her waist, his mouth closing around a hard nipple straining against her nightgown.
    Sonya moaned and darted her hand down his sweatpants, stroking his aching hard on.
    “Mama!” Forrest cried.
    Diesel let out a frustrated sigh. Sonya giggled, kissed him on the cheek then got out of bed to attend to their baby boy. Diesel hopped in to a cold shower, his penis wilting under the onslaught of freezing water. It was a little frustrating; Sonya was exhausted at night and he was horny all the time. But Forrest was worth the blue balls. He guessed.
    He’d been lonely before Sonya, before Shifter Grove. This place had opened its arms to the ex-Navy SEAL; a man who had no family and they had made him Sheriff. Sonya had completed the sense of emptiness and she had given him not only a son but reunited him with his father. Andrew Wake lived in Poughkeepsie with his second family; but had extended open arms to Diesel and Sonya.
    “Bye, kiddo,” Diesel kissed Forrest’s bobbing head and Sonya’s puckered lips and headed to the office. It was a quick drive taking no more than fifteen minutes. All of Shifter Grove was a drive of fifteen minutes from cabin to cabin; it made it easier to live as a community; not too far that it would be a hassle getting in touch, yet not too close that Shifting