The eastern sun slanting across the front of the wide front porch made Queenie's bare feet hot, but it was familiar and welcome. As frenetic as things had been in the last week, it was still good to be home on her family's Texas ranch, the place where she'd grown up and where so much of her heart lay. She played a riff on her fiddle, warming up her hands. It was a lively tune and made her smile softly as she fingered the strings.
For each of the last five mornings, she'd come out to sit on the porch, and for each of those mornings their new neighbor, Will Mazie, came by to try and talk to her father. After the first morning, Leo Journey wouldn't make the time for him. Every day had a new excuse. Will wanted a water easement over the Journey ranch in order to fill his new bass pond, but Leo was dragging his feet on putting a lease together. Queenie didn't know what her father was waiting for—it was a reasonable request by their neighbor, but still Leo avoided the man. Queenie figured that when her big brother, Ace, got back to Texas, he'd be able to figure out the issue and handle the problem. The irritation was that Mazie kept showing up, despite her advice to wait.
After the first three days, Queenie had begun to anticipate Will and their verbal sparring. She tried not to sit eagerly waiting for him, but she couldn't quite divorce herself from expecting him. The problem was, he was so damned appealing with his tall, broad-shouldered body and his sexy baritone voice. He smiled easy and often. She'd have liked to flirt with him, but stopped herself every time the temptation arose. She didn't want another relationship. The last one had been a disaster, and the whole idea of another made her prickly and defensive. So she poked at him instead. She knew she had a sharp tongue and a quick temper, but she was damned if she was going to let him sneak in under her guard.
The sound of Will's jeep on the tarmac road leading up to the big house lit a tiny spark in her chest, but she tamped it down. He was a Hollywood city slicker. He didn't know about ranching and didn't belong in Texas. Certainly, his tendency to boss her around was unwelcome. At least, that's what she tried to convince herself. That he was handsome and smart didn't mean anything. His refusal to go away negated all that good stuff.
She continued to play, moving on to an Irish reel, as he walked up, the heels of his shiny, too-new cowboy boots thudding dully on the pavement. Her pair of Jack Russells went wild at his approach, jumping and barking frantically. He bent toward Lucy and Ethel and gave them each a dog biscuit. They took the treats and brought them back to the porch, too busy munching on their goodies to be a deterrent. Traitors.
"Queenie."
"Mr. Mazie." She didn't look up.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were happy to see me."
Her bow scraped as she shot him a look. "I'm glad you know better." She played several staccato notes, rather sharper than she'd like, then lowered the fiddle to her lap. "Why are you here?"
"The same reason I've been here the last five days. I want to see your father."
"He's not available." She couldn't see his eyes behind his reflective sunglasses, but a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As if on cue, Leo Journey's big pickup truck rolled past the side of the house and away down the road.
Will pushed a lock of auburn hair off his forehead, but the breeze blew it right back. He ought to wear a hat in the bright sun. "I guess it's just you and me again, in that case."
"Not for long, asshole. I think you were on your way back to your car." Will's grin was wide and he actually chuckled. Queenie bristled. "I keep tellin' you that he's not gonna see you until he's good and ready, but you keep comin' back. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I told you two days ago that a woman as pretty as you shouldn't have such a dirty mouth. I see that you didn’t listen."
Queenie stopped playing and glared at him. It was so frustrating not to see his eyes. "I don't have to listen to you, you, you, jerk! You are not the boss of me, Will Mazie!"
There was a buzzing, chiming sound and Will's forehead crinkled with a frown as he pulled his cellphone from his pocket. He looked at it, still ringing, and pressed a button. The chiming stopped and he put the phone away again.
Queenie fleetingly wondered who'd be calling him so early in the morning. Did he have a girlfriend? She knew he didn't have a wife; she'd have heard about that at church. He was from Hollywood, so he could have pretty much any kind of significant other, however. What the hell did she care, anyway? He was a bossy jackass, and she didn't care a fig if he had a harem.
He nodded to her violin as it rested on her lap. "For a person who has the self-discipline to play so well, you sure don't have a curb on your behavior. Maybe you need a dose of self-control."
She stood and put the fiddle on the seat of her chair. "If you threaten to spank me again, I'm gonna-"
"What? Screech at me some more? Cuss at me like a sailor?" He was still grinning. "I'd say you have those things covered. I don’t see that I have much to lose, frankly."
"Why you arrogant asshole!" She rushed him and got in his face. "You think you're so cool, buyin' the old Caswell ranch and movin' in with your Hollywood polish and your fancy fuckin' plans for the place. Well, I'll tell you somethin', piss head, you don't know the first thin' about ranchin', and you'll be here less than six months before you make a ruin of the place. You goddamned city jerks think you know everythin'!"
Will whipped off his glasses, and Queenie smothered a little gasp at his eyes. They were piercing blue, like cobalt laser beams staring directly at her. Dark lashes framed them and the beginnings of crow's feet teased the outside edges. They were amazing eyes, and they were smoldering. "You talk too much," he told her, dragging her into his arms.
The kiss was unexpected, and Queenie opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't quite get the objection out. After a moment, she didn't want to. His tongue was forceful, alternating with his teeth against her lips. She found herself responding, while at the same time, she chided herself for being perverse. She hated Will Mazie. Hated him! He was everything she didn't like in a man--bossy, dominant, arrogant. In fact, he shared many traits with her brothers. But that was different. She loved her brothers. They were always there for her. Anyway, it didn't bear examining at the moment.
His hands were warm against the small of her back, and his belly hard against hers as he pressed her closer. She couldn't think, she was nothing but one great big nerve, feeling with her whole being. As he slowly broke their kiss, she was surprised to find her hands in his hair, pulling his head down to hers.
Goddamn it! She stepped back and drew back her hand, slapping him on the cheek with all her might.
He turned his head away at the blow, and when he faced her again, his grin was back. That infuriating, awful, arrogant grin! It was obvious that he didn't take her seriously, and her irritation rose yet another notch.
 "Is that supposed to end our…discussion?"
Queenie's face fell into the frown she reserved solely for Will Mazie. "Asshole! Get the hell out of here!"
"Let's deal with that potty mouth first, shall we?"
Before Queenie could do more than squeak, he'd upended her and put her over his shoulder like a fifty-pound sack of flour, not a 120-pound woman. "Put me down! Who the fuck do you think you are?" She beat on his back as hard as she could, but it didn't seem to faze him. Goddamned muscle-bound Neanderthal! "I'm gonna scream! The whole ranch is gonna come runnin'!"
He swatted her sharply on the behind. Twice.
"You can't spank me! I'll shoot you! You just see if I don't."
Two more spanks on her denim-clad rear and she squawked and flailed. He didn't drop her, and maybe she was a little glad for that. It was a long way down. But she was pissed off something fierce and wasn't going to go to her punishment without a fight.
"Hush, Queenie." He stalked toward the side of the house where there were sheds and a small studio.  He tried the studio door. "What's this room? Your Dad's office?" The door opened with a click.
"You can't go in there. It's my father's leather workshop. No one goes in there."
Mazie whistled as he stepped into the large, sunlit room. Queenie struggled again and he put a few more slaps on her behind. "Simmer down, honey, or this is going to go worse for you."
She hung there, head down, and tried to figure out how to get out of this predicament. It was true that she cussed a lot. She had since her mother died twenty years ago. Her mother had been something of a cusser, too, though she'd never used the f-word. Queenie knew her father had given her mother more than one spanking for bad language. But, although he'd spanked Queenie as a child, it stopped when her mother passed. Lots of things had stopped, and only slowly come back. The spanking didn't. Maybe her language had deteriorated some since then, but at thirty-two, Queenie was too old to be spanked, in her opinion. Which didn't seem to affect Will Mazie's intentions one iota.
All concept of self-control fled, though some niggling voice told her that she was going to regret it. "Let me go, fucker! I'm warning you!"
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." He put her down on the floor, feet first. "Pull down your jeans and bend over the saddle rack."
Her father's latest tooled saddle, half-finished, sat on the rack, a work of art, and something she'd have been happy to admire close-up under different circumstances.
She eyed the sharp leather tools, weighing her options and the consequences. Words seemed a better defense. "Fuck you."
He arched an auburn eyebrow. "Why Ms. Journey, is that an invitation?"
She wanted to explode with fury and she took another open-handed swing at his face. This one he caught easily.
"Now, honey, it's not like I didn't warn you."
"I hate you, Will Mazie." She started toward the door and he yanked her back by the waist.
"Jeans down. Now."
Although his voice held a threat—he'd take her jeans down himself if she didn't comply--she wasn't afraid of him. Over the last several days, she'd come to realize that he was a decent man, and one not prone to anger. She'd sure given him plenty of cause to get pissed off, but he hadn't. He didn't seem pissed off now, either.
There was something bad-boy sexy about him. Something that made her excited and curious. She didn't know what it was, but it made the idea of a spanking sound sensual. Crazy ideas!
Queenie tried to elbow him in the jaw as he pulled her back, but she missed and he soon had her standing in front of him while he unbuttoned her jeans. She tried to pull his fingers away, but they wouldn't be loosened.
"If you spank me, my big brothers Ace and Deuce are gonna beat you to a pulp!"
"I thought you were going to shoot me first." The jeans got yanked toward her knees, effectively hobbling her, and he pressed her down toward the saddle rack with a hand on her upper back. Immediately, he smacked her rear, first one cheek then the other. "Nice thong. Leaves your pretty little ass all ready for spanking."
She'd never been so humiliated, but the feel of his broad palm on her butt was both painful and…seductive. Queenie didn't want to be seduced, she wanted to punch him in the eye. "Let me go!" Struggling against the hand which held her down, she tried to cover her rear, but he quickly gathered her wrists together and held them firmly.
Two more swats landed on her rear. Then something new happened. There was a low whistle in the air and something other than his hand shot fire over her butt cheek, like nothing had ever done before. Her father had spanked her with his hand, and that was bad enough, but this was intense.
"Hey, this leather strap is pretty good. I'll have to ask your father to make me one."
The strap landed four or five more times and Queenie wailed. Stinging pain radiated from each blow like a burning brand. Half of her wanted to run away and half of her wanted to encourage him. It left her torn and confused. "Stop it! Stop it, Will!"
"You gonna to stop cussing at me? Gonna be a little more pleasant and polite?"
The strap traveled down her rear to her upper thighs, spreading heat and bee stings wherever it went. It was accompanied by an annoying little whorl of tension in her lower belly, and her nipples became hard buttons. It had to stop or she'd lose herself.
"Okay! Okay! I'll watch what I say!"
More shocking strokes of the strap, and then he paused. His hand caressed her hot rear for a moment, but next, his fingers moved between her legs. "Well, what do you know. I guess the lady doth protest too much."
Her face flamed at his observation, and the squirmy feeling low in her belly found the mental image of her wetness on his fingers sexy. That kind of thinking was going to get her in trouble. "You've had your fun, Will. Let me up."
The leather strap ticked against the tooling bench and Will went back to spanking her with his hand. Tears started in her eyes. She would not cry. No, no, no. But she sure as hell wouldn't cuss at him either. "Ow! Please stop. I promise I'll try."
He stepped back. "Okay. Go ahead and pull up your jeans, honey."
It took her a moment to wiggle into the tight denims and her bottom protested as she slid them up over her hips. The slickness of her pussy was too sensual by half and she tugged on the jeans roughly, trying to force the feeling away. "I should have shouted rape," she muttered. There was a pout in her voice, and it ticked her off.
Mazie tilted her chin up and she looked into those incredible eyes again. "Are you a liar too, on top of everything else?"
She wrested her chin free. "No."
He shook his head. "Didn't think so."
"You really know how to sweet-talk a girl."
He laughed. "Your little panties and I will keep your secret."
"Assho-" He gave her a challenging look. "Jerk."
His smile was a trifle smug. "I'll be back tomorrow to try to see your father. I want that easement."
"My brother Ace will be home in a few days. You can't wait until then?" She wanted him to agree to wait, and wanted him to persist as well. He totally confused her and Queenie wanted to scream at her body to knock it off.
"My bass pond is nearly done and I can't fill it affordably without that water from the river. Journey's End is between me and it. I'm offering a fair deal, even a generous deal. Why won't your father see me?"
"Hell if I know."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I mean… I dunno. He's a stubborn guy, though, so if he says he doesn't want to see you, he means it."
"But your brother Ace can do the deal?"
She nodded. "Yeah. He's got full authority, same as my Daddy."
"Okay." He opened the door for her. "I'll be back in two days."
That deflated her balloon a bit, but she tried not to let it show. "Yeah. Whatever."
He put a hand on her shoulder and half turned her toward him. "There's more on the Journey ranch I'd like to pursue, Queenie." She knew he meant her and that slickness on her panties called to her like a siren song. "But you need a break."
She didn't want a break. She wanted to spar with him some more…and she didn't. She didn't know what to say, so she set her jaw and frowned.
He grinned. "Cat got your tongue, I guess." Will's lips touched hers quickly, and then he released her and gestured for her to precede him out the door. Queenie nearly reached up and touched her lips, looking for the shadow of sensuality he left behind, but she caught herself and clenched her fists instead.
When they got back to the front porch, her dogs jumped all over him, wanting more treats, and he dug two more out of his pocket. Lucy and Ethel scampered away. Queenie had to give him credit, he came prepared.
"I'll see you in a couple of days, Ms. Journey."
"Don't let the screen door hit your…butt…on the way out."
He laughed and made his way to his jeep.
As she watched him roll down the driveway, she wondered what it might have felt like if he'd pursued a course with his fingers, slipping them under her thong.
Shaking her head at her own conflicted feelings, she gingerly sat back down on her chair in the sun and started to fiddle. It usually calmed her nerves, but that morning, it didn't quite work.
After a few minutes, her fury at Will Mazie growing rather than receding, she scraped her bow along the violin strings with an awful screech and put the instrument down. Near her sweet tea on the floor of the porch sat her cellphone, and she grabbed it.
If her Daddy wasn't going to fix the matter, she'd have to rely on her oldest brother, Ace, to do the job.
He answered in a few rings.
"Ace?" Her voice was breathless.
"Who else would it be, Queenie?"
"He spanked me!"
"What?"
"Will Mazie fuckin' spanked me!"
Ace was patient as she told him what happened, but he wasn't particularly sympathetic.
"Did you talk to Dad about this?"
"I told him that Will had threatened me with a spankin' a few days ago, and he just shook his head and told me to mind my manners. Me mind my manners!"
"But you didn't."
Ace wasn't being any help at all, and Queenie began to feel like she was on her own with this problem. "Hell no! Who does he think he is? Tellin' me to watch my language!"
"Well, Q, your language could use a li'l cleanin' up."
"Goddamn it, Ace! Are you on my side or his?"
There was a pause. "I guess I'd have to meet him first before I answered that question."
"Traitor!" Queenie was suddenly deflated. There was no help from her family where Mazie's behavior was concerned. So long as things stayed at the level of spankings, they all seemed to be in collusion.  "When the fuck are you gettin' home? I need your help here."
"The business deal is done--no go. But I have somethin' else I'm workin' on. I'll need another week to wrap it up."
"A week! My rear is gonna be black 'n blue by a week from now."
"Maybe y'all should try removin' some of the more colorful words from your vocabulary, sis."
"Piss-head."
"Maybe not. Anyway, there's a woman, Q. I'm gonna marry her and—"
"You're gettin' married? Holy shit, Ace. Daddy is gonna be dancin' a jig."
He chuckled and it was mighty nice to feel a smile on her own face in response. "Yeah, I know."
"What's her name?"
"Gabriella Appleby."
"Gabri—hey! Isn't that the girl who tried to blackmail Trey's wife?"
"Er… She's grown up a bit since then."
Although Queenie hadn't been involved in the situation, she knew that her little brother, Trey, had had to do some fast work to get his sweetheart out of the frying pan. They'd got it straightened out, and Gabriella had been punished with a harsh spanking delivered by Ace. That ended the problem, but it had been strange to have her at Trey and Liv's wedding. The young woman hadn't hung around for the reception, or Queenie would have grilled her for more details.
Something had happened between Gabriella and Ace, though. Some spark had been ignited. Apparently, it was leading to the altar.
"I guess New Jersey isn't the armpit of the world like they say."
Ace laughed again. "No, Q, it ain't. Listen, I have to go. I want to get Gabby's movin' plans started. It's a logistics problem."
"'K. I'll deal with thin's 'till you can make it back."
"Thanks, li'l sis. Call me if you need me."
They rung off and Queenie sat quietly on the porch for a few minutes before picking up her fiddle again. The whole idea of Trey getting married and Ace so soon after made Queenie question her own situation.
She'd been married already, and it had ended badly in a divorce a year ago. She hadn't taken up with a man since then, and although she was getting to an age where starting a family was something she'd have to do soon or miss out altogether, she hadn't found a fellow who lit her fire.
Except on the butt, she thought with a flare of temper. Will Mazie had certainly gotten her attention.
She was attracted to him, but something about him just pissed her off. It was too confusing, and nothing like the way she'd felt for her ex before he'd screwed everything up by cheating on her.
Harry was a jackass, but he'd been her jackass for four of their five years. He was like a bad cold that wouldn't quite go away—you bought a lot more Kleenex. If the first year hadn't been so good, she'd have run for the hills a lot earlier.
Will was persistent, too, but, somehow, it was different. Welcome. Exciting. Totally confusing.
* * *
The screen door leading into his kitchen did slap him on the butt as he entered, and it made Will smile. Queenie was one helluva piece of work. And work she'd be. She was fierce and temperamental, and cussed like the studio laborers he'd worked with when he was first starting out. Her artistically dyed blonde hair was perky and attractive, and her figure was slender and sleek. Passion showed in her fiddling so strongly he could taste it, as with the kisses he'd stolen. The artistic talent she showed was impressive. And, even though she had that temper, it was obvious that she was smart, too. He wanted to pursue her, but his new ranch had to come first.
Will had hoped to ask Leo Journey a few questions about ranching, maybe throw a few of his ideas at the older man and find out if they were completely stupid from a rancher's perspective. He'd heard that Journey was one of the most successful men in the area and that the ranch had belonged to his family for several generations. Journey had grown up with ranching, and would definitely be the one to look to for advice—if he could manage to corner the man for a few minutes.
He needed that easement, too. His first project, after learning the names of the ranch hands and selecting a foreman, had been to start building a bass pond. He liked the idea of spending a few hours on a pond now and then, sinking a line in the water and pulling up a big, fresh fish for supper–nothing like Hollywood, where stress was the operating paradigm.
Which reminded him of the call he'd pushed to voicemail while talking to Queenie.
He tossed his keys into a box on the kitchen counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket. After punching a few icons, he got to his voicemail.
"Hey, Will. Jason Barnaby here. I'm in New York, meeting with a producer we both know. I have a deal I'd like to bounce off you. Mega-bucks, and it looks like it could be a sweet deal. Long-term, maybe. Gimme a ring."
Will sighed. Barnaby was a packager he'd dealt with in the past. He was, in fact, the one he'd agreed to work with on "Tim Crane, Private Dick," the adult cable TV show he'd been the lead screenwriter for over the last seven years. It had been a smash hit and proved to be very lucrative for everyone involved, including Jason Barnaby. It was no wonder he was coming back to Will for another kick at the can.
The idea was momentarily tempting. It would be so easy to move back to Hollywood and do what he knew how to do. He'd worked hard to make it in the business, and there was an inner tension that drove him to do more, make more money, be more famous. But, the fact was, if he husbanded it well, he didn't need more money, and fame was fickle. He wanted to build something tangible and long-lasting.
He'd always dreamed of owning a ranch, some cattle and horses, a big barn filled with hay. It was something he'd fantasized about since watching re-runs of "Bonanza" and "Big Valley" as a kid. Those old TV shows had been like favorite playmates on the days when his father worked long hours at the factory and Will was home with no one but his little brother Rob for company.
Over the last five years, Will had spent a chunk of time learning how to ride western saddle and take care of horses. He'd spent countless hours mucking out stalls while he took a kind of internship with a horse ranch in the San Fernando Valley during his precious spare time, but now he was proficient at the necessary tasks. Riding was a passion for him, so much so that he'd brought his favorite horse, Starlight, with him when he moved to Texas. Learning to breed horses successfully was next on his agenda, and he'd purchased a small herd of them with that in mind. Several were prime mares that were going to be dams to some mighty fine quarter horses.
Although his ranch didn't have a name yet, he was determined to put as much effort into it as he had his screenwriting career. He'd learn how to do it, and he'd do it well. The cynicism and pretentiousness of Hollywood had barely been tolerable while he'd been building his career, but eventually it wore his considerable patience too thin. He wanted out.
So much for Jason Barnaby. He typed out a text consisting of two words, "No thanks."
Arthur, Will's irascible cook and housekeeper, came into the kitchen as Will was putting his phone down. The black man with the white beard was difficult to get along with and complained constantly, but it was good-natured irritability, and he was excellent at his job. Will had been very lucky to have found him within a few weeks of taking residence at the ranch, because housekeeping and cooking were not his forte. Arthur was a Godsend.
"Chicken and dumplin's for dinner tonight, Will. And don't go arguin' with me. We can't have beef every night or you'll be swellin' up like an Easter hog."
Will grinned. "Yes, sir!"
"Hmph. You get Leo Journey to see you this time?"
"No. I don't know what I said or did to offend him, either."
"Leo's a good man. You be persistent and he'll come 'round."
"Oh, I'll be persistent." He wasn't thinking of Leo Journey, though.