The Real McCoy: Stripped Down Cowboy Preqel, #1

By Sabrina York

When Crystal Wilson gets roped into a wild, girls-only weekend at a rowdy "stud" ranch, the last thing she wants to do is tangle with a bunch of half-naked men pretending to be cowboys. But when she meets Ford McCoy, she can't help but be attracted to his dark, dominant, gruff appeal.

What she doesn't know is that Ford isn't a stripper. He's her friend's overprotective brother, there to make sure his little sister doesn't get into any trouble. She's surprised at the passion that flares between them. In fact, what she has with Ford might just be what she's been looking for all along.

It's a pity the sexy rancher isn't in the market for a city girl.

4 Flames

Check out all the hot cowboys in the Stripped Down Series, set on the steamy Stud Ranch!
Titles include: Stud for Hire, Cowboy to Command and Spurred on (coming soon!)
Prequels include The Real McCoy, Come Hell or High Water and Protect and Serve
From NTY and USA Today Bestselling romance author, Sabrina York

Read all the Stripped Down Cowboys:

PREQUELS

The Real McCoy
Come Hell or High Water
Protect and Serve

NOVELS

Stud For Hire
Cowboy to Command
Spurred On

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sabrina York
• Release date: Oct 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781941497142

Sabrina York

Sabrina York is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous romance. Her titles—Contemporary, Historical and paranormal—range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Her awards include: 2018 Holt Medallion, 2017 RITA Nominee, and 2017 NERFA.She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of 30+ years and a very drooly Rottweiler.Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

Book preview

THE REAL MCCOY

By Sabrina York

Copyright © 2016

ISBN: 978-1-941497-14-2

Edited by: Carrie Jackson

Cover by: Dar Albert

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my Decadent Divas, Erin Simone and Jenn Kacey, and of course to my Crystals: Crystal Benedict & Crystal Biby!

Edited by: Carrie Jackson

Cover by: Dar Albert

The Real McCoy

By Sabrina York

When Crystal Wilson gets roped into a wild, girls-only weekend at a rowdy stud ranch, the last thing she wants to do is tangle with a bunch of half-naked men pretending to be cowboys. But when she meets Ford McCoy, she can’t help but be attracted to his dark, dominant, gruff appeal.

What she doesn’t know is that Ford isn’t a stripper. He’s her friend’s overprotective brother, there to make sure his little sister doesn’t get into any trouble. She’s surprised at the passion that flares between them. In fact, what she has with Ford might just be what she’s been looking for all along.

It’s a pity the sexy rancher isn’t in the market for a city girl.

The Real McCoy

By Sabrina York

––––––––

Chapter One

Well, this looks nice, Crystal Wilson murmured to her friend, Jenn, as they stepped out of the car. It was a lame comment and she knew it. It hardly reflected the emotions roiling through her as she studied the ranch—the whitewashed main house with the broad porch, the enormous barn and the bunkhouse over to the left. It was comfortable, welcoming and warm.

Everything about it reminded her of home—the sounds of chickens, the occasional moo, the snuffle of a horse. And the smells...the smells nearly brought her to her knees.

Erin sidled up to them, hefting her suitcase. So this is a B&B? She studied the bucolic scene. I’ve always wondered what they look like.

You’ve never been to a B&B? Jenn asked, though surely she knew better. Erin was hardly a B&B kind of gal.

Erin grunted. Vegas is more my style when it comes to vacations. But hell. This is what Porsche wanted, so...here I am. When Porsche had announced she was taking them all to a rustic ranch, three hours outside of Dallas, to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, Crystal had been surprised. She’d expected her to go for something less restrained. But this? This was a pleasant surprise.

Porsche levered herself from the car and shot them all a grin.

It was Porsche, and it was her trademark grin, so Crystal’s belly clenched.

Shit.

She should have known better. Something was up. She sighed and went around to the trunk and pulled out her suitcase and her computer case.

Porsche frowned. Did you bring your computer?

Crystal shrugged. I thought I might want to check sales.

This is a vacation—

"It’s a weekend—"

Jenn curled her perfect nose. You don’t bring work on a vacation.

I do. Besides, she could work from anywhere with Wi-Fi. She often did. Her job was her life. It was her everything. As her business partners, they should understand this by now.

Gawd. Porsche flicked back her ponytail. You are so anal.

Crystal didn’t demur. She knew it was true. Someone has to be. Erin, Jenn and Porsche were all brilliant women and creative as hell. But creative types didn’t seem to understand that someone had to keep the wheels turning. And that someone was Crystal.

Erin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I love that you’re anal, she said, and then she winked. Because then I don’t have to be.

Thank you, Crystal said with a sniff. Porsche just rolled her eyes.

A handsome young man with sandy hair and waaaay too many muscles emerged from the ranch house and bounded from the porch, jogging over to them with a broad smile on his face. He threw out his arms and warbled, Welcome to the Double Stu— His gaze lit on Porsche and he stumbled to a halt. His eyes widened, nostrils flared. He went an odd shade of green. P-P-Porsche. What are you doing here?

The expression on Porsche’s face was far too wicked. Hello, Cody, she purred.

He winced. You-you-you can’t be here, he burbled, raking back his hair and glancing around madly as though seeking asylum.

Crystal crossed her arms. He wasn’t finding it here.

Porsche cracked her gum. It’s a free country.

Cody leaned in, a fierce expression on his handsome face. "Porsche, you’re a kid. This is an adult establishment."

Acid scudded through Crystal’s gut at that. An adult establishment? What the hell did that mean? And what the hell had she agreed to anyway?

Again, Porsche issued her evil, spine-chilling grin. I’m twenty-one, she said with a smirk. Today. Happy birthday to me.

Cody’s lips flapped. What?

Wanna see my ID?

You can’t be twenty-one.

Well, I am. She waggled her hips. All grown up.

Jesus. Cody raked his hair again. It was beautiful hair. It did not deserve the abuse. All grown up? When the hell did that happen? He blew out a befuddled breath. Where does the time go?

Which was funny, because he was just a kid himself. Crystal and Erin exchanged an eye roll.

Porsche blew a bubble, underscoring, perhaps, that she was all grown up. Aren’t you going to invite us in?

Cody blanched. Reared back like a spooked stallion. His lips flapped. "Porsche. You can’t stay here."

Her brow lowered. "We have reservations."

I don’t care. Jesus, God. Your brother will flay me.

Porsche leaned in. Then don’t tell him. A hiss.

Porsche!

Crystal’s belly lurched again as something in Cody’s wail hit her. Why would Porsche’s brother care if his sister stayed at a B&B? Granted, from everything Porsche said, he was overprotective and domineering, having raised her after their parents died. But this was a freaking B&B. Sweet, charming—she flicked a look at the ranch house—homey.

A whoop from the bunkhouse captured her attention. She stilled as a herd—an actual herd—of half-naked men, wearing jeans, cowboy hats, unbuttoned shirts...and little else, poured from the edifice, running toward them, chambray flapping.

Oh, yeah.

There it was.

The other shoe.

Dropping.

What kind of B&B is this? she asked, her eye twitching only ever-so-slightly.

Cody’s attention whipped to her. Is that what she told you? That this was a bed-and-breakfast?

Crystal set her teeth and nodded. The hunk herd neared.

Ma’am, this ain’t no B&B. This here is the Double Stud.

She gaped at him, unable to form a single word. Then she leveled a fulminating glower on Porsche, the mischievous imp who had lured her here with the promise of eyelet curtains, leisurely teas and sedate rides in the countryside.

Porsche popped her gum. Strap in, Crystal, she said. We’re going to have a helluva weekend.

Crystal tightened her fists. "What kind of place is this?"

A dude ranch. Porsche smirked. For strippers.

I like the sound of that, Jenn murmured.

Holy God. A what? Something acidic tickled at the back of her throat.

You know, Porsche said. A strip ranch. Like a strip club, but all weekend long.

Oh, excellent, Erin cooed, her attention locked on the rippling throng.

And then it hit them, the wave of manflesh. A tsunami of testosterone.

Do you know what you need? Crystal growled. A keeper. That’s what you need.

Porsche merely fluttered her lashes.

She was an evil, evil woman.

––––––––

I can’t believe she did this, Crystal said as she dropped her overnight bag and computer onto the bed by the window. The bedspread was, incongruously, an intricately hand-stitched quilt. Hardly what one would expect in a den of iniquity.

Jennifer rolled her suitcase next to the antique dresser and left it there. No doubt she wouldn’t even unpack it. Jenn was like that. She liked to live on the edge. She flicked her long, inky-black hair over her shoulder. Come on. It’ll be fun. All four of us? Together? All weekend long? Away from the worries of the business? Her frown at Crystal’s computer was pointed.

Yeah, it would be nice to kick back and relax with her business partners. The four of them rarely had a chance to play. But this? Not her style. Not at all. She’d much rather be working.

She, Jenn and Erin had met in college and been friends for years. They’d started Bling Babes,