Hard Knox: We Are Dead Horse, MT, #2

By Delilah Devlin

After relentlessly pursuing the biggest badass around and failing, Dead Horse, Montana's wild child offers him an irresistible proposition—one night of passion, one and done, and she'll walk away forever…

Dead Horse, Montana's wild child, Carleen Crossley, knows what she wants—or rather—who. She's spent years chasing after Knox Ramsey, the biggest badass in Dead Horse, MT. However, she's resigned herself to the fact that her methods of gaining his affection aren't reaping any rewards. Yes, her antics keep the townsfolk amused, and Knox definitely knows she's alive, but she has yet to break through his cold, hard heart to claim her man.

For Knox, Carleen is impossible to ignore. She's everywhere he is. The sexy vixen has made him uncomfortably aware that she's his for the taking, and Lord knows he's tempted. However, he knows he's not the man for her. He's his father's son with his father's temper, and he won't succumb to Carleen's charms because she deserves better than him.

In one moment of frustration over his refusal to really see her and everything she's offering, Carleen proposes a deal Knox finds impossible to resist. One night of passion—one and done—and she'll never bother him again.

When she keeps her promise afterward, Knox's pursuit begins because once was not enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Delilah Devlin
• Release date: Dec 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223107712

Delilah Devlin

Always a risk taker, Delilah Devlin lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency. In addition to Saudi Arabia, she has lived in Germany and Ireland, but calls Arkansas home for now.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Knox Ramsey was a man most folks in Dead Horse, Montana, shied away from. His tall, burly frame was imposing enough. Add the dark eyebrows that seemed perpetually lowered over his nearly black, piercing eyes and his huge, meaty fists, and he made most folks shiver with dread whenever his gaze swung their way.

However, Carleen Crossley wasn’t most folks. When she looked at Knox, she shivered the same as anyone, but for a very different reason. To her, Knox was The One.

She’d known it since she was a teenager, working after school to earn money for her cheerleading outfits. Knox hadn’t been the one to hire her—his mother, Dorothea Ramsey, had for no other reason than to annoy her son. Plus, she’d placed Carleen in the front office, doing little tasks that didn’t really need doing in a rough and tumble place like the Ride or Die Body and Repair Shop—like filing (who needed paperwork unless you wanted the grease-grimed fingerprints for a police forensics audit), janitorial work (again, years’ worth of engine oil and grease couldn’t be wiped away with a little or a lot of degreasers), and making coffee (she had never mastered making the sludge Knox thought of as an actual beverage).

Even when she’d been sixteen, she’d recognized his appeal by the way her ovaries cramped in his presence. As she’d grown older, she’d noted other proof, like how her nipples beaded hard and her cheeks and groin got hot just being near him. She could feel him the moment he came into her vicinity. The air hummed with electricity. Her sex gave her warning, too, instantly softening and getting wet. When she turned and met that black gaze, her heart would stutter and then pound. Whatever she was doing, whatever thought was flitting through her mind, ground to a halt as she took him in. Looking at him was like downing a shot of whiskey—bracing and exhilarating.

Knox, with his deadly glare and biker’s windswept hair, was a bad boy through and through. And she had a mighty thirst for the biggest, baddest boy in Dead Horse, Montana.

Too bad the man didn’t feel the same way about her. After years of flaunting her body and seeking ways to slide up against him to tempt him, he still managed to deflect her affections.

Not that Carleen was ready to give up. Lately, her campaign to wear him down had managed to put a few dents in his thick armor. She’d long since passed twenty, so age could no longer be his excuse to deny her. Her age had been the reason he’d fired her from his shop. When she’d plopped onto his lap in front of Mrs. Simmons when she’d arrived to pick up her Volvo after having it serviced, that had been the last straw. She’d never seen his face so red or heard him roar so loud.

His Goddammit, Carleen! had made Mrs. Simmons’ eyes grow so large the whites had seemed to consume her rheumy blue irises.

Although he’d fired her on the spot, and she’d lost daily contact with him, her devotion hadn’t waned. Not one bit.

When her parents had sold their home in Dead Horse and headed to the big city of Helena, she’d kept pictures of him tucked into the frame of her vanity mirror just to remind herself that he was her heart’s desire. No man was as overwhelmingly masculine as her Knox. No high school jock could compare.

Sure, she’d dated in high school. She’d even let a couple of the football players get to third base, but she’d only considered those experiences as homework so she could learn more about how a man’s anatomy worked.

After all, knowledge was power.

When she’d decided to move back to Dead Horse on her own, she’d taken note of the successful campaigns women in her orbit had waged to capture the attention of the men they wanted, and she’d insinuated herself into their group.

Amy Calloway was her bestie since high school, and now she was apprenticing with the hunters Knox so abhorred, learning how to be a bounty hunter under the tutelage of her boyfriend, Mica Ford. Rhonda had nabbed Chase Kudrow and was now mothering his niece and happily playing house with her bounty-hunter husband. Laura Pinchot, for whom she’d worked briefly in her dessert shop, had snared Dylan Preacher Priestley, another hunter. And while the woman hadn’t quite made it down the aisle yet because she kept growing her wedding, she was deliriously happy. Then there was Meryl Bascomb, who, although still single, had her choice of men and somehow knew how to keep them at a distance but still keep them eager to squire her around. There was Lila, the latest in her group of friends, who had finally captured the town’s richest man, Cash Whitaker, and had quickly married him. That Cash was a friend of Knox’s was…helpful. Not that Lila’s methods would work for Carleen. She didn’t have a child and had no interest in adopting another, which had assured Cash’s involvement since he’d killed little Annie’s father in self-defense. Still, her knowledge of the opposite sex was helpful.

No, Carleen’s methods were her own. She was on a campaign to wear down Knox’s defenses. The cracks in his armor were beginning to reveal themselves.

Her methods included simply being where he was, which had required that she build a network of informants who enjoyed watching her drive Knox crazy by showing up and then smothering him with attention. Some men might have found her weapon of choice obnoxious, but she knew she had his attention, and he hadn’t dumped her off his lap in a while.

Take last night at the Dead Horse Walk-In Diner, where she’d been waiting tables under the supervision of her Aunt Nadine. The moment he’d entered the restaurant, she’d forgotten about the drink order she’d taken for the table of men who were heading to their fishing cabin in the woods.

Knox had stepped across the threshold, and her back had straightened, her head had turned, and when she’d seen that indeed it was him, she’d sauntered over to him, wearing her most sultry smile.

Once she’d shown him to his table, she’d sat upon his knee, ignoring the muffled snorts of laughter from the other patrons. She’d been wearing a skirt as short as her waitress’s apron, and her bare thighs had rested on his blue-jean-clad one as she’d taken his order.

What can I get for you? she’d asked breathily.

One dark brow had risen as he’d leveled her with a stern glare.

A beer from the tap, she’d said, nodding as though he’d spoken his order. The meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn. No green beans for you, she’d added, tapping the eraser end of her pencil against his bearded chin. Then she’d wriggled on his knee, making sure she’d leave a wet spot there. When she set her feet on the floor and walked away, she’d reached back to make sure her skirt was still covering what was important—and drawing his attention to her long, tanned legs.

When his order had been ready, she’d delivered it and then sat on his left thigh to free his right hand while he ate. She’d told him all about her day. About her shower and how she’d rasped her skin with a loofah because she wanted to get it ready for the scrape of calluses. She’d lifted her wrist to his nose between bites to let him sniff her perfume, then leaned toward his ear to tell him where else she’d spritzed the scent.

When he’d been finishing his last bite of mashed potatoes, he’d at last given into temptation and inserted a hand between her legs to trace her folds through her panties, encountering more of her moisture. She’d pulled back her head and whispered, That’s for you. All for you, Knox.

He’d withdrawn his hand and sucked in a deep breath. His jaw had tightened, and his cheeks had flushed. You have to stop this, Carleen.

Why? I’m legal. I’m willing. Some part of you likes me, she’d said, grinding down on his hardening cock.

His low, humming growl lifted goosebumps on her skin. I’m not interested.

Liar.

Any man would respond when you’re wiggling on his dick, he’d pushed through his gritted teeth.

Tell me, Knox, she’d said, leaning close enough their lips nearly touched, do you really want me grinding on some other guy? Want me to let him feel me up while you watch?

His eyes had narrowed to angry slits. Proof again of his interest and that she was getting to him.

However, she hadn’t pressed her advantage. She’d given him a grin, one more wiggle, and then left him to finish his meal. She’d made her point.

Today was another day.

She used a clean towel to wipe away the steam from the mirror, then leaned toward the glass. Her skin was still supple and taut. She looked good with or without makeup due to her Mediterranean lineage, which darkened her skin just enough to give her a healthy, tanned glow.

She spent the next several minutes bending at the waist while she blow-dried her tawny hair. When she was done, she flipped it back and smiled at her reflection. Yeah, she looked good, but a brush of blush, a glide of eyeliner along her upper lid, and a swipe of cinnamon-flavored, tinted gloss on her lips would be enough to add a touch of natural glamor. She knew from her long acquaintance with the body man that he didn’t like a lot of goop on a woman’s face.

Her phone rattled on the countertop, and she bent to see a text from Dorothea.

Dorothea: He’s grumpy as hell. One of THOSE days

Carleen quickly tapped out her response.

Me: Thanks for the heads up. I’ll head to the saloon

Dorothea: Good luck, girl!

At least she had his mother on her side. Dorothea had noted all those years ago