Outrageous Offer Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Outrageous Offer

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-615-1

  ©Copyright Lola White 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2015

  Edited by Jennifer Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  The Double O Saga

  OUTRAGEOUS OFFER

  Lola White

  Book one in the Double O Saga series

  She has a choice to make—work in the saloon or accept an outrageous offer of being one man’s unpaid mistress.

  Hyacinth Woodley is a desperate woman. Officially deemed a spinster with no marriage prospects in sight, alone after the death of her parents and out of money, she answers an ad for a mail-order bride, only to be rejected by her groom upon her arrival in Creek Bend.

  Offer O’Neal is the new, less-than-proud owner of the Double O Ranch. After sinking every cent he had into the property, he’s left staking his dreams of success on stud fees from his horse, the only thing of real value he’s got. He can’t afford a wife, but a willing woman in his bed is an appealing prospect, and Hyacinth’s got nowhere else to go.

  Just as Offer starts thinking of Hyacinth as the one bright spot in his otherwise stressful and unlucky life, the bridegroom who rejected her returns, demanding repayment for his investment. Ernest Horsham feels he’s spent a lot of money on getting the woman to Creek Bend under false pretenses, and the judge is on his side. But it’s only when Hyacinth is arrested as a thief and a fraud that Offer realizes how much he values her company.

  Dedication

  I want to thank Cathy-Jo, Jenna and Kate for being enthusiastic sounding boards, no matter how many times I repeat myself, Melissa Caldwell for her tireless work on my behalf, and Jennifer Douglas, editor extraordinaire and the best cheerleader-coach combo an author could wish for. I couldn’t do it without you, ladies.

  Chapter One

  “Dang, woman, I can hear your caterwauling all the way down at the post office.”

  Only vaguely hearing him through her sobs, Hyacinth didn’t recognize the deep male voice, but that wasn’t surprising. After all, she’d only been in Creek Bend for thirty minutes—just long enough that the stage coach had departed. Just long enough to have fear tearing holes through her stomach as the prospects of her future turned darker than they’d ever been before.

  “Oh, leave me alone!” Hyacinth turned her back on the male voice at the same time she shot to her feet, but a low whistle kept her from leaving—not that she had anywhere to go.

  “God have mercy, woman. You here to work in the saloon? Tell me when you start and I’ll scrape a few dollars together to visit you.”

  Hyacinth collapsed back onto the rickety bench as a new wave of terror tore her legs out from under her.

  “But I’ve got to be your first customer, darlin’,” the stranger continued, “because them other ladies are all diseased, so it’s only a matter of time before you are too. It’s a shame, but unavoidable. For them, that is. I just forego their company, but it’s been a while and if I could be your first—”

  “Oh, dear God! I can’t work in the saloon.” Head lowered into her hands, she cried harder.

  “You waiting to go home, then? Because someone should have told you that the next stage won’t come through here for another two days.”

  Home. No, she couldn’t go home. Not with all the nasty—though admittedly true—rumors going around. Not with her parents in their graves and the money they’d left her gone. Not with the man she’d thought to marry starting a family with another woman.

  Hyacinth was beyond hopeless. Her sobs turned uglier, racking her body on the bench set along the splintered wall of the coach depot.

  A sigh reached out to her and heavy steps crossed the shoddy boards half-buried in the muddy aisle the backwater town in the armpit of the American frontier insisted on calling a street. Through her tears, worn leather toes and ragged dungarees came into sight.

  “You all right, ma’am?” The tone of the voice didn’t imply that its owner cared.

  “No!” She answered his question in a shrill wail. “Does it look like I’m all right?”

  “Don’t know. Can’t hardly see you anymore, considering the way you’re all hunched down over your own lap. What I did see was nice, though. That’s a real fine drape to your skirts, ma’am.”

  Hyacinth pried her fingers off her brow, but she didn’t raise her head. Having seen enough horrified shock cross men’s faces to last a lifetime, she didn’t want to let the stranger see her eyes. She made an effort to control herself, but tears still tracked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.

  A frayed bandana was thrust into her newly-unoccupied hand.

  “Thank you.” She crumpled the handkerchief against her nose. “Your kindness is appreciated, seeing as how I’ve been abandoned.”

  The boots in her line of sight rocked back on their heels. “Well, give it a few more minutes and I’m sure somebody ‘round here will claim you. Women are in short supply.”

  Hyacinth shook her head and let another sob break from her throat. “Oh, no man’s going to claim me. Not after the scene Ernest Horsham just enacted.”

  “Hmm, tough luck then. So, you’re waiting for the next stage?”

  “I don’t have the money to go back home. I don’t even have a home to go back to.” Hyacinth took the briefest moment to wipe her nose then continued as if the stranger had asked for further explanations. “I was supposed to marry him—Ernest, that is—but he has rejected me. I have no money, no place to go, no way to get back East. I have nothing and after the things he said, no one will help me.”

  “That is too bad, ma’am. Good luck and all that.” The boots turned away and took a step. Then they stopped and did an about-face. “You’re the mail-order bride?”

  Hyacinth nodded and plastered the handkerchief over her eyes. “It was a terrible idea.”

 
“It sure as hell was,” the man agreed. “Jesus, woman, he posted that ad in a hearts and hands catalog. Butt of the town’s jokes for quite a while, but then he got all puffed up when you agreed to come on out here. I’m surprised he rejected you, considering both his pride and the way your back end looks.”

  “Please don’t be vulgar!”

  “I’ve been accused of worse. Why did he tell you to take a hike?”

  The man’s words struck deep and bounced off a steely core Hyacinth wouldn’t have guessed she had. Abused pride flooded her, finally stopping her tears as her chin shot up. She whipped the bandana off her face and jumped to her feet, bracing her fists on her hips.

  She raked the man with her gaze, not that he noticed. His eyes were busy burning a path up her body, leisurely perusing the heavy skirts hiding her legs, lingering on the wide curve of her hips, which were unfortunately emphasized by her short jacket. He dragged his scrutiny higher but seemed to get caught on her chest. Hyacinth fought not to cross her arms over her bodice.

  The man before her was no prize, though she’d seen worse. He was tall and rangy, yet he looked like he could use a decent meal. His chin was shorn enough to be respectable on the streets but not enough to attend church—assuming there was such a thing in Creek Bend, where the saloon was positioned center stage and the sheriff’s office was little more than a lean-to across the muddy street from the stage depot.

  The man’s well-worn boots were in need of repair, as were his dungarees and chambray shirt. He wore a hat, but his dark hair was long, hanging about his collar, and his face was so wind-burned Hyacinth figured he only had a few more years before it turned to leather. But his deep brown eyes were nice and held a look that sparked something inside her besides fear and pride.

  “Well?” he asked her breasts.

  Hyacinth gave in to her urge and folded her arms over her coat buttons. He finally looked up at her face, but he didn’t rear back in horror.

  “Well, what?” she snapped.

  His expression told her he was clinging to his patience, where she was concerned. “Why did Ernest give you the boot?”

  “He said I was deformed.” Hyacinth’s chin notched higher.

  The man’s eyes inched lower. “You surely ain’t that.”

  “He said I was too old, and that my eyes were…” She cleared her throat of a lingering sob. “Indicative of a person involved in dark things.”

  “Ooh, dark things, darlin’? Like—” The man’s voice had dropped into something resembling a growl before he cut himself off and snapped his gaze back up to hers. “What do you mean dark things?”

  “He accused me of being a witch or being in league with the devil.”

  The stranger’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “Most women I’ve met are witches. Why the hell would he care about your eyes? A man can’t see them in the dark, anyhow.”

  Hyacinth took one arm away from her chest to point to her face. “Two different colors.”

  The man took a giant step toward her, nearly plastering his body to hers. Long, warm fingers captured her chin and tilted her head up until the late afternoon sun could make its way past her bonnet’s brim. “Huh. Look at that. One brown and one blue.”

  “Ernest made quite a scene about it. I’m surprised you didn’t hear. No one would even look at me after that, let alone help me.”

  “Superstitious bastards.” The man ran the tip of his nose down her neck. “You smell good.”

  Hyacinth felt a hand snaking down over her waist. She gasped and jumped back, but the man only smiled. “Don’t touch me, sir!”

  “Darlin’, you better prepare yourself to be touched by every man in this town. If you don’t have a way home, how do you think you’re gonna survive in Creek Bend? Saloon’s pretty much your only option.”

  “I would rather starve in the streets than work in a diseased whorehouse. Besides, I told you, the men don’t want me.”

  “And I told you, a man can’t see a woman’s eyes in the dark. Lot of horny men come to town on Friday nights, darlin’. They aren’t gonna care about your eye color. Their sights will be set much, much lower. And I aim to be the first to lead the charge.”

  Once again, the man stepped close and grabbed Hyacinth’s hip. Trapped against the rough wood wall of the depot, she had no way to escape. Clever fingers kneaded through her skirts and slipped down further.

  “Stop that!” Hyacinth took a breath, but one particular memory made it shaky.

  The man’s eyes narrowed and he ducked his head to meet her gaze beneath her bonnet. After a tense moment, he growled, “You aren’t a virgin.”

  Her cheeks burned, her mouth fell open. “You can’t know that!”

  “I do. I see it in your eyes.”

  “Maybe I’m a widow.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Tell the truth, darlin’.”

  “I was engaged,” she exhaled dramatically.

  “I doubt it.”

  Hyacinth dragged air in through her nose. “Well, I thought I was engaged. He was going off to battle and one thing led to another. My parents died before the War Between the States and the money they’d left me wasn’t enough when the prices started to rise, so when Jonathan came courting, I was grateful and I believed—”

  “Just the one man?” She nodded and he continued, “He never came home?”

  “He came home. Then he married another woman. One with two blue eyes.”

  “Bet she wasn’t packing the curves you are.” The man ran his hand as far down her thigh as he could reach, then back up. “Did you like it? Did you like the way your soldier touched you? Did he make you wet?”

  Hyacinth was scandalized. Her eyes widened further, her cheeks blazed hotter and her spine snapped straighter. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, if I’m gonna take you home with me, I want to know you’re receptive to fucking. I figure, if you had a good time before, you’re less likely to put up a fight. I don’t have time to settle a nervous filly, darlin’.”

  She opened her mouth, only to close it. Two more tries had her finally able to form words. “You want to take me home with you? You want to marry me?”

  The man flinched back. “Hell no, I ain’t marrying you. But I’ll give you room and board in exchange for services rendered. You can do the women’s work, including warming my bed.”

  “You are outrageous! Vile and vulgar.” Hyacinth pushed at his chest, finding it to be surprisingly solid, but the man didn’t budge. “I’d rather—”

  “Work in the saloon?” A full smile spread across his mouth, revealing straight teeth in remarkably good condition. “Those are your options, woman. Me or the saloon. I’m getting ready to head out, so make your choice quick.”

  Hyacinth forced herself to think past the fear tangling her nerves into knots. Evaluating her options, she found them to be bleak. She snuck a peek past the man trapping her against the stage depot and eyed the few people wandering down the broken boardwalks. They were all men. Most were old, many unwashed and all of them had avoided her since Ernest had proclaimed her deformed.

  Down the street, lights began to blaze from the windows of the saloon. The establishment obviously did a booming business, as all the men on the boardwalks were heading in that direction. Loud music, raucous conversation and the sounds of glass breaking drifted through the wide-open doors. A woman shrieked.

  Hyacinth shuddered. “Well, if I’m going to go home with you, I think I should at least know your name.”

  Chapter Two

  “Offer.”

  Her eyebrows drew together over her pretty, two-toned eyes. “Yes, I just said I’ll accept your offer.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth and reminded himself that beauty rarely accompanied brains. But she looked good in her faded dress and boxy jacket. Her legs were long, her hips more than wide enough to host a man, and her bulky bodice wasn’t thick enough to hide the luscious curve of her bosom. Even her face tended toward pretty, and he couldn’t wait to f
eel her lips around his dick.

  “My name is Offer. Offer O’Neal.”

  “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s my name.” He pulled back and snagged her bag off the boardwalk. “Don’t start thinking it will be yours, though. Come on.”

  She gingerly stepped off the boards in Offer’s wake and immediately sank to her ankles in the mud. Without missing a stride, Offer shifted his hold on her bag and caught her elbow, helping her free herself from the street’s wet grasp.

  “My name is Hyacinth Woodley.” She latched onto him and he found he rather liked the feel of her hand curved around his arm.

  “Did you love your soldier?” Not that Offer cared much, but he’d prefer the woman think only of him while he was fucking her, rather than some man she used to know.

  “I…liked him.”

  Offer raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Did you like the way he touched you? You never answered me.”

  “It was…nice.” Hyacinth’s cheeks flamed. “After a few times, toward the end, it was starting to get much better.”

  “A few times, huh? You carrying his babe? I can’t afford to feed a baby who won’t pull his own weight for a few years.”

  “It was over a year ago, sir.”

  His lips twitched at her haughty tone. “Your parents have passed? You don’t have any other family?”

  “No. I have no one.”

  “Good, that means I won’t have any irate brothers or cousins showing up on my doorstep with loaded shotguns accusing me of soiling their precious dove.” And what a relief that was for Offer. He already had more than his fair share of troubles.

  Hyacinth sped up her journey toward the next boardwalk. She jumped onto it and shook Offer’s hand away from her arm. “If you must know, everyone’s already heard that I’m soiled.”