NoRegretsColeNC
NO REGRETS
The Sunset Series Book 4
Christina Cole
Sensual Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Sensual Romance
No Regrets
Copyright © 2015 Christina Cole
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-643-7
First E-book Publication: July 2015
Cover design by Dawné Dominique
Edited by Julie Reilly
Proofread by Shannon Ellis
All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Secret Cravings Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
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Dedication
To my husband, Ken, with love.
And also to Debby Pence, Lee Turner, and Cheyenne Turner
with gratitude and appreciation.
My thanks go out to each of you for the inspiration behind this story.
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*Trouble With a Cowboy, a western, erotic romance:
18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.
Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.
Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one shootin' pool at the local bar dressed to kill and takin' numbers?
Can some slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?
**Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1), paranormal erotic romance:
Ashleigh Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight. She keeps her real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure. She soon finds herself in a bind when she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria. She then agrees to meet their Master, who's a huge fan of her books. But instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star crush. He is the sexy muse behind Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...
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NO REGRETS
The Sunset Series Book 4
Christina Cole
Chapter One
Sunset, Colorado - May, 1880
Willie Morse tugged the cap down low on his forehead. With luck nobody would recognize him. Lately, luck had been a scarce commodity. Sometimes, in his more sober moments—which were less frequent day by day—he reprimanded himself for his foolish attempts at gambling. When he’d first come to stay in the town of Sunset, he’d actually thought to make a living of sorts at the gaming tables. Instead, he’d only lost what little he’d once had. Now, he mostly stayed drunk, living in the blissful world of solace and sweet oblivion that whiskey brought. He really didn’t care all that much about money any more, really had little use for it. Begging, borrowing, and on occasion, stealing provided him the subsistence he needed.
No, money had little value. What mattered were the basic necessities that supported life. Whiskey. Food. An occasional bath to wash off the stink that settled on him like ticks on a coon hound, and most of all, a pillow beneath his head when he closed his eyes for the night—wherever that happened to be.
A good pillow, Willie often thought, was a source of comfort, a guard against the bad dreams and wicked nightmares that had plagued him in the months since his father’s disappearance.
Of course, he did his best not to dwell on the past and the awful truths he’d learned about his father, but that didn’t stop others from thinking on it. Nor did it stop folks from judging Willie by his old man’s actions.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Even those little creature comforts that had sustained him in recent months had ceased to have meaning. Except for one particular little craving.
Still a bit unsteady on his feet from the previous night’s spree, he wrapped his hands around the
railing as he staggered up the front steps to the mercantile. When he reached the wooden porch, he squared his shoulders as best he could, took a deep breath, then pushed open the door and slithered inside.
He’d lost quite a bit of weight. Not having regular meals had quickly reduced his once bulky frame to one of more normal proportions. Along with the ratty old clothes, the dirty tweed cap he’d purloined from a British fellow with an odd-sounding accent, and the scuffed boots with the soles worn thin, he looked nothing like the Willie Morse of days gone by. He squinted. Nobody in the store so much as gave him a second glance.
Keeping close to the far wall, he edged his way past the displays of canned tomatoes and fancy tins of oranges, past the dry goods, and on past the shelves stocked high with boots, hats, ropes, nails, and sundry other items a fellow might have need to buy. A prudent shop-keeper, Asa Taylor offered a wide variety of merchandise for his customers.
But Willie had no need for any of it. His sights were set on the big barrel at the back of the store. He kept his head down and spoke to no one. Already his mouth was watering for the taste. He sidled up alongside the wide oaken barrel and leaned against it. One big hand snaked downward.
“Damn it, Willie, get your hands out of the pickle barrel. You’ve got no intentions of paying for what you take, and don’t tell me otherwise.”
He whirled around and looked up into the uncompromising glint of Sheriff Caleb Bryant’s cold, dark eyes.
“A man’s got to eat.” Willie fished a green pickle from the barrel. As he bit off a chunk of the tasty treat, footsteps clattered across the wooden floor.
“Sheriff Bryant, you’ve got to do something about that man.” The proprietor, a tall and gaunt fellow, shook a bony finger at the lawman. Beside him stood his plump, moon-faced wife. She shook her finger, too, for good measure.
“That’s right, Sheriff,” she declared. “Every day he comes in here and pilfers whatever he can lay hands on before we catch him and shoo him out. Either you arrest him,” Martha Taylor said in a strident voice, “or I’m going to the mayor to make an official complaint. Against you,” she added, jabbing a fleshy finger at the tin star on the lawman’s chest. “If we’re going to have a sheriff, we deserve one who’s going to make sure folks uphold the laws. Now, I’ll grant you that stealing a pickle probably doesn’t seem like a serious crime, and it’s certainly not a hanging offense, but—”
Old Asa stepped up and placed a hand on his short, stout wife’s shoulder. His eyes bore down on Willie. “See what you’ve done? You’ve got her all wound up now.” He nodded toward the barrel. “Just get your hands out and go. We’d appreciate it if you not come back.”
Willie’s face screwed up. His mouth puckered.
“Hold on.” Asa went to the cash drawer, opened it, and dug out a few copper coins. “If you’re in need of help, say the word. That’s all you have to do, not steal. I’m more than willing to help a man out when he’s down on his luck. Now, don’t make me regret doing this.” He handed the coins to the disheveled man. “It’s a sorrowful thing, Willie, to see you this way.”
Willie flung the pennies to the ground. “Don’t insult me, old man. I don’t want anything from you.”
Even before he got all of the words out, Sheriff Bryant grabbed his shirt collar. “That’s enough. No call for you to act like a jackass. I’m arresting you.”
“For what?” Willie jerked away. Though not nearly as tall as Caleb Bryant, and despite the pounds he’d shed, he was thicker built, more solid. He could still throw a good punch. He sucked in a breath and resisted the temptation to land a fist in the lawman’s face.
“Public drunkenness. You know I don’t allow that in my town.”
“This isn’t your town, and for your information, I’m not drunk. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He tugged the cap down again, drew himself up, and did his damnedest to walk a straight line from the pickle barrel to the door.
Passing by a pretty, dark-haired girl, he winced, then set his mouth in a scowl.
“What you looking at?”
She drew back. Willie wanted to think it was his imposing presence that warned her to step away, but he knew more likely it was his foul breath and the stench of his clothes. Sure enough, the girl’s pert nose wrinkled.
Willie lifted his head and marched onward.
“Now that’s plumb pitiful,” a soft voice said. He knew it was the pretty girl, but at the moment he was too far gone to give a damn what she thought of him.
* * * *
Hattie Mae Richards clamped a hand over her mouth. Her face must be beet red judging by the heat emanating from her cheeks.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She lowered her gaze. She’d been brought up better and knew a decent young girl never uttered such unkind words aloud. A truly good girl would never even think such awful things.
“Don’t go apologizing,” Old Asa told her. “Never wrong to speak the truth, Miss Richards.”
She lowered her gaze. “It is the truth, and that’s the real shame of it.” But she had better things to do than waste her time thinking about a stinking drunk, especially one who’d been born to a life of wealth and privilege. Although she’d never been formally introduced to William Howard Morse, Jr., she knew quite well who he was.
She knew, of course, that he’d been through some rough times in the past few months, at least, that’s what people said. Exactly what had happened, Hattie didn’t know, and it wasn’t her place to pry. Her friend, Emily Sue, just shook her head when the subject came up and refused to divulge anything more. The whole sorry state of affairs was best forgotten, she’d insisted.
All the same, to Hattie’s mind, personal misfortune offered no excuse for bad behavior. Life dealt blows to many folks. She could attest to that from her own experience. She, however, had not become a wastrel or drunkard. If anything, hardships, disappointments, and the undeniable unfairness of life should be seen as sources of strength, not justification for defeat.
“What was it you were needing, dear?” Martha Taylor waddled over to Hattie. The sweet old woman’s usual smile had returned. So had the pleasantness in her voice.
Hattie blinked, pushed aside her philosophical musings, and quickly loosened the drawstrings of her reticule. “Dr. Kellerman sent me over to give this to you.” She pulled out a hand-written list and shook it open. “He said you probably wouldn’t have the items in inventory but thought perhaps you could pick them up the next time you go to Denver. They’re supplies for the hospital.” She spoke the final word with reverence.
To become a nurse and provide care to the ailing meant everything to Hattie now. She marveled at how greatly her life had changed. Only a few months before, she’d been shut away in a dreary little room at Miss Brundage’s Female Academy, working diligently to earn her teaching credentials. But she knew she didn’t have the temperament for it. She could never have handled a rowdy classroom.
When Emily Sue—her friend and former roommate—mentioned that Dr. Kellerman was opening a hospital in Sunset, Hattie realized at once that nursing was her true calling. She immediately applied to train with him and was on the next stage to Sunset after receiving acceptance. Hattie adored the big, bear-like Abner Kellerman with his deep voice and friendly manner, as well as his lovely wife, Charlotte. They had taken her into their home and made her feel welcome.
Not once had she regretted her impetuous decision.
Mrs. Taylor perused the list and nodded. “We’ll be making a trip tomorrow, won’t we, Asa?” She turned to her husband who nodded, then with a smile, she tucked the supply list into the pocket of her apron. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you. I’d better be getting back.” Hattie straightened her shoulders. “I have a lot of studying to do. There’s so much to learn about caring for patients, passing out medications, and keeping careful records.” Pride was a horrible sin, but Hattie couldn’t help but feel her heart swell each time she thought of the tremendous
faith the good doctor had placed in her. She meant to become the most knowledgeable and efficient nurse possible. “I’ll tell the Kellermans that you’re going to Denver—”
From the roadway in front of the store, shouts and cries rose up. A shrill whinny rent the air, followed by an awful crashing noise. The mercantile itself shuddered and shook as every man, woman, and child rushed outside to see what had happened. Asa Taylor and his wife pushed their way through the door along with the others, leaving Hattie standing alone, her mouth open, her sentence still unfinished.
Gathering her wits, she closed her mouth and raced toward the door. Even before she stepped out into the afternoon light, she knew there’d been an accident, and she could probably guess who was involved.
“Is anyone hurt?” she called out as she tried to squeeze through the crowd of onlookers who stood gawking at the scene. Nobody moved. “Please, let me through.” I’m a nurse. As much as she wished she could say those words, they would be untrue. She was not a nurse, only a hopeful young girl learning the profession. “Please, move aside.” Hattie pushed her way through to the front, then gasped to see Willie in the middle of the road, surrounded by the shattered remains of a freight wagon. Several crates had fallen and broken open, spilling out their contents—a flock of chickens. The noisy birds squawked and flapped as a couple young boys chased them along Main Street.
Doing her best to remember her training, Hattie quickly assessed the situation. The delivery driver had apparently swerved and run into a water trough, but he’d hit Willie, too. The young man lay unmoving, covered with blood, his clothes ripped to shreds. The lower leg of his torn trousers flapped open to reveal a huge, ugly gash, one so deep the shin bone showed. His skin had a deathly gray pallor. His eyes were closed.