Rocky Mountain Romp (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 4) by Lee Savino

then might cheat or even kill the stake holder for the land. As the Wild West was tamed, it didn’t happen so often, but out here, in the wilderness near the Rockies, anything could happen.
    Jesse ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed. He’d let his brother down when he left, he knew. Living as a vagabond suited him, though. He’d rustled cattle in Texas, panned for gold in California, and for an exciting few months, rode in the Pony Express. He was a man who’d always needed adventure.
    Now, sitting and brooding in a chair in the shadows, he watched Miles with Carrie and Mary by the fire. Donovan sat on the deep ledge of the fireplace, his back to the stone chimney. Carrie had settled in front of him, and she held Mary as she leaned back into her husband’s arms. Her thick chestnut tresses wafted about her face, one curl falling across her cheek. Miles put his thick arms around his wife, his broad body enveloping her smaller form. He rested his chin on Carrie’s shoulder, and both parents looked down at their wide-eyed child. It was a pretty picture, and for some reason, set Jesse’s gut aching. The younger Wilder looked away, but everywhere couples seemed to be cuddling close. Mr. Martin bustled about his new bride, offering her chestnuts and hot cider. Johnathan had finally coaxed his wife to leave the kitchen, they sat at the table, their heads pushed close together and Johnathan’s arm around his Esther’s shoulders. And then there was Lyle and Rose, still holed up in their bedroom, doing God knows what. Jesse frowned. He knew Lyle disciplined his wife, but from the way she gazed at him afterwards, the punishment probably led to games.
    Jesse rubbed his hands across his face as if he could erase the thought. Whatever his brother and sister-in-law were up to, it didn’t bear thinking about. After all, it did him no good.
    For a moment, he imagined if the lies he’d told at breakfast were true. What if there was a sweet, doe-eyed lady waiting for him in some fine city? He’d ride his horse up to her house, and she’d rush to the door. In his fantasy, she was lovely with fresh, pink cheeks and a merry sparkle in her eye. She wore a fine velvet riding habit and danced up to him with breathless excitement, taking his hand so he could pull her up behind him. He’d spur his horse and ride to the countryside with her curves pressed against him, find a quiet lawn near a rushing brook, lay the lady down and then… mmm.
    Biting back a curse, Jesse broke off that train of thought too late. The front of his trousers already felt fit to burst. Worse was the realization that he’d been daydreaming of settling down with a woman. Was he, Jesse Wilder, man of action, actually envying a quieter life?
    Rising, he stomped to his bedroll and snatched up his hat and long coat.
    “Leaving so soon?” Johnathan asked as Jesse passed him on the way to the door.
    “Just gonna get some air,” Jesse muttered, and stepped outside.
    This Christmas night the air was crisp, the razor’s edge of cold slicing through his layers. He crunched over the snow, heading past the stables where he could feel the horse’s heat calling to him, and barreling away from the town on a quest to nowhere. After crossing a large field, he hit a line of trees and stopped, staring up at the moon.
    He was twenty-seven, and though he’d never owned a homestead or a house, he’d always been proud of his rambling ways. His best friend was his long rifle. He could ride a horse and shoot a bison, rope a steer, kill and skin and cook his dinner in less than an hour. He’d slept out under the stars more times than he could count.
    Even his body bore evidence of his rough life. His face was rugged and torso scarred from fights, falls, and even a fire. He had a shiny weal on his hand from when he escaped from a burning building as a child. The building had been his family’s shed, and Jesse had started the fire, so his back also bore a few scars