Hunter √

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS THE SEXIEST COWBOY she'd ever seen.

Which said a lot because Devon Rivers had become quite the expert over the years.

Thanks entirely to her mother---part-time B is for Beautiful Independent makeup consultant and full-time buckle bunny---Devon had witnessed hundreds of Stetsons bobbing through the front door of the single wide trailer where she'd grown up. A parade that had continue as her two older sisters had matured and carried on their mother's weakness for men with tight Wranglers, starched shirts and a wild and reckless charm.

It was a weakness that had eventually killed Zara Rivers.

She'd fallen too hard, too fast, for a man who'd rejected her. She'd been so devastated that she'd killed herself and left her daughters to finish raising themselves.

Devon had been fourteen at the time.

Alex and Lucy had been older, sixteen and nineteen, but it had been Devon who'd stepped up to take the lead in the family. Sge'd cleaned the house and cooked dinner while her sisters had strutted their stuff, stayed out all night and stirred up as much gossip as possible.

Time had changed little. Lucy worked at a nearby bar and partied away her earnings while Alex played groupie to a local country band.

They were still the baddest girls in town.

They always had been, and Devon had been guilty by association.

The entire school had started calling her Rest room Randy back during her sophomore year. A nickname she'd been given when Ray McGuire---junior calf roper and the first cowboy to ever catch her eye---had started a running list on the boy's bathroom wall of all the places Devon Rivers had gotten down and dirty.

Restroom Randy's Hottest Sex Spots.

All lies, of course. He'd been pissed because she'd turned him down in the backseat of his Daddy's Chevy and he'd wanted to get back at her. He'd started the list, claiming they'd gone all the way not only in the Chevy, but in the front loader of his John Deere, the back alley behind the Piggy Wiggly, the gazebo in the middle of town square, the men's restroom at the local drive-in, beneath the bleachers at the football stadium,smack dab in the middle of the local rodeo arena and the front porch of his family's home.

Devon had seen the list only once.

She'd been sixteen and desperate to know why the entire school was snickering behind her back. A quick duck into the boy's john and she'd found out. The various locations written in red marker had branded themselves into her brain. She'd been mortified and determined to lose the Restroom Randy image.

She'd hated being one of those girls. Trashy. No good. An outsider. She'd wanted to fit in. To feel accepted. To feel safe.

She'd never had any security growing up. Nothing that she could count on. Sometimes she'd had lunch at school.

Sometimes she hadn't. Sometimes her mother had been home at night. Sometimes she hadn't. Sometimes she'd had her sisters to keep her company. Sometimes they'd been too busy to care. It had been a roller-coaster ride, and Devon had wanted off.

She'd wanted a smooth, calm carousel tour and so she'd spent her time studying rather than socializing, determined to trade her unstable existence for something solid. She'd graduated at the top of her class and worked her way through college to earn a sociology degree.

She'd been the activities coordinator at the Skull Creek Senior Center for eight years now. A volunteer at the local library for six. She baked cookies for the ladies auxiliary once a month and chaired an annual fund raising committee for the local food bank. She did her best to steer clear of her sisters and surround herself with people she could count on---the old folks at the senior center and the few people around town who didn't hold her past against her. Since Alex spent most of her time on the road and Lucy only showed up when she wanted money, keeping her distance was relatively easy. Even more, Devon only dated the kind of men that woman could count on---nice, conservative, professional types who didn't know the first thing about roping a cow or riding a horse or getting down and dirty in a hayloft.