Love Like Crazy: Friendship Texas, #7

Text copyright© 2016 by Magan Vernon

All rights reserved

www.maganvernon.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

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Summary:  Friendship, Texas just got a little bit crazier with gruff Army veteran, Clay Carrington, and Q Ranch heiress Christy Quinn's world's colliding.

Vegas was a trip, and that was an understatement. An understatement I couldn't remember and that included the brunette in my bed.

That is until my pounding headache had me getting up for a glass of water and I saw the marriage license on the ground.

The words: Clay Carrington and Christy Quinn and holy matrimony staring me in the face.

I came to Vegas to get away, and the bratty owner's daughter of the ranch wanted to come with. I didn't even like the boss's daughter, let alone want to marry her.

I guess things the happened in Vegas had a way of following you home.

First Edition, October 2018

Cover Design by Kassi Jean Formatting and Design

Edited by Editing for Indies

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For everyone who has ever been called crazy.

You’re my people.

My GD unicorns.

A note from the author

So, this book was supposed was supposed to come out a lot earlier and then a traditional deal happened, so I had to push it back.

But that’s not the whole story.

There’s something that I don’t think enough people talk about and that something is what I tried to sprinkle through this book.

The feeling of being crazy.

I’ve had depression and anxiety most of my life, being the brunt of jokes or trying to be what others expected of me, fitting into that mold. Like our dear Clay and Christy.

While I was working on edits for my Murphy Brothers and trying to write this book, a wave of depression hit me like a five-ton unicorn, and there were some days I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to get out of bed.

The only thing I could do was dig deep inside of myself and channel some of my moments into this book.

Clay’s heart and soul, his feelings, my GD mohawked unicorn, are what gripped deep inside of me and somehow, he still came out as my favorite little hardass.

Maybe you might not love this book. Maybe you think I should have dove more into PTSD. But know that I wanted something genuine, something I could feel.

I’ve never been in the military, but I’ve dealt with the feelings of hopelessness, the feelings of ‘crazy’ that both of these characters have felt and that is what I wanted you to get from this book.

So, without further ado, let's get crazy unicorns.

Prologue

My hands shook as I wrapped my fingers around the steaming foam cup.

My best friend, Abbey, took a large gulp of her drink as though we were about to have a totally normal conversation on a Saturday morning at the bakery.

She didn’t know what the hell had just happened in Vegas. Or what my future would hold.

So how was the trip? You and Clay finally hook up? she finally asked, setting her cup down and wiggling her eyebrows.

I almost spit out my latte but forced it down, the hot liquid burning my throat. Then I coughed, rubbing my chest before looking back at Abbey.

Holy shiitake mushrooms! You did! You finally bagged the Mohawk cowboy! She slammed her hand on the table.

Shhh, I hissed. Leaning forward, I glanced around the empty shop as if someone would jump out and hear us.

So, it’s true? How was it? Everything you’ve always hoped for? Is he tattooed and pierced everywhere? she whispered, a massive grin on her face.

It’s not like that. I mean, yes, we did hook up, but there’s more than just that ...

She widened her gaze, those big doe eyes roaming over my body. Oh, my God! Are you pregnant? Am I going to have another nephew? Or niece? Or both? He seems like the kind of guy who could land you twins.

I sighed, knowing this conversation just got a hell of a lot more complicated. No ... at least, I don’t think I am. I think we used protection. I don’t really remember.

She raised an eyebrow. It was that bad that you can’t remember? Damn, I was hoping for a better story than that.

Well, this may be the mother of all stories ... I muttered.

She leaned in, putting her elbows on the table and propping her chin in her hands. Really?

I nodded. Yeah. And you may want to grab something stronger than coffee because, from what little I remember of the night, it’s one hell of a tale.

Chapter 1

Clay

Vegas.

I’d always dreamed of going there, but I never thought it would be for the rodeo with the boss’s daughter bitching next to me on the plane ride from Friendship, Texas.

If the blankets are that itchy and the lights that bright, why don’t you just go the fuck to sleep? I growled as Christy writhed next to me.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind being in a small space with a petite brunette, but this chick was the bane of my existence. She just had to beg her daddy—aka my boss—to let her come with me to Vegas. Several of the Q Ranch’s horses were in the barrel racing competitions, and the old man wanted someone out there. I was the lucky one he trusted, but not too much if he was going to send her along.

Really? You think I’d miss an opportunity to spend time in Vegas? Even if it’s with the Mohawked groundskeeper, she snarled, her almond brown eyes narrowing.

Groundskeeper? That’s the best you could come up with? Sweetheart, I’m the assistant manager of general operations. That’s a hell of a lot more than shoveling the shit you throw at me on a daily basis. Your dad should probably give me a raise just for dealing with you.

Christy was a pain in the ass. Just a few years younger than me, she was taking a break from college. Which consisted of hanging around the ranch, pretending she was doing real work, but mainly just doing everything she could to nitpick. I couldn’t wait until we touched down, and I could get in my hotel room. At least have some peace without her.

As long as you didn’t fuck up and lose whatever credentials we need for this rodeo stuff and our hotel, you can call yourself whatever you want, she mumbled before turning toward the window.

It was only a long weekend, but every minute I was stuck with her would feel like an eternity.

IF I THOUGHT DYING on the plane from talking to Christy was bad, then I was pretty sure I’d gone to hell with the Lyft ride to the hotel. I needed a smoke and something strong to drink by the time we got to our rooms.

We had adjoining rooms, so I didn’t have to share the space with her. As long as I didn’t have to listen to her voice any longer.

The hotel room wasn’t anything super fancy for how luxe the actual hotel was, but I didn’t care. As long as I had a bed and a shower, it was better than the holes I’d slept in when I was in Iraq. Or anywhere I was stationed or deployed, for that matter.

It felt like a lifetime ago but was really only a little over a year ago when I was driving the truck that got hit, pinning my leg and putting me in a VA hospital. From there, I was medically discharged from the military and sent back to Friendship.

I know I was lucky as fuck since so many other guys lost limbs or their lives, but after getting out, I had no direction. I had literally just signed on for another four years. After only being back in Iraq a few weeks, BOOM, my military career was over. And I had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life, so I ended up working at the ranch as a bartender and eventually moving up to my current position.

Lying on the bed, I groaned from my sore muscles. It had been a long time since I’d flown and being stuck sitting next to Christy for that long didn’t help.

After connecting my phone to the Wi-Fi, I checked my email, then aimlessly scrolled through some sites.

Most days, the social media bullshit just pissed me off more than it entertained me. People from my graduating class pretending they had perfect lives. Sure, Slutty Sarah from study hall, I’m sure you’re super happy with your four kids, living in your mama’s spare room. All those hashtaged blessed posts said so.

But today, instead of sneering, I saw a familiar face that had me grinning when I recognized the background in her photo.

I met Angel Ellis during my first tour in Afghanistan. She was a reporter and one of the only women around. So naturally, we fucked like rabbits.

I hadn’t talked to her for a few years and didn’t know she was back in the States or, by her photos of the Stratosphere, that she was in Vegas.

I literally couldn’t remember the last time I got laid. Not since before my injury.

Hell, even if I just hung out with the chick and had a few drinks, it would be nice to see someone else who wasn’t a cowboy or Christy.

Pulling up the messenger app, I typed in Angel’s name and sent a message.

Me: Hey, it’s Clay. Just saw you posted a pic in Vegas, and I’m here for work. Wanna meet up for a drink or something?

She responded quicker than I thought she would, but that was more than okay with me.

Angel: Hey! It’s been forever! I’m here with some girlfriends for the weekend. We are about to grab dinner, but I’ll DM you where we end up after? Would love to catch up ;)

I hoped the winking smiley face meant something good, and that gave me enough time to shower, grab some food, go talk to some of the rodeo guys or whatever, then head out.

At least, that was the plan when I got into the shower, but as soon as I was out and had wrapped a towel around my waist, multiple loud knocks came from the door that connected my room to Christy’s. Why the fuck did her dad get us adjoining rooms anyway? Or who-the hell-ever booked it.

What? I growled, opening the door, only to have to swallow my own spit at the girl before me.

Christy was a natural flirt. Always flipping her glossy black hair over her shoulder and batting those long eyelashes whenever she wanted something. And today was no different as she stood there in a tight little black dress, showing off those perky breasts that practically spilled out of the top.

Not only did the girl look sexy as hell, but she raked her eyes over my body as if she was feeling the same way. I literally saw her gulp before her narrowed eyes met mine. Why are you standing there in a towel?

Because I just got out of the shower. Are you upset I didn’t ask you to join me? I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Ew. Showering is for getting clean. Not getting your tattooed man musk all over me, she said, wrinkling her nose.

I smirked. Obviously, you’ve never had good shower sex.

She rolled her eyes. Does everything have to be sexual with you? Can you just put your clothes on, so we can see these sponsors or whatever, get dinner, and then go out?

You and me? Go out? I asked, holding my towel at my waist, where I noticed her eyes briefly flitted to.

"I’m a hot girl alone in Vegas. I know I could find plenty of cowboys downstairs to take me somewhere, but