Ranch of the Alphas (Steamy BBW Werebear Shifter Menage Romance) Read online

  Ranch of the Alphas

  By Willow Wilde

  This book is protected under copyright law and is not to be copied or distributed without proper credit to the author. It is, at the author’s discretion, sold without DRM software to guarantee that you can enjoy it on whichever device you choose. This is a work of fiction meant for mature audiences only. It contains adult situations and explicit content.

  Check out all my books – free to Kindle Unlimited members!

  © 2015 True Desires Publishing

  Want More?

  If you like what you read here – or if you just want more young, unsatisfied women being completely dominated and pleased by groups of hung, needful shifters, then you want to join the Willow Wilde mailing list!

  Scratch your shifter gangbang needs with the ONLY shifter mailing list that updates every weekday with brand new content, free books, and open for feedback at any time!

  I work hard to guarantee your satisfaction and hope you join my mailing list today!

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Ranch Of The Alphas

  More From Willow Wilde

  Ranch of the Alphas

  Less than eager to spend another boring summer at home, I jumped at the chance to help out on my uncle’s ranch. After all, he had always been such a stark contrast to my father, and I had loved spending the occasional holiday on the sprawling property. While Dad was highly intelligent with a cushy office job that made him pudgy and soft, my uncle was a quiet, rigid, tall man of traditional values. He lived off the land, and sculpted it as it did him. Already pushing into his Fifties, Uncle Jack’s sunbaked skin was tanned and leathery, his strong muscles told the tale of decades spent tending the land, and he spoke with a certain rugged earthiness that seemed to command respect.

  I don’t even remember how the conversation had gotten started. Grumbling about the impending summer, I lamented how there was never anything to do — the city was two hours away, which put a serious damper on any shopping I did. Our small town had very little going for it, and I found myself wasting away on the Internet more often than not. I craved something more substantial with my summer, and thought that a change of scenery would be nice.

  My uncle mentioned offhandedly that he wanted someone around to help with the chores, cook him some decent meals. Reluctantly filling in for Mom’s cooking one holiday, we got to learn that he had two particular developed styles of culinary expertise: burnt or fried, always with a side of stewed beans.

  Gordon Ramsey, the man was not.

  Growing up with my ass firmly on the countertop while Mom whipped up her stovetop magic, I’d picked up a few tricks. I also thought that a summer doing some work might do some good for me — build up some muscle, make me a bit tougher, and give me something to actually do. We chatted about it a little, and I ran it past my parents. Somehow, they found the idea of having the house to themselves all summer somewhat appealing, and so I found myself in the back of the Escalade a month later, flying down the Interstate towards the distant ranch.

  I had expected early mornings, tough weather, and a lot of time alone with my thoughts. I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t all happened, but I’d be somewhat remiss if I didn’t bring up all the werebear sex…

  * * * *

  After about four hours cruising down the highways, with my Dad doing his usual five under the limit, we finally caught the dusty trail that led to the ranch. Positioned a half-mile from the road on a hundred acres of land, the ranch was a shining example of days long since past — a large country house in tip-top shape, surrounded by flatlands, and prowling with livestock.

  “Are you sure you want to spend all summer here?” Mom asked, her frown glancing all around the land. She’d always been more of a city girl, and only put up with our small town because she found it “charming in a way.” This, by her definition, was some sort of 1800s Hell on Earth.

  “I’ll be fine, Mom,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “You think I can’t handle a couple of months on the range?”

  “Oh, we’re just worried that you’ll be bored, honey,” Dad smiled in the rearview mirror at me. Over his sunglasses and his soft brow, he looked like he had never appreciated the ranch the way his older brother did. “After all, it sounds like your next semester at college is going to be a doozy…I’m sure old Jack won’t mind if you turn tail.”

  “Kind of late to be having this conversation, isn’t it?” I smirked. “I mean, the place is right here.”

  “Of course! You’re stubborn. You got that from your grandfather,” he laughed. “If we brought it up any earlier than you actually seeing the place again, you would have dug in your heels, and that’d be that.”

  The two of them shared a small, knowing grin, and I simmered inside. “So,” Mom continued, “having any last thoughts? Or are you good to go?”

  “I’m good to go,” I frowned at them. Did they seriously think so lowly of me? Although it was true — I was stubborn, and it was my grandfather’s genes that probably did it. And they were right about everything, as much as I hated to begrudgingly admit it. I was having some second thoughts, gazing upon the ranch with a more permanent eye, and I would have bucked if they’d brought it up before the trip…

  But no, I had committed to this, and that was that. There was no reason to disappoint Uncle Jack now, and I was honestly looking pretty forward to the coming months. We’d timed everything so that I had a week at home before and after the trip, so that I could decompress before college started back up again. I was really looking forward to being toned and muscled from doing actual work instead of hitting the gym once or twice a week and sunbathing all summer. It made a pronounced difference, and I was fully expecting the boys to be all over me.

  “Well, alright then,” Dad glanced at me over his shoulder. “We’ll stick around a few to catch up with your uncle. You know you can call us if you need anything.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but we were already pulling up around front. As the veranda swung back into view, I could see the tall, thin shape of my uncle, standing quietly in front of the door and quietly awaiting us.

  * * * *

  Dad helped me bring my luggage in, and Mom gave Uncle Jack a loving hug and a peck on the cheek.

  “How have you been, darling?” He asked her, a smile curling along his lips beneath that brush of a mustache. “Surely the drive wasn’t too bad.”

  “No, it was fine, quiet,” she answered. “I’m great! Never been better.”

  “Is that because you’re about to ditch the squirt for the summer?” Uncle Jack asked, casting me a knowing, affectionate smirk.

  “Oh, no! Not at all! I just meant that—“

  “Oh hush, Olivia. I was only jesting. Inside you go!” He popped open the front door like a gentleman, allowing us in before greeting my father. “And Jonathan!” I heard him laugh, briskly taking Dad’s hand for a strong shake. “I see all that computer work is keeping those nimble fingers nice and soft.”

  “And I see the sun hasn’t burnt your skin to dust!”

  The men laughed as they followed us in, and Uncle Jack pointed Dad in the direction of the guest room. He huffed over that way, clutching my luggage. I was about to follow when I felt a strong hand clasp onto my shoulder.

  “Want somethin’ to drink? Anything nice and cold?” Uncle Jack whispered. “I’ve got some bottles of root beer, cokes, some water, juice…”

  “How about we take the ‘root’ out of the ‘beer’?” I asked slyly.

  He gave me a slight wink. “Always a time and place, sweethe
art. Be on your best until they’ve hit the road.”

  “Root beer,” I grumbled half-heartedly.

  “A fine choice, miss,” he pulled free as Dad came back. “‘Bout to set her up with something cold. Want anything?”

  “You got a beer?” Dad asked, wiping his brow.

  “Damned near read my mind. Olivia?”

  Mom was fanning herself, looking for the thermostat in the kitchen. “Oh, hell with it, beer for me too. You good to drive with the one, John?”

  “You’re going to ask me if I’m okay to drive with one beer? Act like you know me.”

  They all shared a laugh as Uncle Jack fetched us some cool drinks from the fridge, popping the top off of the bottle for me. I spotted a wisp of smoke rising from the lip as I plugged it to my lips.

  After everyone was popping their tops, Uncle Jack leant back against the kitchen counter, with my parents seated at the table. He turned to me with a spry, mischievous look in his eye.

  “Now sweetheart, this is the part where we old folks do the whole, boring ‘catching up’ routine. Why don’t you settle yourself in? If you’re done early, there’s a fancy new big-screen in the livin’ room. Break that bad boy in for me.”

  Taking the invitation, I left my family to their devices while I flitted up the stairs to the guest room. It was a small, quaint little bedroom, with a twin-sized bed against the wall, a writing desk, a chest of drawers, and a small closet. The wallpaper had been ripped down since my last trip here, and the walls were instead painted with an earthy brownish red. It diminished the room’s size somewhat, but added character.

  It didn’t take me longer than half an hour to unpack, hang my week’s worth of jeans and button-ups, set my toiletries in the bathroom, and put a few frames up on the desk. Stripped of things to do, I thought back to the new television Uncle Jack had mentioned. Sliding down the wooden handrail against the wall, my flip-flops connected with a smack against the hardwood floor, and I wandered around the wall to the large, cozy den.

  Uncle Jack wasn’t kidding. I hadn’t known him to be much of a TV guy, but this was a NICE flatscreen, easily 65 inches. Perched atop a new, simple entertainment console built from cherrywood, I found the remote and settled down into the leather couch. The cool breeze from the overhead vent told me that Mom had figured out the air conditioning situation, and I heard the soft drone of my parents talking and laughing with my uncle as I flicked on the televisions, channel-surfed for a few minutes, and settled on some old Friends reruns.

  There would be plenty of time to adapt to the work, but for now, I’d take the surprise luxury while it was available.

  * * * *

  My parents popped by to give me departing hugs and kisses before leaving me in my uncle’s care. After we saw them off, he chuckled and scratched the back of his head as we wandered back inside.

  “Those two. What a hoot.”

  “‘Hoot’ is one word.”

  He affectionately patted my head, then led me back towards the kitchen. “Alright then, time to discuss what you’ll be doin’ here. Schedule is as follows: up around 5, milkin’ the cows in the barn, cookin’ breakfast, tendin’ to the house, waterin’ the garden, big supper when I mosey on back home, and then that’s that. Laundry on Saturdays.”

  “What sort of ‘tendin’’ do you need?” I glanced around the room. Everything that I’d seen so far of this house suggested that it was already kept in extremely fine condition. Besides a little dust here and there, everything was neat, tidy, and had a proper place. Seemed like the upkeep was going to be pretty simple after all.

  “Oh, the usual. Washin’ the dishes. Scrubbin’ the floors. Wipin’ the counters. I’ve been keepin’ it up, but I’m a little on the tired side these days, and I just don’t have the time to carry it all on and keep the ranch a-runnin’. Might ask you for a little extra from time to time, but I’ll make it worth your while, trust me.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “That’s right. We agreed on a smooth hundred-fifty a week. No rent, no bills, no nothin’. Extra stuff, I’ll tack on a little more. We can talk ‘bout that when it comes up. But worst case scenario, you’re home with fifteen hundred smackers in the bank, nothin’ to it.”

  “‘Smackeroos?’ Does anybody even say that anymore?” I teased.

  “Kid, you live out here all lonely-like and work off the hand, you pick up all sorts o’ weird habits.” He dug into the fridge again for another beer. “Now, this being your first Sunday, I’ve taken the liberty of doing the laundry shit myself. Next week, that’s all you. And I’ll have to test out your cookin’ tonight, just to make sure it’s up to snuff before I get started in the mornin’. Besides that, tonight you’re free to do whatever. Work starts tomorrow.”

  “What do you want for dinner?” I asked politely, picking away in the fridge. It seemed pretty well-stocked, with plenty of the essentials: eggs, condiments, sausages, roast beef, vegetables, milk…and that overlooked the pantry.

  “Oh, surprise me,” he chuckled with a wave of his wrist. “I’m takin’ a load off in front of that there TV. Have somethin’ in three hours, would you kindly.”

  * * * *

  Dinner wound up being grilled barbecue-smothered chicken with garlic mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, and stewed green beans. He wolfed down the food quickly before fetching himself seconds.

  “What do you think?” I asked politely, reaching for the can of beer that he’d set by my plate. “Hold up to expectations?”

  “You know, you’re makin’ me wonder why this is the first time we’ve thought of this here arrangement.” He sat down with the plate and set about wrecking the food again. “Sure as Hell beats my signature fried grits and toast.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t want my signature anywhere near that.”

  We shared a laugh, and caught up on each other’s lives. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have much news to report since Grandpa had passed away last year. There had always been a few extra ranch-hands around, and I was surprised to see that Uncle Jack seemed to be taking care of everything by his lonesome.

  “Oh, I have a few…friends,” he mentioned after a sip of beer when I brought it up later that night. We were absent-mindedly watching Formula 1 racing on television. “They pass on through sometimes and lend a hand. In fact, you’re gonna meet ‘em soon.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, intrigued. I hadn’t been aware that anyone else was going to be around while I was here.

  “Yeah, probably should’ve mentioned them before…pack of boys, those lot. Ranch hands that help out from time to time. Young fellers, real tough. Only lot I’d trust to help care for this place. Known ‘em for a while.”

  I thought about this as I drank more of my beer. Part of the whole reason I’d come up here was to get away from boys, but it sounded like these weren’t my typical fare. I wondered what they were like, how tough they really were.

  This trip was about to get a whole lot more interesting…

  * * * *

  Bright and early that morning, I was up and fixing breakfast for Uncle Jack and myself. He quickly scarfed down a plate of scrambled eggs, seasoned sausage cutlets, and French toast before taking me outside to teach me how he expected the chores done.

  Milking the cows was less squeamish than I had imagined, but it was still tedious work. I listened to the milk striking the metallic pail in bursts, and it reminded me of the way the rain would hit the metal roofing above the lunch tables at my elementary school. When done, I settled the cows back in under his watchful eye, and he helped me lug the buckets back indoors to be chilled and prepared later.

  Next, he showed me how to clean the stables. It was messier work, and I was always rubbing my brow with the back of my forearm, but the animals sure appreciated it.

  “Now, when the boys come in, they’re probably gonna take care of the more laborious side of things…you’ll probably only have to do this one other time before they show. But it still needs to be done, and I’m goin’ to be
too busy tending to the cattle out there to handle it all myself.”

  “No, I’ve got it,” I reassured him. “I’m here to help, after all.”

  He patted my head again, a strong smile across his lips. “That’s my little niece. Now then, about the inside…”

  He explained his expectations about the cleanliness of the house, which I found fairly reasonable. It helped, as I said, that he had already maintained it pretty well. But he wanted more attention paid to the mud room, where he’d kick off his muddy boots and throw down whatever filth had accumulated during his work. He also wanted his boots polished while he relaxed after a hard day, and showed me the proper way to scrub them clean before whipping out the polish. Uncle Jack went through everything once for me, quizzing me briefly afterwards. Apparently satisfied, he asked me about dinner.