Chloé’s Christmas Cowboy
Bella Settarra
Kindle Edition
ISBN-978-1-912913-02-2
Copyright © 2020
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Dedication
To all my readers, wishing you a very Happy Christmas
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright Notice
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Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
About the Author
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CHAPTER ONE
Chloé Jenkins pulled her black woolen coat tightly around her as the wind whipped around the open grave. Her uncle’s body was slowly lowered into the gaping hole and she threw a flower onto the rosewood coffin. She was glad that Uncle John had planned his own funeral – she wouldn’t have known where to start.
She felt a cold tear slide down her cheek – but was more alarmed to feel something else. A warm arm came around shoulder. It could only belong to one person – the one person she didn’t want to see. She shrugged it away angrily without turning around.
“Hey, come on, it’s only me.” His voice was deeper than she remembered, and had a sexy growl to it. Damn!
“I know full well who it is.” She hissed the words back at him, still staring at the grave, which was now being slowly filled with soil.
As the small crowd began to disperse she looked up angrily. His gorgeous dark brown eyes gazed down at her and her stomach flipped at his beauty. He had just the right amount of sexy stubble on his chin, and that chiseled jaw she’d always found so alluring. Turning from the grave he put on his hat. He wore a heavy work coat over black trousers, and his pointed boots shone in the early afternoon light.
Chloé took a deep breath, trying to disguise her gasp as she stared at the guy she had left almost a year ago without saying goodbye.
To say he was gorgeous would have been a gross understatement but she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself. She steeled herself, jutting out her chin defiantly.
“Food and drink are being supplied for the guests at The Wakefield Inn, if you’re interested,” she told him.
He grinned. His perfect teeth and those sumptuous lips glistened back at her, and his eyes shone with mirth.
“I know. I helped organize it,” he said. “Your uncle said he’d spent enough time in the place it was only fitting for everyone to celebrate his life there once it was over.”
Chloé fumed. It was bad enough she had had to find out that her own uncle had passed away through the police, without discovering that Tyler Brannagh had helped organize the funeral and wake.
Her first instinct had been to boycott the whole thing, but she was Uncle John’s only remaining family and it would be churlish and unfair for her to miss his funeral because of a grudge – even if the grudge was, in her opinion, wholly justified.
“Thank you. It was good of you to help,” she said dismissively.
She was irritated to hear his chuckle as she picked her way over the hard mud and compacted snow, following the small crowd down the cleared path from the churchyard.
“Chloé – I thought it was you!” Maisie Turner grabbed Chloé’s arm as she joined the rest of the throng. “How are you? We all thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth. Where have you been? Are you back to stay? We really need to catch up, sweetie.”
Chloé smiled. Maisie had always been a good friend to her and she felt guilty for taking off like that without a word to anyone. She supposed she was lucky Maisie was still speaking to her after that. But she couldn’t have stuck around after that dumbass stood her up – it was all too humiliating.
Everyone who had attended her graduation knew that Tyler Brannagh had finally asked her out to dinner after all these years, and they were bound to all be talking about it the next day. How was she supposed to explain to her friends that the bastard hadn’t shown up? What would everyone think? She should have known that it was too good to be true.
She had liked Tyler for years and had longed for him to ask her out. He had become a close friend of her Uncle John after being promoted to foreman on her family’s ranch, and had been up at the house all the time. She had loved having his strong, male presence around the place. Tyler even made up for her uncle’s quick temper which seemed to get worse after Aunt Brenda passed away.
The couple of years before Chloé had left town had been really difficult. Uncle John snapped at her for the slightest thing, and she felt like she was treading on eggshells all the time. Luckily, Tyler had a way with her uncle, though. He would make him laugh and then Uncle would seem like a totally different person – more like the man she had grown up with.
“Are you okay sweetie?” Maisie had stopped her chattering and was now looking at Chloé face-on.
“I’m fine. Sorry, I was just thinking.” Chloé managed a smile to reassure her friend as they walked together through the snow.
They arrived at The Wakefield Inn to find the place full of people singing an old Irish song, one which Uncle John used to love.
“Let’s get a drink, then you can fill me in properly,” Maisie insisted, heading for the bar. Chloé took a minut
e to look around. The familiar smell of wood and beer welcomed her into the old building, which had exposed beams in the ceiling and mismatched furniture on a hardwood floor. The curtains were shabby and the place was very rundown but Chloé couldn’t stop smiling at it. It felt homey. Especially as it was decked out for Christmas with a large pine tree by the fire and sprigs of holly and mistletoe decorating the pictures and mirrors that lined the cracked walls.
The place brought back long-lost memories of her youth. She used to come here with her friends after college and drink apple cider while they all discussed the lectures they had just attended, and made fun of their tutors. She remembered the chairs in the corner where Uncle John and Aunt Brenda used to sit when they came in for their usual night-cap – sometimes she would still be there with her friends and she would walk home with her elderly relatives, catching up on the day’s news.
“Here you go. There’s a couple of seats over by the fire.” Maisie placed a large glass of white wine in her shivering hand and led the way.
“There isn’t that much to tell,” Chloé explained as they sat opposite each other. “I got that job in the city I was telling you about so I went to find myself somewhere to live over there. I’ve been working for Jarvis-Brockman for nearly a year now. They even put me on one of their accountancy courses so I got more qualified while I worked.”
“You always were good at math,” Maisie replied, a little wistfully. “I wish I’d been good at something. I’ve got a job in the super mart, though you’d hardly call it super. So much for my degree!”
Chloé leaned over and patted her friend on the hand. Poor Maisie had tried so hard but had sadly failed to get her qualifications. It hadn’t helped matters when her mother had suffered so badly with cancer for a long while before she finally passed away, just when Maisie was supposed to be studying for her exams. Maisie’s dad had gone to pieces, leaving Maisie to sort everything out. No wonder she couldn’t concentrate on her studies.
“Do you enjoy working there?” Chloé tried to cajole her friend.
Maisie brightened up a little, and giggled. “I do, actually,” she said cheerfully. “Some of the customers are really funny. They don’t mean to be, but they do make me laugh.
“We have to keep an eye on Mr. Hughes over there,” she nodded toward an elderly guy who was sat near the bar. “He keeps picking up dog food instead of cans of stewed steak. We didn’t notice at first – the new girl on the till just assumed he had a dog. It was only when she asked him what breed it was one day that we realized what was happening. We’re still trying to persuade him to go and get his eyes checked. In the meantime we just spy on his shopping basket whenever he comes in.” She giggled, and Chloé burst out laughing at the thought.
“Do you think he actually ate any?” Chloé’s eyes widened.
“We’re not sure,” Maisie whispered back. “I had to stop Trevor from asking him if he felt a bit ‘ruff’ one day, and Dillon keeps making barking noises whenever Mr. Hughes walks into the shop. It’s a good job he’s deaf.”
They were both laughing when a familiar presence appeared at the side of them.
“Having fun?” Tyler Brannagh looked slightly bemused, probably because the two girls were giggling away on such a solemn occasion.
“We were.” Chloé was aware how cold her tone sounded, but she didn’t care. He was intruding – again.
“Pull up a chair,” Maisie urged him, apparently totally oblivious to the change in Chloé’s demeanor.
Tyler drew over a small stool and perched between them.
“I was just telling Chloé about the fun we have at the shop,” Maisie explained, still chuckling slightly.
Tyler grinned. “I’ll bet the local corner shop seems like a million miles away from what you’re used to now, doesn’t it, Chloé?”
Although the question seemed innocent enough, Chloé detected the ice which lay beneath it, and she grimaced. “What do you mean?” She asked curtly.
“Well I hear you’re a high flyer nowadays aren’t you? A big shot in the city, I understand. It must have been hard to leave all that glamour and come back home to Rough Oaks and all this.” He waved a hand dismissively around him, gesturing their surroundings.
Chloé felt her blood begin to boil. “This happened to be my home. This is where I grew up and there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just the people that ruin it.” She spoke through gritted teeth, staring at him belligerently.
“You’re right,” he nodded calmly. “It happened to be your home. Not anymore though, eh?” Tyler took a long swig of his beer while she gawped at him, silently admonishing herself for her bad choice of words.
“I can’t see why anyone would want to leave Rough Oaks.” Maisie was apparently unaware of the tension which surrounded them.
“Well I guess it’s just not good enough for some people, is it?” Tyler stared Chloé in the eye and she felt herself get hotter.
“This place is plenty good enough for me,” she spat out at him. “Like I said – it’s the people that ruin it. Have you ever thought that maybe someone might not be leaving the place as much as the people in it?” Chloé hissed at him as she got up. She grabbed her purse and stalked out of the bar, aware of the hushed voices which followed her.
It was starting to snow again as she made her way stealthily back up the track which led to Mile End Ranch. Although it was only late-afternoon the sky was already a dark, murky gray, and clearly held a deluge which was bound to fall by tonight. The weather matched her mood; dark, cold and bitter. Wrapping her coat even more tightly around her, Chloé used one hand to hold her hood over her head as she battled against the icy wind toward her old home.
She’d left her car behind at the ranch, hoping to enjoy a few drinks after the service. She might have, too, if Tyler Brannagh hadn’t showed up again. Seething, she tried to rid his face from her mind.
She hadn’t gone far when she heard the chugging of an engine coming up behind her. She moved to the side of the track to keep out of the way of the vehicle and was surprised when it stopped beside her.
“Get in.”
She stared over at the cowboy who was leaning toward her, calling through his open window.
“Get lost,” she barked back at him and continued walking as steadily as she could manage.
“Don’t be stupid. It’ll take forever to get back in this. And it’s not safe. This road’s already getting icy.” Tyler was adamant, but so was she.
“Well if it’s not safe I’m certainly not getting in there with you.” She snapped back. “I’d rather take my chances on my own, thanks all the same.”
Chloé stomped through the snow which was already becoming quite thick underfoot. She had forgotten how quickly the weather could change up here in the mountains, and she did her best not to stumble in front of Tyler Brannagh.
He sighed. “Don’t be childish, Chloé. You know your uncle wouldn’t have wanted me to let you walk home on your own in these conditions. Besides, I want to talk to you.” His voice was authoritative and deep, and Chloé felt a glow inside her. She stopped for a second and then shook her head. She wasn’t about to give in, no matter how gorgeous he was.
“Well I don’t want to talk to you. And don’t you ever try to use my uncle against me. He’s only just been buried for Christ’s sake. How dare you?” Her voice raised a few octaves as she became even more upset and annoyed at his audacity and she reached out and thumped the door of his pick-up. Even through her gloves she could feel the ice and stony metal and she did her best not to wince at the pain which engulfed her hand.
Angrily, she stormed past the vehicle and carried on up the track. She heard the truck come up behind her once again and she darted over to the side to keep out of its way. Her foot slid from under her and she suddenly found herself hurtling to the ground with a dull thud. She lay for a few seconds, gathering her thoughts. Her ankle hurt and her face was cold against the snow. She was slightly winded but soon recovered her breath a
nd tried to sit up. Every bone inside her ached and she was grateful for the strong arms which enveloped her pain-ridden body. That was, until she remembered exactly whose strong arms they were.
“Get off me.” She thumped at the taught chest of the handsome man who was carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all, over to his truck.
“Why? So you can go and kill yourself?” His voice was deep but she sensed a little mirth in his manner, which irked her.
“What I do is my business. It’s nothing to do with you.” Chloé hollered at him, but couldn’t help feeling a little relieved at his warmth and strength. The weather really was getting worse and she knew it wasn’t safe trying to walk up the mountain track on her own. All the same, she had to remember what he did and keep her resolve not to be swayed by him. She pushed him as she jumped down from his arms, careful to only put her weight on one foot.
Another truck pulled up behind Tyler’s as they stood arguing.
“Is he bothering you, Miss?”
Chloé shot around and saw another familiar face as her uncle’s neighbor swaggered over to them.
“Chloé? I didn’t recognize you. Are you all right, sweetheart?” Bill Simmons went straight up to her, concern etched in his face. He held her arm, obviously noticing the awkward way she was standing.
“Hi Bill. Yeah. I just twisted my ankle, I think. I fell over on some ice.” Chloé was surprised at his reaction. Bill Simmons had never had much to do with her or her uncle. He had inherited the ranch next to theirs a few years ago when his dad retired. To give him his due, Bill had really turned the place around and was now reaping the benefits. Chloé had always been a little suspicious that his methods weren’t always that honorable, though.
Chloe's Christmas Cowboy: A Festive Second Chance Romance Page 1