Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Max Monroe

  Dr. Leah Levee has now managed to get inside the Jeep.

  And thankfully, it’s only a few minutes later before the engine roars to life.

  The thing sounds like shit, but I’ve had it long enough to know it should get her to her cabin and Rhett’s house before it gives out.

  And I have a feeling the timing will be perfect.

  No doubt, by then, Rhett will need something to force him to have some fucking patience and help her out. Thereby, hopefully, forcing him to fucking listen to her medical advice.

  It might seem like a bit of a long shot, what I’m doing, but I’ve always had a good sense of knowing how certain things will play out. And more than that, I’ve also been blessed with the foresight of knowing when to meddle.

  “So…tell me, Tex, what exactly do you think is gonna happen when that beautiful doctor shows up at your son’s house and finds out he’s no teenage boy?”

  “Well, honey, that’s where you come in.”

  She turns around and meets my eyes. “Me?”

  I nod. “A few hours from now, I need you to head on over to Cabin Three and check on her.”

  Jenny rolls her pretty eyes. “I should’ve known you’d rope me into this somehow.”

  I smirk and press a kiss to her forehead. “You should take it as a compliment. I know I can always count on that kind heart and sweet, soothing voice of yours to smooth things over.”

  She sighs. “Tex Jameson, you’re a real asshole, you know that?”

  “I do,” I respond without hesitation and with a big ole smirk. “But that’s why I have a perfect woman like you by my side.”

  She quirks a brow, and I have no problem obliging her silent question.

  “See, sweetheart, when I do asshole shit like let a pretty doctor think our grumpy cowboy son is a teenager and she finds out he’s a stubborn, grown-ass man, I know I can count on you to be the one to reassure her that not everyone on this ranch is an asshole and convince her to stick it out.”

  “Why does everything have to be so darned complicated with you?” she questions on a snort. “Why couldn’t you just be a normal person and handle things like normal folk do?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have married me forty years ago if I’d have been just a normal guy,” I retort and grab both of her hips. “Both you and I know you were a wild little thing back in the day, and it’s that untamed spirit of yours that helped ensure our son grew up to be a fantastic pain in the ass.”

  Jenny just rolls her eyes. “You’re a strange man, Tex Jameson. A strange, strange man.”

  “Yeah, but I’m your man, honey.”

  “That’s true,” she responds with a genuine grin. “And you’re also the man who’s going to have to deal with the fantastic pain in the ass when he finds out his daddy hired a pretty doctor to take care of him for the summer.”

  I grin and nod at that.

  There’s no denying Rhett’s going to be pissed off more than a hive of angry bees when he finds out the beautiful, curvaceous lady standing at his door is actually his personal doctor for the next two months.

  Truthfully, I didn’t know Frank Kaminsky was going to send over a goddamn modern-day brunette version of fucking Marilyn Monroe, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t going to make things a hell of a lot more interesting around here.

  If Tiny had to practically wipe the damn drool off his shirt earlier when he brought her to my office, I can only imagine what my son will think when he sees Dr. Leah Levee for the first time.

  I’m just hoping she’ll know how to handle the stubborn son of a bitch.

  Or, if she doesn’t know, that she’ll learn quick.

  Because the sooner she can get Rhett back on his feet, the better off everyone will be.

  Leah

  The steering wheel vibrates erratically in my hands, and I sigh as I turn onto a gravel road I’m pretty sure will lead me to Rhett Jameson.

  What a freaking day.

  I’ll be honest, when I boarded a private plane this morning to head out to a ranch to take care of a teenage ortho patient, I didn’t visualize being tossed a pair of keys to a crappy car, given a map I can hardly read, and being left to my own devices to figure shit out.

  The ride from the lodge to my cabin, while only a mile up the road, took a good twenty minutes. All thanks to the lovely way the engine on this damn car Tex loaned me started smoking every time I got the speed up over ten miles an hour.

  It’s no wonder Tiny prefers his horse. If it’s either off-road vehicles like he tried to kill me in on the way to the lodge or pieces of crap like this, I’m starting to think maybe I should consider learning how to horseback ride.

  Fortunately, when I arrived at Cabin Three, I found all six of my suitcases waiting for me.

  The instant I stepped inside, after making a quick pit stop in my new bathroom, I tried to call my brother and text Carla and Taylor, but the cell service wasn’t cooperating.

  I’m hoping later tonight, after I see my patient, I’ll find a way to ET-Phone-Home.

  Overall, my new home-away-from-home is nice and quaint and clean, and the view is better than anything I’ve ever seen. Even though the decor is bland for my tastes, it’s nothing a quick run to Target to purchase some flowers and curtains and other cutesy things can’t fix.

  However, I highly doubt this Jeep would make it the forty miles to St. George where the nearest Target is located.

  I snort in horror at the mere thought of that road trip and accidentally push my foot to the gas pedal too hard. Instantly, the engine roars and smokes its protest.

  “Sheesh. Chill out. Twelve miles an hour shouldn’t kill you, Karen,” I mutter and tap the dashboard.

  It might seem odd to have already given a name to a vehicle that isn’t mine, but with the way this Jeep bitches and complains with every little thing, I can’t deny it’s basically the Karen of inanimate objects. If your name is Karen, and you don’t like to nitpick from your high horse, I’m sorry. Your parents had no idea what they were setting you up for.

  When I spot a large cabin nestled in the woods up ahead, I grab the map from the passenger seat to verify it’s the house Tex circled.

  Thankfully, it is, and I let Karen know we’re almost there.

  “Hang tight, old girl. Just a tiny bit longer and we’ll be there.”

  She putts and whines but manages the job, and it only takes a few more minutes before I pull to a stop in front of the house.

  With a large wraparound front porch and big, open windows on the sides, it’s a true beauty.

  The kind of home you’d want to raise a family and, eventually, grow old in. I don’t even live here, and I can imagine lots of summer nights spent on that front porch, sitting in the rocking chairs and drinking lemonade.

  Once I cut the engine, I use all my might to grip the door handle and shove it open. At first, it creaks and groans in argument, but after a few pushes of my shoulder, it gives way so I can step out.

  I teeter on my heels a bit when I come in contact with more damn gravel, but I right myself with a hand to Karen’s side.

  Goodness. These people really need to learn the convenience of concrete out here.

  One foot in front of the other, I head up toward the house and don’t stop until I reach the entrance. The main door is wide open, and only a screen door separates the outside from the inside.

  Gently, I rap my knuckles against the wood, and moments later, an adorable little blond-haired girl comes running down the hall and right toward me.

  She pushes the screen door open with one of her cowgirl boots and steps out until she can keep it open with just her hip. With pigtails and dimples and big blue eyes, she just might be the cutest kid I’ve ever see in my life.

  Is this Rhett Jameson’s little sister?

  “Who are you?” she asks, ignoring any sort of greeting and getting straight to the point.

  I grin. “My name is Leah. What’s your name?”

  “Joey,” she answers, he
r small hands moving with her words. “Well, Josephine, but everyone calls me Joey.”

  “That’s a very pretty name.”

  “And you’re a very pretty lady,” she says, and her eyes move up and down my body, taking in my hair and my face and my dress and my shoes. “Maybe the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen. Are you in movies?”

  “No, I’m not in movies,” I answer on a soft laugh. “But you know what’s funny?”

  “What?”

  “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

  She giggles, and then her eyes get big. “Wait…oh my goodness! Are you here to teach me how to braid my hair?” Her button nose crinkles up in the most adorable way. “My granny told me she’d teach me how to do it, but I think she can’t remember, and is that why you’re here? Because you know how to do it?” she asks, and her short legs bounce up and down ever so slightly.

  “Uh…” I pause, completely entranced by this sweet little human, but also utterly confused. “Actually, sweetie, I’m not here to teach you how to braid your hair. I’m here—”

  “Aw, shucks.” She swishes one fist from her right hip to her left hip, and her tiny mouth points down at the corners.

  Immediately, I feel like the worst human being alive, and it takes everything inside me not to step inside the house and ask her to get me a hairbrush.

  But I rein in the emotion and offer up something I hope will soften her disappointment.

  “How about this? Since I’m going to be here for the summer, I’ll make sure someday very soon, I teach you how to braid your hair.”

  “Yeah?” Her big blue eyes light up like the sun. “Ya promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Truthfully, I’m just assuming this young girl lives here on this ranch, but I have no idea.

  I don’t know if she’s Tex’s daughter or someone else’s daughter. I don’t really know much of anything. Haven’t known much of anything since I told Frank Kaminsky I’d take this job.

  But so far, feeling out of the loop appears to be par for the course.

  The girl steps out of the house on her tiny cowgirl boots and wraps her arms around my waist. “I’m so excited, Leah!”

  I’m shocked at first by her instant affection, but it doesn’t take long before I’m putty in her teeny hands.

  “Me too, Joey.” A tickled laugh emerges from my lungs, and I pat her head tenderly.

  Eventually, she steps back and puts one hand to her hip. “So, if you’s supposed to be here all summer but it’s not just for my hair, why are you here?”

  “I was just about to ask the same thing, Joey.” A deep, raspy voice fills my ears, and that’s when I realize someone else has joined our conversation at the door.

  My eyes move up, up, up past Joey and land on a pair of perfectly worn-in jeans, over a shirtless and firm set of abs and an even firmer chest, and they don’t stop until they meet aqua-blue eyes that are pointed directly at me.

  Holy shit.

  This rugged, fine-as-hell specimen standing right behind Joey isn’t just any man; he’s the manliest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His body is stretched tight with the kinds of firm muscles that do not come from protein shakes and a gym membership to LA Fitness. No. These are real muscles, made from hard, sweaty work on a big-ass ranch like this.

  If you typed the words “hot cowboy” into Google, I’m pretty sure this guy would be the number one search result.

  And he looks so damn strong, so physically capable of anything, I honestly think he could lift a car just for the fun of it.

  With brownish-red hair that looks almost gold in the sunlight, a sharp jaw that’s peppered with some scruff, and full lips that are set in a firm line, I can’t help but wonder who is this guy?

  Rhett Jameson’s…older brother? His uncle?

  Some kind of familial male figure?

  He clears his throat, and that’s when I realize just how long I’ve been standing here staring at this slightly irritated, but also handsome-looking, cowboy like a moron.

  Uh…hello? Earth to Leah? Now would be a really great time to remember how to speak…

  Rhett

  With the length of time it takes the fancy-shoe-wearing stranger to string some words together, her mouth gaping like a fish the whole time, I consider going back in the house and calling an ambulance to come deal with her stroke.

  And when she does get some words together, it’s not like she clears everything up in a blink.

  “I-I’m sorry?” she stutters, shoving on the tops of her knees to stand up straight again. She’s tall, attractive, dangerously curvaceous, but she looks entirely out of place on my ranch.

  I doubt she spends much of her time climbing through fence rails or the like.

  This woman has citified written all over her expensive attire and done-up face.

  That’s not to say we don’t have city folk come out here all the time for the “Dude Ranch” experience, but this chick takes all that to a whole new level. Guests usually at least go to the trouble of buying a brand-new set of boots and digging a pair of jeans out of the back of their closet.

  Dressed in fucking high heels and a bright-as-hell dress that looks like a rainbow puked on it, she has made zero effort to conform to country living. It looks like someone plucked a celebrity out of fucking Hollywood and dropped her right on my front porch.

  Honestly, there’s a part of me wondering if Chase managed to send her here as some sort of sick fucking joke…

  “What’re you doin’ here?” I repeat slower. Joey giggles and waves, obviously taken with the magic of swanky clothes and makeup she’s never seen before, and I grab her shoulder and pull her body back into my legs, further covering the full brace I have on my bad leg.

  “Oh. Yes. I’m sorry!” the city girl says with a laugh of her own. “I’m here as a favor to Mr. Jameson.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, technically, it’s a favor for my boss, Frank Kaminsky, and a job for Mr. Jameson, but—” She waves a hand in front of her face. “Never mind. I’m talking nonsense, I’m sorry. Those details don’t matter. I’m looking for Rhett Jameson.”

  Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. My spine tenses at her words, and when Joey turns to look up at me over her shoulder, I give it a squeeze to suggest she stay quiet.

  “Well, you’ve found him,” I say simply, pointedly choosing not to elaborate further.

  “Oh thank God!” she cheers with a clasp of her hands, peering around me curiously. “Is he inside? I’d love to introduce myself.”

  My eyebrows draw together, and Joey, once again, damn near jumps out of her skin to set the record straight. I gently squeeze her tiny shoulder again and order, “Why don’t you go on into the kitchen and clean up your lunch mess, Joe.”

  “But, Daddy!” she protests loudly, stomping a tiny, defiant foot. “I want to keep talking with Leah!”

  “Joey,” I warn. “Go clean up. Now.”

  She huffs and spins on her heels, bumping into my leg just slightly as she makes her angry exit. I cringe and strain the muscles in my neck against yelling out in pain, and then when she slams the door at the end of the hall, I shake my head. Goddamn, it’s like she’s got the sass of a full-grown woman already. I don’t know how I’m going to handle her when she’s a teenager.

  And she’s smart too. She knows that, on a normal basis, that door slam would have landed her a talkin’-to, but she’s used the circumstances of a stranger on our doorstep against me.

  When I look up to meet Leah’s eyes again, hers are fixated directly on the giant brace over my left leg.

  I move that leg just enough to break her concentration and smirk as her wide-eyed gaze jumps to mine. She looks downright scared and confused.

  “You…you can’t be Rhett Jameson,” she finally breathes, shaking her head slightly as though she’s trying to jiggle some kind of nonsense out of it.

  I shrug. “Well, darlin’, I am. Now…who the hell are you?”

  Her head
bobbles again, shaking back and forth mindlessly. “But you’re not fourteen years old.” Her eyes jerk up to mine again, and her chin tucks into her chest. “Right? I mean, I’m sure the rate of maturation is a little different out here with all the manual labor and… But you can’t be fourteen.” She scans my body up and down again, pausing on my bare chest and licking her lips almost imperceptibly. “Definitely not possible.”

  “No,” I agree. “I’m definitely not fourteen. Haven’t been in more than two decades. Question is, why do you think I should be?”

  She rubs at her temple with two red-fingernail-tipped fingers and shakes her head, her mouth sucking air like a fish again. Growing more frustrated by the second and with my leg aching like a son of a bitch, I slam a hand into the doorjamb and lean some of my weight into it.

  “Could you spit it out, honey? If you haven’t noticed, standin’ here waitin’ for you to put your thoughts together isn’t exactly pain-free.”

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” Determined, she nods and puts a sentence together. “I’m Leah Levee. Dr. Leah Levee, and I’m here to do personalized medical, physical therapy, and rehabilitation care for two months for…well, you, I think. Though, you are not the you I thought was you, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around how all our wires got crossed this badly.”

  A fucking doctor? For me? I shut my eyes for a brief moment and let out a harsh sigh.

  Already, I have a pretty strong sense of who is behind this, but before I draw any final conclusions, I try to get the pretty city girl to confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  “Tell me again, who sent you here?” I ask, anger building in my chest like lava bubbling to the top of a volcano.

  “Um, his name is Tex Jameson. But I think…well, I guess he’s your father?”

  Goddamn, sometimes I hate being right. Instantly, my dad’s words pop into my head. “If you keep actin’ like you need a damn babysitter, I’ll fuckin’ get you one.”

  That motherfucker.

  The screen door slams against the threshold as I turn and spin, shoving it out of the way and limping back into the house and down the hall as fast as I can. Joey peeks out from the kitchen and watches as I grab the phone next to the sofa in the living room, pick it up, and start dialing immediately.