Danny (Downton Cowboys Book 1)

by Miley Maine

  Picking up my bag once again, he took a few steps inside and laid it on a wide table by the door.

  “Come on in,” he smiled.

  I peeked in, and walked forward, amazed by the size of the room. It was technically the size of my entire apartment back when I lived with my old boyfriend.

  “You know, if one of the other rooms is smaller, I could take it.” I giggled, knowing full well how nervous I sounded.

  He, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease.

  “They haven’t been cleaned in a week, and I don’t wanna risk you catching a dust allergy.”

  I eyed the space, taking in every detail. The wall panels were painted a calming shade of ivory, while the wooden furniture frames were adorned in warm caramel. Everything else was in comforting pastel colors. The bedsheets, pillowcases, and plush linens were sky blue. The chair by the dresser was soft lavender. And the loveseat by the wall-wide window a pale salmon-pink.

  The view was that of an endless meadow.

  “Did you furnish this place yourself?”

  He shrugged. “I was experimenting.”

  “Was it prepared for a woman?” I knew I was pushing my luck, but the setting was far too pretty for me not to comment.

  He scoffed, laying his head low and scratching behind his ear. “I gotta go back to work now. Dinner’s at seven.”

  Without revealing anything else, he quietly turned around, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

  Once again, my eyes scanned my elegant surroundings in disbelief.

  Just exactly who was that man?

  Chapter Three

  Danny

  When I heard a knock on my door in the middle of the day, I thought it was Michael with an unexpected visitor from town. I had just eaten lunch and was planning to head back out to work.

  As soon as I opened the door, the vivid sun crashed in and hit my eyes.

  A dramatic glow surrounded the most glorious creature I had ever seen, and I immediately wondered if somebody had spiked my meal.

  In the second it took for my pupils to become acclimated to the brightness, I saw long, wild auburn hair flying about, dancing with the warm afternoon breeze. Golden beams of luster came from behind her, intermingling with her soft locks that defied gravity as they aimlessly floated, like a regal halo framing her round, angelic face.

  Little freckles covered her flushed cheeks and the bridge of her button nose. A heartbreakingly beautiful detail that swiftly vanquished all of my defenses, leaving me momentarily breathless.

  Those lively green eyes blazed with a sparkle that spoke volumes of the twenty-something-year-old maiden. I knew what they said about green eyes. She was free-spirited and no pushover, I was sure.

  Her skin was reddened by the intensity of the hot summer sun, and her lips bloomed with a cherry hue that made me want nothing more than to taste them.

  Be still my heart—I willed myself into maintaining a calm and collected exterior.

  Who was she and what was she doing at my doorstep?

  When she told me that she had nowhere to spend the night, the only question that popped in my head was, did fate bring her home to me?

  Sure, I was a rancher with rough hands and a tough demeanor, but I also took pride in my known chivalry. And at the end of the day, I was just a man…

  And what was a man to do when a lonesome angel told him that she was to be stranded in the middle of nowhere with no bed or shelter?

  I didn’t even want to imagine turning her down.

  Why would I?

  I had ample space in my house, and heaven knew I was aching for someone to share it with.

  I wanted her to stay; there were no two ways about it.

  After overcoming the initial shockwave that had taken over my whole being, I began to realize that she, too, felt the undeniable chemistry between us.

  I could sense her gaze following me around the kitchen as I poured us some ice tea. The poor thing was scorched, and well, let’s just say that the sight of her left my mouth a little too dry.

  The way she softly sat down on my couch. The way she crossed her legs and held the glass. The way her slim, long fingers flirted with the air around her…it all sent me a string of unspoken messages.

  Her name was Gigi Mans, she said.

  Gigi…what were you doing to me?

  I had to admit to myself that the way her eyes admired the room I had decorated gave my ego a different kind of boost. A unique, unvoiced compliment that a man like me could only dream of, especially from an intellectually sophisticated woman like that.

  When she asked if the guest room was meant for a lady, I honestly couldn’t give her a straight answer. It was far too soon to act vulnerable around this enigmatic stranger.

  My expert ways of dodging a question and making it seem like an alluring mystery came in handy, and I had the perfect excuse to get myself out of there before I lost my cool. After all, I did have a lot of work to attend to.

  Besides, I needed to organize my thoughts if I was going to spend the evening with her.

  What a bewildering turn of events.

  I had woken up that morning like any other day, ready to take on my tasks and responsibilities, almost on autopilot. The last thing I had expected was that breathtaking being knocking on my door.

  I needed to take a step back and collect myself.

  When I headed back to my office, the first thing I marched toward was the liquor cabinet. My hand pulled the door open and pulled out the first bottle of whiskey my eyes landed on. Mindlessly, I let my fingers drop a few rocks into the glass while my other hand poured a generous serving.

  Gigi. What a face. What a body. What a job.

  Strong, smart women had always turned me on in the past, but none of the ones I had encountered possessed Gigi’s striking looks or inexplicable charm. None of them carried themselves with such vigor and confidence as they spoke to strangers, especially when discussing something so personal for the first time.

  None of them compared to her.

  The whiskey soon proved to be a welcome potion. While it made its way down to my stomach, I could feel the slight burn as it leveled to wash away the effect she had on me earlier.

  I finally started to relax, yet nothing I could think of succeeded in distracting me from thoughts of her.

  Luckily, I had finished the bigger chunk of work before lunch. The only thing left was a half-hour’s worth of focus before I was to run my afternoon rounds and go back to get dinner started.

  Dinner.

  I had always preferred cooking for myself, and for the occasional party of friends when they would visit. I had never wanted to hire help in the kitchen because preparing my own food felt…natural. I made everything to suit my taste and my taste alone.

  But today was entirely different. Tonight, I was cooking for green-eyed Gigi.

  I wondered what she liked.

  Did all women enjoy T-bone steaks? There was no way of knowing. Perhaps a green chili cheeseburger was a safer option.

  When I returned to the house, she had already settled into her room and was sitting in the living area with some literature in hand—a novel of some sort. As a way of making her feel at home, I offered her a glass of wine while I prepared our meal.

  She put down her book and walked over to watch me in action. She was wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and a purple tank top that revealed her freckle-laden shoulders. Her skin was white as milk; its purity only interrupted by those tan spots that gave it a unique aesthetic.

  “I won’t claim to be a great cook.” She held her glass in one hand while she leaned against the marble counter. “But I can surely help.”

  “Well, I won’t claim to be perfect either.” I busied myself with chopping vegetables. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I’m used to working solo.”

  “I can’t complain, you’re kind of making me feel like a guest at a five-star hotel,” she shrugged, her giggle reminiscent of an orchestrated opus.
“But may I ask you something?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Does it ever get lonely?” She tilted her head. “It’s a pretty big house for just one person.” Toward the end of the sentence, her tone became somewhat apologetic.

  “It does.” I didn’t know why I spontaneously confessed to that, but there was no going back now. “Don’t get me wrong; I am living the life that I always thought I wanted.”

  “But?” She took a sip of wine, the crimson liquor subtly staining her plump lower lip.

  Once again, I forced my eyes away. “I could use some company.” I shrugged in an attempt of sounding nonchalant.

  “Have you always lived here alone?”

  “There was someone…years ago.” I pulled the burger patties out of the freezer.

  “Family?”

  “Better.”

  She tittered, shooting me a mischievous look. “How so?”

  I got what she meant to ask—a woman. But it was never like that. Resigning to the fact that I didn’t actually mind telling her, I let out a sigh as I started sprinkling salt onto the patties.

  “You said you didn’t really like school much.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I hardly went at all.” From under my eyebrows, I examined her face, searching for a change of expression. Much to my surprise, she didn’t even blink, so I continued. “Soon after my fifteenth birthday, I ran away from home.”

  The look on her face let me know that she was listening intently. She put her glass down on the countertop and leaned forward.

  With her index finger and thumb, she fiddled with the stem, almost unconsciously. It was a little distracting, so I turned my attention to the buns I was now toasting.

  I wondered if it was a good idea to tell her the rest of the truth. But something about her made me feel safe enough to bare it all.

  “My father had this little hobby of…beating me up,” I scoffed. “It was accompanied by the ever so charming renditions of what a deadbeat I was and how I would never do anything useful with my life.”

  Glancing quickly at her face, I noticed that her expression had grown softer. The sparkle in her eyes altered, giving way to a darker hue.

  Were her irises changing color? Was I seeing things?

  Shrugging, I tried to lighten up my tone. “I was determined to prove him wrong. So, I left the city and became a drifter for a while. I started at the bottom, working as a ranch hand here and there until I met the man who used to own this place.”

  Her eyes grew a little wider as she raised her eyebrows, just a touch. She was now resting her chin over her palm. From where I was standing, her heartbeats were visible through the delicate, creamy skin of her wrist. The serious pout on her lips sent my mind down a spiral of desire.

  “Was that the person who lived with you here?”

  I chuckled. “I lived here with him.”

  “Right.” She spontaneously touched the back of her neck, and I caught my mind wondering about the kind of perfume she wore.

  “Over the years, he trusted me with everything,” I continued. “He became like a father to me, treating me like the son he never had. He taught me everything I know about working on a ranch and running a business.”

  “Didn’t he have any family? Siblings?”

  “He was an only child and a widower. He never remarried after his wife passed away. This ranch was his whole life, and when I came…I think, somehow, he knew that I could keep his legacy alive.”

  “You were his confidant.”

  “And his best friend for years. And then, the ranch manager when he got older and could no longer keep up with everything.” I paused, recalling fond memories of the man who had believed in me like nobody ever did. “When he suddenly died of a heart attack, his lawyer informed me that he had left everything to me. The ranch, the house, the cars, the business…everything.”

  “Wow,” she whispered, offering me the sweetest smile I was ever given.

  What secrets lie behind that smile, Gigi?

  I returned her smile before flipping over the patties on the grill pan. “He gave me a new lease on life.”

  “What are the chances…” she mused with pensive eyes that still fixated on mine. “I see you made him proud.” Her tone became upbeat once again as she straightened up and took a sip of wine.

  “I like to think so,” I nodded. “I’ve expanded the business by making a few modernizing changes. Now, about a hundred people work with me—”

  “With you. That’s a nice way to put it.” She raised an eyebrow.

  I chuckled. “It’s the truth. None of this would still be standing without their help. That’s why, in addition to their wages, they receive free produce from this very ranch.”

  “You’re awfully generous, Mr. Downton.”

  “When you come from nothing, you know what it’s like to be destitute. And if you keep telling yourself that you’re a good person, then you’d better step up and help as many people as you can.”

  “They must be very loyal to you.”

  “As I am to them. It’s just how it works.”

  “Not everywhere, it doesn’t.”

  “Well, I can’t control everywhere. But I can control my side of things.”

  “You sound too good to be real,” she giggled, and for the first time, I noticed a dimple on her left cheek.

  Oh, Gigi, have mercy.

  “I guess that’s the problem with the world. People have become so greedy that when you meet someone who isn’t…it’s almost impossible to believe.”

  “And what about you?”

  I started placing slices of cheddar cheese over the patties. “What about me?”

  “You combat greed with charitable giving.” She picked up the glass and made her way around the counter into the kitchen, leaning with her back against the edge of the marble surface. “What do you want?”

  She took me off guard with her unexpected question, and for a moment, I pretended to focus on the melting cheese.

  Once again, I had no answer to give.

  Not only was she beautiful and clever…she was also exceptionally insightful.

  Deciding to finally face her, I turned around with the spatula in one hand and a random wave with the other. “I’m not sure.” I paused, realizing that I was narrowing my eyes at her as I contemplated what I really wanted to say. “But maybe you’re here now to join me in my quest to find out.”

  “For someone who doesn’t read a lot, you sure have a way with words.”

  “I may not be book smart, but I’m street smart,” I chuckled, turning back around to tend to my burgers that were now sizzling.

  “Mother wit is a force to be reckoned with.” Her sweet voice filled the space with meditative wisdom. “One of the world’s greatest writers once said, you must never let schooling interfere with education. And you, Mr. Downton, are a finely educated man.”

  “Please, just call me Danny.”

  “Are we friends now, Danny?”

  “Only if you want us to be.”

  “It would be an honor.”

  When we sat down to eat, her table manners were impeccable. She was obviously well brought up by a family that was as attentive as mine was broken. The contrast was striking, and for the first time in my life, I caught myself subtly paying attention to what I was doing.

  But then something freeing happened. When her bun gave way, and the toppings started to drip, she swiftly regained control.

  “This isn’t working,” she giggled as she licked her finger.

  “Burgers have to be messy.” My lips said the words, but my eyes couldn’t move away from the finger she had just licked.

  “You know it!” She took another bite, and a bit of cheese lingered on her lower lip. She quickly licked it off. “Are you sure this was a good idea?” she laughed.

  “Relax, Miss Mans. Your messy eating habits are safe with me.”

  “Not fair. First of all, if you’re Danny, then I’m Gigi. And second—�
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  “You’re just a person who enjoys a good burger.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Fishing for a compliment already?”

  “Can you deny it?”

  “Actually, no.” She shook her head, rescuing another piece of cheese before it dropped onto the plate. “This is amazing. Well done.”

  “The perks of being a bachelor. You get to work on your cooking skills.”

  “Running a ranch. Decorating your own house. Making a killer sandwich. Is there anything you can’t do, Mr. Cowboy?”

  I furrowed my eyebrows as I swallowed. “I can’t stomach being called a cowboy.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” I chuckled. “But I didn’t think you were so easy to fool.”

  “At this point, you can do whatever you want to me, and I won’t resist.”

  As though she had suddenly realized what her statement implied, she immediately pressed her lips into a thin line and looked down at her burger. Frozen for a moment, she looked like an old painting by a solemn artist in love with his model.

  When she finally raised her eyes to meet mine, a big grin drew itself on her face as she picked up her burger and resumed eating.

  Nothing could put that woman down, and I liked it.

  “All jokes aside, you’re an amazing host. I’m really grateful that that man told me to come here.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  “And before I go, you must give me this recipe. My parents would absolutely love this.”

  We spent the rest of the evening talking and joking, sharing stories about our jobs, and what it was like to live in our respective towns. She was a great conversationalist and extremely easy to talk to. A couple of hours later, we were lounging out on the porch with an empty bottle of wine and an atmosphere filled with laughter.

  She was like an old friend with whom I had just reunited. It was a peculiar feeling—the familiarity and ease she made me experience. We got along harmoniously, and her kindness shone through, telling of a good heart and a pure soul.

  As she began to relax more in my company, she kicked off her slippers and pulled her legs up on the bench, hugging her knees as she gazed into the night. Her toenails were painted a fresh shade of grass green.