Must Love Cowboys: This steamy and heart-warming cowboy rom-com is a must-read! (Once Upon A Time In Texas)

by Carly Bloom

  Claire had socked him good before acting like she was going to barf. He’d been fourteen and thought he was a full-grown man. Claire had been seventeen—much closer to being fully grown—and she’d had a good right hook. It had taught him a valuable lesson.

  Real men don’t steal anything, and that includes kisses.

  Claire still occasionally stuck her finger down her throat and pretended to gag if he so much as looked at her wrong.

  This ranch was his past, his present, and his future. If he had his way, he’d be buried beneath the ancient live oak up on Comanche Hill.

  He climbed out of the truck just as Miss Lilly came out with a broom. “Good afternoon, boys. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen, and I think there might be some leftover cinnamon buns on the counter.”

  Beau flew up the steps, pausing briefly to give Miss Lilly a kiss on the cheek. “Your buns are absolutely delectable, Miss Lilly.”

  A broom connected solidly with his buns. “You’d better not let Gerome hear you talking like that, Beau Montgomery.”

  “You know darn well that Gerome would agree,” he said. “And how do you know I’m not Bryce?”

  That was a silly question. There were only five women alive who could instantly tell him and Bryce apart, and Lilly Kowalski was one of them. The others were their mom, Nonnie, Claire, and, for some godforsaken reason, Alice Martin.

  “For one thing, Bryce has more sense.”

  True, but ouch.

  “For another, you’re a shameless flirt. Even old ladies like me aren’t off limits, and that’s a disgrace.”

  Beau winked at her, and then he nearly laughed as he watched her trying not to grin. Bryce walked up and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Is this person bothering you, Miss Lilly?”

  “Never,” she said. “Now get on inside, both of you. Gerome and Ford are waiting.”

  “Gerome?”

  “Yes, he has something important to discuss with you boys.”

  Beau and Bryce glanced at each other. They loved Gerome like a father, and it would be good to see him. But what could the “something important” be? The warm scent of sugar and cinnamon greeted them as they walked through the door, and they followed their noses straight into the kitchen, where three cinnamon rolls sat on a plate.

  Bryce grabbed two before Beau could stop him, cramming one into his mouth. Then he looked at his brother with satisfaction and bulging cheeks.

  Beau grabbed the remaining roll. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

  By the time they got to the landing, the cinnamon rolls were history, and they were met by Gerome’s booming voice—a welcome sound after the man’s brush with throat cancer two years ago—and Ford’s softer tone. The study door was open, so they walked on in.

  Gerome stood and held out a hand. “Howdy, boys. I hope you don’t mind me sitting in on your meeting with Ford.”

  Beau grinned and shook Gerome’s big, warm hand. His grip was strong, and even though he was in his late seventies, he was an imposing figure. Nobody minded a bit that he was sitting in on a meeting about the ranch that had been in his family for multiple generations.

  “I guess we’ll tolerate it,” Beau said with a wink.

  Gerome chuckled. “Have a seat. We have some news.”

  We have some news could mean a lot of things. But judging from Gerome’s relaxed demeanor, it wasn’t anything too terrible.

  They sat just as Claire waltzed in, baby Rosa in her arms. All four of them immediately jumped back up, seeing as how a woman had entered the room.

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Good Lord. Would y’all please sit down?”

  They did, and Claire deposited Rosa in Gerome’s lap, where the baby immediately became enthralled with the snaps on her grandfather’s starched white shirt. “I can tell by how calm they are that you haven’t told them yet,” Claire said, nodding her head in Beau and Bryce’s direction.

  Bryce looked at Beau, eyebrow cocked. What could this be about?

  Beau shrugged. No idea.

  Bryce snapped his fingers and narrowed his eyes. You brought that bull to the pens like I told you to. Right?

  Beau rolled his eyes and shook his head. Of course, I did . . . Asshole.

  “Are you two finished having your creepy telepathic conversation?” Claire asked.

  Their mama always told them it made folks uncomfortable when they communicated with facial expressions.

  Gerome cleared his throat. “Because of the drought, we need to thin out the herd.”

  Bryce stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Mother Nature’s an indecisive bitch, isn’t she?”

  Big Verde had suffered a catastrophic flood a little over two years ago, and now they were in the middle of a drought.

  “We’ve got some cows that haven’t calved in a couple of seasons,” Beau said. “And quite a few bulls to take to auction. How big of a cut are we talking?”

  “We’re not going to actually get rid of any cattle,” Ford said. “We’re just going to move them.”

  “Where? Are we leasing a place?”

  Gerome grinned at Claire. “You tell ’em the plan. I don’t have the balls.”

  Claire leaned against the desk and crossed her arms over her ample chest. She might be curvy and gorgeous and in possession of way more tiaras than the average person—rodeo queen, homecoming queen, prom queen, and Queen Crispin of the Big Verde Apple Festival—but she still typically had the biggest balls in the room.

  “Have you heard of the Rockin’ H Ranch?” she asked. “It’s outside of Austin.”

  Bryce and Beau looked at each other and shrugged. “The only Rockin’ H I know of is a dude ranch,” Beau said. And then he laughed, because there was no way Gerome Kowalski was going to have any of his purebred, grass-fed, organic, free-range cattle lounging around a dude ranch while fake cowboys played guitars and sang songs around the campfire.

  “That’s the one,” Ford said.

  “What?” Bryce said. “You’re kidding, right? We’re moving our cattle to a—”

  “Damn spa!” Beau said, interrupting. “I’ve seen their ads. They’ve got a swimming pool—”

  Bryce cut in. “A restaurant—”

  “Actually,” Claire said. “The restaurant has closed.”

  Beau didn’t really care about the restaurant. He just couldn’t believe their cattle were headed to a resort. It didn’t sit right. He prided himself on being a real cowboy. There weren’t that many of them left. And on Rancho Cañada Verde, they did things the old-fashioned way. On horseback. No helicopters. No feedlot. They even still branded the old-fashioned way, with the same branding iron that Gerome’s great-grandfather had used.

  “And,” Claire said, clapping her hands and bouncing on her heels. “There’s more.”

  “Claire,” Gerome said. “Don’t go whistling before the water’s boiled.”

  Claire actually did look like a teapot about to start whistling. She practically had steam coming out of her ears. “We’re buying the whole place,” she whispered.

  Ford and Gerome sighed in unison.

  “I’m hoping you two can keep a secret better than Claire,” Ford said. “It’s not a done deal. There’s still financing and paperwork and whatnot.”

  “We’re buying a resort?” Beau said. “Seriously?”

  Gerome stood up and handed the baby back to Claire. Then he leaned over and got right in the little one’s face. “Why don’t you stick that chubby little fist in your mama’s mouth instead of your own?”

  Ford grinned. “What Princess Blabbermouth says is true. Initially, we were just looking to lease some land for grazing. But the Hills are itching to unload the place, and—”

  “And it will be one more way that Rancho Cañada Verde can diversify,” Claire said. “The property is a mess at the moment, but I feel confident that we can turn it around.”

  Gerome sat back down. “But for now, all we’re doing is leasing a gorgeous one-thousand-acre paradise of ir
rigated pastureland.”

  That part of it sounded like a dream. Especially since most of Rancho Cañada Verde’s twelve thousand acres were currently brown and crunchy.

  Gerome smiled. “I’m looking for a cowboy who’s willing to wrangle some cows on a dude ranch on the weekends, and if we do end up buying the place—”

  “Which is likely,” Claire said, eyes aglow.

  Gerome shot her a side glance. “As I was saying, if everything goes through, I’ll need someone to move there permanently. We’ll know more in a few weeks.”

  Beau shook his head. Who the fuck would want to do that?

  “I’ll do it,” Bryce said.

  Beau gawked at his brother. What the hell had possessed the fool to say such a thing?

  Gerome laughed. “I figured you would.”

  He did?

  “If this goes through, you’re both getting raises,” Gerome said.

  “Both of us?” Beau asked. “Why me?”

  “You’ll be the lone foreman on Rancho Cañada Verde,” Gerome said. “You’ll have more responsibilities and a bigger workload.”

  Beau clenched the arms of the chair as his world tilted. Other than the one semester that Bryce had spent at Texas A&M, they’d never really spent much time apart. And he fucking needed Bryce. How was he going to get through all the paperwork and correspondence by himself?

  Ford slapped Beau on the back. “What do you say? Pretty exciting stuff, right?”

  Bryce was now inspecting the hat in his lap with intense curiosity, as if he might pull a rabbit out of it.

  Beau swallowed loudly. “Yeah. It’s exciting.”

  That was a lie. Bryce was the only person in the world who knew that Beau still struggled with dyslexia. What was he going to do without his brother? And what kind of a grown man couldn’t function without his twin?

  Today had not gone according to plan. Alice snapped her gratitude journal shut as Gaston barked at Sultana. It was impossible to be grateful while a dog barked and a cat hissed. “Hush, Gaston! I’ve told you before, Sultana is just a kitty.”

  In Gaston’s defense, Sultana didn’t look like a typical cat. She had no hair, lots of wrinkles, and an impressive set of ears.

  Gaston let out a high-pitched howl when Alice’s front door suddenly opened and a blue head popped in. “Knock, knock.”

  Poor Carmen had probably been knocking for a while, but Alice hadn’t heard her over the mayhem.

  “Come on in!”

  Carmen held Alice’s dress in a clear plastic dry-cleaning bag. That sure was fast.

  “Hold on,” Alice said, grabbing Gaston by his collar. “Let me put this hellhound in the backyard.”

  By the time Alice returned, Carmen was sitting on the couch with Sultana curled up in her lap. “Where did you get this gorgeous creature?”

  Finally, someone appreciated her cat. “From my neighbor, Dolly. Her little dachshund took one look at Sultana and had a stroke. The poor thing still walks with a limp.”

  “Is she a sphynx?”

  “Yes. And with my allergies, she’s the perfect pet for me.”

  “You just dragged a hairy dog out—”

  Alice sneezed. “It’s my mom’s. I’m pet sitting.”

  She’d need to get to the pharmacy to pick up some more allergy meds tomorrow.

  Carmen stroked Sultana and looked around. “Other than the dog and cat fight I walked in on, it’s pretty Zen in here. I like it.”

  Alice was so pleased. She’d worked hard to make her little home comfortable. “My theme for this year is self-care.”

  “Your years have themes?”

  “Yes. Last year was self-sufficiency. I learned to change my own oil and can pickles.”

  “Self-care sounds better,” Carmen said. “Although it can be exhausting.”

  “So far, it’s great. I’ve been trying to relax more with meditation, yoga, and journaling.”

  “See?” Carmen said. “Exhausting.”

  Alice had been rather tired lately. “Since I’m self-partnered—”

  “Self-partnered?”

  “I don’t intend to ever get married.”

  Carmen raised a fist in solidarity. “Sing it, sister.”

  “I’m learning to be a devoted and caring partner to myself.”

  “Excellent idea! Does this self-care involve sex toys?”

  Alice’s cheeks warmed, which was stupid, because she was a grown woman in a relationship with herself, and sexual health was important. “Actually, yes.”

  “Awesome. We’ll have to compare product notes. I just got a new vibrator.”

  Alice didn’t quite know how to respond, so she simply said, “Orgasms improve the quality of your sleep.”

  Carmen nodded enthusiastically, rubbing Sultana between her Yoda-esque ears, making the cat wince. Or at least Alice thought she was wincing. She kind of always looked like that.

  “I have an app for sleep stories on my phone,” Carmen said. “My favorite one is read by Harry Styles.”

  “I’ve heard of that app. Does it help?”

  “Not really. Instead of getting sleepy, I just get horny because it’s Harry Styles. He’s got that accent going on.”

  Alice laughed. “Maybe you should switch to a different narrator.”

  “Wouldn’t be as fun,” Carmen said. “I swear, you and I have so much in common! Who would have thought?”

  There was a brief pause in the conversation, and Alice felt the usual urge to fill it. “You didn’t need to rush having my dress cleaned. I don’t intend to wear it again until the next wedding, which isn’t for another six weeks.”

  “It was no problem. I sent it out with dirty linens, and it came back with a load of tablecloths and napkins. We were so busy today that I paid for same-day service. I think we ran out of just about everything.”

  Alice hung the dress, and then she filled the kettle to make tea. When she came back into the living room, Carmen was looking at her goal journal, which was wide open on the coffee table.

  Alice gasped, even though there was nothing in it to be ashamed of. She just wasn’t . . . Well, shoot. It sounded childish, but she wasn’t used to people looking at her stuff.

  “Sorry. It was right in front of me.”

  “It’s okay,” Alice said. “I don’t have many guests. And when I do have guests, like book club, for example, I tend to be prepared. No fighting animals, and no diaries left out in the open.”

  “Oh, shit,” Carmen said. “Is this a diary? It looks more like a to-do list.”

  “It’s a goal journal, which is kind of like a diary—”

  “It’s a to-do list. And it’s a hefty one. I especially like how you’ve planned spontaneity.” She pointed to a spot on the page. “Be more spontaneous. You wrote it right beneath zip-lining and . . .”

  Carmen looked up, mouth open wide, eyebrows at the hairline. “You’re going to bring a date to Brittany’s wedding? It says Find a plus-one for Brittany’s wedding right here in angry red ink.”

  Even Carmen, who didn’t know Alice all that well, recognized that this was an unusual move on Alice’s part. “Yes,” Alice sighed. “I’m afraid I need a date.”

  “Who are you going to take?”

  “No idea. Everyone is married or in a relationship.”

  Carmen wrinkled her brow. “Yep. All the good ones are taken.”

  “And a few of the bad ones,” Alice added.

  Carmen sat up straight. “Oh my God. I know who you can take.”

  “Who?”

  “Beau Montgomery.”

  Alice gasped, and then she started laughing. Because Carmen was hilarious.

  “I’m serious. He’s the perfect choice!”

  Alice couldn’t think of a less perfect choice. “Beau and I have absolutely nothing in common—”

  “You’re self-partnered and not looking for a boyfriend. And Beau is definitely not boyfriend material. In fact, I hear he’s a player. And that’s what you want for a one-tim
e date. Handsome guy. Loves a good time. No strings attached.”

  That might be true. But just thinking about being on an actual date with Beau Montgomery made Alice perspire. And her knees felt a little shaky. An uninvited image of Beau’s bare chest popped into her head, and she sat down, fanning her face with her hands.

  “Are you okay?” Carmen asked.

  “Yes. It’s a bit warm in here.”

  “I think it feels fine—”

  “And anyway, there is absolutely no chance that Beau Montgomery would want to go on a date with me, even if I wanted to go on a date with him. Which I don’t.” Because, holy guacamole, she’d be a hot, sweaty mess the entire time. “What would we even talk about?”

  “I don’t know. But judging from the sounds his last date was making, I’d say that cowboy has a silver tongue.”

  Chapter

  Five

  Beau leaned against a fence post and watched the sun come up. Yesterday, he and Bryce hadn’t talked at all about the Rockin’ H. After their meeting with Ford and Gerome, they’d ridden the fences as planned. But Worth Jarvis, Ford’s brother and Rancho Cañada Verde’s head herdsman, had ridden with them, making private conversation impossible. After that, they’d had dinner with the Kowalskis, a first-Sunday-of-the-month tradition. Ford, Gerome, and Bryce had talked nonstop about the dude ranch. Beau hadn’t had much to say about it.

  When they’d gotten back to the foreman’s cabin, Bryce had gone straight to the shower and then to bed without so much as a word to Beau. The fucker never could handle confrontation.

  This morning, Beau had gotten in the truck before Bryce was even awake. He’d driven to the northern cattle pens alone, because he could avoid confrontations, too, goddammit. And sometimes leaning against a fence post all by your lonesome and watching the sun come up was just what a man needed.

  Tires crunched on the caliche gravel behind him. He didn’t turn around to see if it was Bryce, because he knew it was. A truck door slammed. “Hey, why didn’t you wait for me this morning? What’s the point of bringing two trucks down here?”