The Most Eligible Cowboy

by Melissa Senate

  MONTANA MAVERICKS

  Welcome to Big Sky Country, home of the Montana Mavericks! Where free-spirited men and women discover love on the range.

  THE REAL COWBOYS OF BRONCO HEIGHTS

  The young people of Bronco are so busy with their careers—and their ranches!—that they have pushed all thoughts of love to the back burner. Elderly Winona Cobbs knows full well what it is like to live a life that is only half-full. And she resolves to help them see the error of their ways...

  Brandon Taylor dated Cassidy Ware back in high school and it ended badly. A chance encounter with her ten years later leads to an impulsive one-night stand—and a pregnancy neither of them expected. He is ready to “take responsibility,” but Cassidy isn’t interested...unless he can prove he can

  be a true husband in every sense of the word!

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome back to Bronco, Montana! There’s a big fancy wedding going on in Bronco Heights at the Taylor Ranch, and lone-wolf cowboy Brandon Taylor is getting tired of his brother’s guests asking when he’s going to give up the single life. The answer is never. He sneaks out of the reception to the stables for a little fresh air, but it seems someone else had the same idea. Cassidy Ware—his longtime nemesis since high school. But he and Cassidy get to talking. And kissing. And...

  Suddenly, Cassidy is pregnant with Brandon Taylor’s baby. A wealthy man used to getting what he wants, Brandon thinks Cassidy should marry him for the baby’s sake. But Cassidy is holding out for love—something Brandon gave up on long ago...

  I hope you enjoy Brandon and Cassidy’s story. Feel free to write me with any comments or questions at MelissaSenate@yahoo.com and visit my website, melissasenate.com, for more info about me and my books. For lots of photos of my cat and dog, friend me over on Facebook: Facebook.com/melissasenate.

  Happy reading!

  Melissa Senate

  The Most Eligible Cowboy

  Melissa Senate

  Melissa Senate has written many novels for Harlequin and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books for Harlequin Special Edition under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty-five countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son; their rescue shepherd mix, Flash; and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, melissasenate.com.

  Books by Melissa Senate

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Dawson Family Ranch

  For the Twins’ Sake

  Wyoming Special Delivery

  A Family for a Week

  The Long-Awaited Christmas Wish

  Wyoming Matchmaker

  Furever Yours

  A New Leash on Love

  Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

  The Cowboy’s Comeback

  Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers

  Rust Creek Falls Cinderella

  Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch

  The Maverick’s Baby-in-Waiting

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from The Late Bloomer’s Road to Love by Marie Ferrarella

  Chapter One

  All Brandon Taylor wanted was to finish his small plate of delicious shrimp pot stickers, grab a bottle of champagne and sneak out of his brother’s wedding reception for a little while. Half hour tops.

  He stood in the parklike backyard of the Taylor family ranch on this warm, breezy early September evening, behind a pillar wrapped in twinkling white lights and festooned with tiny red roses, eyeing the best route to escape. The wedding had started at six and though it was now only seven thirty, it felt like two in the morning. The ceremony had been a lot. Or maybe just a lot for him. The look on his brother’s face when his bride had started down the aisle had slammed Brandon in his chest. Had he ever seen Jordan look like that? Not just happy, not just proud, but as if he finally understood the meaning of life.

  Then there were the vows. Goose bumps had unexpectedly trailed up Brandon’s arms when Jordan repeated his vows and then said some of his own, the reverence in his brother’s voice holding Brandon completely still.

  “Dang,” their brother Dirk had whispered from where they’d stood to the side of their oldest brother. “Double dang,” Dirk’s twin, Dustin, had agreed, wonder in his voice. Their sister, Daphne, was on the other side, in the bridesmaid lineup, tears misting her eyes, but Daphne had always been a softie. Plus, she had an engagement ring on her finger and would be next to get married so, of course, she was a little emotional at a wedding. What Brandon’s excuse was for choking up, he had no idea.

  Likely he was just happy for his big brother, a guy who’d always been a hero to Brandon. That was all.

  Given the Taylor track record at marriage, Brandon hadn’t thought any of his four siblings would make lifetime commitments. But there had stood Jordan, vowing to love, honor and cherish Camilla Sanchez till death did them part. There had stood Daphne, whose problems with their thrice-married, controlling father were legendary in Bronco, also believing in forever with that diamond ring twinkling on her finger.

  Brandon was truly happy for both siblings, but he knew one thing about love: it didn’t last. It just didn’t have a chance.

  So, add all that to the hundredth time a wedding guest had said, “I bet you’re next, Brandon,” and he was ready for a breather. A cousin had even added, “Good golly, Brandon, aren’t you thirty-four? And still single? It’s high time you settled down.”

  Brandon had politely smiled through it all until he just couldn’t take it and had snapped at another cousin, a know-it-all lawyer from Butte with a gold wedding band on his hand, “Statistics speak for themselves. No thanks.”

  He’d gotten the stink eye from the cousin and a shaking tsk-tsk of the head from an aunt, and he’d been about to apologize for being the cynical smart-ass he could sometimes be when someone clanked a spoon against a champagne glass and everyone started chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Jordan and Camilla stood in the center of the dance area, and his brother laid one on his new bride that even had Brandon kind of blushing. Cheers, wolf whistles and clapping followed.

  Brandon glanced toward a stand of Rocky Mountain maple trees, his favorite grouping in the yard, the leaves already shimmering their yellow in the white lights hung around the perimeter of the reception area. Surely no one would miss him for a half hour. He’d already dutifully made small talk with at least a hundred of the countless guests. He’d complimented his dad’s wife—number three—on the great job she’d done turning the yard of their family ranch into an outdoor ballroom, complete with all the strung lights and huge pink-and-red flower displays, penguin-suited waitstaff mingling with trays of appetizers and cocktails. He had managed to get into an argument with his father about his sister—something he’d promised himself to avoid—but any time Cornelius Taylor, who had a king complex, complained about Daphne, Brandon was going to defend her.

  Their dad, whose be
ef cattle operation made him one of the wealthiest men in Bronco Heights, Montana, had a “my way or the highway” mentality, and when Daphne had chosen the highway, Cornelius had blown his stack. She’d moved out to start her own ranch, and a very different one, at that.

  Daphne, a vegetarian of all things in a family of cattle ranchers, owned the Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary, and Cornelius was always muttering that all the place was missing was shuffleboard for the old bulls and recuperating horses, plus the many dogs, cats and small furry creatures available for adoption. Between Daphne getting engaged and Jordan marrying Camilla tonight, poor Cornelius was out two of his five offspring to boss around, and that was his favorite pastime. Brandon loved his dad, but the man was a control freak.

  And Brandon Taylor would never let anyone tell him what to do, when, or how. He was his own man and always had been.

  He glanced around. Lots of smooching. Dancing cheek to cheek. Brandon had arrived solo at the wedding, but he’d been paired with a very attractive single bridesmaid in the wedding party. When she’d asked how many kids he wanted someday and he said he hadn’t even thought ahead to whether he wanted beef or chicken for his dinner, she’d rolled her eyes at him and walked off. Now, as he spied a determined-looking middle-aged woman coming toward him with what looked like a calling card in her hand, he gave a fast smile and hightailed it from his hiding spot. He had at least twenty-five cards and slips of papers with the cell phone numbers and social media handles of single daughters, nieces, granddaughters, neighbors he’d be “a sure match with.”

  Doubtful. Love and Brandon had never mixed. Love and Taylors had never mixed, either, not that Brandon didn’t wish his two siblings well. Daphne seemed to have found the real thing with Evan Cruise, and his brother Jordan looked so sickeningly happy right now, staring into his new wife’s eyes while slow dancing to Frank Sinatra, that Brandon really did have to hand it to him. The guy formerly known as He Who Would Not Be Tamed among the single women of Bronco had found his Ms. Right.

  Brandon had spent the last few years making crystal clear to the women he dated that he would not commit. With his family history and not a single relationship working out for himself, Brandon put zero stock in romance and happily-ever-after, even when it was all around him—like at this wedding, a celebration of all things love and forever. Life had a way of not working out.

  Cynical, sure. But true.

  He popped the final pot sticker in his mouth, reminding himself to compliment his new sister-in-law on the catering her restaurant did for the wedding, then set the empty plate on a table. About to make off for the trees, he almost collided with a tiny elderly lady in her nineties.

  Uh-oh.

  There was no getting away from Winona Cobbs. No fast-talk, no evading. She had him pinned with her sharp gaze. Rumored to be mystic, Winona had a psychic shop at her great-grandson Evan’s ghost tour business in town. Now that Evan was engaged to Brandon’s sister, Winona was pretty much family. A psychic in the family sounded kind of scary. Not that he put much stock in mysticism, either, but with her long white hair, pale skin and mark-my-words look in her eyes, Winona Cobbs wasn’t to be dismissed too easily. Plus, she deserved his respect. The lady had quite a family history of her own and had been through it all and then some.

  “Brandon Taylor, you clean up well,” Winona said, nodding as she looked him up and down through the rhinestone-dotted veil of her small purple cowboy hat. “Like a groom yourself in that spiffy tuxedo.” She smiled wide and gave one end of her silver boa a toss over her shoulder.

  He smiled back, shook his head and held up a palm. “No, ma’am. Not me. I’m more a lone wolf type.”

  “Oh please!” she scoffed. “I’ll tell you what your problem is.”

  She sounded like his dad, he thought, his bow tie feeling tighter around his neck.

  She leaned close. “Brandon Taylor, you don’t know how to love. But I’ll tell you something else. The universe has something in store for you. Oh yes sirree, it does.”

  Luckily for him, at the exact moment when he’d be expected to say something in response, two teenage girls approached Winona and asked if she’d do a reading for one of them. Apparently, the redhead had a crush on a boy who hadn’t looked her way once during the entire reception.

  “Oh, there are my twin brothers,” Brandon said fast, eyeing Dirk and Dustin by the bar. “Nice to see you again, Miss Winona.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but turned her attention to the girls, and he fled for the stand of maples, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He loosened his bow tie and slipped through the trees, the strains of Ella Fitzgerald’s “At Last”—the band’s version—following him. He glanced beyond at the side yard. Empty. Two trees to the left and one up ahead, he’d be hidden from view and could then take the short path to the stables. Horses always had a calming effect on him. A twenty-minute breather and he’d head back to the wedding.

  Brandon entered the stables and walked down to the far end, where he knew he’d find an overstuffed chair with a little table beside it and a view of one of his favorite Appaloosas, Starlight, with her brown-and-white spotted back and flanks. But as he approached, he was surprised to see two long shapely legs crossed at the ankles, the feet bare, a pair of sexy silver high heels beside the chair. Who the gorgeous legs belonged to was a mystery, since the rest of the woman was hidden by a post.

  Whoever she was, she clearly heard him coming because he heard a female voice mutter, “Not a moment to myself. Figures, right, pretty horsie?” and the legs pulled out of view.

  Oh.

  He knew that voice. Cassidy Ware.

  She hated his guts. Had for over fifteen years. And he avoided her at all costs, which meant never going into Bronco Java and Juice, the shop she owned in town. A shame since everyone said she had both the best coffee in Bronco and the best strawberry-banana smoothies, a favorite of his. In all these years of avoiding the shop, he still hadn’t gotten better at making a decent mug of coffee or getting the ratios right for his smoothies. Made him add to his list of grievances against Cassidy.

  As he approached in the dim lighting, he passed Starlight’s stall and there Cassidy was, sitting straight, arms crossed, staring daggers at him.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she practically spat.

  “Ditto,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

  Damn, she was pretty. Long, swirly blond hair past her shoulders, huge hazel eyes and delicate features. He’d always thought she looked like an angel. But she had a mind and mouth like the devil.

  “Look, Taylor, I know your family owns the place, but I came out here to be alone, so...”

  “I came out here to be alone,” he countered. “And like you said, my family owns the place, so...”

  She scowled. “You’re as insufferable as ever. God, even on my birthday I can’t catch a break.”

  He tilted his head. “It’s your birthday?” He must have known that at one point, but it had been a long time since he knew anything about Cassidy Ware.

  She let a sigh pass over her glossy pink-red lips. “Happy thirtieth birthday to me,” she sang.

  “Happy birthday, dear Cassidy,” he sang-added in his terrible baritone. “Happy birthday to you.”

  She laughed. “Well, thanks. But you can go now.” She eyed the champagne. “Leave that, though, will you?”

  Interesting. She’d also escaped the wedding to come out here, hiding from who knew what. He’d spotted her earlier in the kitchen, placing bite-size confections on a giant tray. His brother had mentioned that Camilla had hired Bronco Java and Juice to cater the nonalcoholic refreshments and desserts, including the wedding cake. Cassidy had probably been paid a small fortune. But she certainly didn’t look happy. Then again, did she ever? Of course, it was possible that he associated her with a grimace because every time he ran into Cassidy around town, sh
e crossed the street to avoid him. For all he knew, she could be the happiest woman on earth.

  Except for her expression and slumped shoulders. Some birthday.

  Oh, hell. He noticed a folding chair in the corner, grabbed it and then set it up beside her. “Tell you what. Because it’s your birthday, you can have a slug. The rest is mine.”

  “You always were so thoughtful,” she muttered, holding out her hand for the bottle.

  He couldn’t help but notice the lack of rings on her long, slender fingers. Not a surprise—first of all, Bronco was a very small town and he would have heard if she’d gotten married.

  And second of all, she’s completely intolerable, he thought, popping the champagne and handing her the bottle.

  Some breather this would be.

  * * *

  Cassidy glanced over at Brandon, all six-feet-three of him stretched out in a well-fitting tux, bow tie askew, in a folding chair. His close-cropped dark hair made every angle of his gorgeous face visible, his strong nose and jaw, the intense dark eyes. Back when she’d had a mad crush on him as a freshman and had actually dated him for a few months, he’d been the cutest guy at Bronco High, and now he was so hot she could barely drag her eyes off him. His effortless hold over her had always been so unfair.

  She took the bottle and lifted it in a silent cheers, then took a long sip. Then another. Ah, that was good.

  Could her thirtieth birthday get any harder? The day had started out well enough. She’d been excited about tonight, taking part in the catering of such a fancy wedding at the Taylor Ranch. She’d been sure she wouldn’t run into Brandon, nemesis for life, since the property was so big and there were three hundred and seventy-six guests. Everything had gone off without a hitch; she’d gotten so many compliments on her miniature pastries and tiny cookies and juice concoctions, which were available at the bar. But then word of her birthday had spread at the reception and the thirty-and-single nonsense had started.