The Cowboy's Valentine

by Donna Alward

  The sight of her greeting him with a smile never failed to steal his breath.

  “Quinn! I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

  “Surprise,” he said, finding it easier than he expected to smile at her. Yeah, he was nervous, but seeing her somehow made everything all right.

  “Those are for me?” she asked, her face lighting up with pleasure.

  He handed her the roses. “Yes, they’re for you.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Do I need one?” He followed her inside and shut the door. Tonight he’d worn his suit pants and dress shoes, not boots. When she had the flowers in her hands, she finally noticed he’d dressed up.

  “Okay, now I know something’s going on. Because I’m in sweats and you’re all dressed up.”

  “I think you look beautiful.” He truly did. There was something so soft and natural about her when she was like this. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and he longed to sink his fingers into it and hear her say his name in that soft, husky way she did when they were alone...

  But his hands were full. And there were things to say first.

  “I’ve been doing taxes all day. I’m not wearing any makeup. You’re deranged.” She moved to the sink to fetch a vase and fill it with water.

  “I just...I realized we never had a real Valentine’s Day.”

  She stuck the roses in the vase and turned around, holding the vessel in her hands. “Um, really? Because I have some pretty romantic memories from Valentine’s Day.” She smiled at him wickedly.

  “I never got you a present.”

  Her cheeks had turned a becoming shade of pink to match the roses and he marveled once more that he could be so lucky twice in his life. Lord, he loved her. For her kindness and her vulnerability and her strength and the way she nurtured their relationship and his family. All leading to this moment.

  He stepped forward, put the champagne on the counter and took the vase from her hands. “So,” he said lightly, “tonight you get champagne and flowers. You get to be treated like a princess. Oh, and Amber also realized she’d left you off her list of Valentine’s card recipients and asked me to give you this.”

  There. That had sounded casual and breezy, right? He hoped so because his heart was pounding painfully as he handed over the little red envelope.

  She took it and smiled, then her face grew puzzled. “There’s something in here with the card,” she said, feeling along the outside of the envelope. “I wonder what she’s put in here, the sneaky thing.”

  She had to open it soon. He’d forgotten how to breathe.

  Lacey slid her finger along the seal and opened the envelope, then pulled out the little card with her favorite Disney couple on the outside. She laughed. “Of all the fish in the sea, you’re the one for me! Of course. Ariel and Eric.”

  She turned the card over, and he watched her face as she read the words he’d helped Amber print on the back side.

  Will you marry my Daddy?

  Her gaze lifted to his, surprised, confused, amazed, and he hoped beyond hope, happy. Without speaking, she reached into the envelope and took out the ring he’d purchased last week when he’d started to put this plan into motion.

  Her lip started to quiver, so he stepped forward, took the ring from her fingertips and held her left hand in his own. “Lacey Duggan, will you marry me?”

  At her quick nod, he slid the ring over her finger, where the diamonds winked up at them both, sealing the promise.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered, her voice hitching. “Oh, Quinn. It’s beautiful.”

  “Just like you,” he replied, lifting her hand and kissing her fingers. “I want us to be a family. Officially, forever. Amber already loves you like a mother and I’m wild about you. Life’s too short to spend it apart. I want us to soak up every happy moment we can.”

  She was really crying now and he smiled indulgently, pulling her into his arms. “Shh,” he soothed, cupping his hand over her head. “Today’s a new start for us. I don’t want you to cry. I want us to celebrate.”

  She stood back and swiped her fingers under her eyes. “I never thought I’d be this happy again,” she replied. “It’s almost too much to believe.” She hesitated, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure she should.

  “What is it?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t coming up with some roadblock to stand in the way of them getting married.

  “It’s the ranch. I know you just moved back into your house, but...” Her blue eyes pleaded with him. “I love this house. I never expected to, and it needs a family to make it a home. Would you and Amber consider moving in here?”

  He barely gave it a moment’s thought. Yes, he loved his house, but it was part of a past life that didn’t exist anymore. He’d only kept it to give Amber some consistency, to feel like something in her life hadn’t changed after her mother died. These days, when he thought of home, it was wherever Lacey was, and that meant Crooked Valley.

  “If it’s okay with Duke and Rylan, it’s okay with me. You realize it means you’re gaining one little girl and another rambunctious dog, right?”

  He’d fulfilled his promise and Amber had been the proud owner of a shepherd cross named Molly for the better part of a month.

  Lacey’s grin spread. “Yes, but instead of one person and one dog there’ll be three people and two dogs. Better ratio, right?”

  He wasn’t about to argue.

  They were in the middle of kissing again when the house phone rang. They were going to ignore it when Quinn realized it was his mother’s number on the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Did she say yes?”

  Leave it to Amber to be impatient. “Just a minute and you can ask her yourself.” He put the phone on speaker. “Okay, darlin’. Go ahead.”

  “Lacey?”

  “Yes, Amber?”

  “Are you going to be my mommy now?”

  The look on Lacey’s face was something he knew he’d remember forever.

  “I sure am, pumpkin.” She reached over and took Quinn’s hand in hers. “I sure am.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from KISSED BY A COWBOY by Pamela Britton.

  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin American Romance story.

  You love small towns and cowboys! Harlequin American Romance stories are heartwarming contemporary tales of everyday women finding love, becoming part of a family or community—or maybe starting a family of their own.

  Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin American Romance every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Chapter One

  “Not that one.”

  Wesley Landon glanced at the woman who’d spoken. Who was she talking to? With her friendly smile and bright blue eyes, she had to be the prettiest thing he’d seen all day. Then again, there were half a dozen people lining the rail at the 51st Annual Red Bluff Bull and Gelding Sale. Clearly, though, she’d been speaking to someone inside the arena.

  “Can you lope him out a bit?” he called to the kid who owned the gelding he was considering purchasing.

  “Sure thing,” the young man answered as he urged the big bay into a slow run.

  The horse sure had the looks, Wes thought, his heart pumping in tempo with his mounting excitement. “What do you think, Cowboy? You think he’s the one?”

  The border collie glanced up at him and wagged his tai
l, his bright brown gaze declaring he was far more thrilled to look into his owner’s eyes than at the horse in question.

  “Well, I think he is,” Wes said. If the gelding didn’t turn into a total nutcase during the competition portion of the sale, he might have found a diamond in the rough.

  “Seriously.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman edge closer. “That horse is plumb crazy.”

  Wes glanced left again, surprised to see the cute little brunette staring at him. So she was talking to him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The horse you’re looking at.”

  She wasn’t flirting, he realized in disappointment—she was trying to psych him out. It wasn’t uncommon for the competition to do that. Sometimes they would tell out-and-out lies in the hopes of souring a sale.

  “Who told you that?” he said, playing along.

  She smiled. She had a nose that was tipped up at the end and when she grinned, the smile lit up her face and her bright green eyes like the dawn of sunrise. In a light blue ribbed shirt—one the same color as the California sky above—and jeans tucked into fancy cowboy boots, she didn’t look like someone who’d tell a lie. She looked innocent and sweet and, yes, beautiful.

  “The horse did.”

  “Excuse me?” he said again.

  “What’s your dog’s name?” She came forward, smiling down now.

  “Cowboy.”

  “Hey, Cowboy.” She knelt, scratching the dog under his white chin before she rested her forehead on his black mask. “How are you, gorgeous?”

  Okay, there was something about a woman loving on his dog that never failed to soften Wes’s mood, even if she was trying to pull the wool over his eyes. Unless maybe he’d misunderstood her.

  “Did you see him buck someone off?”

  She stood. “Nope. I can just tell by looking at him.”

  Okay, this was ridiculous. He held back his laughter, although just barely. “You can just tell,” he asked, wanting to be absolutely clear. “By looking at him.”

  A nod, one that set her angular bob—her hair more black than brown—into motion. It brushed her jawline, that hair, coming to a point by her chin. Wes was struck by the notion that the cut perfectly accentuated her pixielike face. A face filled with utter seriousness.

  His smile faltered. “I think you might be wrong about this one.” He glanced back at the animal in question. The gelding loped around like a pleasure pony, completely calm and relaxed.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She shifted her smile down to his dog. “Nice talking to you, Cowboy.”

  He watched her leave, admitting he’d never seen such light green eyes; her gaze seemed otherworldly, and it tried to convince him she told the truth. He didn’t believe her, of course. There might be some people who could take one look at a horse and know if it was a good animal, but he’d never met any. His friend Zach knew someone like that. A friend of his fiancée’s. He claimed she was a real-life horse whisperer, a woman with short black hair and bright—

  He jerked around. “Jillian?”

  She immediately turned and frowned. “Yes?”

  Oh, good Lord. This was one of Zach’s fiancée’s best friends, the horse trainer.

  “You’re Jillian Thacker?”

  She smiled a bit, and he could tell the grin was tinged with relief. “Oh, good, maybe now he’ll believe me ” relief. She tipped her head.

  “Do I know you?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of. I’m Wes Landon.”

  Any doubt that she didn’t recognize the name faded the moment he saw her green eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Her gaze swept over him as if matching up her last image of him—probably out at Golden Downs racetrack—with the man in the cowboy hat, long-sleeved white button-down, jeans and boots who stood before her. He’d seen her before, too; he just hadn’t recognized her.

  “Well, well, well,” she said, her eyes narrowing before she slowly crossed her arms. “The evil racehorse owner in the flesh.”

  He smiled, well aware of her derision but completely unfazed. He knew that she and her fellow members of CEASE—Concerned Equestrians Aiding in Saving Equines—hated him. Okay, not really hated, more like...wanted to put him out of a job. They couldn’t stand people who raced horses, because they all thought it was cruel. It still struck him as a small miracle that Zach had somehow managed to charm the founder of the group, Mariah Stewart, into marrying him.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Dolittle in the flesh.”

  Zach had taken to calling her that. When Wes had first heard about the woman who claimed to have a special touch with horses, he’d pretended to believe it was possible. He didn’t, of course. In his line of work as an equine-farm manager he’d heard it all. The miracle worker who could pop a horse’s bones into place and make them instantly sound. The massage therapist for sore equines. The herbal concoction that would give a horse extra zip. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe some of that stuff might help—he just wasn’t sold they were the miracles some people purported them to be.

  “What are you doing here?” She lifted a brow. “Slumming it?”

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  He’d only ever seen her from a distance, usually as he was driving through the entrance of Golden Downs racetrack, and she was holding a protest sign. Cute, he admitted, even if she was bat-shit crazy.

  “I’m here with a client. She had me look at that one yesterday.”

  They both turned to stare at the horse in question. “Given your low opinion of me, I’m surprised you didn’t encourage me to buy him.”

  She released a huff of agreement. “Even if I had recognized you, and I might not like what you do for a living, that doesn’t mean I want to see you get killed, either.”

  “Ah, but see, I don’t make my living racing horses.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ve seen you at Golden Downs. You’re the owner of Landon Farms.”

  He took pleasure in contradicting her. “My mom owns Landon Farms. I just manage her operation, so technically, my mom’s the enemy.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So if you like, I can give you her cell phone number so you can call her and tell her how much you despise what she does for a living.”

  She appeared genuinely perplexed. He wasn’t surprised. It was a common misconception that he was part owner. “But you’re always at the track.”

  “Not always.” He met the gaze of the cowboy riding the gelding and signaled him to stop. “I drop horses off and sometimes pop in to see my mom, but that’s about it. Racing is my mom’s thing.”

  “But...Mariah told me you’re on the board of directors at Golden Downs.”

  “Because of my mom.” The seat had actually been foisted on him by both his mom and his fellow board members, sort of a consolation prize back when his dad had died. As if a board seat could make up for his loss. “She insists I keep my finger on the pulse of the industry, for her sake.”

  A look of curiosity had taken the place of her frown. She glanced at the horse in the arena, then back at him. “So what are you doing here, Mr. Farm Manager?”

  “Looking for my next cutting horse.” But as he thought about the reason he was looking, his stomach soured.

  Ah, ah, ah. Don’t go there.

  “I ride and train cutting horses out of my mom’s farm.”

  He waited for yet another look of derision, but she apparently didn’t mind that type of horse competition, because she nodded.

  “We’re looking for a reining prospect. My friend Natalie decided she’d like to give it a try—goodness knows why. As if jumping horses doesn’t keep her busy enough.”

  Natalie Goodman—he’d heard of her thanks to Mariah. It seemed as though everyone knew everybody in the small town of Via Del Caballo, especially if you were into hor
ses.

  “So what makes you think there’s something wrong with this horse?” He might not believe in her “special touch,” but he was curious.

  “I can just tell by looking at him.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Clearly she’d picked up on his skepticism. “If you look closely enough, you can see it in his eyes.”

  They both eyed the horse. “All I see is an animal doing its job.”

  “Right now, yes, but look at the way its tail is twitching, a sure sign it’s bothered by something.” She pointed, her expression one of complete conviction. “Every time that cowboy asks him to do something, he twitches. He doesn’t do anything about it now, because he’s too tired, but I can tell that horse would ordinarily blow, its rider tossed to the ground in the process.”

  He scratched his chin absently, although maybe not so absently, because he noticed he needed to shave. “Let me get this straight. You think because that horse’s tail is twitching that it wants to buck that cowboy off?”

  “Yup. And look at its ears. And the way its nose is wrinkled. Classic signs of a horse that’s not happy doing its job.”

  He had to admit, she had a point. “And so based on that you think he’s a nut.”

  She shook her head. “No. That’s just what tipped me off he might be a nut. I spotted him yesterday, thought he looked nice, so I peeked in on him last night, and he damn near took my head off the moment I opened his stall door. I actually heard his teeth clack together when he tried to bite me.” She shivered. “Scary.”

  He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he should make a pithy comment of his own or if he should pretend as if he believed her.

  “I slammed the door just in time. He kicked it just in case I didn’t get the message. Bam!” She reenacted the moment by pretending to jump, her bob swinging. “Scared me half to death.”

  He glanced back at the horse, although he did so to get control of his facial expressions. Was she trying to sour him on a sale? She didn’t look like the deceptive type. The docile-looking gelding didn’t look like a nut, either. It walked with its head down, ears pricked forward now, eyes bright—completely contradicting her claims.