True-Blue Cowboy--Includes a bonus novella

by Sara Richardson

  “You didn’t interrupt anything,” Everly said, nearly as breathless as she’d been right after Mateo had kissed her two weeks ago. Damn, he needed to stop thinking about that kiss.

  “I was just checking to make sure he didn’t need a doctor or anything.” She quickly spun and headed for the door. “Glad you’re okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Before he could return the sentiment, she disappeared.

  “You and Everly, huh?” Ty clapped Mateo on the shoulder. “ I thought she hated you after she skipped out early on that date.”

  She likely did hate him. And if she didn’t now, he’d give her a few weeks. “She only came in here to make sure I wasn’t passed out on the floor. Nothing was happening.” Nothing was going to happen between them, either.

  “Why not?” Ty cozied up to the urinal while Mateo checked the cut on his forehead again. “Seems like it’d be nice and convenient with her living right next door and everything.”

  “Convenient? Try complicated.” Especially since he had to find a way to tell her he wasn’t planning to renew her lease.

  Chapter Four

  It wasn’t personal, it was business. Mateo had to keep telling himself that.

  He led Blake Wilder away from the Tumble Inn’s lingering happy hour crowd to a quiet table where the glares and gossip buzz couldn’t interrupt their meeting. They both sat down with their beers. It probably hadn’t been the smartest move to invite Blake to the bar to propose his idea. That might make his intentions more public than he would’ve liked at the moment. But at least Everly and most of her friends had already gone home.

  It’s a beautiful piece of property. That statement bothered him more than anything she’d said about expanding the farm. It wasn’t so much the words as what hid behind them. A sense of longing that made him wonder if he’d completely miscalculated her intentions about staying in Topaz Falls. What if she really loved it here? What if she didn’t go back to her old life?

  “So what is it you wanted to discuss?” Blake was one of those men who seemed to check his fancy smart watch about every thirty seconds. He also might’ve been the only man to ever walk into the Tumble Inn wearing a tailored suit. In contrast, Mateo had holes in his jeans, and his boots weren’t just for looks.

  Despite their differences, Mateo needed someone like Blake—an executive at the ski resort—to partner with him on his new venture. “I bought Owen Gotthard’s land.” As expected, Blake’s eyebrows shot up. Rumor had it that the Wilder family had been trying to get their hands on Owen’s land for years, but the old man wouldn’t even talk to them.

  “Interesting.” Based on Blakes’s sudden total focus on Mateo and not his watch, he found the news more than interesting.

  “I’m hoping to develop an investment property. Maybe some kind of condo resort.” Something that would bring in more high-end tourists and make him a lot of money. “And I’m looking for a business partner.”

  “You definitely came to the right place.” Blake flashed a schmoozing grin. “That’s my business. No one around here knows resorts like I do.”

  And no one had Blake’s capital, either. “That’s why I called. I figure I can supply the land. And you can supply the resources and investors.”

  “I like the way you think.” Blake pulled a tablet out of his overpriced briefcase. “Wilder Incorporated would be more than happy to explore a partnership. What about the tenant who currently occupies the land?”

  Damn. He’d had to go and mention Everly. Mateo did his best to shut out the memory of the hope in her eyes earlier. “The lease is up in two months.” Guilt crowded in, encroaching on his logic. “Sixty-five acres is a lot of land. Maybe we should consider keeping the farm.” He almost couldn’t believe that came out of his mouth. Keep the farm? What the fuck was wrong with him? One conversation with the woman and he was going soft.

  Blake glanced at him like he was thinking the same thing. “I’ll level with you here, Torres.” He leaned over the table in the practiced pose of a skilled negotiator. “The kind of clientele we’d need to attract won’t want chickens and goats running around. They won’t want to look out their windows and see some shitty house circa 1955. They want modern and sleek, rustic elegance. That’s what the Wilder name promises.” He leaned back. “If that’s not what you’re after, you need to tell me right now.”

  “Of course that’s what I’m after.” The Wilder name also promised money. That’s what Mateo had to stay focused on. New houses for his mom and sisters. Paying for Ana Sofia’s college education so she didn’t come out of school with debt. A steady income that would offer them all the security they’d never had, even after he retired from the rodeo world.

  “We’ve been trying to purchase Owen’s land for years,” Blake went on. “But I don’t want to be jerked around. If you partner with us, you’ll have to make some concessions.” He paused and folded his hands on the table as though he wanted to give Mateo time to consider that.

  He didn’t have to consider it. “Why don’t you come up with a proposal?” Mateo wanted everything laid out—the breakdown of ownership, the projected income, the building plans. “Then maybe we can talk in terms of actual details.”

  “Sure. We can work on that.” Blake fired up his tablet and sent off a text to one of his minions. New development proposal for the farm. Now. He turned his attention back to Mateo. “But you have to understand, we need every square foot of this land for the kind of project we’re talking about. Which means we’ll have to the level the farm.”

  “Sure. Not a problem.” He ignored the guilt that tugged at his heart. He was better at using his head.

  A crash ripped Everly from sleep. At least, it sounded like a crash. She glanced at her clock. The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another twenty minutes. Maybe she’d been dreaming—

  Outside her window, the noise thundered again—a clatter of metal and wood followed by the terror-stricken squawk of eight chickens.

  Not a dream! She clawed her way out from under the cozy down comforter and dashed to the window. It was too dark to see anything, but she’d be willing to bet the mountain lion that had been prowling around lately had come back.

  Shit! She felt her way down the hall and veered into the living room where she stored the old rifle Owen had forced her to keep. That had been part of his agreement when she’d leased the farm. He’d told her that he’d spotted those big cats on the property more than once, and he wouldn’t let her sign the lease until she’d agreed to keep the gun and take a class so she would know how to use it when the time came.

  Since she’d moved in, she hadn’t had to pull out the rifle once. There’d been evidence that mountain lions had come around—prints, claw marks on the fences, scat. So she’d bought extra locks for the pens and coops and made sure to keep the animals locked up at night, but from the sound of things outside, a simple lock wasn’t going to keep this cat out.

  Her hands shook as she unlocked the gun safe that doubled as a coffee table. Initially, she never would’ve agreed to having a gun in her house, but all it had taken was ten minutes of online research on mountain lions to convince her that keeping the rifle might be a good idea.

  They were big and powerful—fierce. She’d rather die than shoot a living thing, even a mountain lion, but at least she could fire a warning shot into the air and scare it away.

  The gun sat heavy in her hands. Big and clunky. Cold metal. Making sure the safety was on, she lugged it to the front door, stepped into her rubber boots, and quietly slipped outside. Everything was dimmed into the kind of surreal darkness that catches the world just before the sun comes up. The sky stretched above her, gray and colorless, wrapping everything in eerie shadows. Chilled morning air washed over her bare arms but the continuous flow of adrenaline heated her from the inside as she crept across the porch and into the dew-laden grass.

  The fences were down. One whole wall of the chicken coop had fallen over, and all of her fowl had scattered, flapping
across the lawn in a frenzy.

  But where was the lion?

  Inside what was left of the coop, there were more clatters. More squawks. Easing closer, she watched for the predator to emerge. “Go on!” she yelled as loud as she could manage. “Get!”

  One of the chickens screeched.

  No, no, no. God, she couldn’t let it eat her chickens. Arms shaking, Everly took off the safety and raised the barrel of the rifle toward the sky, bracing herself for the kickback. She squeezed the trigger and a shot rang out, jolting through her, silencing the noise. Her breath caught and held as she waited, waited, waited.

  A dog barked.

  A dog?

  Sure enough, a bulky form emerged from behind the rubble of the chicken coop’s wall and came barreling straight at her, woofing happily.

  It was a damn dog?

  “Dante!”

  Oh. Hell. No. That was Mateo’s gruff, manly voice behind her. He’d called the dog by name. Which meant the dog that had been terrorizing her chickens belonged to him.

  The adrenaline vanished, but there was still plenty of anger to keep her warm.

  Dante raced past her in a blur, presumably sprinting to enthusiastically greet his master. She, however, was not enthusiastic. Especially given the fact that she was only wearing an old John Deere T-shirt that barely touched the tops of her thighs.

  “What the hell happened out here?” Mateo asked from behind her. “Did you just shoot at my dog?”

  Irritation joined the jumbled emotions that boiled through her. “Your dog was terrorizing my chickens.” Still unbalanced, she whirled and nearly dropped the gun.

  “Whoa! Easy…” Eyes on the rifle, Mateo raised his hands. The white towel he’d been holding around his waist fell to the ground and left him standing there naked in the predawn light.

  Whoa nelly. Once again, she lost her grip on the rifle, this time dropping it to the ground. Another shot rang out, ricocheting sideways in the direction of the dilapidated coop.

  “What the hell?” Mateo covered his head with his arms. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  Did he know he was still standing there stark naked except for his cowboy boots? The pinkish light of the sunrise had now started to fringe the sky, which meant she could see more than a shadowy outline of his body. Mmm-hmmm. She could see every hard and muscular plane and angle.

  Geez Louise, he should pose for a painting.

  “I’m coming to pick up the rifle,” he informed her in the same tone he might have used on a lunatic.

  Okay, sure. She could see how she might look a little crazy right now. She’d been staring at him. Really staring, but could he blame her? This wasn’t the time or place for him to do a striptease. Not with her coop in ruins and her poor chickens still flailing around in chaos and her running around with a rifle. “I can get the gun.” She could handle a rifle. Just not when a sexy cowboy decided to flash her, apparently. “Why don’t you focus on putting your towel back on?” She did her best to sound annoyed instead of awed.

  While she picked up the gun and put on the safety, Mateo snatched his towel off the ground and secured it around his hips again. “I was in the shower when I heard a gunshot.” Talk about annoyed. His jaw had cranked so tight she was surprised it didn’t snap right off. “So excuse me if I didn’t have time to get fully dressed.” He approached her and took the rifle out of her hands as though he didn’t trust her with it.

  Probably for the best.

  “What’re you doing out here with a rifle anyway?” Mateo demanded, standing close enough now that she could see scars slashed into his rock-solid pecs.

  “I thought it was a mountain lion,” she muttered, dragging her gaze to his face. His black hair was still wet, slicked back and a little curly. “But I didn’t shoot at your dog. I fired a warning shot into the air.”

  The criminal dog in question trotted over and sat right next to Mateo’s leg, on his best behavior.

  “Well, it scared the hell out of me.” He leaned the rifle up against the fence and stood in front of it like a guard.

  “Scared the hell out of you?” she shot back. “I thought there was a one-hundred-fifty-pound cat with lethal claws tearing down my chicken coop.”

  For the first time, Mateo looked toward the mess. His jaw finally softened. “Right. Sorry about that. I let Dante out before I got in the shower. Didn’t even think about it.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to start thinking about it now that we’re neighbors.” Of course, at the moment Dante looked perfectly innocent and sweet. He wasn’t as big as she’d originally thought. Even sitting up like that, his head only reached the middle of Mateo’s thigh. And the dog was actually adorable. He had that mutt look, brown fur with white socks and one ear that stuck up all the time. She resisted the urge to sink to her knees and fawn over him. That wouldn’t do when she had to set some boundaries with her new neighbors. “Will he be trying to eat my animals on a regular basis?” she asked.

  “Nah.” Mateo gave the dog a hearty scrub behind the ears. Dante leaned into the attention, his hind leg thumping the ground. “He never eats anything. He likes the thrill of the chase.”

  “I see.” Everly narrowed her eyes against Mateo’s sinful little grin. Oh, she saw, all right. Dante took after his owner.

  Chapter Five

  Everly glared at him, her shoulders pulled back straight and proud, the way she used to hold herself when she’d stood in a courtroom, he imagined. Except instead of wearing some fancy sharklike suit, she had on an old John Deere T-shirt that was frayed around the edges, the loose threads brushing the very tops of her five-star thighs. Those legs weren’t her only award-winning feature, either.

  He never would’ve dreamed that John Deere could beat out sexy lingerie for the win, but it was a good thing he had a towel around his waist right now or she’d see a whole lot more of him than he wanted her to.

  “Maybe it would be best if you keep Dante on a leash,” Everly said stiffly. She seemed to be doing her best to not look directly at him. Funny, since she hadn’t looked away once when his towel had been on the ground.

  “Dante hates leashes.” Couldn’t blame the dog. He liked to roam free. Mateo had rescued him from a shelter in Oklahoma where the dog had been housed in a four-by-four cell for six months. So no, he wasn’t about to keep the dog leashed. “I’ll keep a better eye on him.” Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Dante would actually help his cause and encourage his tenant to vacate the property when her lease was up. That same guilt she’d embedded in his conscience last night at the Tumble Inn kicked him in the chest again. Damn it. He had to find a way to kill it for good. It shouldn’t be that hard.

  “Yes, well, I would appreciate it if you kept a better eye on him.” Everly turned and stomped away. “Before he causes any more damage.”

  Mateo had been so focused on her that he’d hardly noticed the fact that chickens still ran loose all over the yard. For the first time he assessed the destruction Dante had inflicted on her property. One wall of the coop had been laid out flat and feed and scraps of wood were scattered everywhere. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he muttered to his dog. Then he started after Everly. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  She stopped and turned, her cheeks as rosy as they’d been in the men’s room last night. “I have to get dressed so I can chase my chickens all over the farm.” Her eyes lowered to the towel around his waist. “You should get dressed, too.”

  “Sure.” Mateo backtracked a couple of yards to the pair of jeans he’d managed to grab on his way out of the trailer. Once he’d seen Everly wielding that gun, however, he’d dropped the pants and run over to make sure she wouldn’t murder his dog.

  The jeans lay in a heap right where he’d left them. After kicking off his boots, he tossed the towel aside and picked up his pants.

  “What’re you doing?” Everly threw a hand over her eyes and turned away as if she’d never seen a naked man before.

  “I’m get
ting dressed. Like you asked.”

  “What about underwear?” Her hand still covered her eyes as he buttoned up.

  “That would mean going all the way back to my trailer.” He stepped into his boots. “I’ll take care of that later. First let’s get your chickens situated.”

  “Fine. You can work on propping up the fence while I go get dressed.” She’d already made it halfway to the farmhouse porch.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Mateo headed toward the downed fence. It was a damn shame Everly wasn’t willing to work in that John Deere T-shirt. It’d make the manual labor a lot more fun.

  As he approached the chickens, Dante went spastic again, growling and barking. “No,” Mateo said firmly. “Leave it.” He pointed at the ground. “You lay down and stay.”

  The dog obeyed with a pathetic whimper. “You’ve already caused enough trouble,” Mateo reminded him. “Stay.”

  Dante rested his jaw on his paws the same way he did when Mateo got ready to go off somewhere and leave him for a few hours.

  Satisfied his dog wouldn’t go after the chickens again, he inspected the fence posts that had been pulled out of the ground in the commotion. They hadn’t even been cemented in. And he had a feeling that was just the beginning of the shoddy work around this place. But he’d best save that topic for another day.

  He easily shoved the posts back into the holes and packed dirt around them, so at least they were standing. Just as he started to untangle the chicken wire, Everly hurried over. She’d only thrown on jeans and a different T-shirt, but somehow the sight of her still dropped his jaw. She’d pulled her soft hair back into a loose braid, exposing her neck. Damn, her skin was so silky…perfectly lickable.

  “What a good boy, Dante,” she crooned. “I guess we won’t have to worry about him enjoying the thrill of the chase when you’re around.” Her face still glowed and she wouldn’t look directly at Mateo.

  “He listens when I’m the one talking.” He held off a grin and went back to examining the chicken wire. “Do you have a hammer and nails?” He did someplace, but it would take hours to find his toolbox in the storage under his fifth wheel.