Contents
Title Information
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Hunks and Horses
A Word From Maggie
Hunks and Horses
Book Two
To Catch A Cowboy
Maggie Carpenter
Copyright © 2018 Dark Secrets Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Dark Secrets Press LLC.
http://www.MaggieCarpenter.com
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CHAPTER ONE
Determination. Theresa Cavalleri had it in spades. And she was determined to catch herself a cowboy. Not just any cowboy. Josh Brady. Ruggedly handsome, blue-eyed and sporting a devilish grin, he was a horse trainer at Tall Tree Farms.
Having recently moved to the country after living in the city since the day she was born, she loved her new life, most especially the hunky men wearing hats and boots. When her eyes first fell upon him, she'd found her man, but not yet brave enough to mount a horse she could only watch as he taught others. Seated in the elevated viewing platform she'd been invisible, then she heard he often spent his evenings at The Horseshoe Tavern.
When the sun set, dressing her in sexiest best, she'd left Dream Horse Ranch, the sales barn where she lived and worked, and headed off to the popular waterhole. Hovering nervously by the door, she scanned the room. There was no sign of him. Ambling through the crowd to the bar, she perched on a stool, and was about to wave at the busy bartender when the swinging doors off to the side caught her attention. Though she didn't know where they led, when a giggling, disheveled blonde pushed them open, Theresa guessed the rear exit. She grinned knowingly. She'd experienced her share of frantic gropes in back alleys, but her smile quickly faded. A moment later Josh appeared.
"What can I get you?"
Jerking her head around, Theresa stared into a man's kind face and warm brown eyes.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Tequila, a shot."
The bartender turned away, but a split second before he did, Theresa noticed his quick scowl in Josh's direction. Shifting on her barstool, wondering why the barman had been irritated, her eyes followed Josh as he sauntered across the room. The blonde peeled off to join a group of girls at a table, and Josh stopped at the vintage juke box.
"Here you go. Tequila shot."
"Thanks," she muttered, swiveling around and pulling her wallet from her bag. "Can you leave the bottle?"
"You can buy a bottle, or I can fill you up and keep track."
"Yeah. Do that. The filling up," she said, handing him her credit card, then grabbing the shot, she brought it to her lips and threw back her head. "Man! I needed that!" she exclaimed, banging the glass on the counter. "Hit me again."
"You sure you don't wanna pace yourself?"
"Not a chance," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder and seeing a buxom redhead walking up to Josh.
"I haven't seen you in here before," the barman said, filling the shot glass.
"That's because this is my first night out since I arrived, and that's a few months."
"So you're relatively new here."
"Yep," she replied, throwing back the tequila in a single gulp.
"Looks like you've got a taste for that stuff."
"All I've had to drink since I got here is the occasional glass of wine, and I need some Dutch courage tonight."
"The name's Derrick, by the way, but my friends call me Duke."
"Thanks, Duke, I'm Theresa. Theresa Cavalleri."
"Where do you hail from, Theresa?"
"I work at Dream Horse Ranch for Heath and Carly Parker."
"Small world around here. I'm good friends with them. I've known Heath since he first opened. Are you a new rider?"
"Oh, no. I'm the housekeeper and cook. I want to ride, but I grew up in the city and I'm still nervous around horses."
"Sounds like a story."
"Kinda is," she said, then with a resigned sigh she looked back at Josh. The girl's arm was looped through his. "Shit. I must've been crazy coming here. This is a train wreck."
"How's that?"
"I don't want to look, but I can't help myself," she grumbled, placing her elbow on the counter and dropping her chin in her hand. "This is painful."
"I take it you're interested in Josh Brady."
"I am, but I think I'm wasting my time. Seems he has more women than he can handle. Hard not to want to throw my hat in the ring though."
"Do you like Carrie Underwood?"
"Sure. I didn't listen to country music before I moved here, but now I love it. I prefer the male singers though. Luke Bryan, Blake Shelton, Luke Combs, those guys."
"Have you heard Carrie's song Cowboy Casanova?"
"I've heard it a few times, but never paid it much attention. Why do you ask?"
"I swear she must have been talkin' about him," Duke said, lowering his voice as he stared across the room at Josh.
"Because?"
"The title says it all."
"Cowboy Casanova? You're saying he's a player?"
"Player? If that means he's like a honey bee buzzin' from flower to flower, yeah, but to be fair he is upfront about things. His line is, I make no promises and I tell no lies. I'm not sure about the telling no lies, but I know for a fact he makes no promises."
"Maybe he just hasn't met the right girl."
"Maybe. Give the song a listen next time it comes on. Better yet, mosey on over there and slip a couple of coins in the machine. Here, my treat," he declared, reaching into his pocket and placing two quarters on the counter.
"But he's standing next to it with that hourglass."
"Up to you. Excuse me. I've gotta draw some more beers."
"Pour me another shot first."
"Dang, girl. Let those last two settle for a bit."
"Please, Duke?"
'You've got bigger brown eyes than my horse," he said with a grin.
Reaching for the bottle behind him, he splashed the liquor into her glass, then hurried to the end of the bar. Taking a sip, then another, she moved her eyes back to Josh. The girl whispered in his ear. He shook his head, then landed a smack on her backside.
"Dammit. I wish that was my ass he was slapping. Life just isn't fair sometimes."
The coins he'd lef
t behind called to her, daring her to pick them up and walk the plank. Cursing under her breath as she scooped them up, she slid off the stool and moved through the crowd, but as she neared the jukebox, she discovered Josh and the redhead had vanished. Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, she dropped the quarters in the slot and selected Cowboy Casanova. Telling herself she wanted some fresh air, but knowing her true motivation was curiosity, she ambled towards the door.
Stepping outside, the cold air pricked her skin. She'd left her leather jacket on the back of the barstool, and crossing her arms she gazed up at the night sky. The rainbow ring around the moon suggested rain. Scanning the parking lot and finding nothing worth being out in the cold, she was about to head back inside when her eye caught Josh and the girl standing next to a Jeep Cherokee. The redhead had her arms around his neck, and though Josh had his hands on his hips, she'd seen enough. Cursing under her breath, she strode back into the tavern just in time to hear the opening refrain of Carrie Underwood's hit song.
He's a good time cowboy Casanova leaning up against the record machine. He looks like a cool drink of water, but he's candy-coated misery.
"This is such bullshit," she muttered, making her way to the bar. "Of course he's got girls up the kazoo, and even if he didn't, why would he be interested in me? I can't ride, I'm not blonde and perky, or red-headed with big boobs. I'm a dark-haired Italian with horse's eyes."
Perching herself on the barstool, she picked up her glass and waved it in the air. Duke, talking to another customer, shot her a wink, then continued his conversation.
"You've got three-seconds to get back here and pour me another drink," she mumbled under her breath, "or I'm out of here."
Though he couldn't have heard, his head abruptly turned in her direction.
Surprised but pleased, she waved the glass a second time.
He held her gaze, but didn't move.
Her stomach did a strange flipping thing, and she felt a strange need to lower her glass.
She paused, then did, and he ambled towards her.
"You got your car keys in that bag of yours?" he asked quietly, resting his hands on the counter, leaning towards her.
"Uh, yeah."
"Let me see them."
Nerves rattling, though not sure why, she reached into her bag and pulled out her key chain.
"Thank you."
He reached to snatch them from her hand, but instinctively sensing he'd planned to snatch them from her hand, she jerked her arm away and dropped them back into her bag.
"I don't think so!" she declared, shooting him a scowl.
"I'm lookin' out for you."
"I can look out for myself!"
"You see anyone in here fallin' down drunk?"
"The night's young. I bet there will be later."
"Probably not. You wanna know why?"
"Not particularly, but I suspect you're going to tell me anyway."
"Two years ago a couple left here and wrapped their car around a tree. Drunk drivin'. That's what did it. They were banged up pretty good, and I thank the Lord every day they weren't killed. That night was a wake-up call. People who come here know they can have a good time, but when I see eyes gettin' bleary and speech gettin' rough, I either cut them off, or they hand in their keys and find another way home. Any bartender who works for me follows that rule."
"Good grief. I've only had three shots, and for the record, I could drink anyone in this place under the table, man or woman. I'm from the streets. I know how to hold my liquor. I also know how to drive buzzed and how to handle myself."
"That right," he drawled, straightening up and crossing his arms.
"Yes, Duke, that's right," she replied, challenge in her eyes. "My glass is empty, and I'm thirsty."
Unmoving, he stared back at her, a glint in his warm brown eyes. A glint she couldn't decipher.
"Please, Duke, Mr. Bartender, person who rules all he surveys," she pleaded, "won't you take pity on a poor girl suffering from an unrequited love?"
"You've gotta lotta sass in you, girlie."
"Maybe I do, but I'm still thirsty, and I'll take a beer with that shot," she demanded as he turned to reach for the bottle. His back now facing her she couldn't see his expression, but she did catch the curl at the edges of his lips. "Mr. Barman, did you hear me?"
"I sure did, Theresa," he replied, splashing the liquor in her glass.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, but you might not be thankin' me later."
"Why do you say that?"
"Call it a feelin'," he said with a wink.
CHAPTER TWO
Thundering drumbeats rolled through her head. Pain pulsed in her temples. Hearing her own groan, she scrunched her eyes, then slowly opened them. Fuzzy images came into view. A digital clock with glowing blue numbers said 6:47. Time to roll out of bed. She served breakfast at eight o'clock, but as she groggily lifted her head, a slow panic took hold.
She didn't have a bedside clock with blue numbers.
Or a large framed painting hanging on the wall.
Squinting, she tried to bring the image into focus.
A cowboy on a bucking bronco.
"No, no. Please, no. Shit!"
Already aware her whispered plea had been in vain, she shifted slightly and looked over her shoulder. A man apparently in a deep sleep elevated her alarm. Sending her eyes around the foreign bedroom, she spied her jeans, socks and boots on a chair against the wall. Slipping stealthily from the bed, wondering why she was still wearing her Aqua T-shirt, bra and panties, but relieved she was, she crept across the hardwood floor. Collecting her clothes, she glanced back at the stranger. With only the top of his head showing she had no idea who he was, and she had no desire to wake him to find out. Tiptoeing through the door, closing it softly behind her, she found herself in a hallway.
"I can't believe I did this," she mumbled, pausing to quickly dress. "How the hell am I going to get back to the ranch? Damn, where's my bag?"
A carpet that ran the length of the passage kept her footsteps silent as she walked towards what appeared to be the living room. Her head thumping and feeling nauseous, she barely noticed her surroundings as she searched, though she did spy a cowboy hat sitting on the couch. Finally finding her bag on a table near the front door, stepping outside and meeting the chilly morning air she realized she didn't have her jacket.
"Shit. I must have left it at the Horseshoe," she muttered, toddling forward and staring at the ground as she tried to remember. "How the hell am I going to get home? Salvo! I have to call Salvo."
But as she raised her head to get her bearings, she came to an abrupt halt. Her car was parked at the curb.
"What the hell? I couldn't have driven here. And where the fuck is here? Keys. Where are my keys?"
Setting her bag on the hood, a quick search revealed her keychain in the small zippered pocket. Greatly relieved, she slid behind the wheel, and wanting to put the unfortunate incident behind her, she accelerated to the end of the block without a look back. The late model Land Rover belonged to Dream Horse Ranch, and rolling to a stop, she entered the address into the navigator.
"All because of Josh Fucking Brady," she grunted as the guidance system gave her directions. "Why did I get so plastered?"
Home proved miraculously close, and as Dream Horse Ranch came into view, she pressed the remote control, the gates swung open, and she gratefully turned into the driveway.
She adored her employers, Heath and Carly Boyd. Heath Boyd had rescued her younger brother Salvatore from the inner-city streets, giving him a home and a job at the ranch. It had been several years before that she and Salvatore had been separated under frightening circumstances. After a fruitless search she'd given up hope of ever finding him, but late one night, answering a knock on her door, she'd found him on her porch standing next to a handsome cowboy. She'd been living in a cramped studio apartment, barely making ends meet as a waitress, and Heath Boyd had brought her to the wide open
spaces and changed her life. Reunited with her brother, living on the ranch, she had never been happier.
Consumed with guilt, as she passed the main house, she prayed no-one could spot her driving to her cabin, but approaching her carport her heart sank. Salvo was standing by her front door.
"Are you okay?" he demanded as she pulled to a stop and climbed out. "I've been worried sick. Where were you? Why did you stay out all night? I was about to raise the alarm. You didn't answer your phone."
"Calm down. I'm sorry, truly I am."
"You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"What happened," he pressed, following her inside. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Salvo, please stop. I have a raging headache, and I need to take a shower and get changed. Dammit, look at the time."
"Is this about that guy you like? The one at Tall Tree Farms you told me about?"
"Kind of."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I went to The Horseshoe Tavern hoping I'd run into him," she replied, opening a kitchen cabinet and grabbing the aspirin bottle. "I did see him, but it was a disaster. I promise I'll fill in the blanks, at least what I can remember, but right now I have to get my shit together."
"I'm just glad you're okay."
Filling a glass with water, she downed the aspirin, then seeing the angst in her brother's eyes, she set the glass on the counter and walked over to him.
"Hey, I'm a big girl," she said softly, giving him a hug. "I can take care of myself, but I should have called you. I didn't mean to worry you and I'm truly sorry. Am I forgiven?"
"Not yet," he said solemnly, holding her tightly. "You scared me. You really scared me."
Her brother, powerfully built and strong as an ox, suddenly became the frightened child she'd once protected and comforted. Knowing he'd fretted through the night because of her thoughtlessness brought a hot lump to her throat.
"I don't know how, but I'll make this up to you, and I promise I'll never disappear on you again."
To Catch A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 2) Page 1