Down Home Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  Alison wasn’t exactly a stepmother. But a friend. A confidante. The peacemaker when things got turbulent.

  And she would stay. That was the most important thing. The thing that Violet never doubted. Not even once.

  Sure, stuff had been hard with her dad about a year ago, and things weren’t always easy now, but he’d changed. Alison had changed him.

  Alison had changed Violet too. She couldn’t deny that. Had stitched together some of the holes that had been torn inside of her when her mother had left.

  She watched as the two of them walked hand in hand toward the tasting room, where the cake and food were set out, ready for their guests. And Violet smiled because tonight, Alison wouldn’t be serving the guests.

  The sunlight filtered through the trees and washed her dad and Alison in a golden glow. Alison’s red hair looked like it had a halo around it, her dress fluttering in the breeze. She looked like an angel. Just the one her dad had needed.

  Just the one she’d needed.

  Right then, Violet felt pretty sentimental, after all.

  This was a different side of life than she’d seen before. A different side of love. She’d asked Alison almost a year ago if you had to choose: cake or men.

  Commitment or independence. Love or pleasing yourself.

  She’d told her then that you didn’t have to choose, but over the past year, that had been demonstrated to Violet in a thousand different ways.

  She tightened her hold on her bouquet of red and yellow sunflowers and took three long strides to catch up with the happy couple. Alison let go of her dad’s hand and wrapped her arm around Violet’s waist, bringing her in between them. Violet’s dad slung his arm over her shoulders.

  They walked into the tasting room to cheers from all of the guests—her uncles cheering the loudest—and Violet felt a surge of the kind of happiness she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a kid.

  For so much of her life, love had felt heavy. Like a punishment.

  But now it felt...well it felt a lot like peace. Like home. Copper Ridge suddenly felt a lot like home too.

  She was here with her family. How could it be anything else?

  * * * * *

  The Donnelly brothers might be putting down roots in Copper Ridge, but the road to happy-ever-after is hardly a smooth one.

  Look for Finn and Lane’s story, SLOW BURN COWBOY, available now.

  And read on for a sneak peek of soldier-turned-cowboy Alex Donnelly’s story, WILD RIDE COWBOY...

  New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates invites you to come home to Copper Ridge, where sexy cowboys and breathtaking kisses are just around the corner! If you loved Down Home Cowboy, don’t miss the next story in the Copper Ridge series!

  Wild Ride Cowboy

  He’s come back to Copper Ridge, Oregon, to keep a promise—even if it means losing his heart...

  Putting down roots in Copper Ridge was never Alex Donnelly’s intention. But if there’s one thing the ex-military man knows, it’s that life rarely unfolds as expected. If it did, his best friend and brother-in-arms would still be alive. And Alex wouldn’t have inherited a ranch or responsibility for his late comrade’s sister—a woman who, despite her inexperience, can bring tough-as-iron Alex to his knees.

  Clara Campbell didn’t ask for a hero to ride in and fix her ranch and her life. All she wants is the one thing stubborn, honorable Alex is reluctant to give: a chance to explore their intense chemistry. But Clara has a few lessons to teach him, too...about trusting his heart and his instincts, and letting love take him on the wildest adventure of all.

  Order your copy today!

  Can’t get enough? Look for more Copper Ridge with:

  Christmastime Cowboy

  “Fans of Robyn Carr and RaeAnne Thayne will enjoy her small-town romance.”

  —Booklist

  Love finds you when you least expect it in the charming small town of Copper Ridge, Oregon. Be sure to collect all of the stories in this sweet and sexy series!

  Shoulda Been a Cowboy (prequel novella)

  Part Time Cowboy

  Brokedown Cowboy

  Bad News Cowboy

  A Copper Ridge Christmas (novella)

  Hometown Heartbreaker (novella)

  One Night Charmer

  Tough Luck Hero

  Last Chance Rebel

  Slow Burn Cowboy

  Can these cowboys find the love they didn’t know they needed?

  And don’t forget these irresistible Copper Ridge tales from Harlequin Desire!

  Take Me, Cowboy

  Hold Me, Cowboy

  Seduce Me, Cowboy

  Complete your collection today!

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  Wild Ride Cowboy

  by Maisey Yates

  VERY FEW PEOPLE would call Alex Donnelly a coward. He had dodged gunfire, survived a rain of mortar shells—more than once—and worn full tactical gear in arid heat that could practically bake a loaf of bread. And a man’s brains for that matter.

  But he had been a little bit of a coward when he had allowed Clara Campbell to put off their conversation about her deceased brother’s will.

  The fact of the matter was, he had been a coward for the past couple of months that he’d been back in Copper Ridge and had avoided having the conversation with her at all. He’d had his excuses, that was for sure.

  Though some of them were valid. Like the time he’d put into investigating the legality of what her brother has asked him to do. And then the time spent going over the letter Jason had left. The one that clarified just why he wanted things this way, and made it impossible to deny him.

  Still, Alex had waited to talk to Clara, even after that.

  At first, it had been out of deference to her grief. And after that because he was trying to get his feet underneath him at the Laughing Irish Ranch, which he worked at with his brothers.

  Frankly, after losing his best friend and his grandfather, he’d had enough grief to deal with without adding Clara’s. But it couldn’t be avoided anymore. And when he had discovered that her cell phone had been disconnected he felt guilty for avoiding it as long as he had.

  Clara must be hurting for money. Enough that she had taken a job at Grassroots Winery, and was letting bills go unpaid.

  He’d expected her to call if things were that bad. Hell, he’d expected her to call, period. But the way she’d acted at the coffee shop, it didn’t seem like she’d spoken to anyone about the circumstances surrounding Jason’s will.

  Now that he thought about it, if she had, she probably would have come at him hissing and spitting.

  She might still. But she was late.

  Alex pushed his cowboy hat back on his head and looked at the scenery around him. The Campbell ranch was small, and so was the ranch house. Rustic. From his position on the front porch—which was squeaking beneath his cowboy boots—he couldn’t see the highway.

  Couldn’t see anything but the pine trees that grew thick and strong around the property, standing tall like sentries there to protect the ranch and all who lived there.

  “Well, you’re doing a pretty piss-poor job,” he told them.

  Because damned if the Campbells hadn’t been through enough. But he was here t
o make things easier. He knew—was 100 percent certain—that Clara wouldn’t see it that way initially. But this was what Jason had wanted, and he knew that Jason had had nothing but his sister’s best interests in mind when he had made out his will.

  Alex owed it to his friend to see his last wishes carried out. No question about it.

  He took a deep breath, putting his hands on his narrow hips as he turned a half circle to take in more of the property. The driveway needed to be graveled. It was slick and muddy right now, even though it had been a few days since it had rained.

  There was a truck and a tractor that Alex would lay odds didn’t run parked off in the weeds, looking like metal corpses that had been left to rust back into the earth.

  The place needed a lot of work. It was too much for him to do by himself, let alone one woman. One grieving woman who had to work part-time on top of doing the general ranch work.

  He figured at this point the place wasn’t really functional. But he was forming some ideas on how to get it working again. On how to make sure Clara hadn’t just been saddled with a millstone.

  Or, more accurately, that he hadn’t been.

  The center of the sky was dimming to a purplish blue, the edges around the trees a kind of dusty pink by the time Clara’s truck pulled up the long driveway to the house. She stopped, turning off the engine, staying in the vehicle. She was looking at him like she was shocked to see him, even though he had told her he would be there.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning against the support for the porch, not moving until Clara got out of the truck.

  She was such a petite little thing. And she had definitely lost weight since he’d seen her last. He couldn’t imagine her taking on a place like this, and suddenly he felt like the biggest ass on the planet. An ass who had stayed away because she was going to be angry when she had clearly been here working her knuckles to the bone.

  Jason had been clear on what he wanted. The fact that Alex had screwed it up so far was just about right as far as things went.

  “Big wine-tasting day?” he asked.

  Clara frowned. “No. Why?”

  “You’re home late.”

  She raised a brow, then walked around to the back of the truck and pulled out a bag of groceries. “I had to stop and get stuff for dinner.”

  “Oh, good, you do eat.”

  She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re too skinny.” He felt like a dick for saying it, but it was true. She was on the sadness diet, something he was a little too familiar with. But he’d learned not to give in to that in the military. Learned to eat even when his ears were ringing from an explosion, or the heat was so intense the idea of eating something hot was next to torture. Or when you’d just seen a body, bent and twisted under rubble.

  Because food wasn’t about enjoyment. It was about survival.

  A lot like life in general.

  Clara Campbell needed help surviving. That was clear to him.

  Clara scowled even deeper as she walked toward him. “Thanks, Alex. Just what every woman wants to hear.”

  “Actually, in my experience a lot of women would like to hear that.” He snagged the paper grocery bag out of her arms as she tried to walk past him. “SpaghettiOs? What the hell is this?”

  “Dinner, jackass.”

  “For a four-year-old.”

  “I’m sorry they don’t live up to your five-star military rations. But I like them.”

  She reached out and grabbed hold of the bag, trying to take it out of his arms.

  “Stop it,” he said. “You’ve been working all day. I’m going to carry your groceries.”

  She bristled. “You’re insulting my groceries. I feel like you don’t deserve to carry them.”

  He snorted, then turned away from her, jerking the bag easily from her hold. “Open the door for me.”

  “I thought military men were good at taking orders,” she said. “All you seem to do is give them.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not in the army now, baby.” He smiled, knowing it would infuriate her. “Open the damn door.”

  Her face turned a very becoming shade of scarlet but she did comply, pulling out her keys and undoing the lock, then pushing the door open. He walked over the threshold, and a board squeaked beneath his feet. He made a mental note to fix that.

  “There. The dining room is just through there, set the bag on the table.” She walked in behind him. “See? I can give orders too.”

  “While eating SpaghettiOs.” But he followed her instructions, then took a look around the room. It was sparse, the floor, walls and ceiling all made with rustic wood paneling. There was a red rug on the floor with the geometric design that provided about the only bit of color to the room.

  Other than a big, cheery yellow cabinet that was shoved in the back of the kitchen, packed full to the brim with white plates. It seemed a little incongruous with the rest of the place. And at odds with the rickety dining table and its mismatched chairs.

  Alex had never been to Jason’s house before. They had met when they were in high school, and consequently, had spent their time hanging out away from the watchful eye of parents and guardians. After that, they had wound up serving together in the military.

  The place was... Well, cozy was a nice word for it. Eclectic badger den possibly less nice but a little more accurate.

  “I’m hungry,” Clara said, fishing one of the cans out of the bag. “Don’t taint my SpaghettiOs with your judgment.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He watched as she moved around the efficient little kitchen, making small economical movements, getting out a blue-and-white speckled tin bowl and a little pan, then opening up the SpaghettiOs and dumping them in it. She put it on the front burner, turning it to high, then whirled around to face him.

  “Okay. What are we talking about?”

  “Do you want to wait until you’re eating your dinner?”

  “No.” She turned and opened the fridge, then pulled out a can of Coke, popping it open and taking a long drink. She did not offer him one, he noticed.

  “I was contacted by your family lawyer shortly after I found out Jason had died.”

  Clara turned back to him and crossed her arms, her lips going tight. “Okay, why did he call you?”

  “Maybe the question is, why didn’t he call you, Clara? I expected you would have talked to him.”

  She bit her lip. “Well. He did. But we didn’t talk.” Alex stared her down and her cheeks turned increasingly red as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I’ve been busy,” she said defensively.

  “Well, if you hadn’t been too busy for the lawyer he might have talked to you about the fact that I’m the beneficiary of your brother’s will.”

  “Excuse me?” This was the part that he had been avoiding. The thing he had not been looking forward to. Because his friend had left him with his property, had left him with his earthly possessions, and a letter explaining his feelings that were only that: the feelings of a dead man. Alex had to try to fill in blanks he wasn’t sure were entirely possible to fill in. Had tried to reason it all out to decide if he could excuse just defying Jason’s wishes.

  He hadn’t been able to. So here he was.

  “All of it,” he continued, the words falling heavily from his mouth. “The ranch, everything on it, everything in it, the house. Jason left everything to me.” She didn’t move; the only indication that she was reacting to what he was saying at all was that her face had gone completely waxen. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Clara? I’m saying that this is my house now, my property. You and the ranch are now my responsibility.”

  Keep reading for a special preview of LONE STAR BABY SCANDAL by Lauren Canan, a TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: BLACKMAIL novel available
July 2017 from Harlequin Desire.

  Resisting her billionaire boss finally becomes futile...but there will be consequences!

  Lone Star Baby Scandal

  by Lauren Canan

  When Clay Everett approached, extending his arm in a silent invitation to dance, Sophie Prescott immediately shook her head in embarrassed refusal. Clay was her boss. Her employer. It was a job she valued highly. There should be no mixing business with pleasure even if Clay was the best-looking man at the charity ball.

  His deep emerald eyes gleamed, framed by dark lashes that matched his ebony hair. His five-o’clock shadow and the scar on one side of his face gave him an almost menacing air. Since the accident, he’d presented an entirely different persona: a man who was hard and unforgiving and ate any competition for lunch.

  Actually, he had a beautiful smile and perfect white teeth, but people rarely saw them. His demeanor was serious and intimidating. In his five-thousand-dollar hand-tailored suits and white silk shirts, he gave the impression of the consummate businessman. A man of great wealth who was used to the world of glamour in which he lived.

  Then there was the Clay of glove-soft, faded jeans, scuffed boots and a thin T-shirt, highlighting his six-pack abs and the muscles in his shoulders and arms, who was disarming in a different way. That was the Clay she knew. He’d come into their office a couple of times in his Western getup and it was a look she much preferred. Like the raging stallions he trained, like the wild bulls he’d ridden to superstardom in his youth, he was a man unlike anyone else.

  Refusing to take no for an answer, he grasped her hand, pulled her up from her seat and led her toward the center of the grand ballroom of the new Bellamy Hotel. Her heart rate tripled. Content to watch the antics of the idle rich from the back of the ballroom, Sophie had never expected her boss to find her and propel her right into their midst on the dance floor. She was a secretary, for crying out loud, a woman who had grown up on a farm in the Rust Belt of America. She had no business being here, rubbing elbows with the elite of Royal, Texas.