Southern Charm : A BWWM Cowboy Romance

by Tiana Cole

  Southern Charm

  Published By Tiana Cole, 2015

  ©2015 Tiana Cole

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  Table of Contents

  Southern Charm

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  The Billionaire's Secret Child

  About The Author

  Also from Tiana Cole

  Chapter One

  “Just drive down this road here, take a left, and then another left at that big pine tree: the one that kind of looks like Elvis, and then it’s just a tick further and you should be there.”

  Cecilia Barnes looked from the gas station attendant to the empty country lane and back, jotting down his directions, with a dubious expression that she tried to keep to herself. Elvis, really? Hastily she thanked the man, got back in her now incredibly dusty sports car, and pulled out in the direction he had pointed.

  She hoped he knew what he was talking about, she thought to herself, as she glanced down at the flashing red light that said it was five minutes to eight in the morning, and she was supposed to be at the ranch for the interview at eight o’clock sharp. Cecilia hated being late, and could feel the sinking in her stomach as the clock ticked away as she drove, searching in vain for a tree that looked like Elvis Presley for some reason.

  Maybe she should just turn back. The thought that had been repeating in her head since she found out about this opening continued to play itself out. And then she remembered. Getting fired, that awful ordeal, even though she knew wasn’t her fault, had all but ruined her reputation and her chances at landing an interview in the city. She thought of her rapidly diminishing bank account and piles of unpaid bills. She knew that things were getting desperate.

  Maybe it won’t be as bad as I think, she tried to tell herself as she looked to left, her mouth opening as she saw it. There it stood: tall, majestic, and a dead ringer for the king himself. Glancing down at the clock, she slammed on the gas pedal when she saw that she was already fifteen minutes late. Damn these country roads. It seemed to take twice as long to get anywhere as it should.

  Cecilia finally pulled into the sprawling ranch and looked around, just barely stopping herself from wrinkling her nose against the pungent smell and pervasive dust and mud. This was definitely not what she had in mind for her career when she had become an accountant. She had envisioned a quiet office in some high-powered firm for a few years and then starting her own practice as a certified public accountant. Instead, she had been canned for a mistake someone else had made, and it was haunting her at every interview, sending her career spiraling further down until she ended up here, of all places. It was likely this one would be no different, although she wasn’t sure that she cared.

  Working as the bookkeeper for some cowboy type was definitely not ideal. She thought again of her upcoming rent and utilities, and the cell phone and Internet that were just days from being turned off. With bills to pay though, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Mustering her best smile, she stepped out of her older BMW, which looked horribly out of place among the trucks and farm equipment around her.

  Hesitatingly, she walked up the short incline, looking around the large ranch for any sign of life besides the chickens who were clucking contentedly in a group, pecking at the dirt road in hopes of extra grains or seeds. One looked up at her with its tiny, beady eyes and she took a hasty step back. Don’t look at me, buddy, she thought as she continued up the small hill, giving the birds a wide girth. Her gaze landed on movement at the top, and she headed in that direction, giving the chicken one last warning look behind her shoulder.

  “Mr. Mayhew?” she asked tentatively, addressing the broad shoulders of someone in jeans and a flannel shirt who was overseeing what appeared to be work on a tractor of some sort. He turned to look at her and grinned as he appeared to take in her pressed black suit and matching pumps with some amusement. His look had her smoothing her hands unconsciously down the front of the crisp, ankle length skirt.

  “No. I’m the ranch foreman. Jack is around behind the barn with an employee,” he said, his words drawled in a way that had her working at it for a moment before she understood what he said.

  “I see. I’m supposed to have an interview with him this morning,” she said.

  “You don’t look like a farm hand to me,” the man laughed.

  “I’m here for the accountant position,” she replied primly.

  “Ah,” he looked her up and down again. “That makes much more sense. If you just walk around the edge of the barn right there, you’ll see him,” he told her, pointing her in the direction of the large red barn sitting a few yards away.

  “Thank you,” she said uncertainly, heading off in the direction that he had pointed. Her heels scuffed in the gravel along the side of the road and then dug into the ground around the edge of the barn, sinking into the moistened soil left behind by a recent rain.

  She arrived behind the back of the large structure with mud caked along the heels and bottoms of her shoes. So much for first impressions, she thought to herself. And then she calculated the cost of a new pair of respectable heels, knowing it would be impossible to work it into her meager budget. She could always try to salvage them herself. She glanced down, noticing a small tear in the leather itself from an especially sharp rock. Or, maybe not, Cecilia sighed.

  She looked up at the angry voice that reached her first, and then she saw them.

  “You can’t just run over things that you don’t want to stop and deal with, Irvin. Look what you’ve done to the blades. How am I supposed to use this as a demo machine when necessary if you keep tearing up the blades like this?” The man standing with his back to her barked at someone who appeared to be a young farm hand.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayhew. I just don’t always see stuff,” the young man replied, scuffing a boot in the dirt, trying to look anywhere but at his irate boss.

  “Don’t see it? How can you miss a large sheet of twisted tin that has blown off the barn? You had to run over it with the tractor before it got jammed up in the pull behind. This is the last time this is going to happen, or you’ll find yourself looking for another ranch to work.

  I’m going to lose three days getting this repaired, and now I have to either bring out a new pull behind or put off my demonstration tomorrow. If your father wasn’t an old friend, I’d fire you on the spot,” the man barked at him. She watched as the young man dropped his head and nodded in response to his employer’s admonishment.

  Cecilia stood there awkwardly as the young man shuffled dejectedly away to his next task, the other man still mumbling angrily to himself as he examined the twisted piece of metal in front of him. She took a tentative step forward, and then another, clearing her throat. She cleared it again, hoping he would notice her presence, and when it was clear he wouldn’t, she stepped up behind him and
spoke.

  “Excuse me. Mr. Mayhew,” she interjected his grumbling reluctantly. He turned toward her, a scowl still on his face.

  “Yes?” he said impatiently, his attention obviously still on fixing the problem in front of him.

  “I am sorry to interrupt, but I was supposed to be here at eight a.m. to interview for the position as an accountant. I’m Cecilia Barnes. The Kelly Group sent me,” she told him, extending her hand out in greeting.

  “You’re late,” he barked, “And this isn’t a good time,” he said gruffly, turning back toward his employee, stopping him before he could get any further away. “Go home for the day, Irvin.” He threw that last comment over his shoulder as he turned back to the mangled machinery.

  “Um, I know, I apologize.” Cecilia swallowed hard when he still didn’t look up at her. “I got a little lost trying to get out here…” She trailed off when it was clear he wasn’t listening to her anyway. “When would be a better time?” she asked, trying to maintain her composure. He finally turned around, spearing her with his striking gaze. Despite herself, her heart started beating just a little faster under that look.

  She couldn’t help but notice that Jack Mayhew was an attractive man despite his somewhat weather-worn appearance. He was tall, tanned, and very fit with muscular shoulders and a chiseled jaw line. The sprigs of dark hair that stuck out from beneath his cap were slightly curled, sticking to his neck in the heat as he turned back to look at her with his deep blue eyes slightly squinted against the sunlight. He seemed to fit perfectly in his rugged surroundings, like he was as much a part of them as the trees, the rocks, the ponds, and small streams.

  “I tell you what, I’ll just interview you while I finish up a few things. I don’t have time for anything else. Follow me,” he gestured for her to walk with him as he turned, heading for another part of the ranch, taking for granted that she would tag along after him.

  She looked at him, hoping her disdain didn’t show on her face. She couldn’t imagine a worse situation in which to be interviewed than being dragged around a muddy ranch in heels while the sun beat down on them. Still, she was in no position to say no, so she followed his lead as he walked around the edge of the barn toward a large corral of horses.

  For a moment, she forgot her discomfort as she watched the gorgeous animals milling around the large fenced in area. Their muscles were gleaming under the bright sunlight as they grazed on the green grass.

  She shook off her fascination, walking over to the man who was supposed to be interviewing her, but had yet to speak to her at all except to tell her to follow after him like a child. Cecilia stood watching as he talked to a group of young men who had been working with the horses. She wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do as she stood looking awkwardly on with her soft-sided attaché in hand. When he finally turned around, she caught the look of surprise on his face. He had obviously forgotten that she was even there. She shrugged, smiling slightly, hoping it didn’t look as pained as it felt.

  “Are we ready to talk now?” she asked, trying to sound like she wasn’t being pushy or revealing how annoyed she was becoming.

  “Sure. Follow me to the office,” he said, walking ahead of her down the gravel path that continued to completely ruin her shoes with each step. Just before they arrived at a large wooden structure that she assumed was the office area, a young woman came running toward them calling his name, panic evident on her round cheeked face.

  “Jack, there’s a problem with the grain order. Someone misjudged the silo level and now the truck can’t empty into it fully. The driver is adamant that he can’t leave half an order and is threatening to dump it on the ground,” she squawked at him, waving her arms wildly in distress.

  “Good lord. What is going on around this place today? It’s like working at the circus,” he groaned, falling in step with her as he headed toward the large silos that were visible at the edge of the pasture near the barn.

  “Mr. Mayhew?” Cecilia called after him gently, reminding him that she was still there. He paused briefly, turning back to her with a grimace and a shrug.

  “Yeah, um. I’m sorry. I can’t interview you today. Just have the agency reschedule,” he started walking away again, stopping only for a moment before resuming his quick pace toward the silos. She stood watching him leave, aghast that she had lost an almost new pair of heels and still wasn’t getting an interview. What a waste of a day, she thought.

  Shaking her head, she turned back in the direction of her car to head home. Frustration and the beginnings of desperation filled her. She really needed that job. But she wasn’t going to get it if she couldn’t ever get the owner to give her an interview. Cecilia was still debating whether or not she was going to come back to this crazy place when she heard his voice calling out behind her.

  “Hey! Miss Barnes,” he called back to her. She stopped walking and turned back to him, completely frustrated and hoping he wasn’t about to ask her to wait around some more. “Just show up for work in the morning at eight a.m. Leave the heels and skirt at home.” Cecilia swore she could see the smirk on his face from there, “I suggest jeans and boots would be a better option.”

  She nodded, still unsure that she wanted to work here. They hadn’t discussed anything about pay or benefits. Of course, she was at the point where she was looking at slinging pancakes down at the local Waffle Haven if she didn’t get a decent job soon, so this might be as good as it got.

  With a massive sigh, she returned to her car and drove back down the winding driveway, out onto the country lane. She looked left, and then right, unsure of which way she needed to go to get back to the expressway and then on toward home. She turned left, and ended up driving around for an extra hour before finding herself back in front of the pine tree that looked like Elvis.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.” She whispered earnestly as she turned the right way down the road, and finally headed to her home.

  She drove up the driveway, suddenly feeling exhausted as she stepped out of her dirt and mud and who knows what else splattered car, slamming the door, and heading inside. She dropped her purse on the counter, slipping out of her heels and tossing them into the garbage can on her way into the kitchen.

  She quickly changed into a tank top and pair of grey sweatpants, collapsing onto the couch. Her mind whirled with the events of the day. The enigmatic ranch owner who had given her a job without even interviewing her. Was he that confident in her abilities? Maybe the agency had sent over her resume.

  Cecilia continued meandering around her home, unsure of what to do. She didn’t have the extra cash to go out, and she had cancelled her cable service the month before. With determination, she decided she would bake a cake, which was something that had always come easily to her. Baking had always been a method of relaxation to her. How much sugar to add, how long to knead the dough to make the perfect pie crust.

  The cake was just finishing in the oven when her phone rang.

  “Well, did you get the job?” her mom asked, when she called a little later.

  “I think so,” Cecilia hesitated, still unsure about what had happened earlier at the ranch, “but I’m not sure if I am going to take it. We haven’t discussed duties, pay or benefits, or anything really,” she told her, her voice trailing off as she realized that she still knew nothing about the position.

  “What? They offered you the job but didn’t tell you anything about it?” her mom asked in a confused tone.

  “The man who owns the ranch just seemed terribly busy and hired me without even talking to me, but didn’t even have time to explain anything,” she told her mother, who moved on to gabbing incessantly about absolutely everyone in her small suburban neighborhood.

  “Mom, listen, I have to run. I have to figure out what I can wear to work tomorrow,” Cecilia told her, eager to extract herself from the mind-numbing one-sided conversation. They said their goodbyes and she went to look through her closet for something acceptable to wear to an
office job on a ranch, finally selecting a pair of jeans, a button-down cotton shirt, and some decidedly unsexy leather crocs. He had suggested boots, but she didn’t own any, at least not the kind you could wear on a farm.

  After her first paycheck, new footwear would be the first thing on her list.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning, she returned to the ranch, ready to start work, given there was at least a rudimentary discussion of what she was being offered. She found Mr. Mayhew standing at the front of the barn drinking coffee from a large ceramic mug. He was watching a man, who she assumed was a large animal vet, tend to a horse’s hooves as she entered.

  Again, she slowed, mesmerized by the large, majestic animal. It whickered softly at her approach and Cecilia swore that its big, doe-brown eyes stared straight into her own.

  “Ah, you came back,” he said as he saw her, looking her up and down briefly. She found herself guessing that he was making sure she was appropriately dressed rather than checking her out. Honestly, she couldn’t say that she would have minded if it was the former, as she once again couldn’t help but notice his own rather pleasing appearance. Suddenly, she found herself growing breathless under his blue-eyed stare. They looked like what she imagined the ocean would look like, and they threatened to drown her. Blinking, she looked away hastily, breaking the moment.

  “I did,” she replied softly, not sure what to say next.

  “Very good. Let me finish up with the doc here and we will get down to brass tacks,” he told her, his focus now thankfully on the vet and the horse he was examining. “The office is the long building between the barn and the office. There is a door marked, “Private.” You are welcome to make yourself at home in there. The front desk is yours if you want to get settled in a bit.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she replied, waiting for a moment to see if there would be any other instructions, but when none were forthcoming, she turned, following his directions to the building that housed the office.