Mr. Cowboy - A Hot Western Romance (Mr Series - Book #4)

by Ivy Jordan

  MR COWBOY

  By Ivy Jordan

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan

  Click here to get my book The Sexy Billionaire for FREE

  MR SERIES

  Click here to read Mr. Doctor, Book #1

  Click here to read Mr. SEAL, Book #2

  Click here to read Mr. Billionaire, Book #3

  Click here to read Mr. Cowboy, Book #4

  Click here to read Mr. Lieutenant, Book #5 – Coming April 30th

  Click here to read Mr. Firefighter, Book #6 – Coming May 6th

  Click here to read Mr. Sheriff, Book #7 – Coming May 13th

  Click here to read Mr. President, Book #8 – Coming May 20th

  Click here to read Mr. Roommate, Book #9 – Coming May 27th

  Click here to read Mr. Neighbor, Book #10 – Coming June 3rd

  Click here to read Mr. Mechanic, Book #11 – Coming June 10th

  Click here to read Mr. Daddy, Book #12 – Coming June 17th

  Click here to read Mr. Lumberjack, Book #13 – Coming June 24th

  Click here to read Mr. Prince, Book #14 – Coming July 1st

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  “Quit twirling your hair, Char,” Tracy squawked at me.

  I pulled my index finger from the long, brown curl and smiled at my best friend. Her smile was sympathetic—too sympathetic. I didn’t want her pity.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I asked, realizing I’d zoned out in the middle of what felt like another one of her lectures.

  “I was telling you about Owen, my cousin,” she continued.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to date,” I protested, wrapping another curl around my long finger.

  “Charlotte, I know you’d like him. Just one date,” she said, pushy as always.

  When she used my full name, not just Char, I knew she meant business. This was another one of her scenarios where “no” was not an optional answer.

  “After Bobby, I may never date again,” I laughed.

  Tracy rolled her eyes, and shot me another one of those sympathetic smiles. It was the first time I’d mentioned his name in weeks.

  “You have to get past that,” Tracy said, her tone matter-of-fact.

  I bit my tongue, not wanting to say what I was thinking in that moment. I knew if she found her precious Kevin in bed with another man, she’d need far more than just a few months to recover.

  “I really don’t like blind dates,” I said quickly, avoiding an argument over the hurtful words I swallowed instead of spewing.

  Tracy’s lips curled into a wicked smile; her bright-blue eyes danced as they closed in on mine. I watched her pull her phone from her purse, and then carefully scroll through images until stopping with a wide grin. “This is Owen,” she announced proudly.

  Holy hell!

  My eyes locked onto the image of a man without a shirt. His body was magnificent: rippled, toned, and tan. He smiled wide for the camera, his arms extended out from his sides like he was offering a hug. I immediately felt a tingle in my breasts at the thought of leaping into those strong arms. He had blue eyes and blond hair like Tracy, only his hair curled around his ears loosely from under a cowboy hat.

  “Has he seen a picture of me?” I asked, suddenly interested in this date she was pushing.

  “Yes.”

  My heart pounded in my chest at her sudden lack of detail. “And?” I blurted out.

  “And, he said you were hot,” she replied.

  Hot? I was many things, but “hot” wasn’t one I would claim. My green eyes were a focal point for most people, and they received plenty of admiration. My body wasn’t bad. I was thin, somewhat curvy, but certainly not a Victoria’s Secret model. The girl next door. That’s what Bobby had always said. Ugh, why do I even think about him? I hope he’s choking on his new boyfriend’s dick.

  “What does he know about me?” I asked.

  “He knows I love you. He knows you’re hot. He knows you love animals,” Tracy went on.

  My heart sank deep into my chest. Yes, I do love animals. That was my job, my life, but after the layoffs at the zoo, I was unemployed. Who wants to date someone without a job? Not me. That was always my first question on a date: what do you do?

  “Did you tell him I didn’t have a job?” I asked, fearful. I knew Tracy was a stickler for the truth.

  “No. I told him about you last week. You were employed then. Besides, what does it matter?” she asked.

  I pondered her question. Did it matter? It wasn’t like I was a loafer. I still worked side jobs, and was caring for the horses on Mr. Thompson’s farm. I was still hopeful my job would be saved, and I would return to work. But the zoo had been losing money for years, and with fewer and fewer visitors, it was doubtful.

  “I guess it doesn’t.”

  “So, you’ll go?” Tracy pressed.

  I hesitated. All I knew about Owen was that Tracy was his cousin, and he was absolutely gorgeous.

  “What does he do?” I asked, contradicting the ‘it doesn’t matter’ attitude I’d just picked up from Tracy over my lack of employment.

  “He has a small farm,” she said slowly.

  A small farm? Images of a shack with a rooster roaming free on the front lawn danced through my head, causing me to laugh. “How small?” I asked.

  “I thought it didn’t matter,” she smirked, calling me out on my double standard.

  A farmer—nice.

  I was desperate to rid my mind of the images I’d seen when coming home early from work several months earlier. Watching your naked boyfriend sucking a cock better than you ever could is something that ends up embedded in your brain, and a hot cowboy could be the thing to release me from that nightmare.

  “Okay,” I said carefully.

  Tracy’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and a small squeal escaped her throat. “Oh, Char! This is great. I’ll give him your number.”

  I agreed and walked her to the door. “Just don’t tell him about my layoff,” I said softly.

  She shook her head, smiling sweetly as she left. It was embarrassing, and not something I wanted to talk about on a first date. Hopefully, if things went well, I’d have a new job before the topic became an issue.

  After Tracy left, I went back to working on my resume until my eyes grew too tired to stay open. I pushed my laptop to the foot of my bed, curling up in the warm blankets.

  My small house wasn’t much, but it was mine. I’d worked hard for everything I had, and deserved none of the bad things that had happened to me in recent months. Maybe it was time for something good to happen, finally.

  Images of the man in the picture floated through my head all night long. I dreamt about Owen, what he’d be like, what his voice would sound like, and what his hard body would feel like pressed against mine. It was the first night in a long time that I hadn’t dreamt about Bobby, and the ignominy I’d walked in on.

  Ring, ring, ring…

  My phone’s old-fashioned ringtone pulled me from the sweet slumber I was enjoying. I reached for my cell phone and clicked answer before realizing the number wasn’t one in my contacts. “Hello,” a deep, sexy voice on the other end sounded.

  I slid up in bed and tried to pull myself awake enough to respond. I wasn’t sure who this was, or why they were calling me, but I certainly didn’t want to
sound like I was still sleeping. What time was it anyway? Shit, already ten o’clock in the morning? The joys of being unemployed, I guess.

  “Is this Charlotte?” the voice asked as I cleared my throat.

  “Hello. Yes. This is Charlotte.”

  “Good mornin’. This is Owen. Tracy said you’d be expecting my call,” he said in a slow and measured way.

  Wow. Tracy said she was giving him my number, but I didn’t think about him calling. I was rattled. Everyone I knew sent texts. My body warmed against the smoothness of his voice. It was deep, thick, and dripped like honey from his lips.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said quickly.

  I cleared my throat again, smoothed back my hair like he could see me, and worked hard to shake myself from my sleepiness. “No, of course not. I’ve been up for hours,” I lied.

  “Well, how would ya like to see a band with me tonight?” he asked.

  Tonight?

  I was in a panic at the amazing speed of this hook up. I’d only agreed to this date hours ago, and now here I was, half-asleep in my bed on the phone with the sexy cowboy from the picture and planning a date—for tonight.

  “Sure,” I agreed before I could stop myself.

  Something about this man’s voice excited me, aroused me really. I suddenly couldn’t wait to meet him.

  “I’d like to get there early, but I understand if ya can’t get away from work.”

  “No. I’m not working today,” I said, not entirely lying.

  “Great! Then can I pick you up around seven?” he asked.

  Seven? That was only nine hours away. I hadn’t been on a date in years; not since Bobby. There was so much prepping involved in getting myself date ready, I wasn’t sure nine hours was enough.

  “That would be great,” I said, again agreeing before I could stop myself. “Or, I can meet you there,” I quickly added, jumping out of the bed.

  “I look forward to meeting you, Charlotte. I’ll text you the info,” he said, and then hung up the phone.

  I leapt into high gear, tearing everything from my closet and tossing it on the bed. I didn’t have anything to wear, at least nothing I thought was appealing enough for a first date. The last item I pulled out had been pushed into the far end of the closet. It was a cute red skirt with a white lace petticoat puffing it out from underneath. It was certainly suitable for a country band, but I wasn’t certain we were seeing a country band. He didn’t specify, but I was assuming. He was a farmer after all, and any band playing within a forty mile radius of this small town was bound to be country, right? I convinced myself it was perfect, and found a nice tank top, a button up shirt, and cowgirl boots that were made with red leather.

  The rest of the day was spent plucking, shaving, waxing, and moisturizing, just in case things went really well. No self-respecting woman took off on a first date without being prepared; at least that’s what my grandmother always said.

  By the time I was ready to leave, I’d dressed—and redressed—five times, applied perfume at least a half dozen times, and wiped sweat from my upper lip so many times I couldn’t count.

  This was it.

  Owen texted me the address to a bar outside of town. I’d driven past it a few times, but never stopped in before. As I pulled into the gravel lot my heart began to race. People were still parking, walking toward the bar’s entrance, and I could hear music playing behind the large fence. All I’d seen was one picture of Owen, and I wasn’t sure I would recognize him. All the men wore black cowboy hats, boots, and had the same swagger.

  I stepped out of my car, took a deep breath, and looked around for any sign of Owen.

  There he was: dark denim jeans, worn leather boots, and a black hat. He walked toward me, waving and smiling as he drew nearer.

  “Glad you made it,” he said in his deep, smooth voice as his arms gripped me tightly, pulling me in for a hug.

  The smell of his cologne was hypnotizing, and the feel of his warm, hard flesh against mine made my nipples stand at attention. He was friendly, comfortable, and as he pulled back from the hug, I saw that he was even more gorgeous than his picture.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said sweetly, trying my best to hide my tight nipples by pulling the button up I wore closed over my thin tank top.

  His smile beamed, rounding and softening his masculine, squared chin, and his blue eyes danced as they gave me a once-over. “You are much more beautiful in person,” he said sweetly.

  I wondered what picture Tracy had shown him of me before our date. My stomach flopped at the possibility it was one from our Cancun vacation last summer. “You hungry?” he asked.

  I was starving. I nodded as he took my hand and guided me toward the large tavern. We walked up the wooden steps; he pushed open the large doors and handed the man at the front two tickets. It was just a regular bar inside, complete with tables, a long, wooden horseshoe bar, and a couple of pool tables. Some people sat at the tables with baskets of food and pitchers of beer in front of them. As we walked past them, I leaned out to see what they had. It smelled amazing, whatever it was. “This place has the best chicken wings,” he promised with a smile.

  “That sounds perfect,” I said.

  The bartender leaned in to hear the order over the commotion. Owen took two bottles of beer from her, as well as a number to set on our table. The place was crowded, but as a couple got up to leave, he snatched up their table before anyone else could. He held the chair out for me to sit, and then smiled at me with a hunger that aroused my sexuality before taking his seat.

  “So, they have concerts here?” I asked, looking over at the small stage in the center of the room.

  He laughed. “Yes. Outside. They have a professional stage out back.”

  I could hear the music playing outside, but it sounded more like a band practicing than playing a show. The wings came, and I didn’t hesitate to grab one, tearing the meat with my teeth and sucking the sweet sauce between my lips. I looked up, catching Owen staring at me with a wide smile. “There’s nothing sexier than watching a hot girl tear up some wings,” he teased.

  I blushed, but didn’t stop. The wings were amazing; the best, as he had said. The music became clearer as we finished our beers and our food, no longer sounding like practice.

  “Shall we?” he asked, standing and extending his hand to me.

  Outside, it was spectacular. An open field offered wooden benches for stadium-style seating up on the hill; a large stage sat in the center of the open area with seating designated for VIPs around the stage, and of course Owen had tickets for the front row.

  I was so enamored by Owen, I hadn’t even realized who was on the stage. My eyes lit up as George Strait offered a wink as I took my seat.

  “Oh my, he’s my favorite,” I admitted, giving Owen a warm smile.

  “I know,” he said with a grin.

  “How?”

  He chuckled. “Tracy likes to talk.”

  “Well, thank you for taking me,” I said, realizing he’d probably bought the tickets months ago, and could’ve taken anyone.

  The music started playing as Owen took my hand. “Tracy showed me your picture a couple months ago,” he admitted.

  I was stunned. Why had it taken her so long to show me his?

  “She said you weren’t ready to see anyone new yet. I bought the tickets hoping that you’d be ready by now,” he grinned, and tightened his squeeze on my hand.

  A couple months ago, I was still reeling over Bobby cheating on me with another man. Owen had been thinking about taking me to this concert for months? That sneaky bitch. God, how I love her. Thank you, Tracy!

  Chapter Two

  Owen

  Wow!

  Tracy was right about Charlotte: she was something special. That hot skirt she wore showed off the long, slender legs underneath, and that thin tank top did little to hide her excitement.

  George was one of my favorite artists, too, but I was glad to see his show end. It was obvious
his music tugged at Charlotte’s heartstrings by how her big, green eyes batted in my direction.

  “You wanna get a cone?” I asked, hoping to keep the evening going.

  “Sure,” she replied, that beautiful smile of hers dazzling me as she spoke.

  I held her hand, guiding her through the crowd as we made our way outside to the parking lot. Some of the guests stayed for a beer after, but many were scampering to get into their cars and on the road. I pulled down the tailgate on my pickup truck, and then lifted Charlotte by her waist so she could sit. I jumped up beside her, scooted close, and waited for the ‘kiss me’ look I knew she’d give.

  “Thank you again,” she said, killing the mood I’d just created.

  “No problem.”

  “Tracy said you have a small farm,” she continued.

  Her questions seemed forced, nervous, and just a way of avoiding what she knew was going to happen. Those lips were so full, so pink, and looking into those green eyes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned in, ignored her question, and pressed my lips against hers. They were as soft as I imagined; softer, even.

  My jeans tightened from the unexpected excitement of our touch. Her mouth parted, allowing my tongue inside to explore the warm cavern behind those beautiful lips. Our tongues intertwined slowly, dancing together to a beat all their own. I wasn’t expecting it to feel so good, for her to feel so good.

  Our eyes remained locked as I pulled back from our embrace. “Wow,” I gasped.

  She sighed. It was a sweet sigh, barely a noise, but it made my dick jump up and take notice.

  “Yes. I have a small farm. A ranch, really,” I answered the pre-kiss question.

  She seemed interested, listening to the details about what animals I had at my place. When I told her about the horses, she perked up quite a bit, her tone changing to one of softness and excitement that aroused me—not just sexually, but in a way I’d never really experienced, so I couldn’t explain. I loved talking to her, looking at her when she got animated, and listening to how much she loved animals.

  “Ready for that ice cream?” I asked, taking her hand in mine.