The Convenient Cowboy
A Hansen Brother Romance
Ann B. Harrison
The Convenient Cowboy
Copyright © 2019 Ann B. Harrison
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2019
Cover design by Lee Hyat at www.LeeHyat.com
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-949707-82-3
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The Convenient Cowboy
NATE HANSEN has to find a job that will pay him a living wage, but he’s struggling to overcome his tarnished reputation in Marietta. Work has never been high on his list of favorite things to do, and getting drunk and into fights isn’t exactly the best reference for a job application. Now that his elder brother, Jethro, is making a go of the ranch their grandfather left them, the meager profit it’s returning is only enough to support one person. And that’s not going to be Nate. Working for Jethro to get the ranch back up to scratch has been good job experience, but the time has come for Nate to move on.
He applies for job after job, but nobody wants to give him a chance, even when he’s proven he can work hard. When he hears the advertisement is for a husband, Nate is taken aback. Once, he would’ve taken it on, but now he’s not so sure he’s that man who can pretend to really like someone to get what he wants. This woman is asking for commitment, not a one-night stand.
JOY MITCHELL is at her wit’s end. A widow with a toddler at her feet and a ranch to run, she’s about to buckle under the pressure from her dead husband’s family. They want to take it from her despite the fact she is named as the only beneficiary in his will. Before he died, Bradley Mitchell did his best to leave her secure and provided for, and their lawyer insists his family has no case. But that doesn’t stop them from trying to break her down bit by bit.
Her hired help leaves her high and dry, and she’s having trouble finding anyone else to work for her. She suspects foul play from the in-laws and takes the drastic measure of advertising for a husband, believing that to be the only way to keep a man by her side.
What she doesn’t expect is to get only one decent reply—and that reply from the man who disappointed her sister on a date last year. A man with a reputation that makes her wary. Everyone warns her off of Nate, but what choice does she have if she wants to keep her ranch and make a safe home for her child?
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Book
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
The Hansen Brother series
The Watson Brother series
About the Author
Chapter One
Nate Hansen took the paycheck his boss of three days handed him, his self-esteem plummeting to the toes of his well-worn cowboy boots. Not again!
“But why? I thought you said there was enough work for at least a couple of weeks.”
The ranch manager shifted his feet and refused to make eye contact. “Sorry. Thought there would be, too, but the guy you were standing in for has come back from his vacation early and wants to get back to work. Boss said I have to let him start tomorrow.”
“Didn’t I do a decent job, Kurt? Surely, there’s something else I can do around here.” This was the third job he’d been let go from this month. Sure, it was only supposed to be temporary work, but he’d expected more time to show what he could do. Not what he wanted to face as he turned up for work this morning ready to show what he was made of.
“No, sorry, man.”
“Do you know of anything going at all? Maybe you can give me a reference or put in a good word with someone. I’m keen to work, you know that.”
“Not a lot going around that I know of.”
“Hey, Nate.” The ranch owner’s son rode past and got his attention. “I hear Mrs. Mitchell over at the Lazy Q is looking for someone to help her out.” He burst out laughing and rode off.
The manager turned away, but he tried to cover his own laugh with a cough.
If there was a job going, he needed to find out the details, no matter how amusing these cowboys found it. “Mrs. Mitchell? Can you tell me where her place is?”
“Sure you want to know? It’s not your average ranch hand job, you know.” Kurt dug his hands into his pockets and looked over Nate’s shoulder, not meeting his gaze.
“At this stage, I’ll take anything. Man’s gotta make a living the best way he can. Fill me in, and I’d appreciate it if you can put in a good word for me.”
“Not sure I need to do that. Figure your reputation with the ladies is all you’re going to need.”
Apprehension trickled down Nate’s spine. He’d tried so hard to distance himself from the man he used to be. He’d curtailed his drinking over the last six months, kept away from the bar and the ladies, and done his best to rebuild his life. If his brother Jethro could stay on the straight and narrow, make something of himself, so could Nate. So far, he doubted his new change of attitude was working as well as the charm he usually threw around like confetti. “I want the job because I can work, not because of the way I used to cat around. If Mrs. Mitchell has a job going, I want it.”
But if I have to charm her into it, look out, baby, ’cause here I come, ready to make my mark. Desperate times called for desperate measures, including breaking his promise to himself. But, hey, he was the only one who knew he was trying to make it without resorting to his usual charm.
“Okay. Let me give you directions, then.”
*
Joy slammed down the phone and swallowed the curse words. Damn her father-in-law for his fake concern over the loss of yet another ranch hand. He wasn’t going to break her and take over the ranch, no matter how much he pushed her. Not when her poor husband, Bradley, had entrusted it to her for their baby son. His father might think he could work the ranch better than she could, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not while she had breath in her lungs.
Her eighteen-month-old son’s wail snapped her out of her self-pity. He’d finished breakfast and thrown his bowl on the floor to get her attention. “Coming, baby boy. Momma’s coming.”
Young Toby sat by the table in his high c
hair, pounding his hands on the hard surface. He’d spread jelly though his blond locks and over his face and grinned at her now that he had her full attention. Frustration rushed to the surface, but she pushed it back. He was so adorable, but with the ranch to run single-handedly as well as looking after her child, an extra cleanup job wasn’t what she’d expected to derail her tightly planned day. She had to get down to the yard and feed the horses before they worked themselves into a lather.
“You little rascal. I’m going to have to feed you in the bath if you keep this up.”
Toby giggled as she attacked him with a washcloth. He was so like his father in looks, but their temperaments were completely different. Toby had to be on the go constantly, only stopping to sleep and eat, while Bradley had been happy to sit back and read when he had a spare minute.
He’d pored over articles on the web and in magazines about organic beef and shared his findings with Joy. When she was too pregnant to do much to help him, he’d lain beside her and read articles to her huge belly, convinced he was building a love of cattle in his unborn son. He’d cared about the land his grandmother had left for him, and wanted to run it his way.
Ryan Mitchell had other ideas now that Bradley was gone. But pilfering her ranch hands was the last straw.
A knock at the door startled her. She hurried to answer it, with Toby clinging to her leg. Something he’d done more of late as the heated phone calls and visits from his grandfather had escalated and left Joy in tears. Poor little guy was feeling insecure, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Mrs. Mitchell? I’ve come about the job.”
Joy stared at the man on her doorstep. Someone had to be playing a joke on her. This cowboy was nothing like the other applicants. He looked familiar, but her frazzled and overtired mind couldn’t put a name to his face. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Someone told me you have a job going. I’m in need of employment. I’d prefer permanent, but if you only have casual work, I’ll take that too.” He smiled down at Toby clinging to her leg. “Cute, ain’t he? Anyway, as I was saying, I’m looking for work, and I’m pretty sure that my last boss will give me a reference. Been filling in around Marietta until I can find full-time employment. I really want to sink my teeth into something.”
Holy crap. Sink his teeth into something? Did he even know how that sounded, looking as good as he did? Get hold of yourself, Joy. You need this man. Things are getting desperate. “Did he tell you what the job was?” She swallowed. Nobody had applied in person before, and this man wasn’t who she would have hired unless she were a local bar owner, desperate to draw in female customers.
“No, ma’am, but I’m sure I’m up to the task.”
Oh, he so was. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t quite sound good enough for the cowboy at her door. He had nervous energy running through him that would worry most people, almost like a caged mountain lion who’d had a bad week hunting.
But she was too desperate to be picky, and the other two applicants didn’t have the least bit of appeal. Not that she’d seen them face-to-face, nor did she want to. They’d applied by mail via the newspaper office where she’d placed the advertisement. The first applicant was too old to even consider. She’d be the one looking after him if his age was anything to go by. The other gentleman had sleazebag written all over him. Last thing she wanted was a fortune hunter, and that greasy suck-up letter had oozed its writer’s character, from the smell of cheap aftershave he’d drenched the envelope in to the flowery words he’d used.
She needed a hardworking cowboy who would take care of her and her son. Not someone who’d get a foot in the door with an attitude that screamed “takeover in progress.” The man standing before her was used to working. His hands were callused, his jeans worn, and his boots dusty and in need of reheeling. Even his battered hat looked like it belonged to a hard-working cowboy. Pity he had the sexy swagger to his stance.
“What’s your name, cowboy?” Toby put his arms around her leg, leaving jelly marks from his sticky fingers on the worn denim. Some cleanup job that’d been.
“Nate Hansen.”
Oh, heck! No wonder she thought she recognized him. Little sister Cassie had fallen for this love ’em and leave ’em man last fall. He’d broken her heart, and she still bemoaned how he was perfect for her. Sounded like he didn’t agree, as they never got past the third date.
“Seems your reputation precedes you. Not sure I’m willing to employ someone who cares more about drinking, fighting, and flirting with every lady in town. I need someone who’s prepared to work an honest day’s work, not play.”
He looked down at his feet and sighed before meeting her gaze. “Mrs. Mitchell, give me a chance. I’ve been doing my best to mend my ways, to make a go of it ever since my grandpa died. I know my reputation, and I’m doing everything I can to move on from that, I promise. My brother Jethro is running the ranch and there ain’t enough work for all of us. But if you want references, I know there’re people who’ll give you one, tell you how hard I work.”
“But what have you done long-term, other than drink and fight?” And break girls’ hearts.
“Guess you got me there. Only work around has been short-term, you know. That’s why I’m keen to take on something I can sink my teeth into, something permanent where I can make my mark. If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that I’m a good risk. I’ve changed. Ask my brother or his lawyer if you like. I know she’ll vouch for me too.”
“Who’s his lawyer?” It was so tempting to take him on, but something still niggled in the back of her mind.
Could she trust him, knowing his reputation? It was hardly six months ago that Cassie had come crying to her over Nate Hansen. Joy had been secretly pleased the hard-partying, womanizing slob had dumped her sister. Cassie didn’t need the kind of grief an affair with Nate could bring. How could she let herself believe that he was a new man and even consider bringing him into her life now? She had a child to protect!
“Sadie St. Martin and Layla Watson.”
Joy swallowed back her relief. Her lawyer and the lady who wrote up Bradley’s will when he found out he was going to die. “I know them.”
“Great, so you’ll call and at least get a character reference then?”
Joy gripped her son’s hand and lifted him up onto her hip, ignoring the sticky fingers as he clutched her shirt. Toby tucked his head into her neck and watched the stranger at the door. “I guess I can do that.”
“So, what’s the job?”
“I need a husband, Mr. Hansen. And I don’t have much time left to choose one.”
Chapter Two
A husband! What the heck? If karma was out to get him for all the one-night stands and hearts he’d broken, she was packing a powerful punch.
“A husband? That’s a job?” Holy fuck!
Pink tinged her high cheekbones and she swallowed. “Yes, it is.” Her lips compressed into a thin line as she stared him down. This little lady was feisty indeed. Women usually fell at his feet and did what he wanted, not the other way around.
He leaned on the doorframe, almost lost for words. “Well, you have me at a disadvantage. I was expecting a position for a ranch hand.”
“I’m sure you were, but I have my reasons.” The toddler in her arms put his fingers on her cheek, and she glanced at him. “Look, I have to take care of my son, feed the horses, and then I’ll call the lawyer. If you could come back later today, we can talk more then, or you can call me. Either way. I don’t care.”
No way Nate was leaving without a job. But as a husband? That was going to take some convincing on her end. He wasn’t the type of guy to put down roots. Everyone knew that. “How about you deal with the little guy, then call the lawyers while I feed the horses for you?” Nate looked down the drive to the big red barn, one of its doors hanging at an odd angle. “I’ll clean out the stalls while I’m there and you can come and find me when you’re ready to talk. Okay? I’m sure we both have plent
y of questions before I can even consider your offer.” It’d give him a chance to gather his wits, try to figure out how far he was prepared to go to secure a future. See how badly this ranch needed help from someone like him. He needed to weigh up the pros and cons before he made a decision. Still, he couldn’t believe he was even considering this crazy idea.
Joy closed her eyes for a moment, swayed slightly, and Nate reached out and grabbed her arm. The smell of summer flowers and peanut butter and jelly toyed with his senses. This was the closest he’d been to a woman in months. What a predicament. “You all right, Mrs. Mitchell? Looking a bit pale. Can I get you anything?”
She opened her eyes, focused on his face. “No, thank you. All the feed’s in bins. I’m sure you’ll find everything.” She stepped back, breaking the contact between them. “I’ll come find you soon and we’ll talk.” She shut the door in his face, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief.
He had a slight reprieve to try to come up with a plan going forward. Or time to make a run for it. Poor woman looked like she’d been working too hard and not sleeping enough, going by the dark shadows under her pretty brown eyes. It was clear she needed help, but why she had to go to such extremes confused him. There were plenty of men looking for work, and he should know. Bouncing from job to temporary employment wasn’t fun. He’d take the position full time without a wedding ring. Hell, he’d take it without accommodation, too, if that was all he could get. He headed down the driveway, admiring the whitewashed fences that contained rich grass-filled pastures.
But still, the rancher in him came to the fore. Small details showed the neglect seeping in, a rotting fence paling here and there, weeds creeping into the driveway that was probably once clear and neat. It still didn’t detract from how beautiful this ranch was.
Cattle chewed contentedly to one corner of the pasture nearest the barn. They looked healthy enough to his eye. Not that he was an expert, but he’d grown up around cattle and some of what Grandpa lectured had stuck.
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