The Cowboy's Girl Next Door: A BWWM Cowboy Romance

by Monica Castle

  THE COWBOY'S

  GIRL NEXT DOOR

  MONICA CASTLE

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 Monica Castle

  Written by Monica Castle. All Rights Reserved To Monica Castle

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  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  When Claire Robinson moved out to live on a ranch she just wanted to be alone. She had no interest in men or in finding love. All she needed was herself and her horses.

  However, the handsome cowboy next door Jessie Hardy has a strong interest in her and finds her intriguing. Now he is determined to find any way possible to make her his.

  Will Claire open up her heart for the chance to find love? Or will she forever just be known as the cowboy's girl next door?

  READ ON TO FIND OUT HOW IT ALL DEVELOPS!

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  Jess Hardy paced around his office in the stables. Life at Bar None Ranch was busy, and while he wanted to support his older sister, Lacey, and his niece, Cella, in their projects, Cella's most recent project was burning up more minutes than he wanted to use. “Damnit, Lacey, you know I don’t have time for this stuff!”

  Hand on one hip, perfectly manicured nails of the other hand tapping against the granite countertop, Lacey smiled sweetly, saying in a soothing tone, “C’mon now, Jess. Cella’s worked real hard on this project—for you, for the ranch. The least you can do is look at it and give her your approval.”

  Jess let out a sigh, hands gripping his head as he leaned back in the office chair, and he turned toward the computer screen. Lacey chuckled, putting a fresh pot of coffee on the stove as she watched him read the site. The metal pot was better suited for a campfire, but Jess insisted that the coffee it made was better than the more expensive coffee makers she preferred.

  The website was good. Cella had captured the best of the ranch. Every stallion and mare was beautifully photographed with simple accompanying text, every award was listed, every employee was shown smiling while welcoming visitors and clients alike.

  He pulled the chair closer to the desk as he went deeper into the site and leaned in to get a better view. When he got to the entry for Horatio, he sat back to admire the Arabian’s strong sleek form. Cella’s photo captured every bit of the taut muscular strength beneath his coal black coat. Eyes never leaving the screen, he motioned to Lacey. “You’ve gotta see this.”

  Lacey handed him his coffee, and rested her hand on the back of his chair. “My baby’s good, isn’t she?” Jess felt a gentle tug at the back of the chair, as Lacey’s hand gripped the fabric. “Her daddy would be so proud.”

  Jess swung around in his chair to gently pat her hand. “No doubt he is, Lacey. No doubt.” His hand stayed on hers until she moved away. He could hear her soft cries as she went in search of a box of tissues, even though there was one right on the desk. No matter. If he’d learned anything about Lacey at all, it was that she preferred to cry alone.

  When Carl died, she disappeared with Cella for a week, mother and daughter camping somewhere on the ranch and mourning in their own private way. No one said a word when they left, nor did they question them when they returned. Everyone knew how protective Jess was of his big sister.

  Everyone wanted to protect her too.

  He sipped the coffee as he continued to inspect the website, getting to know his ranch in a new way with each click. Cella was learning a lot in her classes at the community college, and while he’d been disappointed that she’d refused his offer to pay her tuition to the best private school in the state, he knew she needed to be closer to home.

  “She’s making the most of it,” he noted. He sat back in the chair, while he reached up to smooth his dark hair. Lacey always told him to get a haircut, but he stubbornly refused, letting the waves keep growing until they just brushed his collar, before telling Jasper to take out his scissors. “Waste of time,” he’d always tell her. “I’ve got a ranch to run and no need to sit in a barbershop. Besides,” he said, flashing the trademark Hardy grin, “horses don’t respect a man with a shorter mane than theirs.”

  Cella had put up a virtual tour section to show the world what was so special about Bar None. Jess clicked on the links for each part of the property and watched as the camera panned the expanse of the ranch. Paddocks, pastures, the arena, even the cemetery where his parents and the horses were laid to rest: he was mesmerized at the grand sweep of 1000 acres and the beauty of the landscape, the buildings, and the horses.

  This was home and home was exactly where his heart wanted to be.

  “Ready, boss?” Jasper was standing in the office doorway. He looked at the coffee pot, and then looked down at his mud-caked boots. Lacey demanded a clean workspace, even in the offices attached to the stables.

  “Want a cup?” Jess asked, rising before Jasper could answer, getting the coffee and saving his stable manager from Lacey’s wrath. The coffee was hot, but Jasper drank it down like water. He was stringy, all limbs and sinew, and while at first glance you might think a horse would break him, anyone who watched him with the stallions during mating season would quickly understand just how unbreakable he was.

  Jess sat on the small bench by the door and pulled on his boots. Lacey’s office, Lacey’s rules. Grabbing his hat from the peg on the wall, he walked out behind Jasper.

  Jasper had already saddled Chestnut, and Jess smiled at him appreciatively. Chestnut was his heart; a sweet older mare well past her prime, but still good for a slow walk on the property. Jess liked to take her out as often as he could without taxing her too much. He patted her rump as he approached, and then stroked her mane before hoisting himself into the saddle. Her gentle whickers told him she was happy to see him too.

  They set off --- rancher, manager, and lifelong friends. Jasper came to the ranch as soon as he turned eighteen, his love of horses spurring him to beg Randy Hardy for any job he had available. Jess, Randy’s son, was fourteen at the time, and he and Jasper immediately became fast friends. The older boy was already an accomplished horseman with a gentle spirit, the younger, a quiet but active soul with a hunger for knowledge of the family business.

  Jess and Jasper learned about the ranch together, roaming and camping on the land until they knew every hillock, tree, and the best time to fish in the creek that separated them from Heart’s Home, the smaller ranch nearby. Jasper was there when Randy was thrown from a new unbroken horse, and he was there, too, at the hospital, then the funeral home, and finally the graveside on Bar None Ranch, when Randy Hardy was laid to rest.

  Now, ten years later, Jess couldn’t imagine op
erating the place without Jasper, and Jasper, thirty four and happily unmarried, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

  They left the stables, eager to see what, if any, damage had come to the trees on the edge of the property. The storm hit hard and fast, and they’d spent the better part of the prior week with insurance adjusters and contractors to get the hail damage to the buildings repaired.

  The work was on going, but no one in Kerrville ever denied a request from the Hardys, and Jess Hardy made sure that as long as they did a fair day’s labor, the workers were well paid, well fed, and treated like family. His mother, Delia, always told him that wealth was nothing without responsibility for the community, and while his visits to the small town were infrequent, everyone there knew that the Hardy’s children were every bit as authentically connected to the townspeople and their fortunes as their deceased parents had always been.

  The day was clear and crisp; perfect weather for a gentle morning ride. As they made their way to the tree line, Jess and Jasper talked about the horses and some recent inquiries about stud services from a ranch in Texas. Jess had taken his father’s life work and built on it so well, that breeders from across the country were eager to add a stallion or mare sired by his stock.

  “Think Horatio’s ready?” he asked Jasper. “We’re getting a lot of inquiries about him.”

  Jasper snorted. “Yeah, he’s ready. Had to keep him well away from Betsy yesterday. Tell that fella from Colorado he’ll have to pay top dollar, and to make sure he’s got some strong hands to help keep ‘em both steady.”

  Betsy was a nurse mare, and Jasper tended to her as carefully as he did the thoroughbreds. When she foaled, he always made sure that both she and her offspring received superior care. He went so far as to sleep with the newborn for a few hours after it was separated from its mother, before joining Betsy to comfort her when the foal was gone.

  Jess always gave him a hard time for it, but he was always glad to see the foal off to Safe Harbor, a small ranch about 200 miles south that cared for nurse mare foals and raised them to be gentle carriers for the small children who visited their petting zoo.

  “There. See that split oak?” They’d reached the tree line, and Jess carefully led Chestnut through the tangle of fallen limbs and uprooted fence posts that littered the ground. The old mare was still steady; her movements so long in tune with her rider that he barely had to guide her along. When they reached the tree, the two men dismounted, leaving the horses to explore the honeysuckle that grew along the fence.

  The oak was nearly split in two. Jasper let out a whistle. Jess shook his head, and then took out his phone to grab a few photos. “It’ll have to be removed,” he said softly. He bit his bottom lip as he took the pictures to send to a local landscaper.

  “It was a good tree,” Jasper said as he patted the rough gray brown trunk. “Good for climbing, good for napping, good for...” he cast a sly glance in Jess’s direction, then quickly looked away. Jess didn’t like to talk about Miranda, and Miranda had ruined this tree for Jess.

  “It’s OK. She’s gone, now the tree’s gonna be gone too.” Jess finished snapping photos, put the phone in his pocket, mounted Chestnut, and headed down the rest of the line. “Life moves on.” Jasper followed and they completed their inspection in silence.

  Later, after the day’s work was done and the supper table was cleared, Jess went on the porch of the big house. The night was cool, and he was grateful for the quiet. The meal had been loud and boisterous, Lacey crowing over Cella’s great work on the website, Cella blushing at her mother’s praise, Jasper and Wayne, the landscaper Jess had called about the oak, joining in on the teasing and praise until the girl finally relented and thanked them for the accolades.

  Lacey never talked about it, but Jess knew that she was troubled about Cella’s future. She was her father’s daughter, and Carl was never really cut out for the rancher’s life. One day Cella would go, maybe to Atlanta, maybe New York, and Lacey and Jess would be left at Bar None to carry on. Alone.

  He grabbed the handlebars of the bike at the bottom of the porch stairs. It seemed almost ridiculous to have one with so many horses around, but Jess liked to feel his legs in motion, and a mountain bike was a good substitute when the horses were all put to bed for the night. He pedaled down the driveway, and then rode along the perimeter of the property until he was back at the oak. Wayne was bringing his crew the next day to take it down, and he needed to say goodbye.

  Miranda was perfect, or so he’d thought. She lived with her family at Heart’s Home, a smaller ranch with a solid stock of breed. Her parents sent her to some fancy boarding school in the east, but in the summers, they’d meet at the creek that separated the properties. Jess had cherished those summer days as a boy, and the nights, too, grew special as they got older and discovered each other.

  They stood under the oak, fumbling like colts, trying to get their bearings. Picnics led to kisses, then to explorations, and the first time she let him touch her breasts under the oak’s wide canopy, he’d looked into her eyes and thought he knew what love was.

  Of course, he didn’t. He’d given her his most precious gift, and she’d given him hers, but the next summer brought no Miranda. She’d gone on a tour of Europe, her mother’s idea to get her some culture. When she returned for the Christmas holidays the following winter, she’d snuggled with him under quilts as they drank hot chocolate under the tree, and for a moment he thought things were back to rights between them. They’d kissed, warming their hands beneath each other’s clothing, and then she ruined everything.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts, Jess.”

  His hands had frozen in place at that remark, and he’d pulled away quickly. “What did you say?”

  She sipped at her chocolate casually, her pale slender fingers sliding through her straight blonde hair. “You know this doesn’t mean anything, don’t you?”

  He was silent for a while, so she continued. “I mean, there’s a big world out there, Jess. A big world with exciting people and soooo much to do! We graduate next year and then college and then…well, whatever happens, I won’t be doing it in Kerrville.” She took a flask from her purse and poured some of the alcohol into her cup. She offered it to Jess. He refused.

  “I thought…I mean, we…last summer,” Jess sputtered.

  “Well, that was last summer and by next summer, I’ll be anywhere but here.” She took a swig from the mug, her face contorting from the strong drink. “Besides,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “my parents are selling the ranch. They’re tired of this life.”

  Later, when the sale became public, Randy had remarked that it was Mrs. Thompson, not Mr. Thompson, who seemed so eager to get away from their quiet rural life, but that made no difference to Jess.

  What he’d thought was love he now knew was just youthful experimentation, and he threw himself more eagerly into the work of ranch, leaving home for just long enough to get a degree in business. He’d dated in college, but he couldn’t see any of the girls he met there willing to become a rancher’s wife, and he realized he’d rather be single and home and happy. Lacey chastised him, pushed him to take out this farmer’s and that shop owner’s and that other lawyer’s daughter, but the dates never amounted to much more than a nice evening with a potential friend.

  He sat against the trunk of the old tree and looked up through the leaves at the clear night sky. His heart had mended; he wasn’t carrying a torch for Miranda, no matter what Jasper thought. He just hadn’t met anyone who seemed worth it or worthy. He loved the ranch, he loved his family, and that would have to be enough.

  Chapter 2

  Claire Robinson drove slowly down the two-lane road, marveling at the impressive line of ancient oaks on either side of the street. It had been a long drive, but it was worth it. Atlanta was the very last place she wanted to be right now, and with every mile she put between herself and her memories of the city, she felt just a bit lighter. Now, as she neared her
destination, the sorrow and tension had been entirely replaced by excitement. As she soon as she saw the sign for Heart’s Home, though, the excitement turned to joy.

  The realtor wasn’t there yet, so Claire pulled just into the driveway and parked her sedan behind the large wooden sign. She slung her purse over her shoulder, took a quick photo of the old wooden sign, and sent it to her Mom. Within 30 seconds, her phone was ringing.

  “Heart’s Home, huh? I think that’s a good sign, baby. A real good sign,” her mother said with a proud and happy voice.

  “I think so too,” Claire said, biting her lower lip to suppress the grin that was aching to break out across her smooth brown skin. “It’s worn, though. The agent said this place has been vacant for ten years. Trying not to get my hopes up.” This was the third ranch she’d visited in the last week, and, truth be told, it seemed the least promising.

  It was far away from Georgia, which right now was good, but it was also far from her mother, which wasn’t. It was in Texas, another strike against it, but the trees and the smells, and the peaceful noise of the country, and the lush greens of the fields, felt like a different world than the two places she’d already visited, and the name, Heart’s Home, just seemed right.