A Cowboy for Mom

by Honor James

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Honor James

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-799-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I would like to dedicate this novel to my mom and to all of the moms in the world.

  A COWBOY FOR MOM

  Cowboy for the Holidays, 2

  Honor James

  Copyright © 2014

  Prologue

  Throwing his truck into Park, he sat for a long time staring over the manicured lawns. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the roadway, flowers followed the paths, and giant trees created interesting patterns of light over everything.

  Slowly, he turned off the engine and pocketed his keys. Grabbing the bundle from the passenger seat and his Stetson from the dash, he slid out into the cool morning air. Pushing the hat onto his head, he took a breath as he locked up the truck.

  He walked slowly along the path and paused when he reached his destination. Clearing his throat, he swallowed a couple of times before he felt comfortable enough to begin.

  “Hi Mom,” he said quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, and for that, I’m sorry. The ranch has been pretty busy already this year, but I’m sure you remember how that goes. Too much to do in too few hours of every day.”

  Rubbing at the bridge of his nose as birds chirped in a nearby tree, he shifted on his feet. “Had to hire a couple more hands and from the way things look, I’ll be getting a couple more come June. Bev called the other day,” he said, mentioning his younger sister, a major pain in his ass. “She said to tell you hello and to let you know that she and Mark were thinking of you.” His sister’s husband never particularly liked his mother-in-law, but he did respect her for raising a strong, independent daughter.

  “Both her rugrats are getting big, so she says, though I won’t be able to see for myself until the end of summer, when they come down from New York to visit. Talked to them both briefly, though, and it sounds like Moira has a boyfriend. Yeah, I know she’s only seven and we all know how well those last at that age, but she’s pretty excited. Mark definitely is not happy about it, even if Bev tells him it’s just a puppy crush. He still thinks he needs to have words with the boy.”

  Grinning, he shook his head and then spoke about his nephew, Collin. “Collin’s getting all A’s again this year and doing well on the wrestling team. Bev says he’s a scrapper and, while he’s still gangly at ten, he’s got some solid technique happening. They’re planning a trip down to Florida once school is out to visit with Dad. I told them that if I can manage it, I’ll slip away for a couple of days to meet them there for some fun in the sun. But we all know how hard that can be.” Especially with his old man having found a new woman to share his life with. Not exactly how he wanted to spend his time, watching his old man make the moves on a younger woman. Or spend too much time with his sister, who would bug him nearly nonstop about his life and the fact that he didn’t call and relay all to her as he was apparently supposed to do. But seeing the kids was really why he wanted to go, since he missed his niece and nephew.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to come by and say hey. I know I’m a little early, but Mother’s Day falls on a cattle buy day this year. I know, they should know better. But I’ll come back on your birthday too and bring you something a little more special, as well. I promise you’ll like it and no, it won’t be expensive. I know how you always hated us blowing our hard-earned money on you.” She’d always insisted that both he and his sister make her a gift each year.--something from their hearts to her,something they thought she’d like, and she always did, no matter how butt-ugly it had been.

  Crouching, he lay the bouquet down gently. “Happy Mother’s Day, Momma,” he whispered. Pressing his hand to the cold stone that marked her final resting place, Carson bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath. Sixteen years and it never got easier but still he came each and every Mother’s Day and birthday. “I love you, Momma,” he managed to get out around the lump in his throat.

  Chapter One

  Ugh, four a.m. was too damned early, even for a lifer cowboy like himself. Stumbling to the bathroom, he hit the switch and instantly regretted the light as it seared into his corneas. Hissing out a foul curse, he threw up a hand to cover his eyes and continued toward where the toilet was last seen.

  With an empty bladder and hot water pounding down on his still-aching muscles, he was able to crack his eyes open without feeling like he’d go blind. Not that he could see much with his blurry eyesight. Too little sleep did that to a person, and it gave him eyelids that felt more like sandpaper whenever he blinked.

  While the shower helped wake hima bit, staring in the mirror he knew there was no way in hell he was going to chance shaving. Making a face at his blond hair and blue eyes (all his mother’s), he shook his head. Not putting a razor to his throat was likely the wisest decision he’d make all day.

  Brushing his teeth, he inspected himself as he did about once a week, noting all he had inherited from his mother and father. The Scandinavian coloring was from his mother, with blond hair that went white under the summer sun, blue eyes that changed with his mood, and high, pronounced cheekbones. The square jaw that kept him from looking too effeminate was from his dad, as was the small cleft and the big dimples when he smiled full out. Same with the broad forehead, shoulders, and his nearly six foot four inches in height. But he’d acquired his mother’s ability to eat anything and everything without gaining a pound,something his sister still hated him for since she’d ended up with their father’s metabolism and was, more often than not, on a diet.

  Rinsing his mouth, he brushed a towel over his face and wrinkled his nose. At one time it had been as straight and aristocratic as his mother’s. But having been thrown from horses over the years, and a couple of solid punches from stupid fights as a young man had definitely given it a more unique contour. At least he could breathe out of it, unlike a couple of his old school chums who’d needed to have some serious surgery to correct that issue.

  Padding back to the bedroom, naked of course since he didn’t bother with nightclothes and lived alone in the farmhouse, he headed for the closet. Jeans, a lightweight cotton undershirt and heavier long sleeve shirt on top, socks, and a pair of beaten-up cowboy boots was his power suit of choice, both for working the ranch and dealing with farmers and their lackeys.

  Oh, he had actual suits, and he could even clean up right fine when he chose, but he was a rancher and if people couldn’t accept that, then he didn’t care to know them. Sadly, they all wanted to know him since he was one half of the heir to a hell of a fortune, something else his mother had left him, and his sister Beverly was the other half. Not that Carson or Beverly had known that fact when they were growing up. Hell, they hadn’t even learned about it until their mother passed away from complications after surgery from a ruptured appendix. They found out that her grandfather, their great-grandfather, had been some sort of shipping baron. His son had turned it into a damned empire, and their mother had been the sole beneficiary as she’d been an only child.

  The real kicker was that even Carson’s dad hadn’t known about it and had been right pissed that the majority of the fortune had gone to his ki
ds instead of to him. Not that his mother had forgotten his dad, but she knew him for what he was, and had given him only what she felt he deserved,just enough to send him packing and leaving the ranch in Carson’s more-than-capable hands.

  Pouring coffee into the thermos, he dumped the last bit into a mug and, propping a hip to the counter, stared out into the dark yard. The ranch had been their mother’s. She’d bought the land and started it up, teaching her kids the value of hard work and a dollar. So when they’d gotten the inheritance and more zeros than he could contemplate without getting light-headed, they were stumped as to what to do.

  They were now co-owners and majority shareholders in the companies that their great-grandfather and grandfather had started and kept growing respectively. Thankfully, there was a board of directors and Carson and Bev only had to attend two meetings each year,one in March and the other in mid-September. They went, listened to prospective ideas, spent a couple of days talking it out as far as pros and cons, and then either gave the “green light” or not. They would also sign all the paperwork that no one else had the authority to sign.

  This was also the only time they employed their personal lawyers because no one but a lawyer could understand the crap that was passed along to them to sign. Legal jargon was not Carson’s strong suit. He knew horses, cows, bulls, and the in’s and out’s of ranch life. His sister did, as well, but these days she was more into managing her art gallery than farming. Neither of them understood legal matters, so they’d found a firm they could trust through good, old-fashioned determination and their own gut feelings.

  They also watched everything very, very carefully. While they might not understand the talk, they knew the almighty dollar, and recognized when they were being yanked around. That much their mother had taught them in regard to managing finances,and it was something they utilized on a regular basis.

  He rinsed out his mug, then grabbed his thermos and the breakfast burrito he’d made the night before. Heading out into the chill of the morning, he snagged a heavy down jacket and shrugged into it as the two cattle dogs came round for their morning scratch. “Daisy, Duke, how you both doing this morning?” he asked them as they sat down at his feet.

  Grinning when they eyed his burrito, he shook his head. “Not for you two mutts,” he said. “Come on, let’s get to the barn and get busy.” He’d heat the burrito up in there and eat while he started feeding the horses. The hands would be around later in the morning to clean the stalls and work all the horses through their paces.

  “So, I hear tell that we’ve got company coming out,” he commented to the dogs as he let them and himself into the barn. “Couple of city slickers wanting to learn to be cowboys for some movie or another. Bet you two biscuits each they think it’s a lot easier than it really is. No? No takers?” he chuckled. “Didn’t think so,” he murmured. Heading into the tack room, he stuck his breakfast in the microwave and dug out the dog’s food dishes.

  Filling them up and changing out the water, he left them to their breakfast as he collected his. He sat on a hay bale and watched them chow down and had to wonder yet again just how the ever-loving hell he’d let his old buddy Mathew talk him into helping out these Hollywood folks for three weeks. Oh, right, his evil baby sister and her fucking threats to come live with him again, despite the fact that her career and her husband were in New York. If it weren’t for that promise of hers to lay the hell off him, he was a grown man after all as he’d pointed out, there wasn’t likely a force on the planet that would have made him agree to Mathew’s screwy-ass plan. “Hope they’re ready to use muscles they never knew existed,” he muttered.

  Oh yeah, he was going to work them. Grinning, he snickered. If they didn’t pass out before their heads hit the pillows each night that first week, he’d eat his hat.

  Chapter Two

  It had been fifteen years since she had been back home, a very long time since she stepped back onto the streets she ran as a kid. Oh, she hadn’t forgotten one single thing about the town, and it was still the same little town it was when she was thrown out of her house so long ago. No, this homecoming was not one that she wanted, that was for sure. This homecoming was…well, it was a bitch. Utter, complete, bitch.

  However she had an ironclad contract for Rancher’s Affair and couldn’t get out of it. And she had tried. Hard.

  “I can’t believe you brought me here, Monica,” the fourteen-year-old beside her said.

  Deep and calming breath, deep and calming breath, Monica thought to herself. “It’s Mom, Carrie, and you damn well know it.” Her name wasn’t really Monica, but she wasn’t that fifteen-year-old child that had been run off by her parents all those years ago either.

  “Yeah, Mom.” The word dripped sarcasm. “So I get in a little trouble and you decide to take me from the city to this freaking place? I can’t believe you are that evil. That mean. I mean seriously?”

  “You burnt down your dorm room, Carrie. I would say that’s a little more than a little trouble. I asked you to stay in school just for one semester and then we would be back together again and instead you decide that it’s time to rebel? Seriously? You are all that I have, Car, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and you don’t want the sins of your past to be copied by me or whatever bullshit that Dr. Know-it-all told you.”

  “Honey, I just want better for you. You have always known that. You have always known that everything I do, I do for you and you alone. I could give a flying rat’s ass about the money or the fame. I do this so that you don’t have to live with the danger or the pains that I had,” she reminded her. Carrie was so freaking damn much like her father that it made her heart hurt. Add to that the fact they were coming back to the town, hell, the fucking ranch, that Carrie’s father owned. Yeah,life was going to be great.

  Monica had tried, though. When she found out she was pregnant, she had tried to get in touch with Carson but he wouldn’t respond to her at all. His sister was the one who came to meet her and told her that Carson wanted nothing to do with her. She was the one who threw the money at her and told her to leave town.

  Yep, showing up on the ranch was going to be great—not. And she had her daughter with her. Their daughter. A child who was the spitting image of Carson MacDonald’s momma. The only good thing was that she legally had ensured that Carrie couldn’t be taken from her.

  Pulling the vehicle onto the long drive up to the MacDonald farm, she turned to look at Carrie and said, “Remember I told you that your father lived in these parts?” She sighed at her daughter’s expression. “He lives here,” she said softly. “Just remember that I love you and we are perfectly fine on our own.”

  “Wait.” Carrie turned and looked over the land. “Are you freaking telling me that no-good piece of shit lives here?”

  “You know that he is not that. He’s not a no-good and I won’t have you talking about him that way.”

  “O-M-G.” The girl spelled the letters out. “You are still in love with him, aren’t you? You still have a thing for him? That’s why you never date.”

  “I never date because I have the best date at home waiting for me. You! You are my world,” the woman the world knew as Monica said softly. She wasn’t Monica, though. To this town that didn’t even recognize her, she was Jennifer MacElroy. But she hadn’t been that woman for a very, very long time. The moment she was signed for her first contract her name and her life changed. She had a good life, no, she had a great life. She had people now that helped her, people who ensured that she was always taken care of. It had been a stroke of luck meeting her agent, a man who took her under his wing and helped her career explode.

  “Yeah, whatever. So tell me about this asshat that broke your heart?”

  “He didn’t break my heart, but yes, this is his ranch. And do not, I repeat, do not say a word to him about who you are. Let’s hope and pray that he won’t remember me.”

  If the world was good, it wouldn’t remember her. So far even her mother hadn�
�t even recognized her, so if her luck held out Carson wouldn’t either.

  With that in mind, she headed out to the ranch house and prayed that she really had changed enough and if she could, she would hide Carrie so that he also wouldn’t see her. Yep, life was about to get complicated as hell,especially when her co-star seemed to think that they had a thing together.

  * * * * *

  Looking up at the sound of a vehicle in the drive, Carson moved to the edge of the paddock. Frowning, he leaned his elbows on the top railing as the woman lifted a hand to knock on the screen door.

  Tipping his hat back further, he watched as Esther, his fifty-eight-year-old housekeeper, cook, and adopted aunt, answered. She spoke to the woman for a time, nodded, and then waved toward where he stood. He didn’t move, though, as the woman looked his way but he didn’t miss the glance she shot to the vehicle she’d arrived in. Squinting, he could just make out another person in the passenger seat through the glare off the windows.

  The two women talked a moment longer before she walked off the porch and went back to her vehicle. He let out a grown when he saw her dragging suitcases out.. Fucking great, they were here. Or rather, the first ones were here which meant the others wouldn’t be far behind. There was only one woman in the group, the lead actress, Monica something-or-other,so she’d be staying in the house.

  The passenger door of the car opened and then slammed. He frowned. She’d brought either a very young assistant with her or some relative. But the double finger salute he was thrown from the kid behind the woman’s back shocked him. What the ever-loving hell was that about?