RHONDA LEE CARVER
A PERFECT COWBOY DADDY
2016 Rhonda Lee Carver
Copyright 2016 Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved
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This work is fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue in this work are from the author’s imagination and creation. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, dead or alive, is completely coincidental.
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This book contains material that isn’t suitable for anyone under the age of 17.
To read more books by Rhonda Lee Carver check out the list of her books at the end of this book.
Table of Contents
Front Matter
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
Epilogue
Back Matter
Bonus – Letting Go (Chapter One)
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m not getting any younger.” Moon Novak sat on the doctor’s table looking at her OB/GYN who pulled off his wire-framed glasses and laid them on top of her open file.
“You’re thirty-five. Hardly old by anyone’s standards.”
“I’d like to become a mother while I have my teeth and can walk without a cane.”
He chuckled. “You have time before you can’t walk without assistance and your teeth fall out. I’m fifty-nine and I still run eight miles a day and have all of my teeth.” He spread his lips into a wide grin, showing off his even, pearly whites.
“Okay, fine. I’m exaggerating.”
“Slightly.”
“I’ve wanted to be a mother since I can remember. Every time I see a baby my uterus screams and my clock ticks louder.” She shifted and the paper covering the table crackled. She felt a draft on her behind and hurried to tighten the gown in the back.
“Maybe this is a bit old fashioned, but why not meet Mr. Right, get married, have a couple of kids?”
She squinted. She’d tried the Mr. Right route once and it landed her in divorce and with a deep-rooted distrust for men. That was the thing about heartbreak, the wounds healed, but the scars never did. “I’ve made up my mind. This is what I want. I’ve already started the process and picked out my baby daddy.” His brows lifted. “Sorry.” She bit back a smile.
Becoming a mother was top priority. Many women were single and had children, and she knew she would be a good mom. Growing up with hippie parents, they’d been eccentric to say the least, like naming their only child Moon because it was full the night she was conceived in the backseat of a ‘69 Mustang. As far as family was concerned, she’d won the lottery. Her mom was a professor at a community college teaching creative writing and her father owned a law office working mostly pro bono. In fact, once he’d brought home a flock of chickens as payment. Moon, around eight at the time, had named each of them and loved on them like they were babies. When she’d overheard her parents talking about frying them up for supper, Moon had made a big stink, nothing short of a mountain-sized temper tantrum, which was unlike her. She’d won the battle and had been allowed to keep them as pets, and she was made to build the coops and expected to clean them out daily. Who would have thought chickens could poop so much? She was certain the latter had been punishment for showing her temper.
Her mom and dad had both been nurturing and instilled within her a passion for people, the land and environment. Growing up on a small farm, they raised and bred horses, milked cows, baled hay, and grew their own fruits and vegetables, selling the produce at the local market every Saturday. The chickens she loved had multiplied into a hundred and each morning there was an abundance of fresh eggs. The hired hands had become family and still today they celebrated birthdays, holidays, and special events together.
On occasion, Moon’s father brought home surprise guests for dinner, and they could always plan on having at least three homeless people sharing the table every Christmas. The motto at the Novak family was, “No one is ever turned away.”
Moon had never minded the ever-present chores that came along with living on a working farm. She especially loved working with the horses and it had become her ‘thing’. She’d come home from school every day, toss her bag onto the hook just inside of the kitchen door and run out to throw a saddle over her favorite mare—Zickafoose. She rode her every chance she got.
Her love for horses had given her huge dreams for the future of the farm. It was also how she met Art. He’d stopped at the farm wanting to board his horse. They’d hit it off immediately.
At that time, Moon had been fresh out of college with a master’s in business management and was unsure of romance, until Art schooled her with a charming smile. He’d made her feel one with the earth in the loft of the barn one steamy afternoon and things quickly changed between them.
They dated two years and he’d finally proposed. Why not get married? They both had life by the nuggets—she was running the farm for her parents by then and he was climbing the proverbial ladder at the reputable law firm known for having a ninety-five percent success rate.
That alone should have been the reason why she ran as far and as fast as her worn boots would carry her.
Looking back, how could a down-home, country girl who never gave a hoot about money marry a man who had one goal and that was to be rich?
They don’t, at least not in her case.
Moon had known pretty much the first six months of their marriage that she couldn’t have chosen a more different man to spend her life with. While they were dating she’d respected his determination and work ethic, and he seemed to admire her love for the simpler things in life. They balanced each other nicely. After the ring was on her finger, his career had become his main—and only—focus. Their long rides in the saddle, followed by sensual romps in the loft, soured like old milk. Their talks over intimate dinners fizzled, exchanged for social gatherings at mansions with socialites that Moon had never met and never wanted to meet again.
Before one of those fancy parties, Moon had gotten dolled up in an elegant dress, but unfortunately, she’d been painting a barn all day and the red paint had stained her skin. A long whiskey soak of her hands hadn’t even helped. When she and Art had greeted his boss and his wife, she refused to shake Moon’s hand as if the color would rub off.
Art didn’t invite her to attend many events with him after that.
He also worked later and later.
For five years, she tolerated the late nights, lonely holidays and forgotten anniversaries because she thought they would outgrow the differenc
es. She’d been ignoring the truth.
When he stopped coming home at all, her suspicions that he wasn’t sleeping on his couch in his office alone tripled. So, she’d followed him…
Straight to his secretary’s house.
Moon had waited until he came home then confronted him, and he’d made every available excuse as to why he’d cheated. He’d begged and pleaded for her to forgive him, guaranteeing things would be better and he’d spend more time at home. He even promised they could start planning a family, just as Moon had wanted. And for a year after his discrepancy, things were good—great. They started riding horses again. Dinners alone. They spent two weeks in Paris, something they’d been planning for years.
Unfortunately, his zipper didn’t stay shut.
Two months after their romantic trip, she’d found him again with his pants down, or rather flung over the back of the couch where he was fucking her best friend, Tracey.
This time there was no pleading from him for a second—third—chance. He’d divulged his love for Tracey and his desire for a divorce. Moon had gladly given him what he wanted.
The doctor’s delicate cough brought her back on track.
“Moon, insemination comes with its own list of complications. It’s not as simple as depositing the sperm and you’re pregnant. You’ve found your donor and yes, they’re screened for sexually transmitted diseases and a handful of genetic disorders, but there’s no way of evaluating other things like character traits and past behaviors. He could be a serial killer for all we know.”
“Good thing I won’t be expecting dinner and polite conversation.” Her smile fizzled at his disapproving look.
“I’m only wanting what’s best for you.”
“I know. I’ve done my research, just as you suggested that I do during my last visit. The Transitions Clinic was very good at explaining all of the details of the insemination process. The pros and the cons.”
“Then you should know that the success rate is only around ten percent, and that’s if you’re using fertility drugs to kick start the process.”
“I think they’re working. I haven’t been this hor—” Okay, I can’t say that to my doctor. “Motivated and energetic. It’s like Viagra for women.”
He tried to hide his smile, but she caught a glimpse before it disappeared. “And it’s expensive.”
“At least the divorce settlement will be going for something productive. Call it a gift to myself. I deserve it after dealing with my ex’s cheating ass.” Realizing how bitter she sounded, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Dr. Ferguson, you’ve known me for years now. I’m never one to jump into anything without turning every stone, realizing every risk, and understanding the long term effects. This is what I want. It’s not an impulsive decision.”
An understanding smile turned his thin lips and he patted her knee. “I’ll have the nurse send the clinic all of your lab results. This is the next to the last of the steps. They’ll contact you to make an appointment and on that day you’ll have the procedure. At any time that you change your mind you can pull out.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Just sayin’.” He nodded and stood. “My wife and I have been married for thirty years. I wasn’t looking when I found her because I’d been married before and never wanted to do that again. But isn’t it funny how life works? Just when you stop looking for a treasure that’s when you stumble upon a fortune.”
“For some life is funny like that, but for others, it’s tragically poetic. Well, I’ll put your mind at rest. If I happen to stumble over a fortune, I’ll stand up, wipe myself off and keep walking.”
“Stay positive. Now is not the time to allow life to get the upper hand.”
Later, Moon drove onto Nirvana feeling a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety. Her life was about to change drastically.
After dumping Art, she’d needed a change of scenery to find herself again and her parents had encouraged her to spread her wings, and that’s how she landed at Nirvana Ranch, the popular resort people flocked to, wanting to become one with the land—and of course close to the sexy cowboys who’d earned quite a name for themselves. Ending up at the ranch had been a mere fluke more than anything. Her mom had mentioned that the resort was hiring a hand and suggested Moon apply. Thinking the ranch focused more on cowboys entertaining women, she didn’t believe they would have a need for her, yet, she never backed down from a challenge. That’s how she saw the opportunity, a new chapter in her story. She met with the owner, Chase Sever and he’d hired her on the spot.
At first, the other hands seemed unsure how to handle working next to a woman, one that was expected to carry her own weight, but it didn’t take long before they were treating her like ‘one of the guys’.
Nirvana had the reputation for steamy nights and cupid-spiked water, but for Moon, she hadn’t witnessed any rendezvous—at least not in her bed. She didn’t come to the ranch to find herself in another dead-end situation, but being one of the ‘guys’ had its rewards and disadvantages. Just like every other woman, she had needs and being around a handful of virile, muscled cowboys could make a woman throb in all of her secret spots—and knowing sex was off limits only made it that more tempting.
It was time to think outside of the box. She wanted a child.
Since the divorce two years ago, she’d dated a few times, but nothing that left a lasting impression or a desire to make it a second date, which drove home the fact even more that she wasn’t going to find love again. Her parents told her it took time for the heart to heal, but Moon didn’t see why she should put her life on hold because she’d been married to a man who couldn’t keep his barn door closed.
Parking her truck in the staff lot, she grabbed the keys and locked it up, just as Jennifer, the receptionist, stuck her head out of the back door. “You’ve got mail, Moon.” She held up a small box.
“Thanks, Jennifer.” Moon read the return address. It was from her mom. She stripped away the tape and opened the lid, pulling out the floral tin can.
“Are those what I think they are?” Jennifer’s eyes lit up.
“Let’s see.” Moon’s mother sent homemade cookies twice a month and the staff always looked forward to sharing the treats. Popping the lid, a rich, chocolatey aroma wafted up. “My favorite. Chocolate chip.”
“Oh. My. Gosh. My favorite too.”
“Grab one. Make it two.” Moon held out the offering. Jennifer grabbed them and immediately bit into one. “Anything else?”
Mouth full, Jennifer shook her head and wiped the corners of her mouth with her free hand. “The new hands came today. I got all of their paperwork completed.” She pushed her head further out the door. “One of them is Mason Roy,” she whispered.
“Isn’t he the—”
“Marine who received the Purple Heart a few years back. He saved all those men when a bomb exploded near their camp. His name was in all of the local papers. He was also bachelor of the year here in Wyoming.”
“The guests will definitely love him. Are the staff cabins ready?”
“The cleaning crew has been working non-stop.”
“Okay. Keep me updated.”
“Don’t forget this weekend. A girl’s night out is exactly what we need.”
“I’ll let you know.” Moon wasn’t much of a drinker or partier, but that was another thing she wouldn’t be partaking in once she was pregnant. Right now was the time to get everything out of her system.
She headed to the Gator and climbed in. Personal vehicles weren’t welcome on the ranch. Chase felt the sound of cars and trucks interrupted the peace and quiet.
Steering the cart onto the narrow lane, the last touches of the sunset feathered the pinkish sky and danced upon the lush, green fields dotted with sunflowers that spread as far as the eye could see. She stopped to capture the moment, enjoying watching the horses grazing the land. Several had their necks stretched over the top rail of the fence, nibbling at the weeds that we
re growing on the other side. Their silken manes were caught up in the breeze and their sleek bodies reflected the last of the sun. They were well taken care of and used for breeding, riding lessons, and trail riding for guests.
The views here were amazing.
More hands were being hired as the guest-list multiplied and the wedding venue was booked for two years.
People loved Nirvana, or better known as ‘paradise’. Chase prided himself in keeping things as untouched as possible on a large portion of the property, with modern amenities located only along the south side where guests could eat, watch nightly movies at the outdoor theater, visit the spa, and many other conveniences and comforts.
Most of the cabins and treehouses were primitive, but recently modern lodges had been built for guests who wanted the wilderness, but wanted electricity too. The ranch had been showcased in several magazines, coveted for the beauty of the land and the treehouses. Although the hands didn’t give interviews or accept the offers to appear in calendars or on TV shows, that didn’t keep journalists from writing stories about Nirvana. Yet, this only heightened the popularity. Here, stuck in the middle of nowhere, it was easy to ignore the outside world.
She loved this land too—loved being a part of this amazing place where people could come and forget all of their troubles—become one with earth and the gifts it offered.
Up ahead, she pulled over at the flourishing vegetable garden where a handful of guests were bent over in the rows working with Kaycee, Chase’s wife. It wasn’t anything unusual for guests who enjoyed gardening to come out and get their hands dirty. There was something very inspiring about seeing others out here, helping.
Kaycee lifted her head and waved at Moon, who returned the gesture. She was grateful for the friendships she’d made here.
Nola, a forty-something Texan who’d gone through divorce recently, stood up between the cucumber plants and pointed at Moon as she slipped out of the cart. The other woman hurried down the row, balancing a large basket of freshly picked vegetables on her arm.
A Perfect Cowboy Daddy (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 7) Page 1