This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Carolyn Brown
Hometown Cowboy copyright © 2017 by Sara Richardson
Compilation copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Cover design by Elizabeth Stokes
Cover copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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ISBNs: 978-1-4555-9750-5 (mass market), 978-1-4555-9749-9 (ebook)
E3-20171205-DA-PC
Contents
Cover
Luckiest Cowboy of All Copyright
Dedication
Letter to the Reader
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
Epilogue
Discover More Carolyn Brown
About the Author
Also by Carolyn Brown
High Praise for Carolyn Brown
Hometown Cowboy Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Fall in Love with Forever Romance
Dedicated to my awesome team
at Forever…
My editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, for all the fantastic support; Melanie Gold for everything in the managing editorial department; Elizabeth Stokes, who keeps turning out amazing covers; Estelle Hallick for all her work in publicity; Jodi Rosoff and Danielle Egnozzi for all the marketing support; and Bob Levine, Raylan Davis, and Gina Wynn in the sales department, who do such a wonderful job making sure readers can find my books in so many stores. You are all totally fantabulous.
Dear Reader,
It hardly seems possible that the Happy, Texas series is coming to an end with Luckiest Cowboy of All. Seems like only yesterday that we were anxiously awaiting the launch of the debut book, Toughest Cowboy in Texas. And then it was on the shelves and everyone wanted to know if Kasey and Jace were going to get their stories told. Thank all of you for that and for your support through the whole series.
But all good things must come to an end, or so I’m told, and this is the last of the Dawson cowboys for now. Who knows about later? They could pop up in a future book because, after all, Texas ranchers do know each other. It’s not easy for me to tell characters who’ve been like family to me for over a year good-bye. Shhh…don’t tell anyone, but they even wake me up at night to talk to me about the next scenes in the story. But the time has come to move on.
Before we do, I would like to say thank you to a few people. A book begins as an idea and goes through a process not unlike refining gold. Words cannot begin to thank my editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, who helps me take something that looks like common rocks and turn it into gold. She brings out a side of my writing that I had no idea was even there, and I appreciate her so much for it! Also to my whole Forever team—I’m grateful for each and every one of you!
I would also like to thank my agent, Erin Niumata, and Folio Literary Management. Erin and I have been working together so long that we feel like family. We joke that we’ve been together longer than some Hollywood marriages.
And a big hug to Mr. B. I couldn’t make it through my hectic schedule without his support. He’s always ready to drive me wherever I need to go so that I can sit in the passenger seat and take notes or eat takeout three nights in a row so I can meet a deadline. He’s a keeper for sure.
And a big thank-you to Sara Richardson for permitting us to give you her book, Hometown Cowboy, as a double treat with Jace and Carlene’s story. Two cowboys for the price of one—you can’t beat a deal like that.
Although one door closes as we say good-bye to the Dawsons, another one opens as we say hello to the Maguires! Cade Maguire kicks off the Longhorn Canyon Ranch series in May with Cowboy Bold…so keep your cowboy hats right handy!
Happy reading to you all. Enjoy Jace and Carlene’s story as they work hard to overcome the past and dive right into the present.
Until next time,
Carolyn Brown
Chapter One
Sometimes it’s too late to do what you should’ve done years ago. Aunt Rosalie had said that so many times that it should have been in a book of famous quotes.
“I get the message loud and clear,” Carlene whispered around a lump the size of an orange in her throat.
“You okay, Mama?” Her daughter, Tilly, ran from the porch out to the minivan. “Here, let me take that box. I can carry it inside.”
Carlene shifted the box of stuffed toys into Tilly’s hands and picked up a heavier one to carry inside the little two-bedroom frame house. With its peeling paint and hanging rain gutters, it looked like the last wilted rose of summer right now, but come spring she’d put a coat of fresh white paint on it, maybe plant some bright-colored flowers around the porch, and it would look better then.
As she headed from her bright red minivan to the porch, a bitter cold north wind whipped her long blond hair into her face
, reminding her that spring was a long way off. Tilly opened the door for her and then closed it behind her.
“I made you a cup of tea.”
“Thanks, baby girl.” Carlene smiled. “Did you make one for yourself?”
“I made me some hot chocolate,” Tilly said. “I liked our house in Florida better than this one.”
“Why?” Carlene pulled a wooden rocking chair closer to the coffee table and picked up the mug of steaming chamomile tea. It was too hot to drink, but it warmed her hands. Tomorrow, when she and Tilly made a grocery store run to Amarillo, she’d have to remember to buy gloves for both of them.
“This place smells funny,” Tilly said.
“We’ll light some candles this afternoon and air it out on the first day we get some nice weather. When we’re settled, we’ll start giving it a face-lift. You’ll be surprised what new paint and a little fixin’ up will do.”
“And we’ll get rid of that dead Christmas tree.” Tilly glanced at the brown pine tree in the corner. “That’s disgusting.”
Carlene’s eyes went to the sad tree in the corner of the living room. Aunt Rosalie loved her live tree and always put it up the day after Thanksgiving, so by now it had been there almost six weeks. There was no telling how long it had been without water—no wonder it was brown and brittle.
“Of course,” Carlene said. “If you want, you could start to unpack what’s in your room and I’ll get those last three boxes out of the van while my tea cools.”
“Okay.” Tilly carried her cup of hot chocolate to the bedroom.
With five moves in her eight years, Tilly was a pro at moving. Carlene had no doubt she was back there in her room organizing her stuffed animals and books everywhere there was a flat surface. But Tilly was in the third grade and it was time for them both to put down roots. So when Aunt Rosalie passed away and Carlene inherited the house and then immediately got a job offer to teach, she saw it as a sign that could not be ignored and came back to the town that she should never have left.
Carlene leaned her head back on the rocking chair. It had been ten years since she’d been in the house. In those days Aunt Rosalie bragged that she’d never met a speck of dust she couldn’t conquer. There were now cobwebs in the corners and dust on everything. It would take days, possibly weeks, to get the house whipped into shape.
“That’s tomorrow’s work. Today’s is getting Aunt Rosalie’s stuff sorted through to make room for ours. Happy New Year to us.” She raised her cup of tea and then set it on the table.
Carlene drew her jacket closer around her chest and headed back out for the rest of the boxes. “Thank you, Aunt Rosalie, for leaving me everything in your will. At least I have a place to live and don’t have to pay rent.”
As she stepped off the porch, she heard tires on the gravel road. Since this house was the only one on a short dead-end road, she was pretty sure the visitor would be pulling into her driveway any second. She tucked her hair behind her ears and shivered.
Shading her eyes against the bright winter sun, she watched a big black crew cab truck come to a stop right beside her minivan. Cowboy boots were the first thing that appeared when the door opened and then a very familiar figure followed.
Jace Dawson tipped back his hat and waved. In a few long strides he was close enough that she caught a whiff of Stetson aftershave—a scent that still created a stir in her hormones every time she smelled it.
Happy, Texas, had a population of less than seven hundred, so it was a given that she’d run into Jace someday, probably sooner rather than later, but the first day she was there, before she could even get unpacked, meant that the gossip vines had not died in the past decade.
“Carlene, I heard you were coming back to town. Here, let me help you get those into the house.” He picked up all three of the remaining boxes and headed off toward the porch. “So you’re going to be the new fifth-grade teacher, Mama tells me.”
“That’s right.”
He filled out those Wranglers even better than he had in high school and had maybe even grown another inch or two.
“I’m real sorry about Miz Rosalie. She was a pillar in this town and the church. It’s hard to believe that she’s gone,” he said.
“Thank you. It came as a shock to us too.” She was amazed that her voice sounded normal, considering the way her pulse had shot up at the sight of him.
“Been a long time,” he said. “Where you been all these years?”
She opened the door for him and he set the boxes in the middle of the living room floor. “Here and there. Moved around a lot. California, then Georgia and Oklahoma, back to Florida and then here.”
“You plannin’ on livin’ here? Mind if I sit down?”
“When did we get to be so formal? Of course you can sit.” She kicked off her shoes, padded barefoot across the cold hardwood floor, and sat on the sofa with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them.
Avoiding the sofa, Jace sat on a wooden rocking chair. He removed his black cowboy hat and laid it on the coffee table between him and Carlene, then raked his fingers through his dark brown hair. Carlene remembered that gesture well. Along with tapping his foot, it was what he did when he was nervous. She checked and sure enough, his cowboy boot was doing double time on the floor.
“So you went to college?” he asked. “Where?”
“California.” She could hear Tilly humming in her room and hoped she stayed there until he was gone.
“And you’re comin’ from Florida, right?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got root beer and apple juice. Haven’t been to the store.”
“No, I’m good.” His hand went toward his hair again. “I missed you when you left.”
“We were just kids, right out of high school, Jace.” She let her eyes drift from his chin upward, determined not to look at his eyes, but she failed.
His gray eyes locked with hers across the room and he took a deep breath. “You promised you’d stay in touch. We dated our whole senior year. What happened?”
“Life happened. Time and distance takes its toll.”
Tilly had stopped humming and was talking to her stuffed toys, asking them if they liked the new house. Then her voice dropped to a whisper and Carlene couldn’t hear her anymore.
“Come on, Carlene. Give me a little more than that. We were in love. You were going to text or call every night, and then you were gone and I never heard from you again,” Jace said.
“Were we in love, Jace? Or were we just hormonal teenagers?”
“I thought we were in love,” he said.
She shrugged. The lump in her throat kept her from answering.
“Okay, then.” He inhaled and let it out slowly. “Look, I don’t know how to tell you this…I’m real sorry to have to say it, but I bought this place from Rosalie last year. She was planning to move into a nursing home and said she needed the money.” He removed his hat and laid it on the coffee table.
“No!” Carlene sank down onto the other end of the sofa and felt the color drain from her face. “She didn’t…she wouldn’t…she said…”
“I can bring the deed to show you. You goin’ to be all right? I’m so sorry about this misunderstanding.” His eyes were filled with true remorse.
“Sell it back to me.” Carlene met his eyes across the short distance separating them. “I have enough savings for a down payment, and we can get a loan at the bank for the rest.”
Jace inhaled deeply and let it out very slowly. “You can see for yourself, it’s not real fit for livin’. Even so, I’d sell it to you and help remodel if I could, but it’s all been deeded over to the rodeo association.” Another deep breath. “Demolition is scheduled for February fifteenth. The contractors are starting the new buildings right after that.”
“Dammit!” Carlene stretched her legs out, dropped her head into her hands, and covered her eyes. Surely this was a mistake. Aunt Rosalie would have told
her if she’d sold the house. The lawyer who handled her affairs didn’t say a word about it when he called to tell them that she’d passed away.
Jace had always had one of those faces that couldn’t hide what he was thinking and it was plain that he was not lying to her. Still, surely to God if Aunt Rosalie had sold the property, she would have told Carlene. They talked every single Sunday evening from eight to eight-thirty and she always said that her greatest wish was to die in the same house where she’d been born. That her roots were in the place and it would make her life come full circle.
“The papers and the letter the lawyer sent are in that box. I’m going to dig them out right now. She must’ve gotten senile at ninety-five because she would’ve told me,” Carlene whispered, still finding it hard to believe.
She left the sofa and ripped the tape from the top of the box marked IMPORTANT PAPERS. She pulled a big brown accordion file from the box and flipped through the tabs until she found the one she wanted. Removing a manila envelope from it, she shook out the letter from the lawyer saying that she’d inherited Rosalie’s personal belongings and had even sent a key to the house so she could “get what she wanted out of it.”
“I have the deed, the papers that the rodeo folks signed, and everything in a folder at home. I’ll be glad to bring them over to you,” Jace said.
“See, here’s her handwritten will, dated two years ago, giving me everything that she owns.” Carlene held it up.
“I bought the place a year ago,” Jace said. “And I turned it over to the rodeo the next day with the understanding that we couldn’t start to build until Rosalie had passed or she went to a nursing home.”
She turned up the envelope and shook it but nothing else fell out. She opened it wide and for the first time saw another little folded piece of paper at the bottom. Another fierce shake didn’t bring it out, so she ripped the side away and carefully removed the letter. With dread in her heart, she read it out loud:
My dear Carlene,
The lawyer says I don’t need to redo my will. It does leave all my possessions to you, but I should tell you that I’ve sold the house to Jace Dawson. Do what you want with the money. I just didn’t want you to be burdened with selling this place. It needs lots of work and should be torn down, but I was born here and it’s my wish to die here. My memories are all tied up in this place. Jace donated the land to the rodeo association. That’s a good thing and it makes me happy.
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