Tempted by a Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  ***

  Fletch spent the first half of the drive home nursing his righteous anger and listening to Chubby Checker, turned up really loud. He spent the second half in silence, haunted by the devastation in Astrid’s blue eyes. He’d been so harsh, but damn it, she’d used him.

  Hadn’t she?

  Well, it was true she hadn’t come on to him. He’d been the one who’d kissed her. Yes, but she could have told him then. She could have said, Fletch, there’s something you don’t know about me. I’m one of the richest girls in Dallas.

  He tried to picture her saying such a thing and couldn’t. She wasn’t the type. Although she might have more money than God, she didn’t act like it.

  Which should have told him that the money wasn’t all that important to her.

  But it was there, and it wouldn’t melt overnight or be absorbed in some Ponzi scheme so that she’d suddenly be on the same financial footing as he was. Wishing that she didn’t have the money was ridiculous, anyway. She might be using that money to finance her clinic, and for all he knew she did a lot of pro bono work because she didn’t have to make a huge profit.

  She wouldn’t tell him that, of course. That might be what wounded him most of all. She hadn’t trusted him with the information about her wealth, as if she thought he’d go off the deep end if he found out.

  Which he had.

  She’d told him he was no different from everyone else. He believed all the clichés about rich people. He’d demonstrated that prejudice beautifully tonight, hadn’t he? He’d found out she was rich and had assumed the worst.

  By the time he pulled up in front of the ranch house, his anger had drained away and he felt like crap for beating up on her like that. But the truth was, he didn’t really know how she felt about him. She’d planned to tell him, she’d said, but would knowing have made any difference really? She still might have viewed their affair as temporary fun. She’d said nothing to contradict that.

  He didn’t feel like going into the house, so he left his truck and walked down to the barn. Horses had always calmed him. Even though he associated Janis and Buddy with Astrid, he drifted toward the foaling stall. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

  Janis was munching her evening oats, and Buddy came over on his stilt-like legs to investigate Fletch. Fletch stroked the sweet baby’s nose and told him what a great stallion he would become someday. Astrid had made this birth possible, and Fletch couldn’t forget that as he scratched Buddy’s soft coat.

  Another vet might have pushed for a C-section, which would’ve been more costly—more profit for the vet—and might have resulted in all kinds of complications. Astrid had hung on for the natural approach, letting Janis work it out herself. Fletch realized it could have backfired, but he’d been with Astrid on that. If the decision had been wrong, they would have shared the blame.

  We’ve shared so much.

  They had, and none of it had to do with being rich or poor. It had been all about the love of animals and a general optimistic belief that if left alone, the animals would figure out the best course of action. It was, he realized, a philosophy of animal management, but it was also a general philosophy of life. Don’t push extreme measures. Wait and see. Let things unfold naturally.

  Had she been trying to do that with their relationship? Then they’d been thrown into a high-pressure situation, and the natural timetable had been skewed by her plunge into the stream. He remembered that she’d driven across the bridge while thinking about him.

  Janis finished her oats and came over for some petting. “What do you say, girl?” Fletch brushed her forelock out of her eyes. “Am I an idiot?”

  Janis snorted and bobbed her head.

  It was a typical horsey gesture, not to be interpreted in any special way, but Fletch laughed. “Could be I am. You’re the expert on these things. Janis Joplin knew all about human nature.”

  He was officially getting slap happy, but talking to the horses was better than wandering up to the house and facing that empty king-sized bed. He looked for reasons to stay, and ended up straightening tack and sweeping the wooden aisle between the stalls.

  That’s where he was when Astrid walked into the barn. He saw a movement, glanced up from his sweeping, and saw her standing under an overhead light, a blond angel who made his heart leap. He dropped the broom.

  “I couldn’t leave it like that between us,” she said.

  He took a breath. “I was mean.”

  “Yes, you were. I didn’t know you had it in you to be that mean.”

  “Neither did I.” His chest tightened. “Apparently you get to me.”

  “Likewise.” She stayed right where she was, not advancing, but not retreating either.

  He hoped she wasn’t a figment of his imagination, but she looked real enough. “For the record, I’m not automatically prejudiced against rich people.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” She took a deep breath. “But if my being rich is a problem to you, I’d rather give away every penny if that would . . . would . . .”

  She wasn’t going to move, but he did. He closed the distance between them in three strides. Stopping in front of her, he looked into her eyes. “Would what?”

  She swallowed. “Would allow us to love each other.”

  That was all he needed. He swept her into his arms. “Loving you has nothing to do with money.” Then he kissed her and poured all that he felt for her into that kiss.

  With a moan, she responded, telling him without words how much he meant to her.

  She’d told him all this before with her kisses, and he hadn’t been willing to listen. No one surrendered like this without love in her heart. She’d cared all along. He’d been the fool who hadn’t recognized it.

  He kissed her, and kissed her some more. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”

  “I’m so sorry I gave you reason to doubt.” Then she wrapped her arms around him as if she would never let go.

  At last he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Astrid, and I intend to marry you. Is that a problem?”

  She smiled. “No, it’s a solution. If you didn’t love me, I would be heartbroken, because I love you, too.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “A very dear friend gave me some wonderful advice. She said that once they see how happy you make me, they’ll come around.”

  “I intend to make you so happy that they’ll come around really fast.”

  Her expression sobered. “I wasn’t kidding, Fletch. If you’re uncomfortable with the money, I’ll get rid of it. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” He hugged her tight. “If you’re determined to divest yourself of your fortune, I have a suggestion for where to put it.”

  “Into your breeding program?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s wonderful! I thought you wouldn’t take it.”

  “That would be dumb, now, wouldn’t it? What idiot turns his back on the prospect of making a dream come true?”

  “Not me.” She cradled his face in her hands.

  “Not us.” And instead of kissing her, he scooped her up in his arms. The barn might be great for stolen moments, but he had some serious lovemaking in mind. For that, he intended to take the love of his life inside and make use of a sturdy king-sized bed. This time, they wouldn’t even have to worry about mud.

  Epilogue

  Wanting to share her joy with her friends, Astrid called for a girls’ night out at their favorite watering hole, Golden Spurs and Stetsons, in downtown Dallas. Melanie and Val were waiting for her at their customary table near the front door when she hurried in.

  They both leaped up to hug her and exclaim over how happy she looked.

  “I’m beyond happy.” She beamed at her friends as they settled into their chairs. “I didn’t know a feeling this great even existed!”

  Melanie practically bounced in her chair. “I
knew it! I knew he was right for you!”

  Val reached over and squeezed Astrid’s hand. “Good for you, getting away from the bad kisser and going for the guy who knows how.”

  Astrid grinned. “Yes, ma’am, he sure does.”

  “Look at you.” Melanie regarded her with pride. “You’re positively glowing.”

  “And we need drinks!” Val said. “The waitress was just here, but it’s busy tonight. I’d better go find her.”

  After she left, Astrid glanced at Mel. “It was a close call with Fletch. I should have followed your advice and told him about my family sooner. Thank God he didn’t stay angry with me.”

  “He didn’t because he loves you. And you love him.”

  “I do. I can’t believe how much.” She lowered her voice. “So how is Val taking this? Now two of us are in relationships. Is she still determined not to date anyone?”

  “Yes, and I’m worried about her. That fire at the concert was horrible, I know, but she’s not getting over it. I wish she’d see a therapist, but she keeps putting that off. Her paranoia is ruining her love life, and I get the feeling it’s affecting her job, too.”

  “That’s bad. I mean, when we’re forced to sit at the front table every time we come here, just so she’s near the door . . .”

  “Right. Here she comes.”

  Val flashed a smile as she pulled out a chair. “Talking about me, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Astrid met her gaze. “We both think you should see somebody.”

  “I see lots of people!” Her determined smile grew brighter. “The law office is chock full of them. People everywhere.”

  “I mean about your issues.” Astrid refused to let Val joke her way out of it. Her friend’s funky clothing choices and trendy haircut made her look like a confident woman of the world. Instead, after breaking her arm during a mob scene at a concert, she’d become a scared rabbit. “This overly cautious person is not the Valerie Wolitzky I remember from college.”

  “That’s for sure,” Melanie said. “I still think about that epic trip to Six Flags our senior year. God, that was fun. We should do it again.”

  Val’s face grew pale. “We could,” she said quickly, “but you have so much to do getting ready for your wedding to Drew, and all signs point to Astrid launching into wedding planning soon, so maybe—”

  “It’s okay.” Astrid touched her arm. “We wouldn’t drag you there. Not until you’re ready. But seriously, would you at least start researching therapists?”

  “Sure.” Val nodded. “I’ll do that.” But she glanced up with obvious relief when the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. Then she changed the subject.

  Astrid let her, because beating her over the head about the situation wouldn’t help. But she hated that Val wasn’t living life to the fullest.

  Now more than ever, Astrid understood how important that was. Thanks to Fletch, she was alive, in every sense of the word. She wanted that kind of joy for Val, too. If only something, or someone, would come along and jolt her out of the miserable rut she was in.

  Their margaritas arrived, and Val raised her glass. “Here’s to Astrid and Fletch finding each other.”

  “At long last,” Melanie said with a smile.

  “It was truly a miracle.” Thanking her lucky stars, Astrid clinked glasses with Melanie and Val and sipped her drink. Then she raised it again and glanced at Val. “Here’s to going for the gusto.”

  Val laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll find a therapist. Geez.” And she touched her glass to Astrid’s and Melanie’s.

  Astrid wished she could get a time commitment on that promise, but decided not to push it tonight, which was supposed to be about celebrating, not soul-searching. Astrid had much to celebrate. She had great friends and a wonderful career, and she’d been lucky enough to find a guy who was everything she’d ever wanted. He wasn’t the billionaire she’d always assumed she’d marry, but she’d learned that, for her, a cowboy was the perfect man.

  Read on for a preview of the first installment in Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Perfect Man trilogy

  ONE NIGHT WITH A BILLIONAIRE

  Available now from InterMix

  I’m in Paris.

  Melanie Shaw stared at the façade of Notre Dame as the deep-throated bells counted down the hour. Ten o’clock in the morning. Instead of mucking out stalls or riding the fence line at her daddy’s ranch outside of Dallas, Texas, she was standing in front of frickin’ Notre Dame. Amazing.

  Her plane had landed two hours ago, and she still couldn’t believe she had both feet planted in Paris, France. Only one thing could have made this moment better—if her friends Val and Astrid could be here with her.

  They’d become friends in college, and five years later, they were tighter than ever. A few months ago all the planets had been aligned for this trip. They’d found a killer plane fare and had spontaneously booked it. Then Val had been unlucky enough to get caught in a bomb scare during a concert. She’d suffered a broken arm and two broken ribs. Although those had healed, she avoided crowds and wouldn’t be traveling anytime soon.

  Melanie had adjusted to having Val stay home. Astrid was a great traveling companion and they’d still have fun, even without Val. Then, a couple of weeks ago, one of Astrid’s clients developed a problem with a pregnant mare. With the mare’s life on the line, Astrid had reluctantly canceled her trip, too.

  Melanie had almost given up once her friends had bailed. The hotel they’d booked was way too expensive for her to handle alone, so she’d cancelled that reservation. But she’d held onto her airline ticket because she couldn’t bear to think of not going. An online search had yielded a cheaper hotel, although it was also far from the main attractions.

  Her boyfriend Jeff had said she was crazy to consider traveling alone, but he wasn’t about to go with her to someplace where he didn’t speak the language. His provincial attitude had pounded the nail in the coffin, and she’d ended their relationship. It had been on the skids, anyway.

  Now that she was actually here, though, she’d better get busy and take some pictures with her phone. She’d left her suitcase with the hotel desk clerk because she couldn’t check in until noon, but she had her backpack with all her sightseeing essentials crammed inside. Shrugging it off, she unzipped a side pocket and reached for her phone.

  Without warning, the backpack was ripped from her hands. At the same moment, someone else shoved her from behind, knocking her to the ground with such force that the breath left her lungs.

  “Hey!” A deep male voice from behind her issued a challenge.

  She raised her head in time to glimpse a dark-haired man in jeans and a brown leather jacket dash after the thieves. Then folks who were obviously worried about her hurried over and blocked her view. An older gentleman helped her to her feet while two women clucked over her in what sounded like German.

  She wasn’t hurt except for a couple of scrapes on the heels of both hands, but if the guy in the leather jacket didn’t catch the thieves, she was in deep shit. Her backpack held almost everything of value—her phone, both credit cards, and two hundred dollars worth of euros. Her passport, thank God, was tucked in a pouch under her shirt, but thinking that she might have lost everything else made her sick to her stomach.

  Members of the German tour group patted her shoulder as she stood up and dusted off her clothes. They offered words of comfort she couldn’t understand but appreciated anyway. She made the effort to smile her thanks as she scanned the crowd for signs of a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a brown leather jacket. He’d looked athletic, so maybe he’d be able to tackle the guys who took her backpack.

  On the other hand, she didn’t want some stranger risking his safety for her. At least two people had been involved in the mugging, which meant the guy was outnumbered even if he should catch them. She crossed the fingers of both hands and waited, heart pounding from a delayed adrenaline rush.

  At last she saw him coming toward her. His
eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but his angry strides and the tight set of his mouth told her all she needed to know. Her hopes crumbled. The backpack was gone.

  Despair engulfed her, but she was determined to thank him properly for trying. She hoped he spoke English. All she’d heard was his shout of hey, which might be one of those universal expressions used by everyone. She hadn’t traveled enough to know if it was or not.

  When he was about ten feet away, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. They got clean away from me.”

  She gasped at the familiar accent. “Oh, my God! You’re from Texas.” Hearing a voice from home made her want to hug him. She restrained herself, but the world brightened considerably.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He drew closer. “Are you all right?” He took off his sunglasses and gazed at her with eyes the color of bluebonnets.

  “I’m fine.” He must have known taking off his sunglasses would help. Seeing the concern in his gaze, she didn’t feel quite so alone. “Thank you for chasing them. That was brave of you.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Anyone could see they were yellow-bellied cowards if they’d attack a woman. Speaking of that, they knocked you down. Are you sure you didn’t get scraped up?”

  “Just a little.” She showed him her hands.

  “Let’s take a look.” Tucking his sunglasses inside his jacket, he grasped her wrists and examined the heels of her hands. “Damn it. You should put something on that.”

  His touch felt nice. His big hands were gentle, and she found that sexy. Although it would be totally inappropriate, she wished he’d kiss her scrapes and make them all better. “I have Neosporin in my suitcase back at the hotel.” At least she’d have a place to stay. She’d given them her credit card number. That card was gone, but she hoped to get a replacement before she checked out.

  “Are you traveling with someone? I can call them.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a phone.