Praise for Jessica Clare
“Clare has a knack for creating chemistry between the most unlikely of characters and clearly revels in defying expectations in her stories.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Great storytelling . . . delightful reading . . . It’s fun and oh so hot.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“[Clare is] a romance writing prodigy.”
—Heroes & Heartbreakers
“Blazing hot.”
—USA Today
Titles by Jessica Clare
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A COWBOY
Roughneck Billionaires
DIRTY MONEY
DIRTY SCOUNDREL
DIRTY BASTARD
The Billionaire Boys Club
STRANDED WITH A BILLIONAIRE
BEAUTY AND THE BILLIONAIRE
THE WRONG BILLIONAIRE’S BED
ONCE UPON A BILLIONAIRE
ROMANCING THE BILLIONAIRE
ONE NIGHT WITH A BILLIONAIRE
HIS ROYAL PRINCESS
BEAUTY AND THE BILLIONAIRE: THE WEDDING
Billionaires and Bridesmaids
THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE VIRGIN
THE TAMING OF THE BILLIONAIRE
THE BILLIONAIRE TAKES A BRIDE
THE BILLIONAIRE’S FAVORITE MISTAKE
BILLIONAIRE ON THE LOOSE
The Bluebonnet Novels
THE GIRL’S GUIDE TO (MAN) HUNTING
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF AN ALPHA MALE
THE EXPERT’S GUIDE TO DRIVING A MAN WILD
THE VIRGIN’S GUIDE TO MISBEHAVING
THE BILLIONAIRE OF BLUEBONNET
A JOVE BOOK
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Clare
Excerpt from Dirty Money copyright © 2017 by Jessica Clare
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
A JOVE BOOK and BERKLEY are registered trademarks and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780399587788
First Edition: November 2018
Cover art: cowboy and dog by NaturePL; snowy trees by Jeff Schultz/ Alaska Stock—Design Pics
Cover design by Sarah Oberrender
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Praise for Jessica Clare
Titles by Jessica Clare
Title Page
Copyright
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
Epilogue
Excerpt from Dirty Money
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Eli Pickett wasn’t a big fan of holidays.
It wasn’t that he had something against Christmas in particular. As holidays went, it was a perfectly nice one. The songs were catchy. The decorations were festive, if gaudy. The food was all right. What he liked least about holidays was that no one worked.
Having grown up in foster care and now making a living as a rancher, he found the concept foreign to him. Cattle didn’t care about holidays or spending time with family. They wanted to be fed. They wanted their hay freshened. They wanted to go out to pasture even when it was deep with snow outside. Holidays didn’t account for ranch animals.
As he sat down in the main room of the lodge, oiling his boots, he watched the others get ready to leave, rushing back and forth to pack last-minute items. Maria, the housekeeper and cook, had three entire suitcases full of presents for her grandbabies and fussed over how to get a box of cookies into her purse.
Eli watched with amusement as she packed and repacked things. “You know you’re only going for two weeks, right?”
“No lip from you, mijo,” she told him, pulling things out of her oversized purse and trying to squeeze the box into it. “I feel bad enough that you’re going to be staying here by yourself over Christmas.”
He shrugged. Things had been different around the ranch since the new owners bought it. The cattle herds had been downsized from thousands to four hundred. The Texas oil tycoon who’d bought the land had plans to build a ski lodge on some of the rolling hills. The ranch itself was used for a tax break, thus the downsizing. Eli had kept his job, but the ranch itself had gone from a dozen employees to five. It was just him, Maria, Old Clyde, Jordy, and Dustin. Once upon a time, he’d have spent the holidays here with a few other ranch hands who opted to care for the animals over Christmas instead of going home.
Now it was just him. But he had a job, and he loved this ranch, and that was all that was important. “It’ll be fine. I don’t mind being on my own.”
She clucked at him, shaking her head before pulling out even more stuff from her purse and trying to push the cookie box in there. “I don’t like it. Young man like you should go home for Christmas. Spend the holidays with family. You could come with me. My older daughter Alma makes a lovely spread and you know she’s single now.” Maria gave him a knowing glance. “She’s very pretty. I showed you pictures, remember?”
Yikes. He remembered. Maria’s daughter was pretty, but he was also sure that she wasn’t right for him. For one, she lived in Los Angeles, which might as well be hell as far as he was concerned. And for two, he doubted she’d want to come live on the ranch in Wyoming with him, and he had no intention of leaving. “’Preciate the thought,” he told Maria. “But someone’s got to feed the animals, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “Old Clyde should stay. He’s not a young man who needs to think about family. He can do it.”
“I heard that,” Old Clyde bellowed from the next room over.
Eli just shook his head and paid attention to his boot. Maria’d been trying to get Old Clyde to trade places with Eli for the last month now, but Clyde was visiting his daughter in Tucson. Eli didn’t have anyone to visit. Truth was, he was ready for the others to go. It�
��d give him a few weeks of quiet to settle his head, not have to worry over people prying about family that he didn’t have. They’d return in January, ready to work again, and then things would get back to normal.
By the fire, Frannie whined and thumped her tail, looking over at him hopefully.
“This boot ain’t for you,” he told her, grinning. The dog responded to his tone, getting more excited by the moment. She got up and waddled over to him, her pregnant sides sticking out from the white fluff of her thick coat. Eli put the boot aside and rubbed Frannie’s face. Two weeks of just him and the dogs, which were the best company a man could ask for. No, he didn’t need more than that.
“She better not have her puppies before I get back,” Maria told Eli. “I want to be here.”
“I’ll tell her to keep ’em in until you return,” he vowed, grinning. Like that would happen. Already Frannie looked ready to burst, and she wasn’t a small dog. Great Pyrenees were devoted herders and perfect on a ranch, but they were also destructive chewers when they were bored. And since Frannie was being kept close to the ranch house due to how pregnant she was, a lot of boots were getting destroyed.
He knew how she felt. Well, not the pregnant part. The stir-crazy part. If he had to leave this place for two weeks, he’d probably start chewing on boots, too.
Maria just shook her head at him. “You and those dogs.” She turned her head and yelled over her shoulder. “Jordy! Dustin! We’ve got to go! Ándele!” She turned back to Eli and gave him another motherly look. “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay with you over the holiday? That big storm’s rolling in—”
“No,” he told her for the hundredth time already. “Ain’t calving season for another two months. No one’s going to be dropping. We drove in all the cows and moved ’em to the pastures close to the barn so I can cake ’em easy—load them up on protein and extra food—when it’s cold. The storm will be fine. Me and the dogs will handle it like we always do.”
She just shook her head at Eli, exasperated. He was pretty sure she was more disappointed that he wasn’t into Christmas and family like she was, but that just wasn’t his thing. “I’ll bring you back some fruitcake,” she compromised.
“You sure don’t have to do that,” he joked.
A moment later, Dustin, Jordy, and Old Clyde came stomping down the stairs of the farmhouse. At their heels were the other ranch dogs, Jim and Bandit. All herding dogs, they worked twice as hard as most of the ranch hands did. Definitely harder than Jordy, Eli thought with amusement. Jordy was still new and tended to hinder more than help, but in time he’d be a good cowboy.
“Let’s go,” Maria told them, slinging her bag over her shoulder, gray ponytail bouncing. “If they shut down the airport and I have to spend the holiday with you idiotas, I’m not going to be happy.” She moved to Eli’s side and gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek, then patted his face. “You call if you get too lonely, mijo. Mama Maria’s always a phone call away.”
“Will do,” he promised her, though he was thirty-two and didn’t much need a mama. Maria just cared. Weren’t no harm in that.
“Try to have yourself a good holiday,” she told Eli.
He nodded. Maria was never going to realize that some people just didn’t care about Christmas. It was just another day to him. Another day of ranch work and cattle tending, except without the extra hands around to make working in the upcoming winter storm easier.
It’d be quiet. Peaceful.
He’d enjoy the next two weeks for what they were and not worry about the rest.
CHAPTER TWO
Cassandra Horn sang along—loudly and badly—to Bing Crosby in her rental car. The more enthusiastic the Christmas song, she hoped, the more holiday-ish she’d feel. So far it wasn’t working, but she wasn’t going to give up hope. It was early yet, after all. She had a week before Christmas to get herself into the holiday spirit. Surely between now and then she could muster some sort of enthusiasm.
Theoretically.
The wind whistled against the windows and threatened to push her car off the icy roads. Biting back a nervous scream, Cass clenched the steering wheel tighter and turned down the music. She needed to concentrate. Driving in Wyoming in the mountains was a heck of a lot different than driving in the city. Oh, who was she kidding? She lived in Manhattan. She didn’t drive. She took a taxi or an Uber anywhere she wanted to go.
But there weren’t a ton of Uber drivers heading into the mountains in this part of the country, so she’d rented a car and headed out on her own. She’d driven herself everywhere back in her college days, after all. This was just like one of those road trips, just a solo one. No big deal.
Of course, she didn’t quite remember having blizzard conditions back in college, either, but she was pretty sure she could handle it. Reasonably sure. It was either that or turn around and go back to the airport, since she didn’t have the money for a hotel.
So yeah, blizzard it was, because she was not going home for the full two weeks she had off. No way, no how.
She needed a break from work. No, she amended. She needed a break from her boss, not the work itself. Cass loved what she did. Or she used to. Being a personal assistant to a successful fashion model had been exciting and fun. She got to hang out with a famous friend all day. Well, sort of friend. They’d been chatty since college, but after Cass took the job, Rose made it clear that they were employee and employer. Cass didn’t mind, most of the time, and she understood that Rose was under a lot of pressure. Rose Gramercy’s career had skyrocketed in the last couple of years and so Cass did everything from grocery shopping to Starbucks runs to handling Rose’s calendar to even lunching with Rose’s people when Rose was too busy to meet anyone. She worked weird hours and that was all right. It wasn’t as if she had a boyfriend or family to go home to. She had a small, pretty apartment in Rose’s building so she could be nearby, but a lot of the time, she just slept over at Rose’s place in case Rose needed her.
That was BKW, though. Before Ken Wallis, when everything became miserable.
To think that once upon a time, Cass had been excited to meet Ken Wallis. He’d starred in some of her favorite movies—the remake of Titanic; the romantic and lush Nutcracker Prince; and her personal go-to when she was feeling lonely, The Eyes of the Queen. When she’d found out that Rose was dating him, she was beyond ecstatic. And at first, Ken was nice. He was friendly, he was charming, and he was approachable. Cass had happily grabbed coffees for him when she got them for Rose. She’d pick up his dry cleaning when his assistant was unavailable, and she truly didn’t mind that he tended to sleep over at Rose’s place a lot, even if it meant Cass would have to head home to her own quiet place.
It was great for a while. Then things started to get weird.
Rose went to Milan for a friend’s wedding without Cass. Ken was still in Manhattan on a shoot. He’d asked Cass to pick up a few items for him at a local bodega, and since she’d been doing that sort of thing for him for a while, she didn’t think anything of it. She showed up at his apartment with the cigarettes and beer only to find that he answered the door naked.
It was clear that he’d expected her to come in. And it was clear that he had more than assisting on his mind.
She’d managed to stammer out an excuse that day and had turned and run. Ever since then, working for Rose had become less about working and more about avoiding the boyfriend. Ken was everywhere. He showed up when Rose was on set and made sure to harass Cass. He showed up when Rose was out of town. He texted her. God, did he text her. Every day, her phone was blowing up with messages from him that she was always careful to answer neutrally and in a way that would never make it look like she was betraying Rose. Even just responding was stressful.
She’d tried talking to Rose about it, but it was clear that Rose didn’t think Cass was pretty enough to get Ken’s attention. He’s just being friendly, Ro
se would say with a laugh. Don’t worry. You’re not his type.
It seemed that his type was “unavailable,” though, because the more Cass told him no, the more Ken hit on her. It got so bad that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her interesting job had turned into an absolute nightmare, and she couldn’t even say anything to Rose. Ken was too good of an actor and Rose was in love.
Cass was just the employee.
She shuddered and clutched the steering wheel harder.
That was one reason why when Rose said she was going to the Riviera for the holidays, Cass decided that she was going to go on a trip as well. She was not about to stay in NYC alone, because she didn’t trust Ken not to show up at her apartment. It was to the point that she wanted to go to the police. But who’d believe her? Yes, I’m the average-looking assistant to Rose Gramercy, and her movie-star boyfriend is hitting on me. She’d hinted about it to a few people, but they just laughed in her face. In photos, Ken was utterly devoted to Rose, and their romance was one that sold tabloids like crazy. No one believed Cass, and so she stopped mentioning it.
So . . . a cabin by herself for Christmas, it was. She was originally going to stay with her family, but her parents were overseas having a second honeymoon somewhere in Europe, and her favorite cousin was staying with her husband’s family in Idaho and there was no room for one more last-minute straggler. She’d decided to rent a car and head up to the family’s old cabin in the mountains in Wyoming. Of course, she hadn’t been here in ten years, but it’d be a nice place to hang out for a while, unwind, and figure out what the heck she was going to do. The trunk of her car was full of paperback books and snacks, her email was cleaned out, and her voicemail was changed to an out of office.
She was ready for a vacation.
Cass hadn’t counted on the weather, though. She should have guessed that Wyoming in December would be cold and snowy. She hadn’t exactly considered that “cold and snowy” could quickly turn to whiteout conditions in the space of an hour, which was how long ago she’d left the airport. And as she let the car gently crawl around one icy curve of road after another, she worried that she was being stupid. Maybe she should turn around. Fly back to New York—because two weeks of hotel fees would break her meager wallet—and just pretend not to be home. Maybe that’d be smarter than trying to get this automatic sedan up a snowy mountain road.
All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy Page 1