A Cowboy To Keep: A Contemporary Western Romance Collection

by Hebby Roman

  “No, I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Leticia said.

  “Aw, Mamá, get off your high horse. We wouldn’t mind. In fact—”

  “Aren’t y’all on spring break,” John Clay interrupted.

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Any plans?” Leticia asked.

  She heard a muffled conversation and then Camila came back on, “No, we were trying to catch up on some stuff around here. And I thought I might drive over and pick out wedding invitations with you, but now…”

  “Well, you should be getting a Fedex any time with plane tickets for Vegas and a room at the Bellagio,” John Clay said.

  “Hey, what’s this all about?” Rusty asked.

  “Did you know there’s a thirty-day waiting period in Texas before you can marry again, once a divorce is final?”

  “Uh, no, actually, I didn’t,” Rusty said.

  “What’s this stuff about Vegas?” Camila asked.

  “We don’t want to wait thirty days to be married, so we’re getting married in Las Vegas, and we want y’all to come along and witness our wedding,” Leticia said. “How does that sound?”

  “As in now?” Camila asked.

  She and John Clay hugged and laughed. “How about tomorrow? The tickets are on the way. Get to packing,” John Clay said. “We’re getting married in ‘The Little Vegas Chapel.’ Elvis will be officiating.”

  “Y’all are shitting me!” Camila exclaimed.

  “What language, my dear wife-to-be,” Rusty tut-tutted. “You need to work on your potty mouth. Or our kids will grow up to be thugs or worse.”

  “Says who, Pops?”

  “Don’t call me that, Squirt.”

  “Children, children, could y’all please stop this,” Leticia said.

  “Yeah,” John Clay added, “we thought y’all would be happy to join us in Vegas and witness our nuptials.”

  “With Elvis? Really?” Camila asked again.

  “Yes, with Elvis,” Leticia said, glancing at John Clay and winking. “Somehow, we thought he’d be perfect for a wedding of us old folks.”

  “Well, y’all are pretty awesome for old folks,” Camila said.

  “Why, thank you, dear daughter-in-law-to-be,” John Clay threw back. “You and Rusty, for kids, can be pretty awesome, too.”

  Leticia caught his gaze and laughed.

  “You’ll be there. Right?” Leticia asked.

  “We wouldn’t miss y’all getting married by Elvis for the world,” Camila said.

  “Good, see y’all tomorrow,” John Clay clicked off the speaker phone.

  Leticia glanced up and saw Stormy’s mounted shoe over her study door. It had been awhile since she’d noticed it there. And, in the end, it had been the ultimate good luck charm, bringing her more joy than she could have imagined.

  If you believed in that sort of thing.

  He took her into his arms, murmuring, “Any plans for the honeymoon I should know about? I kinda liked that bondage bit we did on the Fourth. Should I get some velvet-covered handcuffs?”

  She reared back. “You’re kidding me. Right? Velvet-covered handcuffs?”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Darling, I’d never kid about a thing like that.”

  Thank you for reading Border Romance by Amazon bestselling author Hebby Roman! If you’d like to read more of Hebby’s books, you can find them on Amazon and on her website.

  Phoenix Heat

  By Patti Sherry-Crews

  Contemporary Western Romance

  Copyright © 2017 by Patti Sherry-Crews

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  About Phoenix Heat

  When Harper Donovan loses both her fiancé and business in that order, it’s the end of her dream of making it in New York City. Returning to the bosom of her family in Arizona is not her favorite option, but it’s her only one. When she meets handsome firefighter and cowboy Frank Flynn, she decides it’s time to get into the dating game again. Except Flynn shows no interest and dodges her, but not before claiming they’ve met before. Will his past and their differences extinguish the heat between them?

  Chapter One

  Act like you belong here. Anxiety worked its way hand over fist up her gullet, threatening to squeeze her windpipe shut. Harper snapped back her shoulders and straightened her spine.

  Take a deep breath. Of course she belonged here. This ranch had been in her family for generations. Her grandparent’s large ranch house, spread out in the distance, acted as an anchor to the festivities taking place today. All these people gathered under the hospitality of the Donovan clan.

  She stuck out her chin with pride and stretched her arms out on the wood rail of the corral behind her. Ha! She drew in a sharp breath and pulled a splinter the size of the state of Arizona out of her palm. Pretending nothing had happened, she resumed her position.

  Uncle Pete stood across the yard doing rope tricks, silhouetted against the setting sun with a sky showing more shades of pastel than an Easter egg. He twirled the loop over his head, then lowered it down his body. When the rope reached his dusty boots, it kicked up smoke-like wisps of dirt. She let out a contented sigh. Yes, moving back had been the right decision. You don’t see this sort of thing out east. Just look at that sky. A sight for sore eyes.

  The wind shifted, sending mesquite-scented smoke from the fire pit in her direction. Harper blinked tears out of her stinging eyes. Time to move. She had been standing with her back against the fence too long anyway—her attempt to look cool at a barbecue to raise funds for a new playground for a local Catholic grade school. Hard to define ‘cool’ under the circumstances of such an event. Her mother had already busted her for showing too much skin and sent her back to her room to change before they left home—as if she was some child.

  At twenty-seven, Harper had lived independently in many places the last few years. Too old to have her mother vetoing her wardrobe choices. Yet, whenever she came home to Phoenix, she fell back into the role of baby of the family. But now she was back for a long spell, she resolved to challenge a few assumptions—though she wasn’t going to start by challenging her mother’s objection to her wearing short shorts to a church function. Pick your battles.

  She’d dutifully slunk back to her room and slipped into a denim skirt, which covered marginally more leg while still showing off her curves. Her mother, Angel, had looked her over a second time, with lips still pinched tight, but she let it go as they were running late.

  Her father, Boone, wasn’t actively involved in the family ranch since marrying her mother. Mom and Dad had their own guest ranch and restaurant to run. Now, Uncle Joe oversaw the cattle ranch, and Uncle Pete ran the trail rides. Still, this place ran through her blood, she reminded herself.

  Crossing the yard, she noticed the table set with desserts had been left in a state of near devastation since a horde of children had descended on it. Someone should set things right, she thought, heading for the table set with cakes, pies, and cookies. She picked up empty plastic cups scattered over the tabletop and mopped up a puddle of orange soda, grateful to have something to do. A plate with cookies looked like it’d been attacked by turkey vultures. She rearranged the cookies in a spiral, disposing of the broken ones. Much better. Food was her thing, after all. It’s all in the presentation. Eye appeal walks hand in hand with flavor and aroma when satisfying the appetite.

  She was slicing off a ragged edge of the sheet cake to make it look more appealing when she glanced up at the group of men standing around the keg. Cowboys. I forgot how sexy they could be.

  There were five of them, four wearing Stets
ons, and any one of them could put their pointy-toed boots under her bed as far as she was concerned. Although the blond in the middle was too muscular for her taste—biceps as big as Sunday ham roasts. He probably divided his time between the gym and downing protein shakes. But the black-haired hatless one was perfect. Arms and torso toned in a way she could tell he came by naturally through hard work, roping cattle and spending hours in the saddle riding herd. Maybe it was time she got back in the saddle herself. She’d successfully passed through all the stages of grief over her last boyfriend—he wasn’t dead, she just wished he was. Yeah, she was over him. She only thought about Justin once an hour now.

  “Are you going to stand there looking over the display, or are you going to sample the goods?” Came a teasing voice behind her.

  Harper looked over her shoulder and smiled at Lilly. It had been Lilly’s mama, Rosa, who’d turned Harper’s love of food into a passion for cooking, which led to her career as a chef. A good portion of her early life had been spent beside her mother and Rosa in the hotel kitchen. “I’ve eaten enough here today. I’m just trying to make things more presentable.”

  “I’m not talking about the dessert table.” Lilly squinted one toffee brown eye in the direction of the cowboys by the keg. “I’ve had my eye on you, chica, and I think someone forgot to add the word ‘mingle’ to the set of instructions they gave you today.” She tried to push Harper in the direction of the keg.

  “I can’t just walk over there! I don’t know them.”

  “I don’t either, but we’re going to go over there and introduce ourselves. Any man would be doing flips to meet an attractive girl like you. Do you think you can do something to….” She gestured at her neckline. “You know, show more cleavage?”

  Harper looked down at Lilly’s swollen belly. Happily married, Lilly had baby number three on the way. Harper knew the dangers of approaching a group of men with a woman who had nothing to lose as she eagerly dangled a single young lady in front of them. Lilly wasn’t known for getting things done by being tactful.

  “No, it’s all right. I’m not sure showing up with a fertility goddess in tow is going to get me a date. How about I go this alone?” Harper said.

  “Suit yourself, but you need to get over there. You don’t get an opportunity to find so many good looking men in one place.”

  “You know what I’m going to do? See Mom over there?” She pointed to her mother sitting at a card table, a large pickle jar full of raffle tickets in front of her and rolls of unsold ones beside that. “I think we can sell more if the tickets come to the people rather waiting for the people to come to the tickets. I bet those cowboys would love a chance to win a flat screen TV.”

  Lilly tugged down the neckline of Harper’s V-neck T-shirt. “Go get ’em.”

  Her mother looked up at her as she approached. In her late fifties, Angel was still a beautiful woman. Her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail had only a smattering of silver.

  “Are you having fun, darling?”

  “I don’t know anyone anymore. I thought I’d help you move some of those raffle tickets and get to meet some new folks at the same time.”

  Mom pulled out a folding chair. “Well, sit right down. I’ll introduce you.”

  “No, I thought I’d walk around and be proactive.”

  “All right. Remember it’s five dollars a ticket, and if they buy ten, they get a break. Ten tickets for forty dollars.” Her mother stood up and handed her a roll of orange tickets. She looked at her with narrowed eyes and pulled her neckline up.

  “Aw, come on, Mom. Haven’t you heard sex sells?”

  “So do kids needing playground equipment that won’t give them tetanus. Keep your shirt on.”

  Harper clucked her tongue at her and took the roll of tickets. When she had her back to her, she tugged her neckline down again and headed for the crowd at the keg, employing her sassy walk, which she had to take out of the closet and dust off—it’d been a while. For good measure, she pulled her long, honey-brown hair out of its elastic holder so it flowed down her back. Sunday-Dinner-Arms had left, so now there were only four to tackle. The hatless one was sure handsome. He threw back his head and laughed at something the man next to him said. His smile stopped her heart. He had a smile that took over his face, showing even white teeth, and eyes crinkling in the sexiest way. Oh, my. I’ll take that one, please.

  As if sensing her, he turned and looked in her direction. When their glances met, his features went through a whole gymnastics routine of facial expressions. He stopped laughing and his jaw fell open—even unhinged. He opened his eyes wide, and then narrowed them and knitted his brows. Then he lost his composure and got the twitches before he snapped his mouth shut with lips sealed tight. He looked sideways away from her and crossed his arms high over his chest. Quite a reaction. Got you! Who knew this was going to be so easy? She had his interest, all right, but she was going to play it cool.

  She strode with confidence into the tight circle around the keg and avoided looking at her true target. “Hello, boys, have you had a chance to buy a raffle ticket yet? First prize is a flat screen TV.”

  Three hats tipped to her. She bet the fourth wished he’d worn his hat today just to have the opportunity to tip his Stetson to her at this moment. A guy with a chiseled jaw and dark blond hair stepped forward. “Hello, there. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Will.”

  She took his hard, calloused hand. “Harper Donovan.”

  “Which Donovan are you connected to?” Will asked.

  “Well, I have to say I’m connected to all of them as they’re brothers, but Boone Donovan is my dad.”

  “You’re Captain Donovan’s kid?” asked one with bright blue eyes, stepping forward.

  “Are you with the fire department?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, we all are. I’m in your father’s station, in fact. I’m Dusty, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

  “I’m especially pleased to meet you then.” She turned to the next man in line, making a point of not looking at the hatless one, but even without seeing him she could feel the tension in the air between them. The tension was almost a living thing, looming behind her, probing her with long, charged fingers.

  “Hi, I’m Tate. Be sure and mention me to your dad, but don’t believe anything he tells you,” said the one with pointy sideburns.

  Her ears were practically humming with the frisson in the air as she turned to the hatless one. She looked him direct in his dark brown eyes and held out her hand. “Hi, Harper Donovan.”

  He stared at her a beat too long. His expression fixed and unreadable. “I know who you are. We’ve met before,” he said with a deep, slow drawl.

  She tilted her head and studied him. Tall. Swarthy complexion. Long, dramatically arched eyebrows over almond-shaped eyes. His mussed, curly black hair appeared in only nodding acquaintance with a barbershop, and his lower face was covered in five o’clock shadow. Very sexy, but there was nothing familiar about him.

  “I don’t think—” she started to say.

  “Excuse me, I have to take this,” he said, turning away from her, ignoring her outstretched hand. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and cupped it to his ear as he walked away.

  She dropped her hand. I can’t believe he just did that. The old I’ve-got-a-call dodge!

  Hatless walked off into the crowd, leaving a whiff of humiliation in the air. Harper blinked away her confusion and tried to regain her composure. The three remaining cowboys stood in an uncertain silence, embarrassed for her.

  At last Will spoke up in an overly bright voice. “Well, I sure could use a new TV. How much did you say those tickets are?”

  Matching his bright tone, Harper turned her attention back to the polite boys. “Five dollars a ticket or forty dollars for ten. A bargain for a good cause.”

  “I’ll take ten,” said Tate, pulling out his wallet.

  The other two bought ten tickets too, but whether it was to make up
for their friend’s rude behavior or due to her own charming personality, Harper didn’t know. She spent a few more minutes in idle conversation with the cowboys, but she felt deflated, and headed back to her mother.

  “Here’s $120 for you,” she said, handing over the money.

  “Wow! Nice work. You got them all to buy tickets?”

  “All except one, who was kind of rude.”

  “Who was that, dear?”

  Harper scanned the crowds milling about. Her heart lurched when she spotted Hatless bending over to talk to a buxom blonde, big grin on his face for her. “That guy with the dark hair over by the corral.”

  Her mother laughed. “Oh, Flynn! But he already bought tickets today. Nothing rude about it. He gave me two hundred dollars.”

  Harper sputtered. “He...what? He must really want a flat screen TV.”

  “No, he didn’t even want any tickets. He just wanted to make a donation.” Mom winked at her. “I put a ticket in the jar with his name on it anyway.”

  Sensing someone watching her, Harper looked over to the corral. Flynn had his sights on her, brows furrowed. When their gazes met, he snapped his attention back to the blonde, who now had a hand on his shoulder, pelvis angling toward him.

  Harper sucked her teeth in disgust at the display. “Well, maybe that’s why he acted so strange. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I took it personally. Is he in Dad’s company in the department?”

  “Yes, he is. Same shift.”

  “And do they get along?”

  “Have you ever met the person your father doesn’t get along with? Most amiable man on the face of the earth.”

  “I thought maybe there were some problems between them, and he was taking it out on me.”

  “Nope. Just you. Maybe he didn’t like all that cleavage you’re flashing.”

  “Yes, men hate that. I’m telling you he was strange. I tried to introduce myself, and he said we’ve already met. I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.”