Courted by the Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  The last few days he’d stood by silently, wanting to help, offering a smile or some word of comfort. And every smile or word of encouragement tugged at her heart, challenging her resolve to hold him at arm’s length. She knew it was the right thing to do, for him.

  She’d never had something to give up before. Now she was giving up so much. Her job. Her friends—something she’d never had before. A community and friends for Shawn.

  And Fisher. And all the love and joy and hope he gave her. It always came back to him. To the aching emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole if she left.

  If she stayed...

  She slid from her bed and padded across the thick, plush carpet to peer out the glass pane of the French doors. The full moon was bright, spilling into their room and illuminating the Lodge’s wide wraparound porch. If Teddy Boone hadn’t insisted they stay with him, where would they be now? On the road, probably. Her money wouldn’t have run out, but they’d both be jumpy and tired by now. Instead, they were surrounded and protected by acres of Boone land. Shawn was happy—suntanned, exhausted and happy. And she was lonely. Even surrounded by the Boones, she ached for more. She ached for Fisher.

  It would be better when they left. When she didn’t see him every day...

  She closed her eyes, panic and grief washing over her. She wouldn’t see him every day. She wouldn’t hear his laugh or know that he’d drop everything if she needed him. Leaving him would be the hardest thing she’d ever done. If she could do it.

  Staying wasn’t an option. If Jesse came...

  She pressed her forehead to the cold glass. What if he came? She swallowed, trying to picture Jesse. Here. But she couldn’t.

  Was Fisher right? Was his threat just a threat? It didn’t make sense for him to leave Las Vegas. Why come all this way for two people who would only cause him trouble—the one thing he took pains to avoid? And if he came, what would happen? He’d yell, maybe throw a few punches, but he couldn’t force them to go. He wouldn’t touch the Boones, he was too smart for that.

  So why was she leaving? She swallowed, allowing herself the freedom to think—to hope.

  Everything she’d ever wanted, even though she’d had no idea, was right here. She and Shawn had been given a real chance at a real life. With people who loved them. With a man who would always take care of them.

  Shawn snorted, rolled over and sighed, making her smile.

  Let him come. He’s not going to hurt you. Not here. I won’t let him. Fisher’s words reached her.

  She slipped through the French door, sighing as a warm evening breeze blew against the oversize T-shirt she was sleeping in. She walked forward and rested her hip against the railing, listening to the chirp of the cicadas and crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. Out here, the sky was blue black, sparkling with millions of stars in a cloudless sky. Her gaze wandered, until she saw something from the corner of her eye.

  Fisher was sprawled in one of the deck chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his cowboy hat tipped forward on his head. One arm dangled off the side of the chair, the other lay across his chest. A soft snore reached her.

  She stared at him, her heart thumping while every inch of her demanded she go to him. So she did. She leaned forward, carefully lifting his hat to stare down at him. He was so damn handsome, rough and big and manly and...gorgeous. She loved him.

  “Kylee?” His eyes popped open. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  She crouched by his chair, taking his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Fisher.”

  He blinked, not awake. “For what?”

  “For the last four days.” She cradled his hand against her chest, loving its warmth and solid feel. “For putting you through...what I’ve put you through.”

  He sat forward then, his hand turning to hold on to hers. “No apologies, Kylee. I hurt for what you’re going through—”

  “And I hurt you by shutting you out,” she interrupted.

  His green eyes, heavy-lidded as they were, peered into hers.

  Her heart was hammering as she searched for the right words. “I know what I want—”

  “I know,” he said, his hand tightening on hers. “I might not want you to go, but I’ll support you. Doesn’t mean I’m giving you up, Kylee. If you and Shawn decide there’s room for me, I bet Montana could use another vet.”

  “You’d do that?” she whispered, stunned once more by the love of this man.

  He nodded, his gaze sweeping her face.

  “You’re what I want, Fisher. Here, in Stonewall Crossing.” She was instantly pulled into his lap, his heavily muscled arms holding her against his broad chest. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” He stared down at her. “And everything’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded, running her fingers down his cheek. “I know.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Good.”

  She tugged his head down to hers, brushing her lips against his. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, kissing her again.

  “For loving me, as I am. And Shawn.” She hesitated. “I want to stay, Fisher, but I worry about Jesse—about putting you and your family at risk.”

  “If he comes, we’ll deal with it. I won’t let you down, I promise you. We’re strong together. Me, you and Shawn. We’re a family, Kylee.” Fisher cupped her cheek. “If you want to be...”

  “It’s all I want. I couldn’t leave, Fisher. I can’t let you go,” she said softly.

  Fisher pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then don’t, Kylee. Just hold on to me, love me and know I’m never letting you go.”

  Epilogue

  “All happening so quick, people are gonna think this is a shotgun wedding,” Cutter said, patting the hand she’d placed on his arm.

  “Maybe it is,” she whispered, kissing the old man’s cheek. She and Fisher had yet to tell the rest of the family that there would be a new member of the Boone family. Annabeth and Ryder’s twins were only a few weeks old and she didn’t want to steal their thunder.

  Their baby hadn’t been planned, but Fisher’s unfiltered excitement had chased away her anxiety. Even Shawn was thrilled. He didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl, as long as he got to teach them to draw. Listening to the two of them discussing baby names, Fisher’s mission to read every maternity book ever written, and how soon was too soon to get the baby a pony made it impossible not to be delighted. And so she was. She was going to be a wife and, in about six months, she was going to be a mother.

  “Well, now, we best get a move on then,” Cutter smiled. “A baby.”

  “A secret I’d appreciate you kept—for now,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  He snorted, leading her out the back doors of the Lodge and down the steps to the large deck. Cutter wasn’t the fastest escort but she didn’t mind. She needed plenty of time to navigate the stairs without tripping on the hem of her white lace wedding dress or the length of her veil.

  She felt like a princess, surrounded by lanterns, candles and thousands of white twinkling lights. Renata had outdone herself, transforming the space into something truly magical. And there, waiting for her, was her Prince Charming.

  The look on Fisher’s face took her breath away. He loved her. He was proud of her. And he thought she was beautiful. And he let her know it every single day.

  Shawn was at his side, the only groomsman. He hadn’t liked the idea of giving her away. Instead, he’d wanted to wait for her with Fisher—since the three of them were now a family. It was kind of hard to argue with his logic, so they hadn’t.

  “You treat her right or I’ll hunt you down,” Cutter said, placing Kylee’s hand in Fisher’s.

  “I will,” Fisher said, chuckling.

  All she saw was Fisher. His steady green gaze
held hers throughout the ceremony, promising her all the comfort and love she could ever need. His hands were steady, even though she was shaking like a leaf. This big, strong man was hers now—forever. No matter what life might throw their way, he would always be there for them—her, Shawn and their baby.

  When it was time, she said the vows, slid the thick gold band onto his finger and tilted her face up for his kiss.

  “You look beautiful, Mrs. Boone,” he whispered against her lips.

  “You make me feel beautiful, Dr. Boone,” she said, kissing him again.

  When the minister pronounced them Dr. and Mrs. Boone the guests clapped and Shawn headed off in search of Eli.

  Fisher pulled her arm through his, covering her hand. “I could stand here looking at you all night, but I’m thinking our guests might not appreciate that.” His gaze swept over her face as his hand came up to cradle her cheek.

  “I’m not sure I’d want to stand here all night so you can look at me.” She leaned into his touch.

  “No?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you want me to do instead?”

  She smiled, sliding her arms around his neck. “For starters, I want you to kiss me.”

  “Anytime, Kylee, anytime.”

  * * * * *

  Be sure to look for the next story in THE BOONES OF TEXAS series by Sasha Summers, available in 2017 wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE KENTUCKY COWBOY’S BABY by Heidi Hormel.

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  The Kentucky Cowboy’s Baby

  by Heidi Hormel

  Chapter One

  EllaJayne was gone. The car seat in the back of the battered king-cab pickup was empty, the door hanging open. Even flat-as-a-pancake Oggie, her toy doggie, had vanished. AJ had been right there, fixing the loose hose while his daughter slept in her safest-for-its-price-tag car seat. He’d been standing right there. He hadn’t heard a damned thing. He should have a loyal dog so no one could sneak up and— Call the cops, his mind snapped.

  He pulled out his phone as he scanned the dusty lot stretching behind a stuccoed cement-block building. Empty, except for a purple SUV. He ran, his well-worn boots kicking up whirls of bleached-out grit. No EllaJayne in or behind the small SUV. How could he have forgotten she was Houdini in a diaper? No sign of her in the dirt-and-gravel parking lot baking in the Arizona high-noon sun. The emergency operator picked up as he raced back to his grimy truck for one more check in every nook, cranny and crevice.

  “What’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

  “My daughter’s gone.” He ran for the short alley that ran along the building and onto the main street. “Shit,” he said.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  He kept moving. “Get the police out here. She might have gone onto the road.”

  “I’ll need your location, please.”

  Her voice was too calm. He wanted to reach through the phone and tell her that his baby girl had disappeared. Instead, as he panted for breath against the heat and the pain in his hip, he said, “I’m in Angel Crossing. I only stopped for a minute to check the truck before I went to find Gene’s—” He stopped the rush of words. None of that mattered. “My daughter is sixteen months old. She has dark hair and eyes.”

  “What’s she wearing, sir?”

  “Purple shirt with sparkles.”

  “A little more information, then the police will contact you. I’ll need your full name, place of—”

  He hung up. He couldn’t run and talk. They should be sending police, the K-9 unit, not asking him stupid questions. He stared up and down the uneven, broken sidewalk that stretched in front of the bright-colored facades of empty buildings. Had someone driven in and stolen his daughter while he’d had his head under the hood? A wailing, escalating cry drifted to him. He squinted without his hat brim to shade his McCreary-gray eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sturdy toddler daughter, with hair as dark as his own, its straight-as-a-preacher silkiness direct from her out-of-the-picture mama. He took off, ignoring the sharp bite of pain in his hip and back.

  Was the crying closer? The familiar piercing sob was one he’d come to dread, his daughter letting him know he had no business calling himself her daddy.

  “EllaJayne. Where are you, baby?” He kept moving as he yelled, not caring that his Kentucky twang had thickened. The cries stopped. He stopped. Where the hell was she? Dear Lord, he’d been so sure he was better than any foster parent or her mama could be. Now he’d lost his baby girl.

  After searching another five minutes without hearing her voice again, AJ turned back the way he’d come, moving as fast as he could down the uneven concrete. Where the heck was she? He stepped into a hole where there should have been sidewalk and sharp pain shot down his leg. He hobbled two more steps until the sign for the police department and town hall sprang up like an oasis in the desert. He raced toward it and yanked open the door into a narrow lobby with plastic signs lining the walls. He scanned them looking for...on the right, a small sign in red declared: POLICE. He hurried to the door. Beyond it, a battered metal desk with neat in and out trays stood empty. He didn’t hear anything.

  “I want to report a missing child.” He raised his voice, needing to talk with someone, right now, or he’d—

  “What the hell’s going on?” asked a tall, blond, unexpectedly familiar man. “AJ? What are you doing here?”

  “My daughter.” He pulled in as deep a breath as he could with his heart pounding enough to hurt his ribs. “Are you a cop now? I need a search party.”

  “Not a cop. Mayor. So you’re the daddy.”

  “Where is my daughter?” he asked slowly, with menace. He wasn’t playing here. No matter this was Danny Leigh, his old partner in crime. The big blond angel—fitting that he was mayor of a place called Angel Crossing—to AJ’s dark-haired and black-hatted devil.

  “Pepper said she found the baby walking around by herself.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t mean to tell you your business, but—”

  AJ had been right there under the hood while Baby Girl slept after hours of crying. He’d been right there. “I’m getting my daughter.” AJ turned fr
om Danny, whom he’d last seen at a rodeo in Tulsa. Now it seemed neither of them was following the money on the back of a bull.

  AJ listened for his daughter’s cries, but the blood roared so loudly in his ears he wouldn’t have been able to hear a jet take off.

  “Let me get the chief,” Danny said, his hand on AJ’s arm. Tight. AJ hadn’t lost an ounce of muscle since “retiring.” He used it to throw off his friend. Danny let go but stayed beside AJ, saying, “I heard them talking about calling Child Services.”

  Every one of AJ’s straining muscles tightened until his back sent a shooting pain down into his still-aching hip. Even if he’d been able to speak, he wouldn’t have known what to say to such crap, except a lot of four-letter words, which he tried not to use anymore because of EllaJayne. Everything he did now was to protect her. He’d quit riding bulls and wrangling for the rodeo.

  No one was taking his daughter. He’d rescued her once. He’d do it again. AJ moved past Danny to the doorway beyond the desk. Finally, he heard voices and—“EllaJayne,” he shouted, except he felt like he’d been gut-punched and only had enough air for the shout to be a strained whisper.

  Danny moved past him in the narrow hallway, through an open archway on the left and said, “She belongs to my buddy. He’s one hell of a bull rider.”

  AJ followed him into the room with a fridge and microwave. There she was. Baby Girl in the arms of a woman wearing scrubs, her hair in a no-nonsense golden-brown ponytail. The disapproving line of the woman’s mouth couldn’t mar its soft pink charm. He held out his arms for his daughter. EllaJayne lifted her head from the woman’s shoulder, tear tracks silvery bright on her rounded cheeks where strands of her McCreary raven-black hair lay in a sticky mess. His heart hurt. His baby girl had been crying...again. He sucked at this father stuff.

  “She was wandering around on her own. She could have ended up getting hit by a car or kidnapped,” said the woman’s voice, firm and soft at the same time.