420 Bride Street: Cherry Falls, Book #16

by Cole, Jagger

  420 Bride Street

  Cherry Falls, Book #16

  Jagger Cole

  420 Bride Street

  Jagger Cole © 2021

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Cormac Cover Design | Editing by MJ Edits

  This is a literary work of fiction. Any names, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or establishments, are solely coincidental.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and a violation of US copyright law.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  420 Bride Street

  A Special Present

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Also by Jagger Cole

  About the Author

  420 Bride Street

  The situation was supposed to be simple. I needed a place to stay.

  He needed someone to handle his horse…uh, appendage.

  * * *

  No, literally. Get your mind out of the gutter. Colt Patton’s prize stallion was having some mare problems that only a vet like me could take care of. In exchange, he’s got a room for me in the guest cottage on his ranch. Easy-peasy, right?

  Wrong.

  Because now I’m roommates with the hottest, snarliest bachelor in town. Who I’ve accidentally seen naked. Who I now know, definitively, has a lot in common with his stallion. Who comes with a trail of baggage as long as his…property line.

  Any girl with an ounce common sense would run for the hills. There’s only one problem: I can’t seem to look, much less run, away from Mr. Snarly-Hot.

  When Colt’s psycho cheating ex comes looking to steal his land, and when my dangerous ex comes looking to stir up trouble, we find the perfect solution: pretend to be engaged.

  After all, what could possibly go wrong pretending to be in a romantic relationship with an older, damaged, irresistibly gorgeous former Marine with eyes that make me weak and a smile that turns me to mush?

  Remember when this was supposed to be simple?

  Yeah, me neither anymore.

  * * *

  Safe, absolutely no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a perfect happy ever after.

  * * *

  Cherry Falls is filled with returning characters and iconic destinations that will begin to feel like family. When you leave the city, and drive into Cherry Falls, it’s like you’ve finally come home.

  * * *

  The cherry on top? Each book delivers a swoon-worthy, steamy romance! So welcome to Cherry Falls, we hope you stay awhile!

  A Special Present

  The Jagger Cole fans-only newsletter is the first place to hear about new releases, giveaways, and more! Sign up today to grab a free copy of Mr Big - an extra hot billionaire romance not available anywhere else!

  1

  Tansy

  If this were a Hollywood movie, the vista around me would be the coast of Southern California. The car would be a Porsche or something; top down, of course. My hair would be free and wild in the wind, and yet also somehow still looking amazing.

  I’d be laughing off the shitty ex I left behind while holding hands with some total hunk sitting next to me—played by Jon Hamm, obviously. My boutique veterinary clinic would be the talk of the celebrity circuit, and my client list would include Seth Rogen’s Pomeranian and Emma Watson’s cocker spaniel. Honestly, they’d probably be filming a Kardashian-style reality show on it as we speak.

  An especially big chunk of grit flies into my face through the open window, wrecking my fantasy. I sputter, hacking and coughing as I turn to spit dirt out the window. The rest of my daydream fades away. Then I’m surrounded by my way less than special, tragic train wreck of a life.

  The car isn’t sports car with the top down. It’s my friend Cassidy’s dad’s third-hand pickup truck which might actually be older than I am. There’s wind in my hair alright, but that’s because the fucking window is stuck at half open. Which is apparently the perfect width to precisely funnel dirt and crap from the gravel country road right into my face.

  There’s a shitty ex-boyfriend in my rearview mirror. But the amount of time it took me to actually leave that situation is nothing short of pathetic. Needless to say, Jon Hamm is not riding shotgun, either.

  The view isn’t bad. I’ll give it that. I turn, squinting through the dust kicked up by the jangling truck. Through the tree lined road, I can see acres and acres of gorgeous, pastoral farmland. Beyond that, I can just about see the coast past the town.

  I’d take a deep breath of this country air. But, you know; the aforementioned dirt funnel through the open window and all.

  So this is Cherry Falls. To say it’s nothing like New York City would be the understatement of the century. It’s a world apart. But a world between me and that place and the crap sandwich it’s recently served me is exactly what I needed.

  The call from my—now ex—best friend’s cousin Cassidy couldn’t have come at a better time. Okay, it wasn’t like it was pure kismet; she’d heard through the grapevine about what’d happened with Jeff. Or more specifically, with Kira: Cassidy’s cousin and my very much ex best friend.

  Newly graduated from veterinary school and having just walked in on my best friend bent over my sofa with my boyfriend grunting behind her, I needed a change. Also, the understatement of the century. And Cassidy was there to provide it.

  We’d only met a handful of times when she’d come to visit Kira in New York. But we’d hit it off and kept in touch. She knew I’d just graduated with my veterinary degree, and of course what’d happened. And she had an offer: ditch New York and move to Cherry Falls.

  Yes, Cassidy lived in a town straight out of a Nicholas Sparks romance book. Yes, it was nothing like New York. And hell yes, that was exactly what I needed.

  So, I left. Even better, Cassidy’s dad, who runs a veterinary clinic in town, has a job for me. Well, or will, in a month. But until then, Cassidy’s found me a temporary gig at the ranch where she works. Even better, it comes with a free place to stay. Considering I’m broke and up to my eyeballs in student loans, that’s a heck yes from me.

  That’s where I’m headed now, up to the Cherry Blossom Ranch to meet my new boss-slash-landlord, Colt. I roll my eyes. “Colt,” and he runs a horse ranch. I imagine the pot-bellied good-ole-boy with the straw in his mouth and the slouchy jeans waiting for me.

  All Cassidy’s mentioned is that he’s in his mid-thirties, is a retired Marine, and is a “little rough around the edges, but super nice.”

  “Well, Colt,” I mutter out loud to the imaginary Jon Hamm next to me. “Here I come.”

  The job pays peanuts, but it’s something. Colt Patton needs me to be on-hand as a sort of in-house horse vet; specifically, I guess his stallion is having some, uh, performance issues. I’ve tried to impress upon Cassidy how little or zero experience I have working with horses. But she’s insisted every time that I’ll do fine.

  “They’re just big dogs, Tansy.”

  I snort. Right. Big, big dogs. With stampy feet that can c
rush mine, teeth that can nip fingers, and about one and a half tons of weight to throw around. Oh, it’s worth mentioning that I might’ve a slight phobia of horses.

  But whatever. For some money and a place to stay? Sure, I’ll check out Colt’s stallion’s erectile dysfunction.

  Up ahead, I can see a break in the fencing along the side of the road. As I get closer, I can read the lettering on the big wrought-iron and wood arch over the driveway entrance: “Cherry Blossom Ranch” with two little cherry blossoms painted on either side of the lettering.

  I pull the truck in, wincing as it bumps and rattles over every damn rock. I slow as I drive down the long, winding dirt driveway, lined with trees. Up ahead, the trees clear though, and my mouth falls open.

  “Damn,” I breathe.

  The farmhouse is more like a farm mansion. Sprawling, relatively new, and stunning. Beyond it lie the stables, two barns, a grain silo, and training paddocks. I pull the truck up out front and turn the engine off. Dust swirls around me as I muscle the rusty door open.

  I step out onto the dusty driveway and glance around. I look up at the house and squint through late morning sun. The door doesn’t open. Colt the rancher isn’t sitting on the front porch swilling moonshine and chewing straw.

  Actually, there’s no sign of him at all. I trot up the stairs to the front door and ring the bell. After a minute, I ring it twice more. But still, there’s no response. I try knocking, too. But it’s just as ineffective at getting his attention.

  I check my phone with a frown. But yeah, I have the right time. The right day, too.

  I step off the porch and walk around the side of the house towards the other buildings. I head over to the stable first and poke my head in. “Hello? Mr. Patton?”

  A couple of the mares poke their heads out and whinny at me. I frown back. At the far end of the stable, suddenly a furry head pokes his head up from a little plaid bed. I smile widely.

  “Well, hey there!” I coo at the shaggy mutt who wags his tail at me. But then he slumps back down I his bed and puts his head back down to sleep.

  “Oookaaay,” I murmur, turning and putting my hands on my hips. I frown as I scan the property. Where the hell is this guy?

  I check in the barn too, but there’s no sign of Colt. I try the cell number Cassidy gave me for him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Finally, I shrug and give up. Maybe he drove into town or something?

  My eyes land on the small but adorably cute little garden cottage behind the main house: my residence while I’m out here. I smile as I drink it in. Oh yeah, now this is a change I could get used to. I grin at flower garden surrounding the cottage, and the little rocking chair outside the front door. I imagine myself relaxing out there after a day of work—glass of wine, good book, and no Jeff.

  No desirable men at all sounds pretty fantastic right about now. Good thing my only company out here will be horses, that dog I just met, and Rancher Colt, of the straw-chewing, slouchy jeans variety.

  I grab my small suitcase out of the cab of the truck and lug it over to the cottage. The door is unlocked, so I shrug and open it. I smile widely as I step in. Oh, now this will do nicely. Whoever Mr. Patton’s had decorate this place did an amazing job. It’s homey but clean and bright, with a touch of elegance. It’s like a Serena and Lily catalog in here.

  I drop my bag by the door and step into the all-in-one kitchen-living-dining area. The high ceilings with the natural wood beam accents are amazing. So are the big windows and new appliances in the kitchen.

  I poke my head into the bathroom first. I groan when I see the whirlpool tub. Oh hello, I mouth at it, already blocking out every single night that I’ll be staying here.

  And that just leaves the bedroom.

  I turn and all but skip across the room. My heart is singing some kind of happy Disney song inside as I reach for the knob. After the bathroom and the rest of this gorgeous place, I can’t wait to see where I’ll be—

  I swing the door open, and I scream.

  At first, I think he might be dead. Dead, gorgeous, and completely naked. But dead nonetheless. But when I scream, he grunts, stirring. His handsome, chiseled, scruffed-jaw face winces. He’s lying flat across the bed, one leg of the side of it, arms spread wide, with an empty bottle of whiskey lying on the pillow next to him.

  His muscles clench and ripple as he startles awake. I suddenly remember again that he’s not wearing a stitch of clothing. My face reddens as my eyes slide down over his grooved, muscled, gorgeous body.

  But when my jaw drops in utter shock, it’s not because of those washboard abs. It’s not for the quarterback arms, or the Brad Pitt shoulders. Or the Viking warrior chest. It’s, uh, another muscle that pulls every ounce of my attention.

  It’s another “muscle” that’s just hanging out there; and it’s living fucking large.

  Huge, actually.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  His voice rasps out hoarse and sexy—smokey and whiskey smooth. My mouth snaps shut, and I somehow pull my eyes from between his muscled, naked thighs, up to his face. I gasp when those blue eyes pierce right into mine.

  “I—I’m—”

  He frowns groggily at me and half sits up. His muscles ripple, and that… well, the appendage between his legs slaps against his thigh, audibly. My eyes almost bulge out of my head.

  “I’m—-”

  “Breaking and entering is what you’re—”

  “I’m Tansy,” I blurt. “Tansy MacInyre?”

  The absolute hunk brings hand up to rake his nails across his squared jaw. Slowly, a rogue smile spreads over his face.

  “Well well,” he drawls.

  “I—”

  I can’t help it. My eyes drop right back to the very last place in the freaking room they should be looking again.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Patton,” I manage to fumble out, talking to his crotch.

  “Well, look no further.”

  My heart skips. My eyes instantly snap up to his. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said look no further,” the sickeningly handsome naked man grunts with a grin. “Cause you’re looking at him.

  My face burns hotly. Oh, I’m looking at him, alright. All of him.

  He grins. “Welcome to Cherry Blossom Ranch, Tansy MacInyre.”

  Without missing a beat, I turn, and I bolt out the door.

  2

  Colt

  Shit.

  It takes me a second to actually realize what’s just happened when she bolts. I make a move to lunge after her. But when I flex to jump from the bed, I wince in agony. Mother fuck; my head. The hangover payback for last night’s excess hits me like a sledgehammer to temple. I groan as I slump back to the bed, hands sliding over my face.

  Okay, it’s not like waking up hungover and butt-ass naked is a usual thing for me. This might actually be a first. Great timing, I grunt to myself.

  Last night was not a normal night for me. Mercifully for my own health, drinking a whole fifth of whiskey all by my lonesome is not a typical Wednesday night. I frown as I try and put the pieces of the map that lead me here back together. My eyes swivel gently out through the open bedroom door, at the kitchen.

  Right... the garbage disposal. That bastard. I’ve been trying to get this cottage in shape for the guest that’ll be staying in it. When Cassidy Watts mentioned that her pops had hired a new vet—a friend of hers, no less—but that this vet job didn’t start for a month, I jumped at the opportunity.

  Taylor’s been doing what he can to help with Chance, my stallion. But he’s booked up solid down at the vet clinic, and Chance needs someone day-to-day to get him through this… well, whatever the problem is. A mating stallion that can’t “rise to the occasion” is going to become a bit of a problem.

  Enter: Tansy MacInyre.

  Cassidy described her as a hotshot young vet out of New York. And hell, if she was good enough for Taylor to hire her, that’s good enough for me. Cassidy did all the go-between arranging, and
soon enough, I had me a live-in vet for a month. All in exchange for some pay and a place to stay in my guest cottage.

  Except with three days to prepare for this new guest of mine, I’ve been working my ass off trying to get the place looking decent. And part of that was tickling the ornery son of a bitch garbage disposal that’s been acting up.

  The whiskey I’d cracked for an after-work, disposal-fixing drink. I’d planned on one drink. Maybe two. But then, Satan had called.

  No, not really. But you can be damn sure that’s what she pops up as on my phone. “She” would be Deirdre, my ex-wife. Honestly, having her in as Satan in my phone is probably disrespectful. To the actual Satan.

  I married young and dumb. I was still in the service back then, before I came up with Mare-Mate. I’d been a chemistry major before the Marines. And since I’d grown up on farms, it was kind of a kismet kind of thing. Mare-Mate is a food additive for breeding horses that helps with viable conception. It’s safe, it keeps animals healthy and viable, and stallions can eat it with zero negative effects, since the enzymes are only digestible by mares. It’s also made me a very nice chunk of change.

  It also might have been the beginning of the end for Deirdre and me. Like I said, we’d married young—young enough that it wasn’t long before we both grew into different people. Or she did. My goals never really changed. All I ever wanted was this land, these horses, and my peace and quiet.