by Jenna Jacob
The Cowboy’s Thirty-Day Fling
Cowboys of Haven, Book Two
USA Today Bestselling Author
JENNA JACOB
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
The Cowboy’s Cougar
The Cowboy’s Cougar Excerpt
About The Author
Other Titles By Jenna Jacob
THE COWBOY’S THIRTY-DAY FLING
Cowboys of Haven, Book Two
Jenna Jacob
Published by Jenna Jacob
Copyright 2021, Dream Words, LLC
Edited by: Blue Otter Editing, LLC
ePub ISBN: 978-1-952111-12-9
Paperback Print ISBN: 978-1-952111-13-6
Hardcover Print ISBN: 978-1-952111-19-8
* * *
If you have purchased a copy of this eBook, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
The Cowboy’s Thirty-Day Fling
She swears off men…only to be tempted into forever.
* * *
Brea Gates is done. After surrendering her paycheck, her body, and her ever-lovin’ soul to a string of worthless exes—the most recent of whom lands her in jail—she decides she’s better off staying single and investing in batteries. Her friends from offbeat little Haven, Texas, bail her out and offer her a place to start over. Maybe now she’ll find some peace.
With her luck? Pfft…
The instant rough-hewn cowboy Sawyer Grayson sees Brea, he sets his sights on her. Since he’s temptation on two legs, no amount of dodging, dipping, ducking, or diving will save her man ban. How much can it hurt to enjoy a no-strings fling with the Stetson-wearing Romeo for thirty days? After the fun is over, she’ll trade in her spontaneity, thongs, and well-sated hormones for cozy mysteries and granny panties.
But Sawyer has a different offer, one that might change her mind—and her single status…
* * *
**From the author: This book was previously published as Wet Dream - part of the Hotties of Haven series. I am thrilled to have been able to update and add more content to this story.
Chapter One
Brea
* * *
After a double shift at the Mocha Hut, Brea Gates was ready to go home, peel off her nylon uniform, sink into a hot bubble bath, and soak her throbbing feet. It was days like this she wished she’d gone to college. If she had a time machine, she would, if only to bitch-slap some sense into her naïve younger self. After her high school sweetheart, Rusty, decided the grass was greener on the cheerleader side of the fence, Brea had been certain she and Amos were going to live happily ever after. But that didn’t happen. When Amos came out of the closet, she’d quickly hooked up with Brady, lovestruck confident he was the man of her dreams. Of course, he wasn’t. Neither was Charlie, Drew, Elliot, Frank, Garrett, Henry, Ivan, Jefferson, Kyle, Larry, or Milo.
Brea had long suspected her hunk finder was faulty and should have been recalled at birth, but she refused to give up the search for her soul mate. She was sure that, after kissing the obligatory quotient of frogs, she’d find her Prince Charming…or a doable facsimile of one.
Sure, her current lover, Weed, had his fair share of character flaws, but life with him was a zillion times better than it had been with Milo—a raging alcoholic who’d pissed the bed nearly every night. Once Weed found work, they’d bounce over this temporary bump in the road, and she’d be happy again…or at least she hoped so. If only he’d put forth a little effort and get off his lazy ass, actually look for a job—instead of lounging in his boxers, listening to heavy metal, playing video games all day—and start having sex with her again, they might patch up their relationship.
As she pulled into her normally quiet neighborhood, she was shocked to see the street clogged with police cars and television crews. To her horror, the chaos of activity was focused on their house…or rather, Weed’s. She had no claim on the property, simply paid the damn rent.
With her heart in her throat, she pulled to the curb. After shoving Weed’s car into park, she cut the engine and stared in disbelief as two uniformed officers led Weed off the front porch…in handcuffs?
Shit! She hoped they weren’t the same pair from their bedside toy drawer.
What the hell…?
As her pulse thundered a speedy staccato, an officer appeared beside the car and peered at her through the open window. “You can’t park here, lady. You need to move along.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I live here!”
Taken aback, the cop arched his brows. “In that case, step out of the car and put your hands above your head.”
“Do what?” Terror wrapped its icy hands around her throat while dread coiled like a rattlesnake in her stomach. “But…but…why?”
“You live here, right?”
“Well…yes, but—”
“Out of the car,” the officer barked.
She opened the door and stood on trembling legs as she lifted her hands in the air. Weed snapped his head in Brea’s direction, as if sensing her arrival. Apology was written all over his face. She had no clue why he was being arrested, but the shame in his eyes told her he was guilty as hell.
Disregarding the cop’s instructions, she slapped her hands on her hips. “What did you do?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Weed whined.
Confusion shredded her fear. Snapping her head back at the cop beside her, she scowled. “What’s he being arrested for?”
“Selling meth to kids at the high school.”
“Meth?” she screeched. Fury charred her veins. “Where the hell did he get meth? That stupid son of a… I’m going to kill him. Give me your gun. I’m going to put a bullet through his idiotic brain.”
The cop chortled. “It’s probably not wise to make death threats in the presence of an officer, ma’am.”
“I don’t care!” Brea fumed. “How could he do such a thing? He doesn’t even take aspirin, let alone drugs.”
Seething with anger, she turned toward Weed again. Narrowing her eyes, she shot him a look meant to vaporize his sorry ass. Unfortunately, it didn’t, so she bared her teeth at him instead. “Really? Selling drugs? Have you lost your damn mind?’
“Don’t be mad, baby,” he begged.
“You know something, Weed? On a scale from one to asshole…you’re a dick!”
Collective laughter rippled through the throng gath
ered on the lawn. Weed shot her a sneer that made her want to run up and kick him in the balls. Instead, she watched in shock as her miserable excuse for a boyfriend crawled into the back of a police cruiser before it drove away.
Pissed beyond reason, Brea scanned the crowd of neighbors assembled across the street. Embarrassment filled her system as the group stood wide-eyed and whispered.
“Oh, I am so through with that asshat. I’m going inside and pack my things, then I’m getting the hell out of town.” As she lunged toward the house, the cop grabbed her by the arm.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re under arrest.”
“Arrest?” Like a volcano, a fresh wave of terror erupted inside her. “I wasn’t the one selling drugs. I had no clue he was even doing such a thing.”
“You’ll have to sort it out with the judge.”
“Judge?” Brea squawked.
“Afraid so.” The cop nodded somberly. “Please turn around, miss, and put your hands behind your back.”
Doing as she’d been told, a shiver of dread surged as the cold metal cuffs snapped around her wrists.
“You have the right to remain silent…”
A reporter rushed past the other cops and shoved a microphone in Brea’s face. The woman’s questions didn’t even register. But the cameraman’s lens certainly did. Dropping her chin to her chest, Brea hid her face. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to see her on the six o’clock news.
What friends? she reminded with an inward groan.
Brea didn’t know if she wanted to throw up or cry…or both. Of their own accord, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, saving her brand-new work shoes from a barf-fest death.
More terrified than she’d ever been in her life, she sobbed all the way to the police station. The entire time they processed her, like a common criminal, Brea’s stomach pitched and swirled. Her head pounded in time with her racing heart. All she wanted to do was wake up from this demented nightmare. Though she tried to convince every officer she encountered, her pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears.
Finally, a kindhearted female officer took pity on Brea and offered to call someone for her. Of course, she jumped at the chance but couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to help her. The only phone number she had memorized was her parents’, and they wouldn’t lift a finger to save her if she were on death row.
The minute she’d announced she was moving in with Weed, they’d wiped their hands of their only child. Her mother had cried and asked God how she’d failed her precious baby girl. But her father had blown a gasket. He’d pounded his fist on the table and yelled: We’re through picking up the pieces every time some asshole breaks your heart. Until you decide to make better choices, you’re on your own. We will not bail your ass out of any more moronic romantic mistakes.
If they wouldn’t do that, they certainly wouldn’t bail her dumb ass out of jail. Brea couldn’t waste her one coveted phone call on them. She didn’t blame her folks for giving up on her… Well, she did, but…it was Brea’s long and distinguished track record for picking the douchebaggiest boyfriends on the planet that forced them to give up on her. She’d endured years of her parents’ constant lectures to find a nice boy worthy of your love and settle down. When Brea met Weed, she’d thought she’d finally found that nice boy. He’d had a job back then, working as a mechanic. But Weed turned out to be one more clown in her circus of bad decisions.
Brea thought about calling her boss, Charlie, but quickly nixed the notion. Asking him to bail her out of jail because her dipshitiot boyfriend got popped for selling meth was a termination in the making.
When she’d made the rash decision to move to Denton with Weed, Brea severed all ties with the friends she had back in Austin. Well, all but one…Colton Maddox. She called the hunky man-whore, who’d been a part of her old high school clique, every other month. While the two had never wrinkled the sheets together, they still kept in touch. Ironically, Colton now lived a short distance from Denton in the tiny town of Haven. But she hadn’t memorized his number. And since she’d had to hand over her belongings, she didn’t have her cell phone either.
After she explained her plight, the helpful cop not only found Colton’s number but dialed it for Brea as well. Pressing the phone to her ear, she sent up a prayer that the man was home and not out picking up some chick at a bar.
“Maddox residence,” a woman answered in a low, sultry voice.
Brea cringed, fearing she’d interrupted a session of slam-the-banana with his woman of the hour.
“Um…is Colton there?”
“He’s out in the barn right now. Can he call you back?”
There was something hauntingly familiar about the woman’s voice, but Brea’s mind was so warped with angst and fear she couldn’t focus on trying to place it.
“No. Um…it’s an emergency. Can you get him for me, please?”
“Sure. Just a minute.” The woman sounded suspicious but thankfully didn’t ask questions.
After what seemed an eternity, Colton’s deep voice on the other end wrapped her in a blanket of relief.
“Colton, it’s me, Brea. I’m in a bit of trouble here and wondered if—”
“What’s wrong? You sound like you’re about to fall apart on me.”
“I am.” Her voice cracked and tears tumbled down her cheeks once more.
“Are you hurt?” Colton demanded.
“No,” she said with a sniff.
“Okay. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m in jail,” she wailed pathetically.
“Jail? Where? Why?”
“W-weed. H-he was selling meth. They arrested him and hauled me in, too. I swear I didn’t know he was doing something so s-stupid. I keep t-telling the cops I’m…I’m innocent, but they don’t believe me.”
“Don’t cry,” Colton moaned sympathetically. “Tell me where you are. I’ll come pick you up or bail you out or whatever you need me to do. “You can come stay with me or I can get you a hotel room, but listen to me…you’re not going back to that cocksucker. Understood?”
“Trust me. I don’t want to see that worthless bastard’s face ever again,” she huffed.
“Good. You leave Weed to me. I’ll take care of that late, great sack of shit when he gets out of jail, sweetheart.”
Brea choked on a watery laugh and thanked him.
She gave Colton the address to the police station before the female cop escorted Brea back to a holding cell. To keep from supergluing her ass to the pity pot, she watched the comings and goings beyond the scuffed plexiglass barrier. As an officer led Weed past her cell, she launched to her feet and pounded on the faux glass.
“You fucking bastard! I’m in jail because of you!”
Weed paused and shot her a hateful glare. “If you hadn’t been harping on me to get a job and support you, neither of us would be here.”
“What?” She gaped in shock. He actually had the balls to blame her for his stupid stunt. “I meant an actual job, you dipshit! I hope they lock you away for life!”
“If they do, you’ll be going down with me, baby!” he sneered.
“In your dreams! You did the crime; you’ll do the time.”
As the officer prodded Weed forward, Brea flipped the rat bastard the middle finger. Shaking with rage, she forced herself to sit back down on the unforgiving metal bench, then hung her head with a moan.
Brea feared Weed was now sitting in a room, spinning lies, and implicating her for his crime. She had to defend herself and prove her innocence. But how? It was her word against his. If she could afford a lawyer, she might come out of this unscathed. But the forty-seven dollars left in her checking account wouldn’t garner any freedom.
I can’t go to prison. I just can’t.
Fears and what-ifs rolled through her brain like thunder clouds. Body numb with despair, she shrank inside herself and blankly stared at the
floor while her mind continued to spin out of control.
As she plotted several unique and horrifically painful ways to end Weed’s life, the door of her cell swung open. A tall, middle-aged man wearing glasses and a wrinkled suit stepped inside.
“Miss Gates, I’m Detective Estes.” He extended his hand. She shook it warily. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience caused by bringing you to the station. You’re free to go.”
“I am?”
Like a dolt, she questioned her freedom instead of leaping from the bench and screaming See ya later as she made a beeline out of the station.
“Yes. We’ve had your boyfriend—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Brea corrected.
Estes bit back a smile. “We’ve had your ex under surveillance for over a month. We know you were never present during any of the drug transactions, but I needed to make sure you were unaware of his…hobby. During our interrogation, Mr. Sherman…Weed, tried to implicate you. But when I reminded him that you were never present at any of the drug transactions, his lawyer advised him to be honest. Weed finally assured us you weren’t aware of his activities.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone!” She threw her hands up in frustration.
“So I’ve heard.” Estes grinned. “The friends that you called are waiting out front.”
“Thank god! Will I be able to get my things out of Weed’s house?”
“Yes.” Estes nodded. “The team is still gathering evidence from the house. I’ll call Detective Nickel and ask him to assist while you gather your belongings.”
“Thank you.” Brea didn’t care if the Dallas Cowboys or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir wanted to watch her pack. All she wanted was to get her shit and get out so she’d never have to lay eyes on Weed again.