by Erica Penrod
Boone’s heart pounded as he leapt onto the horse and let his imagination run wild.
THE END
* * *
The fun doesn’t stop here. There are more Country Brides & Cowboy Boots books on the way.
Horses, Hayrides, and Husbands
by Jeanette Lewis
Available here!
The Sheriff’s Bride
by Kimberly Krey
Available here!
The Inventive Bride
by Maria Hoagland
Available here!
An Unexpected Groom,
A Much-Anticipated Bride,
and A Country Wedding
The Fair Catch Ranch Family Saga
by Lucy McConnell
Available here!
With more Country Bride & Cowboy Boots books to come!
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Also by Erica Penrod
For more sweet cowboy romances by Erica Penrod, click on the titles below.
Find out what happens when you combine three strong willed (some may say stubborn) cowboys, one reality television show, the women they fall for, and rodeo in the Cowboy Reality Romance series.
Cowboy Reality Romance: Kip
Cowboy Reality Romance: Jaxon
Cowboy Reality Romance: Tayson
About the Author
Erica spends her time folding laundry for her four children and husband. In between loads she loves to read, move furniture and display junk she’s collected at local thrift and antique stores. Most weekends she’s in the stands as head cheerleader watching her family compete in rodeo. Her favorite place is anywhere her husband is and she’s saddened by the thought of cooking dinner every night for the rest of her life.
Erica loves to write, enjoys looking for inspiration in the candy aisle, and then eating her inspiration while typing.
To join Erica’s newsletter and receive information about her new releases, click here.
Sneak Peek at the Upcoming Country Brides & Cowboy Boots book “Horses, Hayrides & Husbands” by Bestselling Author Jeanette Lewis
The shiny black wagon with red-spoked wheels was piled high with hay bales. It sat on the stamped concrete driveway that wrapped around the enormous timber-framed house, ending at the garage in back. Lights coming from the kitchen windows bounced off the gold Sun Valley Clydesdales logo painted on the wagon’s side. At its front, a team of huge brown Clydesdales with black manes and tails stood patiently.
One of the horses shook its head, whipping its mane and making the brass bells along its collar jingle. Misty Epperson took a few small steps, cautiously drawing nearer. At its shoulder, the horse towered at least a foot over her head, and its gigantic hoof, covered in long white hair, could crush her foot with one stomp.
The horses shifted, shuffling their feet and twitching their tails, sending the bells jingling again.
“I’ll bet you’re tired of waiting, huh?” Misty spoke softly. A few more steps, and she was at the nearest horse’s head. Its velvety brown eyes focused on her. “You’re such a pretty horse,” Misty cooed. She reached out slowly to touch the shimmering brown coat, wondering if it would let her stroke the white blaze on its nose.
“Hey!”
She jerked her hand back as a man appeared at the back of the wagon. He wore a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead, and his jaw was squared and dusted with dark blond stubble. Under the brim of the cap, the kitchen lights caught the gleam of his blue eyes.
“No touching the horses,” he ordered.
“Sorry,” Misty said quickly, drawing her hand back and casting a longing look at the team. “Are you the owner?”
“I’m the driver. Duke Soter is the owner.”
“Well, they’re awesome. My son would love them.”
His thick eyebrows rose under the brim of the cap. “You don’t look old enough to have a kid.”
She stiffened. “Well, I do. He just turned one, in fact.”
The man put up his hands. “You don’t have to get defensive. It was just an observation.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I’m kind of sensitive about it.”
Why was she telling him this? Some random wagon driver at a ritzy Sun Valley party didn’t care if she was touchy about being a twenty-one-year-old unwed mother. She watched for his eyes to shoot to her left hand to check for a ring.
But they didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer and gave her a small grin. “One year old and already a fan of horses, huh? That must mean you’re bringing him up right.”
He smelled like a mix of musky cologne and fresh hay, and from this close, she could see that the hair peeking from under his hat was dark blond and thick. Her insides fluttered in a way that hadn’t happened in a long time. Okay, the words long time could be subjective, but she’d been almost totally focused on Wyatt from the moment she’d learned she was expecting him. So it felt like a long time.
“My parents have two Morgans, and Wyatt loves to ride them,” she told the driver.
He patted the nearest Clydesdale. “This is Jemima and the other one is Sherlock. And I’m Travis. Sorry I yelled at you earlier; you can pet them if you want to.”
“Sweet!” Eagerly, she stepped forward and reached out to run her palm over Jemima’s warm brown neck and up into her coarse mane. The horse shifted nervously, but Travis spoke to her in a low, quiet tone, and she stilled instantly. She was unbelievably huge.
“Are they hard to handle?”
Travis shook his head. “Jemima can get a little feisty if we’re late for dinner, but mostly they’re gentle giants.”
Misty continued running her fingers over the horse’s neck. “Well, yeah, a girl’s gonna get cranky when she’s hungry. We can’t blame you for that, can we?” she cooed.
Jemima snorted and tossed her enormous head, sending the bells ringing.
Travis chuckled. “Looks like she likes you.”
“I thought bells were only for Christmas,” Misty said. It was early June, and the sound of sleigh bells, on a wagon no less, was somehow unsettling.
“Usually,” Travis agreed. “But the client wanted bells, so that’s what she gets.”
Yes, Misty had met the party’s hostess when she’d arrived, and she had no doubt Mrs. Millburn usually got whatever she wanted. She scratched along Jemima’s mane and leaned in to sniff her neck. “That’s so good. There’s nothing like horse smell, is there?”
Travis nodded and moved his hand along Jemima’s neck, coming to rest so their fingers were only inches apart. “No, there’s not.”
Misty’s stomach cartwheeled. Travis wore a black T-shirt that stretched over his well-defined shoulders and chest, and the skin on his arms was tanned and corded with ropy muscles. She felt an almost irrepressible urge to reach out and trace them with her fingertips.
She quickly pulled her attention back to the horses. “D-do Clydesdales have any special needs … since they’re so big?”
“They have a few issues with breeding, harder to get them into foal, and they tend to have multiples, which can put a lot of strain on any horse,” Travis said. “Their joints can wear out faster because they’re so heavy, but mostly, they’re just like other horses. Well, and they eat a whole lot more than most horses, which means they poop a whole lot more.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry, that’s probably TMI.”
“Oh, please. You’re talking to the mother of a one-year-old,” Misty scoffed. “Plus I grew up on a sheep farm; I’ve been around plenty of poop.”
His laugh was like biting into a gooey homemade roll—soft and sweet and filling.
“Do you mostly do hayrides for parties like this?” she asked.
“Hayrides, sleigh rides, parades, and rodeos. And the stables are open for visitors, too, when we’re not traveling.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Eh.” He
shrugged. “I don’t mind the parades or the visitors, but parties are a pain.” He cast a look toward the house. “Especially parties like this.”
“Like this? Why?” This was Misty’s first official party as a representative of the Epperson Foundation, the land preservation nonprofit founded by her brother, Ty, and funded by the jackpot he’d won in the Idaho State Lottery. Misty hadn’t been too enthused about the party, but Ty had said it was a good chance to meet some of Sun Valley’s movers and shakers—those with the money and the power to get things done.
“You know how rich people are,” Travis snorted. “I’d much rather be mucking out the stables than driving a bunch of rich snobs around and listening to their gossip. They have more money than they know what to do with, but they always stiff on tips and think they can order everyone to do their bidding, just because they’re rich.”
Misty’s heart dropped. Her brother could be called many things … billionaire, philanthropist, do-gooder—and a few choice names Misty invoked as little sister privilege—but the words stingy or snobby didn’t even come close to making the list.
She was about to argue the point when Travis’s eyes skipped toward the kitchen windows, where a small army of caterers swarmed. “They look pretty busy in there; you’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”
“Oh, um …” Misty glanced down at her plain black dress. With its modest boat neckline and three-quarter sleeves, she was more covered than the majority of the women at the party. Add the sensible, one-inch heels and the non-fussy styling of her strawberry blonde hair, and she could easily pass for a waitress instead of a guest, which Travis obviously thought she was.
If she admitted she was a guest now, she’d embarrass him. Remembering the thrill that had run through her when their eyes met, she managed a small smile. “I won’t get in trouble. I’m on a break.”
Okay, it was partially true. He didn’t need to know her break was from listening to boring chitchat instead of hauling heavy trays. “And maybe the tips will be good tonight,” she rushed on. “Awesome horses and a romantic hayride under the stars? I’d tip pretty good for that.”
He grinned, sending her mood soaring again. “What’s your name?”
“Misty E—” She stopped at the last second. She wasn’t rich, but Ty certainly was, and the Epperson Foundation was quickly making a name for itself all over Idaho. Would Travis consider it guilt by association? “Rivers,” she blurted quickly, using her mother’s maiden name. Too late, she realized it wasn’t the best combo.
Travis’s grin grew bigger, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Misty Rivers? That’s unusual.”
“Uh, yeah.” Her cheeks burned. “My parents have a warped sense of humor.”
He chuckled and then checked his watch. “Listen, they’ll be coming out soon, and the hayrides will take at least a couple of hours. Could you meet me back here afterwards? Maybe we can go grab a bite somewhere?”
It was already after nine. By the time the hayrides finished, it would be close to eleven, and then with the drive home, it’d be going on midnight. Plus, she’d ridden from Hailey with Ty and his wife, Holland. She doubted they’d want to hang around a few extra hours while she flirted with the hot cowboy who drove the team.
“I can’t,” Misty said, disappointment heavy in her chest.
His face fell. “Okay, I understand.”
“No, I want to,” she said quickly. “But Wyatt is with my parents tonight, and it’s already going to be late …” She trailed off, feeling like an idiot.
But Travis’s eyes lit up. “You said he likes horses, right? Why don’t you bring him by the stables?”
Excitement tickled her stomach. “He’d love that,” Misty said.
They exchanged numbers, and Misty gave Travis a quick wave as she turned back toward the house. At the last minute, she remembered he thought she was a waitress, so she entered through the kitchen doors and wove her way through the crowd of caterers, dodging people as best she could with mumbled “excuse me’s.”
He wanted to see her again. A wave of anticipation flooded through her. So much of her time had gone to Wyatt over the last year that her social life was nonexistent. She’d only been on two dates since his birth, and both had turned out to be duds. Yeah, part of it had been because the guys were duds, but mostly the problem had been with her. She was still reeling from the responsibilities of motherhood and still working through her anger at Wyatt’s father, Chet. She hadn’t been ready for a relationship. But she was now.
Relationship? Whoa, slow down there. One good conversation and the promise of a date did not make a relationship. But … her pulse picked up again as she thought of Travis’s smile … it looked promising.
The party was spread through the main floor of the house, but most of the guests had congregated on the patio, a huge expanse of brown flagstones dotted with comfortable conversation areas and tables loaded with food. There was a sunken fire pit ringed with benches and filled with sand imported directly from a beach in O’hau. At least that’s what Mrs. Millburn had been sure to tell everyone at least half a dozen times. At the other end of the patio, a black infinity swimming pool gleamed like a slab of obsidian, but no one was swimming—this was a networking kind of party, not a relax-and-have-fun kind of party.
Misty moved uneasily among the guests, looking for the tall outline of her brother. Ty usually stood above most crowds, but tonight the patio was so packed with guests he was hard to spot.
“Misty! I’ve been looking all over for you. Where’d you go?”
She bit back a groan as Gregory Brookes pushed his way toward her. Not Greg … Gregory. She’d already been corrected on that once tonight.
“Oh, hi, Gregory. I was just …” She gestured vaguely. “… circulating.”
“Circulating? Well, why didn’t you come find me? I know everyone here.” He grinned, showing straight, white teeth that were slightly too big for his mouth.
No, that wasn’t fair. Gregory was a nice guy. And he was heir to Firebird, one of Sun Valley’s most exclusive ski resorts. She should be honored; it wasn’t every day a rich, handsome guy made an effort to seek her out.
Even if he did have big teeth.
“C’mon.” He grasped her arm. “The mayor is at the dessert table; I’ll introduce you.”
As he propelled her across the patio by her elbow, Misty resisted the urge to turn and hurry back to where Travis waited with the horses. She’d so much rather spend the evening talking with him than with the mayor.