But Ava is convincing. She needs to get out of her parents’ house, and Branson needs her help interviewing his ranch hands. It’s a win-win. He’ll fix his personnel problem, and she’ll write an article about it.
As personnel issues lead to personal pleasure between them, Ava’s big city dream drifts away, replaced by visions of a family in the country. In the end, Branson will have to face tough truths about himself, his ranch, and his relationship. And if he fails to see the light, he’s going to lose the love of his life.
Grab your copy of Wrangling His Best Friend’s Sister (Beckett Brothers Book One)
from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
* * *
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Bull shit. It had been ten years since she’d last seen Branson Beckett, and now they were discussing bull shit. The actual excrement of cattle.
"There’s always manure to be shoveled, Ava," he said blandly, a subtle Texas twang infusing his rough, deep voice. "It’s dirty, smelly, hot work."
He was trying to scare her off, and she’d be damned if she let him. She needed a job—a temporary job—and she wasn’t about to let a little cow manure keep her from her goal.
"I’m not afraid of hard work, Bran, you ought to know that."
His jaw clenched, a sure sign her older brother Hoyt’s high school bestie was trying to maintain his cool, something Branson was famous for. That and being a control freak.
"I don’t think you’re afraid of hard work," he answered, his steely blue gaze darting over her shoulder. "But you went to all the trouble to get those fancy journalism degrees. Seems like working as one of my ranch hands isn’t really the right…fit for you."
Ava took a deep breath, looking around the bustling exhibition hall at the county fairgrounds where the annual job fair was underway. Information tables lined the polished concrete floors—ranches, feedlots, construction companies, transport companies—most of the businesses in the county had some sort of presence. Even Nadine’s downtown diner was there.
Not that Nadine needed new staff—she’d staked out a table to lure every passing cowboy with samples of strawberry rhubarb pie. Nadine did love her some cowboys, and her Dolly Parton platinum wig and fake eyelashes bobbed rhythmically as she giggled at something Horace Watson’s grandson said through the enormous bite of pie he’d stuffed into his generous mouth. Branson, following Ava’s gaze, rolled his eyes at Nadine’s nonsense.
"I see Jason Adams from the paper heading this way. Why don’t you go talk to him? I hear he might want some part-time help at the community desk.” He gave her a quick, somewhat uncomfortable smile. “You must be more than qualified for that kind of thing."
Ava sighed, the pressure in her head expanding painfully. It had been two weeks since she’d returned to her hometown of Gopher Springs, Texas, and things hadn’t gotten any easier. She didn’t want to be here, but until she could get back on her feet and pick up a reporting gig in Dallas, she needed to find a way to earn a living for her and Cam—and one not engineered by her parents.
Branson shifted his gaze back to her, and she met it squarely, trying to ignore the little butterflies fluttering in her midsection. God, the man was stunning. She’d thought no one could be more beautiful than Branson at nineteen as he dove into the pool in her family’s back yard, but that was only because she hadn’t seen this new, improved, very grown-up version of Bran.
His dark hair had thickened over the years, and it curled slightly around his ears, just a touch too long to be stylish. His six-foot-one frame had filled out admirably, muscles gained through hard work, not a gym. His skin was bronzed, his stubble the perfect length, and his ass in a pair of Wranglers… Spectacular.
She gave her head a gentle shake. Down girl. Focus on the job. You can fantasize later.
"Look, Bran," she said, stepping closer and dropping her voice. "I’ll never get back to a full-time job in Dallas if I’m working for minimum wage, reporting on PTA meetings. And I won’t be able to afford a place of my own on that kind of money, either. I need to get out of my parents’ house. Cam and I are used to having our independence, you know?"
She looked at him, letting just a little of her genuine desperation show through. Dear Lord, please let him give her a job.
Bran did that jaw-clenching thing again and sucked in air through his nose, but before he could answer, Jason Adams appeared at her elbow, his sparse gray hair hanging limply to one side, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his bony nose. He clicked a ballpoint pen in one hand nervously, scuffing a foot at the same time.
"Hey, Ava," he said.
She plastered on a smile before turning his way. "Hi, Jason. How are you?"
"Your parents said you’ve moved back—"
"Temporarily," Ava interrupted. "Cam and I are spending a little time here while I’m between jobs in Dallas."
"Well, I might have something down at the paper for you if you want a job. It’s part-time, community desk. It’d be great for a mom. You’d get to cover stuff like the Fall Harvest Fest and the Fourth of July float-building contest."
Ava’s gut curdled as anger suffused her. She hadn’t spent the last ten years studying and working as an investigative journalist to report on Fourth of July float building. She narrowed her eyes at Jason, but he seemed oblivious to her impending meltdown and kept on flapping his gums.
"Your folks said you’re living with them, so you don’t really need something full-time. Seems like this would be a lot better for you and your little guy than some demanding grind in a big city." He gave her a sympathetic look that hit her in the gut. She knew then her parents had blabbed that she’d been fired from the paper in Dallas.
She turned to look at Branson, but he’d already moved away, waylaid by another job seeker, a tall young man wearing the requisite dusty boots and a t-shirt that said Granby’s Feed and Seed. Bran was nodding enthusiastically and pulling out his phone to get the guy’s number. She gritted her teeth as she watched her plans blow away like a West Texas tumbleweed.
"Ava?" Jason drew her attention back to him.
"Yeah, I’m sorry," she told him, her tone curt at best. "I appreciate the offer, Jason, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for."
"I think you’re making a big mistake—"
The young cowboy moved away from Branson. It was now or never.
"Sorry, Jason, I need to talk to Bran, but thanks again for thinking of me."
Jason started to stammer a response, but she was already heading back toward Branson, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She scuttled around a couple of women standing in the walkway looking at a map of the exhibitors.
"Bran!" she called as she stepped double-time in his direction.
He sighed, looking put-upon and just plain tuckered.
"Ava—"
"Hear me out," she pleaded. To hell with pride. It was overrated, anyway.
He crossed nicely muscled arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I need this job. My parents think I’m going to stay here in Gopher Springs, and…" She swallowed, recent humiliations crashing over her in waves. "I just want my life back. But until then, I need to earn money, I need a place for Cam and me to bunk, and I’m ready to work hard for it."
She saw a look of sympathy pass over his handsome features as he responded, "I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me. I haven’t even stopped to give you my condolences. Hoyt told me about what happened to your husband. I’m real sorry."
She nodded. No matter how many times she heard the words, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to people offering condolences on Nathan’s death. But then, she also wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to her twenty-nine-year-old husband being dead.
"Thank you," she answered, tipping her chin a smidgeon higher because she couldn’t afford a sad trip down memory lane right now. "So, about the job?"
Bran’s expression hardened. "Look, Ava, Hoyt also told me what happened with your job in Dall
as…"
He let the words hang there, the judgment clear.
"Cam and I had a run of bad luck," she countered. "He had this terrible virus—all the kids in his preschool had it. The paper was looking for people to lay off. It was the perfect storm."
"You’re a single mom.” His eyes bored into hers. “I’m guessing missing a lot of work to take care of Cam is going to be the norm for a while. I need ranch hands who can be there no matter what, rain or shine, especially with branding season coming up."
"And I can be that person," she asserted. "My parents are here, and they can take care of him. My dad retired last year so he and Mom are available pretty much 24/7. Cam’s their only grandchild. They’re dying to spend as much time with him as they can."
Bran shook his head. "I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ava."
"Please," she snapped. Deep breath, she told herself, trying to calm the panic rioting through her. Softening her tone, she amended, "Please, Bran."
He looked away as he answered, and she knew she’d lost—again.
"Sorry, A," he answered, using his childhood nickname for her. "It’s just not going to work. But I’d love to drop a side of beef off for you and your folks, give Cam some good red meat to keep him healthy this winter."
Ava nodded and cleared her throat. "Sure. Thanks, Bran."
"Take care," he murmured, leaning forward and giving her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead as if she were a four-year-old.
As she watched him stride away, Ava Pearson swore silently to herself. She was down, but she was far from beaten. Branson Beckett was going to learn Ava wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was a woman to be reckoned with, and she was going to take back her damn life if it was the last thing she did.
Grab your copy of Wrangling His Best Friend’s Sister (Beckett Brothers Book One)
from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
The Rancher’s City Girl: Wells Brothers Book One Page 12