No Place for Single Cowboys (Star Crossed Springs: The Southwinds Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

one

Cordelia Grace Johnson stared down the community bulletin board in the Donut Palace, wondering how her life had come to this.

The scent of warm donuts made her stomach rumble. Despite being in the third trimester of her pregnancy, her cravings hadn’t slowed down. Maybe once she was done with the bulletin board, she’d grab a strawberry shortcake donut. That would be a nice reward once she gathered up the courage to do what she came here for.

Her hands were cold, her grip tight and clammy around the flyer she’d made. The flyer she was supposed to post on the bulletin board in front of her.

There were ads for landscaping services, Australian cattle dog puppies, and a friendly rooster for anyone looking. Faded pink glitter paint and hand-drawn sprinkle donuts decorated the board’s frame. It was the perfect picture of small-town life, and that’s what Star Crossed Springs was—the picture-perfect small town.

Cordy was about to pin an ad for a labor coach in the middle of all that coziness. How did this even happen?

There was a joke there, although she didn’t feel like laughing. You see, when a man loves a woman very much…

Except Reed Saxon hadn’t loved her any more than she’d loved him. Cordy had arrived in this little town in Northern California not even a year ago, intending to stay for a few months. That was what she did—she traveled the world, seeing the places and towns that caught her fancy, then moving on soon after. It’s what she’d done since she was a kid.

She and Reed had started seeing each other two months after she moved here. Neither of them figured they’d be in it for the long haul—after all, Cordy wasn’t sticking around. Their relationship was supposed to be short, hot, and over as soon as it began.

Then her missed period and positive pregnancy test had changed everything.

Reed had stepped up when she’d told him the news. Oh, they weren’t getting married or even going to move in together, but they would raise this baby as a team. His parents had pushed hard for them to get hitched, but Cordy had held firm. Her parents had never been married, had never even spent much time on the same continent, and Cordy had been just fine.

Reed had been determined to support her and the baby despite his family’s objections… but then the car crash had happened.

He was gone, and thanks to that, Cordy was in this situation—posting an ad for a labor coach in the Donut Palace because she had no one else to ask.

Maybe the better line would be: I loved you so much I asked complete strangers to help me become your mom before you were even here.

Cordy ran a hand over her belly, which had become one unbroken curve after her navel popped last week. She was surprised by how much she loved touching her bump. There was a little girl or boy in there she would love for the rest of her life. Somehow, a miracle had happened out of all the mess she and Reed had made together.

“Do you need a pushpin?” Liberty Valance asked kindly from behind the counter. “I’ve got some.”

Liberty, young and lively, was always on the move. She had a goth vibe and was constantly dressed head to toe in black, with long bangs covering her heavily lined eyes. She didn’t look like she should be making donuts all day, but she and her family ran the Donut Palace.

A picture of them hung on the wall, several generations of Valances beaming out from the frame. There was also a picture of two gleaming black ducks, which Cordy didn’t understand. Were the ducks pets? Did the family run a duck farm on the side? She had no idea. But they were definitely a close-knit family.

The Johnson family, however, definitely wasn’t. Cordelia’s parents were free spirits who’d raised her to be the same. This was why Mom was somewhere in Mongolia, completely unreachable, Dad was on an extended holiday in Sardinia, and Cordy was in Star Crossed Springs, about to raise a baby alone.

She’d told Dad about her pregnancy, but Mom still didn’t know. Given how Dad had reacted—“That’s great, sweetie, I’m so happy for you. It can’t call me grandpa, though.”—Cordy wasn’t eager to hear her mom’s reaction, either.

Janey Lee, Liberty’s formidable grandma, stepped up behind the counter. She looked Cordy up and down and didn’t seem impressed by what she saw. “What you need is to get off your feet.”

Liberty muttered to her grandma, “You always brag about how you worked right until your water broke.” She gave Cordy an apologetic smile.

“Yes, but I’ve got heft.” Janey Lee jiggled her belly to emphasize her statement. “That girl is a beanpole.”

It was true—Cordy had always been on the gangly side. She hadn’t bloomed with pregnancy. Sometimes, her belly felt like it had been bolted on while the rest of her body stayed the same. As for getting off her feet, Cordy was a bartender. Her feet were made of iron by this point.

“I’m good,” she replied, her usual response. Along with going her own way, her parents had stressed extreme independence. You could only ever rely on yourself—Cordy had heard that often growing up.

“Ooohhkay,” Liberty said loudly to her grandmother. “We don’t comment on other people’s bodies.”

“It wasn’t an insult,” Janey Lee said. “I said she needed to take it easy, and she does.”

I’m so sorry , Liberty mouthed to Cordy as she handed over some thumbtacks.

Cordy took them with a weak smile of thanks. Right. She had to nail this to the bulletin board, even though everything in her cringed away from it. But if she wanted to take this last course, she had to.

With a deep breath, she pinned her flyer right in the middle of the board, the only open space left. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

Mom-to-be is looking for a labor coach. Tuesdays and Thursdays for two hours. Only a month-long commitment. Needed immediately.

*You won’t have to be at the actual labor and delivery.

**You won’t have to change any diapers.

Cordy rubbed her belly, feeling sick. What was she even thinking? This would never work.

She had to take this labor class at the hospital, but it required a partner. Cordy had no idea what to do with a baby and couldn’t ask her mom. Despite not having anyone to give her advice, she was determined to be ready for this baby and be the best mother she could, so the courses would have to tell her everything she needed to know.

She intended to take every single baby care class the hospital offered—she was already certified in infant CPR—and get everything a baby might need. Just because she’d started out clueless didn’t mean she couldn’t figure this out. Just because she was scared out of her mind about raising a baby alone didn’t mean she couldn’t be proactive.

People were staring at her, reading the ad, then looking back at her. Eyes were widening in shock. Whispers were passing back and forth.

Her gaze landed on the Parents’ Corner, where several moms with toddlers and babies were clustered around a table scattered with toys. Cordy wondered what would happen if she joined them.

Technically, she belonged there, but she’d never done it. Whenever she came in, she’d see them looking friendly, cozy, and happy together, but she’d never had the courage to sit with them.

Despite being in Star Crossed Springs for almost a year, she still felt like an outsider. People were friendly when she was behind the bar, but after Reed had died, the community got decidedly cooler toward her. She’d never forget the awkwardness of his funeral. The Saxon family hadn’t known what to do with her, and the rest of town had taken their cues from them. Cordy wasn’t Reed’s widow—she wasn’t even really his girlfriend—so what was she?

Just a pregnant bartender on her own, it seemed.

It hit her in the chest how bad this idea was. She’d just announced to the entire town she was desperate enough to advertise. No one would help her.

One of the moms, a brunette with long lashes, was staring straight at Cordy. Was that concern in her eyes? Pity? Judgment? Cordy looked quickly away.

Oh God. She had to get out of here.

Cordy turned, her face hot as the sun… and smacked straight into a heavy, warm body.

“Oof.” Cordy bounced off whoever it was. They were solid as a wall.

She wasn’t, though. She stumbled backward, her arms pinwheeling. Her pregnancy made her balance crap.

Oh no. Her heart slammed into her chest as she grabbed at nothing.

“Hold up.” Strong hands caught her arms. Quickly, easily, she was put back upright.

She looked up and into the eyes of Chance Kessal.

Her heart fluttered instinctively. Chance was incredibly handsome, with the kind of chiseled features that might have made him a model if he wasn’t a cowboy to the bone. Dark, strong brows, deep brown eyes, and a mouth made for kissing. If Cordy weren’t already dizzy, she’d be swooning.

Chance was the town playboy, often picking up women at the Swing Inn, where Cordy tended bar. He was never with the same woman twice, and the goodbyes were easy and final.

Rumor had it he did the same thing at the Red Dog, the seedier bar on the other side of town. You went to the Swing Inn if you wanted a fun night with your friends and the Red Dog if you wanted a taste of danger with your drinks. Chance liked to pick up women in both places.

Cordy would admit he was good at what he did. If a man had to sleep around, he should spread as many smiles as Chance did.

But in the end, he was a tomcat. You gave him food and pets when he came scratching at the door, then you let him go out into the night to do his thing. You didn’t bring him into your house.

“Sorry,” she said. “Thanks for catching me.”

Under his cowboy hat, his eyes were the color of sun-brewed tea. His hair was several shades darker, almost touching black. The way his button-down shirt clung to his broad shoulders made her blink. If she looked down, she’d see blue denim snugly hugging thick thighs.

Cordy kept her eyes firmly up.

Chance’s hand lingered on her arm, fingers curled around her elbow. The intimate motion seemed so much like second nature to him he probably didn’t even realize it. “No problem. You okay?”

“Sure.” Cordy fake-beamed at him.

“You look…” Chance gestured at his own face.

Right, she was blushing hard enough to start a fire. Nice of him to point it out.

“I’m fine.” She stretched her smile wider. “Thanks again.”

She rushed out of the donut shop as fast as she could, which wasn’t that fast these days. It was only when she was two blocks away, shaking out the keys to her apartment above the Swing Inn, that she realized the awful truth.

She’d gone through with it. She’d left the ad pinned up on the Donut Palace bulletin board.

Chance Kessal liked things easy.

Some people thought that a character fault. Like his older brother, Quint, or their father, Holden. They’d married their sweethearts right out of high school, which should have guaranteed them happiness, but they were both miserable.

Chance didn’t want to be like Quint, for damn sure not like Holden, or any of the rest of the cursed Kessal men.

Why fall in love if it hurt? Why not have the best night of your life, then happily say goodbye in the morning? Chance did it most weekends, and his life was great. If he tried to force something he wasn’t capable of, like a commitment longer than an evening, those women only got hurt.

Chance never wanted to hurt anyone. And he never wanted a woman to expect more from him than he could give.

When he walked into the Donut Palace that fine morning and found Cordelia Johnson, his favorite bartender, looking miserable while everyone stared stonily at her, his back got up. He saw red, not that he ever let on he was angry.

This town needed to give the poor woman a break. Cordy might be a newcomer with no family or roots, but that was Reed Saxon’s kid in her belly. The town ought to embrace her like they would Reed, even if Cordy could be standoffish when she wanted.

They all missed Reed, Chance included. Reed had been a year behind Chance in school and had been well-liked by everyone, if kind of up his own ass sometimes. When Reed and Cordy had started dating, Chance privately thought that showed good taste on Reed’s part and not-so-good taste on Cordy’s. A woman like her could have done better.

Since the town had loved Reed, they needed to embrace his… Well, whatever Cordy had been to him. There wasn’t a good description of the situation she was in now, and no, Chance didn’t even let himself think the term baby mama. That was plain insulting.

The Saxon family were the ones who should protect her most of all, but from what Chance was hearing, they were giving her the cold shoulder. Things had been tense at the funeral and didn’t seem to be improving. Sure, the family was upset at the loss of their son, and they were the kind of respectable folks who turned their noses up at having a baby out of wedlock—so most definitely not Chance’s kind of people. But they should put all that behind them and treat Cordy like a daughter.

Assuming that was what Cordy wanted, of course. Cordy might be even more allergic to entanglements than Chance was. She didn’t seem to have many friends and mostly kept to herself.

Cordy stood tall and thin, staring at the bulletin board like something tragic was up there. She would have been all elbows and knees if she didn’t move so gracefully. Chance wondered if she’d trained as a dancer at some point.

Pregnancy had softened some of her angles. Her skinny jeans emphasized her high, tight ass, and the clinging T-shirt showed off her deepening cleavage. Not that Chance had ever thought to try his luck with Cordy—he just noticed these things. She was hot as hell, but he knew better than to sleep with his favorite bartender.

Her usual calm expression was gone. Nothing rattled Cordy, not even a drunken brawl—he’d seen her keep her cool in the middle of one—but she was rattled now.

Chance was about to ask if everything was okay. Then she spun around and smashed right into him.

She started to tip backward. Her eyes went wide with fright.

Adrenaline flooded through Chance. Quick as a whip, he grabbed her arms and pulled her back to him.

Once she was firmly on her feet, he let himself breathe. Thank God she hadn’t fallen. She seemed steady enough, but he wouldn’t let go until he was sure.

“Hold up,” he murmured, same as he would to any frightened being.

She glanced at him, then away again. Her gray-green eyes reminded him of snow on the pines surrounding his home. Her long, wavy hair was the shade of a red Angus’s hide, one of his favorite colors in the world. Honestly, she was one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen—not that he’d ever act on it.

“Sorry.” Cordy’s voice was cheerful, but it felt like she was quietly pushing him away. “Thanks for catching me.”

As if Chance could just let her fall. No way, no how. He trailed his hand down her arm, keeping hold of her elbow in case she still needed him. “No problem. You okay?”

“Sure.” She gazed desperately at the door, her face sunburn-red. What the heck had been going on before he’d gotten here? Was she having some kind of medical thing?

“You look…” He pointed to his face because it would be rude to point at her.

“I’m fine.” She didn’t look it. “Thanks again.”

With that, Cordy pushed past him and out the door. She looked as sexy from the back as the front, with an ass he’d love to take a bite out of and hips made to cradle a man.

Cordelia Johnson looked damn good pregnant. Chance wouldn’t have said he had a taste for pregnant ladies, but she was making him reconsider. Not her personally though, because a woman like her deserved more than one night with a man like him.

The door smacked shut behind her. Everyone in the Donut Palace started whispering.

Right. Chance still hadn’t figured out what was going on. He looked over the bulletin board, searching…

Oh hell. Shock smacked into him as he read Cordy’s ad. Yeah, that would do it.

“Can you believe that?” Mr. Ulker asked. He was a retired gentleman who spent mornings at the Donut Palace with his buddies in the Old Timers’ Corner. “She’s advertising for a birth coach.”

Chance held in his sigh. People talked about Cordy’s job in the same scandalized tone—a pregnant bartender. He had to remind them she was serving the liquor, not chugging it down.

“What’s a birth coach?” Mr. Slade asked. “Isn’t she going to have a doctor there?”

“Some people don’t,” Mr. Ulker said sagely. “They just go out into the forest and do it. Or they use a kiddie pool. I saw it on the YouTube.”

Chance shuddered. Mr. Ulker watching birth videos on YouTube was the kind of horror Chance wished he’d never known existed.

“She wants someone to go with her into the forest?” Mr. Slade shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Chance made sure he kept smiling. “That’s not what she wants. She needs a partner for a class. They have classes before you give birth. You go with a partner.”

Helena Hansen tossed them a dirty look from the Parents’ Corner. Apparently, their choice of conversation was inappropriate.

Chelsea Tyler cleared her throat, catching Chance’s attention. “I tried to ask her about it,” Chelsea said, “but she wouldn’t look at me. She seemed embarrassed, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Chance had to admit asking for a partner for a birth class was one of the more unusual postings on the board. It ran more to handyman ads, lost dogs, and roosters needing re-homing. Question was, why was someone as self-contained as Cordy advertising for that? She had to be desperate, but why?

“They have classes?” Mr. Slade scoffed. “To teach you what?”

Mrs. Slade might have had a different attitude since she’d delivered six babies of her own, apparently without Mr. Slade’s help.

“Young people these days don’t know how to do anything,” Mr. Ulker said.

Behind the counter, Liberty Valance rolled her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut.

“No one asked you,” Chelsea snapped. “So maybe mind your own beeswax.”

“She put it on the board,” Mr. Slade said. “That made it the whole town’s business.”

“Anyone can post anything on the board.” Liberty’s tone held a warning. “As long as it’s not pornographic or illegal.”

“Those birth videos I saw on the YouTube were pornographic.” Mr. Ulker waggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe since you watched all those videos,” Liberty challenged him, “you’d be the perfect person to be her birth coach.”

Mr. Ulker actually considered it for a moment. That was the final straw for Chance.

Chance grabbed the flyer and tore it down. “You know what? I’m going to answer the ad. So it’s not your business anymore.”

He might be the world’s least likely labor coach, but he was a damn sight better than Mr. Ulker.

“Thank you,” Liberty said. “Now, does anyone want any donuts? Or maybe some fresh brunsviger ? Or refills on coffee?”

That got everyone’s attention. They returned to what was important: their breakfast foods.

Chelsea caught his eye again. “I don’t have time to be a birth coach.” She bounced her baby on her knee. “But I want to help. I just don’t want to offend her. She seems…” Her mouth compressed when she couldn’t find the right word.

Lonely? Desperate? Abandoned? Too proud to admit any of it?

“I’ll talk to her,” Chance said. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

Chance remembered that Cordy had walked out empty-handed. He nodded to Liberty. “Give me two old-fashioneds and two chocolate bars.”

Liberty hesitated. “Cordy usually gets a strawberry shortcake donut.”

“Give me two of those then.”

Once Liberty had bagged those up for him, Chance headed out, the flyer in his hand. He waved goodbye to Chels, blew a kiss to her baby, and even tipped his hat to Mr. Ulker and Mr. Slade because his mom had taught him good manners—or at least she’d done the best she could before she passed away.

He went to find Cordy and present himself as the solution to her problems.