Wrangling Nash (Cameron Cowboys #1)
Chapter 1 Jovie
“What the hell am I doing?” I mumbled to myself as I surveyed the rows of work boots in front of me.
Irish Setter, Red Wing, Ariat, Justin Original – the names all blended together, and they all looked identical.
I should have researched these online before leaving.
I'd always been a planner, accustomed to researching, reading reviews, checking on Reddit – even for a simple purchase like work boots. However, this trip to Lonestar Junction couldn’t have been planned, and I’d had only two weeks to get my life in order before moving here, leaving little time for trivial matters like buying work boots. The realization that I didn't have any appropriate shoes hit me only after I had already pulled on to the interstate and looked down at the golden wedge sandals that I was wearing.
Sighing, I picked up a pair that looked like they might fit and turned them back and forth in my hands, examining them closely.
They have hard toes. That’s needed, right?
Shit, I’m so screwed.
Looking up, I noticed a man standing at the row diagonally from me, checking out the work gloves. He was tall, handsome, with dirty blonde hair, a muscular build, and the slightest scruff on his strong jawline – and he was wearing work boots.
“Excuse me,” I called out as I walked in his direction.
His eyes shifted to mine as he did a slow scan of my body, observing what I was wearing. I knew I was overdressed for the middle of who-knows-where-the-fuck-I-am-Texas, but the way he looked at me wasn’t just in observation of the high-heeled wedges and short jean shorts I was wearing. I could tell he found me attractive, and I figured I could use this to my advantage to get some help with picking out boots.
The closer I got, his features came into focus, and I noticed he had thick lips and bright green eyes to match his sandy hair, and when he grinned - dimples.
Damn, dimples are a weakness of mine.
“Yes?” he asked as I made my way to stand in front of him.
“I have no idea what I should be looking for in work boots, and I noticed you’re wearing them. What boot would you buy to protect your feet from the elements, animals, machinery, and won't cause blisters?”
He took a step back, observing the pair I held in my hands.
“This isn’t for your boyfriend, is it?”
I shook my head no and mustered my best seductive smile with a bat of my eyelashes, though I was feeling less than sexy at the moment. “It’s for me.”
His eyebrows raised.
“Carhartt might be a fad right now with the hipster guys and gals, but it’s really durable. Steel toe, waterproof. I’d go with those.”
“Thank you!” I said, smiling as I turned on my heel and hurried back to the aisle with the boots. I looked for my size in the Carhartt boots, grabbed them, and headed to the register while checking the time on my phone.
Damn it. Already 2 o’clock.
If I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late, and I couldn’t afford to be late.
I plopped the boots on the register as the cashier rang them up at a pace a sloth could beat. I tapped my foot impatiently, hoping the older man would notice and hurry his pace, but everyone in this town moved as if they didn’t have anywhere important to be.
While I waited, I noticed the man from the aisle earlier had walked up behind me and placed a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a box of matches on the register. I could feel his gaze hot on my body, and the hair on my neck prickled in response. There was something about him that screamed rugged cowboy and was nothing like the men I’d been around for the last eight years working in tech in Houston.
I turned to catch his eye and flashed a smile. Most guys would look away if caught staring, but this guy just continued smiling and staring, showing those damn dimples again and making my stomach flutter.
“$75.99,” the cashier chirped, bringing me back to reality.
I pulled out some bills and handed them to him as he slowly provided me with the change.
“Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” I said and then waved to the handsome stranger as I exited. “Thanks again for your help with picking these out. I hope they work out.”
He made a slow nod, tipping his cowboy hat as he continued to stare at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
Heading to my small Honda CRV, I tossed the bag next to my suitcase in the back and headed down the windy road. My GPS said there were only five miles to go until I reached my grandfather's ranch, but the entrance was practically right across from the store I'd just exited. I had to remind myself that these old Texas ranches had extremely long driveways that could wrap for miles from the road, providing both privacy and a pain in the ass drive when you finally left.
I turned right off the road once I saw the small familiar sign nailed to an old piece of wood that floated in the slightest breeze, ‘Ashwood Ranch.’
It had been twenty years since I last set foot here, the last time being when I was only ten years old and had returned for my grandmother's funeral. The memory of the journey back then was hazy, but now, as I navigated the winding road, it felt longer and more twisted than I recalled. I carefully drove slowly over the gravel, mindful not to accelerate too much and risk kicking up rocks that could damage my car or obscure my view with a cloud of dust.
Around the second mile, I glanced in my rearview mirror and noticed a truck approaching from behind. As it got closer, I realized it looked just like the one I'd seen parked at the store I had just left, and it was now coming up fast.
What the hell?
I increased my speed, trying to go faster while still driving cautiously. However, the truck kept advancing until it practically hit my bumper. I glanced in the mirror again and noticed the unmistakable piercing green eyes and dark blonde shaggy hair of the stranger I’d just met.
Shit .
I started to panic, and my palms began to sweat. My GPS chirped at me that reception had been lost, and I began worrying if I didn’t make it to my grandfather’s place soon, this ax murderer was going to run me off the road and kill me before I could explain to Rig Cameron what was going on.
I knew the ranch had to be close and had a feeling I was about 1 mile out, but the windy road concealed the home from my vision. Suddenly, the imposing truck veered off the road, passed me in a cloud of dust and then kept driving again at full speed.
What the hell?
I continued driving at my slower pace, the ranch finally coming into view where I noticed the big red truck was already parked and the handsome stranger was outside of it, leaning up against the door. I pulled up cautiously and then hopped out, determined to confront my stalker.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you following me?” I demanded; my arms crossed.
He smirked down at me, which only fueled my anger.
“I think I should be the one asking questions. Who are you?” he asked.
Just then, a familiar face I’d seen two weeks earlier exited my grandfather’s home.
“Nash, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, yelling at the handsome stranger still leaning up against his car.
Nash ?
“Dad, this city slicker seems to be lost and found her way to Clarence’s ranch. I figured I’d warn her before you brought out the hounds and the shotgun.” He said, pointing his thumb at me.
Dad ?
Rig’s eyes shifted to me as he observed what I was wearing, and suddenly I became very self-conscious of my attire.
It was mid-July in Texas and well over 100 degrees still, even though it was approaching evening, but both Rig and Nash were dressed in jeans, long sleeved button ups and cowboy hats.
“That sure is a city slicker, son, but that city slicker is Clarence’s granddaughter and our new ranch hand, Jovie,” he said grinning. “Come on inside, Jovie, and let me give you the grand tour where you’ll be living and working for the next year.”