Cowboys Can’t Kiss (Kissing Ridge Cowboys #1)

1. Riley

one

Riley

“ N o, you can’t fuck on horseback.”

Internally rolling my eyes, I stare at the man across from me.

“Have you ever been on a horse?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I count to five before replying.

“It’s actually quite hard. Not to mention I’m sure the horse wouldn’t approve of being used as a…sex surface. That’s rude and I won’t help plan it even if I found a horse who would stand still and let it happen.”

The man frowns and points a single thick finger at me.

“You said you’d help me plan a romantic date for my girlfriend. I’m paying money for this and I want to fuck on a horse.”

Seriously? This guy probably thinks buying his girlfriend a new vacuum is romantic, too.

“You’re paying for my advice and my assistance. I assure you, no woman will want to expose her private parts while on a horse and risk getting horsehair rammed up her insides. Let’s not even touch on the fact you keep referring to it as fucking. That’s not romantic, Anthony. ”

His brows furrow, and if I were a cartoonist, I’d draw little plumes of smoke coming out of his ears as he processes my words.

“Horses lose hair?”

“A shitload of hair. It can be itchy.”

He scratches at his crotch and I think that’s successfully moved us from the topic of sex on a horse.

“Maybe I should think of something else. What do you think, Riley?”

“Well, you said she likes aquariums. Is this just a romantic date or a proposal? What’s your end goal?”

He smirks. A look he likely thinks is sexy, but it’s… yeah, eww. That’s not a good look.

“Sex, Riley. It’s always the end goal. Is there anything else?”

Anthony folds his hands over the crisp blue pin-striped Tommy Hilfiger button-down that clings to his torso like a second skin and smiles. It’s one of those secret smiles. One that’s reserved for inside jokes with his buddies.

I don’t know what it is about this guy, but my cringe meter is on overload, and I want to extend my sympathy to his girlfriend.

“I think you’ve misunderstood what it is I do. Romance isn’t about sex. It’s creating a bond. Connecting with someone special and building a relationship. Incredible memories you both cherish forever.”

He nods along like he understands. Fifty bucks says he doesn’t.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like me.”

You don’t say .

“Just help me plan an exotic place for sex. Oh! Think we could reserve the aquarium and we could bang in that dark room with the jellyfish? ”

That’s it.

Pushing my chair back, I stand and force a smile.

“I’ll refund you. We aren’t a good fit. That’s not what I do.”

He huffs and stands as well, his lips curled in a sneer.

“I knew you were too uptight. Romance is dead, Riley. I’m not sure why I even thought this was a good idea.”

“Then you don’t need my help to get laid, Anthony. Have a good day and good luck.”

Of course, he leaves and gives me the middle finger because he’s classy like that. Just as classy as wanting to fuck on the back of a horse. Immediately, I open our contract and pull up his email to refund the consult fee he paid. He was definitely not a fit for me.

Honestly, I thought it would be easier planning romantic moments for people than dating them. But all it serves lately is to remind me how lonely I am. Maybe I should have stuck with the escort service. At least I had company. Mostly fake company, but still. A guy can dream that one of his clients would give him a Pretty Woman moment and whisk him off to a life of romance with a handsome, less famous version of Richard Gere.

At least my next client is a couple who asked me to plan their wedding reception. They’re already in love and just want a magical romance filled day.

And I will deliver. Romance is what I live for. Just not for myself.

Right after, I call my Aunt Agnes.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Is this my favourite nephew?”

Snorting, I shake my head even though she can’t see me.

“It’s your only nephew.”

“Still my favourite. ”

“I’m just checking in. Have you taken your meds?”

Aunt Agnes is terrified that she’ll forget her pills one day and die in the bathroom naked. Her words, not mine. Now I call her every day at lunchtime to remind her of her meds. Which is good for us both, really. She reminds me life is for living and not always about work. I ignore the reminder most of the time because I’m stubborn like that.

“I did! I’m having grilled cheese for lunch and my pills went down first. Are you eating lunch today?”

Checking the clock, I’m surprised the morning has passed.

“You know what? I think I will. I’ll go to the little bistro around the corner. They have an amazing goat cheese and beet salad.”

She makes a gagging noise and I laugh.

“You need to eat meat, Riley. Not salads all the time.”

“I like salads. And I eat plenty of meat. Don’t worry about me.”

Besides, the bistro is the one place in this town where I can avoid cowboy hats and belt buckles and men spitting their chewing tobacco in cups. If it wasn’t for Aunt Agnes, I’d never have moved back here.

Cowboys are not my favourite. Not since Chase.

Oh, they’re delicious to look at. A hundred percent. But you’ll never be first place in a cowboy’s life. Even one who’s not a pathological liar. It was a hard lesson to learn, but one I remember well.

“At least take a break from work and get out. Will I see you tomorrow?”

My cheeks stretch with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Go eat your lunch then, Rye. I love you.”

“I love you too, Auntie. We’ll talk tomorrow. ”

Now that I’m thinking of that salad, I grab my phone and keys and slip out of my office. The bistro is a block away and sits on the corner of a busy downtown street. It caters to the business crowd, especially for lunches, and closes late afternoon. The best part about it is it’s almost always filled with people in dress clothes. Bankers, lawyers, receptionists, and anyone else working in the downtown core.

It’s all business-y businesses. Professionals with suits, ties, and pressed shirts with polished shoes. There’s no business to draw the cowboys here, not even a farm supply store. It’s firmly out of cowboy territory. A definite plus for me.

The aroma of roasted garlic greets me as I open the door and the chatter of customers fills the air. It’s a busy afternoon and with all the tables full, it looks like I’ll have to take my food to go and skip the glass of wine I hoped for.

“Hi, Riley. Nice to see you again. Your usual?”

Smiling at Hannah, I nod. “Although it seems like you’re full. I’ll take it to go, please, and instead of wine, I’ll have a peach iced tea.”

As she punches in my order, she nods. “It’s ridiculously busy today. I’m sorry, there are no free tables.” She hands me the payment terminal and I tap my card.

“If a table empties before my order is ready, I’ll nab it.”

Stepping off to the side so she can keep up with her customers, I scan the small bistro and watch for anyone nearing the end of their meal. I have a few prospects, but worst case, if no table opens, I can also eat in the park today. It’s been ages since I’ve had a picnic lunch.

“Here you go, Riley. Don’t be a stranger. ”

Turning, I find Hannah holding a bag with my order.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll call ahead next time.”

Aunt Agnes was right. I need to get out more and lunch in the park sounds fabulous. Romantic, even if I don’t have someone to share it with. Self-love is still romantic, and I’ll die on that hill if I’m ever challenged about my relationship status. Loving yourself is just as important as loving another person.

The small park downtown is deserted and I settle at the lone picnic table there.

As often happens when I allow myself to stop and think, the familiar heartache rears up when I wonder about what could have been. How life might be different if I hadn’t let my guard down. Maybe I’d have the white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Instead, I hide a shattered heart and refuse to entertain those dreams again.

Fucking cowboys.

“No, Riley. Don’t go down that road. He was a bastard to his core. You can do better than him,” I mumble as I unpack my lunch.

“Sounds like someone made a mistake.”

A deep voice sounds from… the ground? Easing off the picnic table, I peer over a small plot of flowers to find a pair of feet with dress shoes poking out. The branches of the willow tree hide the body the feet belong to.

“Um, I’m sorry. I thought I was alone.”

“So did I. Don’t be sorry. Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

My lips twitch in a small smile. I feel like I’m one of Lucy’s patients in a Peanuts cartoon without spending the nickel.

“Why are you on the ground? ”

The man laughs softly, and it’s a gorgeous laugh. Deep, even though it’s not a full laugh. It’s… inviting.

“Like you, I also had a bastard in my life. Today was a hard day.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

That laugh comes again, but it’s tinged with sadness. Unsure if I want to eat or talk to this stranger who has my interest piqued, I open my salad and poke at it. Maybe he has a broken heart that just won’t mend too?

“It’s okay.” His deep voice now carries a smile and my lips tilt in response. “I’m just stretching here and enjoying the quiet. Then a gorgeous man came and sat next to me.”

Holy wow. That’s rather forward. I don’t even know what to say. Which is dumb. I should know how to respond to someone flirting with me. I was an escort, for Pete’s sake; I can flirt with the best of them. Not to mention I’ve been a wedding and romance planner for several years. But I shove salad in my mouth to delay saying anything.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. You seemed down, and I wanted you to know that whoever did you wrong made a mistake.”

My hand trembles as I raise another forkful to my mouth. “You don’t even know me.” The salad I usually love falls on dead taste buds. This stranger on the ground has me unsettled, and I don’t know why.

“Would you like me to?”

“To what?”

“Would you like me to know you?”

Do I? What if I like him? It’s easier to stay in touch with my romantic side by selling it to others. Living through someone else’s dream. He could be another liar. Or he could be a friend. I don’t have many of those here.

Perhaps….

“What if I say yes?”

There’s a long pause and I lift my butt from the bench to see his feet wiggling back and forth. I don’t know why, but that makes me grin like a fool.

“I might be happy to hear a yes.”

“What if I say I like this mystery and I’m not ready to see who you are?”

There’s another long pause and his feet stop wiggling. My alarm sounds from my phone and I curse under my breath. Where did the last forty-five minutes go? I have a client in fifteen minutes.

“Um, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a client coming and…” God, this is so stupid. Do I really want to get to know this guy I just met who is lying on the ground in a park without a care in the world? Should I try to forget the shit in my past and move on? Surely I can be brave again, right? Besides, it’s hard for my inner romantic to ignore the romance of meeting a stranger blind.

“Would you meet me here again tomorrow?” the stranger asks. His voice carries a hope that sings to my romantic heart. It’s crazy. But maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I should finally listen.

“Yes, I would.”

A whoosh of air sounds from beneath the tree. “Okay. It’s a date. Enjoy the rest of the day and I hope you ate your salad. The bistro has good food.”

With a goofy grin on my face, I pack up my garbage.

“I ate enough, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. ”

As I rush out of the park, unsure of what just happened, he calls out, “I’ll be here!”

“So you’re going to meet some rando in the park? This isn’t a joke?”

Laughing, I rest my feet on the coffee table and put my best friend, Gabe, on speaker.

“No joke. My aunt keeps telling me to get back out there and not to live for work and all that stuff. I should listen. He’s taken enough of my life away.”

Gabe growls over the phone, and I miss his protectiveness. For a best friend, he can’t be beat.

“Every time I hear his name, I wish I could punch the fuck out of him.”

“He’s not worth the effort, Gabe.” Sighing, I let my head fall back on the couch. “Is it too much for me to hope this stranger might be my Prince Charming? Can’t someone make an honest effort to romance the romance guy?”

“You need hope, Rye. It’s what makes you, you. There’s not a single person I know who deserves a happy ending more than you. If you don’t show up tomorrow, you’ll never know.”

Gabe is right. I know this. If I wasn’t such a sucker for fairy tales and romance, I’d run far away. My heart is still so bruised I’ve kept it in bubble wrap and never, ever thought about giving it to someone else.

Maybe it’s finally time.

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’ll fill you in.”

“You’d better. I live through you. I have ten more years of fourteen-hour days and zero time for relationships. Until then, I need your stories.”

Laughing out loud, I shake my head. Gabe works far too much, but he’s the best lawyer in the city. He knows he can’t dedicate the attention needed to form a lasting relationship right now, which makes me sad because he’d make an amazing partner for the one who catches his eye.

“As long as I amuse you, Gabe.”

He stifles a yawn and papers shuffle in the background.

“Listen, doll, I need to finish this paperwork before I call it a night. I loved talking to you tonight, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

After we say our goodbyes, I pour a glass of wine and flip through channels for a little longer before heading to bed with the sound of a deep laugh and a smooth voice to lull me to sleep.