Falling for the Cowboy (Wild Vista Ranch #4)

CHAPTER ONE

Jamie

“I’m standing in cow shit, Paige.”

“You are not. It’s probably just dirt.”

“I’m looking at it. It’s on my boots. My pretty pink, four-hundred-dollar boots you made me buy and I absolutely could not afford.”

“Jamie—”

“I wanted a spa day. I asked for a spa day. A cucumber mask and a man named Sven massaging my feet. That’s a reasonable birthday request. That’s what a normal best friend would have bought me. Not this. Not exile to the dusty, humid armpit that I called Texas.”

Paige snorted. Not a polite snort. A full, unrepentant, this-is-exactly-what-I-expected snort. “Honey. What you need is a cowboy rubbing your clit.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. A horse somewhere in the distance made the same sound Paige had just made, as if in agreement with my crazy, unfiltered friend.

“I need a refund,” I said.

“I paid for the trip, girlie, and there are no refunds.” Paige paused, and I knew what was going to come out of her mouth before it did. “Honey, a woman only turns thirty once.”

She said it lightly. What she meant was heavier than that, and we both knew it.

What she meant was—your twenties are behind you, the clock on wild and reckless is now ticking louder, and if you’re ever going to do something inadvisable and spectacular for no reason other than because you can, the window is closing fast. We did not say that out loud. We didn’t have to.

“I hate Texas.”

“You’ve been there four hours.”

“Three. I took some wrong turns.”

“Of course you did. Now call me tonight when you’re all settled in.”

“If I survive.”

“You’ll survive.” I could hear her smiling.

I sighed, ended the call, standing there on the gravel drive of Wild Vista Ranch in Rosewood, Texas. I had to admit the ranch looked like the perfect getaway, but I still hated Paige for forcing this birthday present on me. Even though I loved her.

I got my luggage from the trunk of the car and went to check in. I tried to ignore how perfect the wraparound porch, rocking chairs, and big barrels of flowers were.

Lucinda and Carl Davis greeted me at the front desk with big, warm, friendly smiles. It would have been a plus for any other guest arriving, but it just made me feel worse because I honestly didn’t want to be there.

They walked me through everything—dining times, activities, the layout of the grounds.

I nodded and made the right noises while privately deciding how I was actually going to spend the next week of my life.

Books. Fresh air. Sitting very still somewhere pretty and trying to figure out what came next.

I wanted quiet space and absolutely zero activities.

“You are in cabin six.” Lucinda pressed a metal ring into my palm. It held an old-fashioned key and a small leather cutout of Texas. “Down the main path, past the corral, second fork to the left. You can’t miss it.”

It was almost dusk by the time I got moving, the path lit by low solar lights.

The boots—the expensive, beautiful, now-compromised boots, no matter what Paige said—were still a little stiff on my feet despite having worn them every day for the past two weeks to break them in.

I ignored all the flowering plants and the play of shadows as I walked to my cabin, my mind was still running through the conversation with Paige.

A cowboy rubbing your clit.

I was a city girl. Libraries, coffee shops, and concrete. I didn’t do animals. I didn’t do barns or bugs or anything that required the word rustic as a selling feature.

As if she could read my mind, Paige called again.

“I just got checked in. I’m walking to my cabin.”

“I know, but I’m excited for you. So much to do. This is exactly what you needed, bestie.”

“What, the shit on my boots?”

The cabins started appearing along the trail, each with its own front porch. I hated to admit it, but they were charming. I found the second fork, took it, and spotted the six hanging on a door.

“Okay. I finally found my cabin. Did you warn me about this heat?”

When I went to push my key into the lock, the door just opened. I pushed it wide, a wave of cool air washing over me. Thank goodness the cabins were air-conditioned. Besides books and coffee, air conditioning was my favorite thing. Especially in Texas.

I stopped just inside the cabin, the door still open behind me as I took in the room. My suitcase tipped over with a dull thud. My phone slid dangerously down my shoulder, almost clattering to the floor before I caught it. I could still hear Paige’s voice.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” I whispered, ending the call.

There was a man inside the cabin.

He was totally over-the-top-handsome by anyone’s definition of the word. Dark hair ruffled by a towel, a strong jaw dusted with dark stubble, and heavy drops of water trailing down his broad chest.

And he was wearing nothing but a towel. A towel totally inadequate for the job it had been assigned. It was resting low on his hips like it knew it was outmatched by gravity and was just slowly giving in. It was two seconds away from dropping and giving me a full-frontal anatomy lesson.

I could tell he was everything I actively avoided in the male species. He had God’s gift to women written all over his face along with a sexy smirk.

Instead of scrambling for something to cover up with, or a freaking pair of jeans, or doing literally anything a normal person would do when a stranger burst into their room, he just stood there rubbing his hand over a set of abs that had to absolutely be painted on somehow.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from following the movement of his hand. Fingers dragged over the hard, carved ridges, following the v-line down, down, until coming to rest right where the terrycloth towel was putting up its valiant fight.

Stop looking, Jamie, I scolded myself.

But I couldn’t. I knew I should turn around, walk out of the cabin and march straight back to the check-in desk.

But I didn’t.

My common sense was quickly outvoted by my girlie parts.

He caught me staring. The smirk widened into a slow, devastating grin. “Like the view, darlin’?”

I snapped my gaze back up to his face, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose with more force than was necessary. I drew myself up to my full, five-foot five curvy height, refusing to let him see how thoroughly he’d wiped away my common sense.

Then I heard Paige’s voice, in my head, immediate and unhelpful. What you need is a cowboy rubbing your clit.

I took another long look and thought, sign me up if it’s this one.

“Well,” he said, his voice that perfect Texas drawl that was neither rehearsed nor pretend. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

His gaze roamed over me. Took in my sensible beige blouse, my practical librarian glasses, and the overly expensive boots that I knew made me look like someone playing dress up. They were so not me.

Another thing I could blame Paige for.

His eyes were an amber color I’d never seen before. Whiskey colored and full of their own secrets. His perusal was not a quick, polite skim. It was a look. The slow, unhurried kind that started at my face and took its time on the way down, and didn’t pretend otherwise.

Every nerve ending I owned stood at full attention. So did my nipples. I felt them harden under my blouse and resisted the urge to cross my arms.

“The door wasn’t locked,” I snapped, channeling my best you-owe-late-fees librarian tone.

He nodded in agreement. “That wouldn’t have been very neighborly now, would it?”

“This is obviously not my cabin.”

“Is that a fact?” His gaze dropped again, dragging a slow, heated path over my buttoned-up blouse, down the curve of my hips, all the way to my stiff new boots, and back up to my mouth. Where it lingered.

The towel slipped a quarter of an inch.

He gave a grin. The kind of grin that probably had women dropping their panties at his feet like an offering. And oh, how he knew it. It was right there in the easy arrogance of his smile.

But I was not going to be one of those women, I told myself firmly.

Absolutely not.

He walked toward me, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. Or act like a rational woman and step back.

“What are you doing?”

He reached around me, his finger touching the six on the cabin door that was still open behind me. I caught his fresh from the shower scent mixed with undiluted maleness. “This is cabin nine.”

I watched as the number swung against the door.

“Well, damn.” The number nine had clearly fallen down, making the number seem like a six.

“You’re probably in cabin six. It’s further down the path.” He paused and gave me another one of those full body looks. “Unless you want to rethink your accommodations.”

“Do you always treat cabin assignments like a suggestion list?”

He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Depends. Do you always barge into men’s rooms uninvited?”

I did take a step back this time, my heel hitting my fallen suitcase. “Look, Casanova Charlie, I don’t know who you’re used to charming with the whole towel-drop routine, but I’m not buying whatever you’re selling. Put some clothes on.”

“You sure about that?” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were a dangerous breath away from mine. “Because a second ago, your eyes were practically—”

I cut him off quickly. “I was assessing the structural integrity of the fabric,” I lied smoothly, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. I had to crane my neck. He was ridiculously tall.

He laughed, a genuine, booming sound that bounced off the cabin’s walls. “Structural integrity. That’s a new one.”

The towel made another move. He didn’t touch it. Either he trusted it implicitly, or he didn’t care, and based on available evidence, I was going with the latter. “I’m Slade. And if you want to test the structural integrity of this towel, all you gotta do is pull.”

My traitorous hand actually twitched.

Get a grip, Parker. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hauled it in front of me like a shield.

“I’ll pass, Slade.” I put as much snark into those syllables as humanly possible. “I prefer my vacations without a side of raging ego. Have a nice day.”

“Careful out there, City Girl,” he called out just as I stepped onto the porch. “Don’t get lost. I’d hate to have to come track you down.”

“I’d rather be trampled by a horse,” I yelled back, slamming the door behind me.

The night air hit me, warm and thick. My face was so hot I didn’t think a thousand air conditioners could cool it back down.

As I hurried up the pathway, I tried to get myself under control.

I looked back once, and there he was standing in the doorway, arms braced over his head, a dark silhouette of pure temptation.

Then the path turned, and he disappeared from my sight.

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

I let myself into my cabin—the right one this time—and immediately sank onto the edge of the bed.

I called Paige because she was my best friend and I wasn’t sure how to process everything that had just happened.

She answered on the first ring, probably waiting for my call. “So, is it all I said it would be?”

“I walked into the wrong cabin.”

She waited a moment before speaking. “And?”

“There was a man in it.”

“What kind of man?”

“The kind with a towel wrapped around his waist.”

She squealed so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Nothing.” Disappointment rose inside me.

“Nothing? You were in a cabin with a man, wearing nothing but a towel and nothing happened? Did you at least flirt a little?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Of course not. I swear, Jamie, when are you going to take control of your own life? Honey. I love you but I told you what you needed.”

“You told me I needed a cowboy—”

“To rub your—”

“Yes, Paige, I remember.”

“And there he was. In a towel. And you left.”

“He was a stranger in a cabin.”

“He was a gift from the universe, and you handed him back.”

“Goodnight, Paige.”

“If you hang up this phone I will drive to Texas myself—”

I hung up.

She texted before the screen went dark. Go back, Jamie. The universe opened that door for you. Don’t close it because you’re scared.

I put the phone face down on the bedspread and got up to unpack, determined not to think about the cowboy with amber eyes, wearing nothing but a towel.