Save a Horse, Ride a Cow Man (Taurus Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

Of all the ways I could die, I never imagined it’d be from a cock flying at my face.

I brace for impact when feathered wings fan out in front of my windshield, obscuring my view of the road as the bird launches itself up in the air.

A shrill screech of terror punches out of my lungs as I swerve—the wrong way—directly into oncoming traffic.

A pickup truck honks as I barrel toward it, and my threadbare tires squeal as I overcorrect in the opposite direction.

It takes me a split second too long to remember to brake as I go careening off the road, momentum carrying me headfirst down the sloping embankment and toward a hanging metal sign.

I scream again as my foot slams against the brake pedal.

My life flashes before my eyes.

Or rather, the rash decisions that led me here, five seconds from dying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere.

One week before the cock incident

Gretchen’s birthday parties are always over the top, and this one is no exception. I’m running late after a day of fruitless internet searches and tearing apart my closet to figure out something suitable for the astrology theme, so her loft is already packed by the time I step through the door.

No one notices me as I slip in and set a sad-looking envelope down with the stack of much nicer gifts on a table by the vintage coat rack.

My best friend won’t care that the best I could do for her this year is a $30 gift certificate to a chain craft store that my parents sent me for Christmas, but I don’t want any of our other friends to notice.

Then I’d have to explain why I re-gifted the card to a woman who owns more craft supplies than she could use in a lifetime.

I’d have to tell them I lost my job.

I won’t be able to keep pretending that everything’s fine for much longer. I’m already a month behind on rent, spending most of my days at the coffee shop across from my apartment building so I don’t have constant reminders of my guilt every time one of my roommates side-eyes me.

My friends have money. If I told them about my financial struggles, I’m sure they’d offer to help. But that help would come with a side of pity and subtle condescension, so I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m already the failure in our circle of friends.

Speaking of which, I brace myself when I find Maggie, Jace, Felicity, and Mike directly in my path to the snack table. I’ve only had a stale granola bar since this morning, and my stomach rumbles at the mere sight of food, so there’s no avoiding them.

“Belle! Oh my gosh, look at you.” Maggie pulls me into a side hug, kissing the air beside my cheek.

I note that she doesn’t actually include a compliment in her greeting. Probably because my outfit is pathetic compared to her liquid gold cocktail dress that hugs her statuesque, gym-sculpted physique.

She pulls back and slips back over to Jace, not so subtly wrapping an arm behind him.

There’s a prickle of annoyance at the possessive gesture. It’s not like she has anything to worry about. It’s been two years since Jace and I dated, and he’s the one that left me for her.

Felicity waves, a pearly smile plastered on her face as she gives me a once-over. “Hey Belle. Let me guess…Taurus?”

“Ding ding ding,” I say weakly, rattling the cowbell choker I fashioned from the collar of a ratty stuffed animal I’ve had since I was a kid. It’s appropriate, given how childish my pink cow print tank top and cheap Halloween costume horns look compared to their outfits.

I should’ve pretended my astrological sign is something different. Something hotter, like Felicity’s Greek-inspired Libra dress or Maggie’s Aquarius gown.

“Cute.” Mike’s half-hearted compliment has me bristling.

Like he has any room to judge. He’s not even wearing a costume. He was always a stick in the mud. Probably why he ditched me for sweet, bland Felicity.

Yes, I’ve had two boyfriends leave me after meeting my friends.

Yes, we’re still all friends after that.

What was I supposed to do? Abandon my whole social circle because I got dumped?

Looking around the crowded room at clusters of people I kind of like and ones I know silently judge me, I wonder if maybe it would’ve been better off if I had cut ties with them.

No one cares that I’m here. Other than—

“Belle! You’re here!!” Gretchen’s delighted voice carries over the thumping bass of the music, and I see her, resplendent in a glittering seafoam tulle gown and a matching waist-length wig.

She pulls me in for a hug, the embrace a million times more genuine than Maggie’s. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, beaming at me like I’m something special, even though she’s the one looking like a siren in her full Aquarius glory.

See, this is why I didn’t complain. All of these pseudo-friends and abandoning exes are worth it because it means I get to spend time with Gretchen.

Which sadly happens more and more infrequently now that she’s signed on to do costuming for a renowned burlesque company.

She frowns at my outfit. “Why didn’t you let me make you something?”

“Because it’s your birthday party, which means you don’t do favors for me. You relax and bask in the celebration of your awesomeness.”

Gretchen laughs, flipping a blue curl over her shoulder. “I do love being celebrated.”

We catch up for a bit, her presence bolstering me as I return to the snack table and load up. Eventually, she heads off to mingle with the other guests, but not before guiding me over into a corner of the room that’s curtained off, gesturing for me to go behind it.

Bemused, I pull back the sparkly fabric to find a tarot reader set up in the alcove, a petite woman with severe black winged eyeliner.

She perks up when she sees me. “Hello! Did you want me to do a reading?”

I smile back and nod. Who am I to say no to a free tarot reading?

“Why are you hidden back here?” I ask as I sit down across from her, the coffee table draped in a floral scarf between us.

The tarot reader lets out a sheepish chuckle and looks down at her jeans. “No one told me it was a costume party. I think I was killing the vibe.”

“Ah, so that’s why Gretchen brought me back here,” I joke, gesturing at my pathetic costume.

She smiles. “Or maybe she thinks you need some guidance.”

“Couldn’t hurt.” I’d much rather be back here than out there hearing about Maggie and Jace’s upcoming trip to Hawaii.

The tarot reader, who introduces herself as Tammi, explains the basics of what she’s going to do—a simple three-card spread. She shuffles the cards and has me think about what I’d like guidance on, then lays the cards out one at a time.

The first card is the Five of Pentacles, but it’s upside down.

I stare down at the art of a person in tattered clothes, snow falling around them as they stand outside a glowing stained-glass window.

“Well, that’s…bleak looking.”

It’s a little too spot-on, what with me worrying I’ll be homeless if I don’t get a job soon.

The window even reminds me of the ornate ones at the hotel I was laid off from when they got bought out by a chain and decided it was more “economical” to replace their concierge staff with a shitty chatbot.

Tammi shakes her head. “I know it doesn’t look great, but this card in the reversed position says that things may have been tough, but there’s hope. Stability is coming.

“Oh, cool.” I try to keep my tone light. Casual. Not pathetically excited about a random card saying things are going to get better.

I try to be a skeptic, but can’t help wondering if maybe there’s some merit to this. Hope that maybe it’s a bit real.

Tammi pulls another card.

The imagery on this one is more obtuse. It looks like a bunch of sticks.

She nods sagely, like of course it’s the stick card. “Ah, okay. So the 8 of Wands, in this position, tells me that there’s movement and sudden developments coming your way. See how the wands look like they’re flying across the card? It could also indicate that you’ll be getting news soon.”

I perk up. “Really? Do you think it could be one of the jobs I applied for? That would make sense with the other card, right?”

She chuckles. “I can’t say for certain, since tarot is more about energies than predictions.”

That’s not a no. She’s probably saying that so I won’t get mad at her if she’s wrong.

I watch with bated breath as she flips the third and final card.

My stomach drops as I take in the skeletal horseman.

Death.

Tammi holds her hands up appeasingly. “Don’t freak out! The death card is rarely literal. It means a transition, usually from one phase to another. Letting go of something and moving on to what comes next.”

“Whew, okay.” I pretend to wipe sweat off my brow to disguise my moment of ridiculous panic. I stare at the card, trying not to see it as an ill omen. “Interesting.”

She nods. “You have a big change coming, and if you choose to embrace it and take quick action, you’ll find yourself in a much more stable position than your current one.”

Wouldn’t that be nice? I’m so tired of feeling like I’m moments away from everything collapsing. I swallow against the emotional lump in my throat.

Oh god, don’t cry in front of this poor woman. She doesn’t need to know that this reading is the best news I’ve had in a long time. That it’s the first thing that’s made me feel like my life isn’t careening out of control.

We chat a bit more, and when I rejoin the party, it’s a little easier to laugh and celebrate along with everyone else.

The next morning, I get a call.

I almost don’t pick up since I don’t recognize the number, but it’s not marked as spam so it could be one of the jobs I applied to.

Excitement surges inside me as I answer, expecting the manifestation of last night’s reading.

“Miss Brooks?”

“This is she. How can I help you?”

“I’m calling from Roan Ridge Legal, if I could have a few minutes of your time to discuss—.”

As fast as my excitement rose, my stomach sinks like it’s full of lead.

Not a job offer. Just some random telemarketer getting my damn hopes up.

“If you’re calling to talk to me about my car’s extended warranty, I’m not interested,” I interrupt.

“Uh, no, that’s not…I’m calling on behalf of your grandmother’s estate.”

My brow furrows, wondering if I misheard him. “My grandmother?”

I haven’t heard from my grandma since she sent a birthday card to my parent’s house, and they told me about it months later when I begrudgingly went home to visit them for Christmas.

That was at least five years ago.

“Yes, I believe so. Mrs. Dawn Brooks?” His voice raises up in a question, like he’s worried he might have the wrong number.

“Huh, okay, yeah.”

“We’ve been trying to contact you to discuss the contents of her will and distribution of inherited assets. Is now a good time to talk?”

It takes a moment for his words to register. “My grandmother is dead?”

There’s a confused pause. “Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“What? When did she die?”

How did I not know she’d died? Sure, we weren’t close, but I have fond memories from when we lived with her when I was young.

Dammit, I would’ve wanted to go to the funeral. Or at least send flowers. Something to acknowledge her passing, like a decent granddaughter would do.

“Mrs. Brooks passed away about a month back. I believe her son was informed, but we didn’t have a number to contact you. It took me a while to track your info down, which is why this call is so delayed.”

My shock morphs into white-hot rage.

They didn’t tell me. Those absolute assholes.

I knew Dad had a falling out with Grandma and all but banned her from seeing us, but how dare he not at least give me the choice to go to her funeral? How could he not tell me that the woman I remember braiding my hair and singing me lullabies until I fell asleep when I was little, is dead?

“Fuck.” A tear spills down my cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Brooks. I didn’t mean to upset you. If it helps, your grandmother clearly cared for you. Would you like me to read you her will?”

I sniffle. “Um, I guess?”

I listen, vacillating between anger and sadness as the man on the other end of the line calmly informs me I’ve inherited an assortment of vintage books and diaries, Grandma’s favorite mixer and baking supplies, a set of antique dining room furniture, and a laundry list of other household goods.

The random assortment is so strange I have to laugh, unable for the life of me to understand why she wanted me to have those items. If this is the “life-changing news” the tarot reader mentioned, I want my metaphorical money back.

Disappointment mingles with my grief and anger, a terrible trifecta that is par for the course of my life lately.

“Okay, cool, thank you for letting me know,” I say, cutting him off as he takes a breath to continue.

“That’s not everything.”

“I’m sure you can email me about her button collection and haunted porcelain dolls. I have to—”

“I think you’ll want to hear this last part,” the lawyer says cryptically.

“Okay…”

“‘Lastly, I bequeath 50% ownership of Taurus Ranch to my granddaughter, Belle.’”

Wait, what?

“Really?” My heart races as I try to stay calm, but all I can think is “holy shit, no way,” and “this is a sign from the universe because I’m a Taurus!”

“Yes. Really. I can send you the paperwork if you provide your email. Or, if it’s not too much trouble, you could come to the offices, since it’s a bit complicated managing the distribution of divided business assets and—”

“I’ll come there,” I blurt, surprising myself.

“Alright then, Ms. Brooks.” He sounds relieved not to have to do this via email or phone. My mind races as he gives me his name—Mr. Judd Peterson—and his telephone number, which I scramble to jot down on the back of my hand. “Just give our office a ring when you’re headed over. Have a nice day.”

I let my phone drop to the couch, mouth agape as I hang up the call.

A weird half-laugh, half-gasp bubbles out of me as I realize that Tammi was right.

Present day

She lied to me! So much for the Death card not meaning death.

Yes, it’s pathetic that my final thought before I crash is being pissed at a tarot reader, but it’s her fault I came here!

I scrunch my eyes closed. The car wrenches to a stop. The seatbelt digs into my shoulder so hard it’ll bruise, but the airbag doesn’t deploy.

I’m alive.

Oh my god, I’m alive!

Adrenaline courses through me as I open my eyes, just in time to watch the rusted metal “Taurus Ranch” sign hanging from the post I’ve hit teeter precariously, then fall onto my car hood.