My Cowboy’s Undoing (Rock Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

WYATT

The morning air bites sharp and clean, as if the mountains themselves are testing whether I still have what it takes to make it in the rough environment of Rock Creek.

It may have been years since I last opened my eyes to see the dawn cracking over the jagged peaks of the Rockies, but I haven’t forgotten.

I never will.

This ranch is in my blood.

For better or worse.

And these days, it’s hard to tell which was which.

All is quiet as I make my way through the yard. Over the last few years, most of the ranch hands have been let go or quit. More likely the latter, since my asshole of a father sank further and further into his own misery.

Word around town was that he’d become harder and harder to work with until finally, most people wouldn’t even step foot on the ranch, let alone work for the bastard.

Most of the herd had been sold off, and the line of prized horses my mother had so carefully tended to was almost a distant memory, with only a few mares and one stud left.

Despite my feelings about this place, and the father who’d made me hate it almost as much as I hated him, it still pained me to see the way it had gone downhill. Once upon a time, the ranch had been full of life and joy.

Those days were long gone.

Still, like it or not, Rock Creek Ranch was home. At least until I could fix it up enough to make it worth something, so we could sell it.

If—and it was a big if—I could convince my brothers that was the best plan.

But that would have to wait. If I were going to make a case for selling the ranch, first I’d have to put in the work.

I shove the barn door open. The familiar creak of the rusty hinges echoes in the quiet. Dust motes swirl in the thin streams of sunlight just starting to streak through the yard and into the old barn.

The place smells like old hay, leather and neglect.

I swallow back another curse.

It’ll take months, hell, maybe years, to get this place back to even close to what it used to be.

But I’ll do it.

Because someone has to.

“Hey there, old girl.” I stop to scratch Blueberry’s head and top up her feed, before moving on.

Most of the horses weren’t here the last time I’d set foot through the gates of the ranch. Twenty-three years was a long time to be away.

I just wasn’t sure it was long enough.

It took me a few minutes to make my way down the row, greeting each of the animals by the name on their stall. The animals were the best part of a ranch.

They were also the worst part. When they weren’t well.

Which is exactly why I’d called the local vet in to check things over and make sure the few horses we still had left were healthy.

Especially, Oatmeal, the pregnant mare, I checked on last. I had no idea how far along she was, or if she’d had any care at all.

Knowing my father, the cheapskate likely hadn’t sprung for any preventative medicine at all, and Travis, the one ranch hand who’d managed to stay on despite my asshole father, couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a vet on the property.

Which is why I was expecting Doc McKinney first thing this morning.

I was surprised to find the old man was still practicing. He’d been about a million years old when I was a boy. Slow-talking, even slower-moving moving and as stubborn as the bulls he tended to.

His fees had gone up, too.

It was going to take a decent chunk out of the very meagre savings account that I’d managed to build over the years, but it would be worth it. Eventually.

Oatmeal’s gentle snuffing drags my attention back to the moment. She was likely due soon if her pacing was any indication.

“I got you, girl.” I rub my hand down her nose until she stills. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“I think that’s my job, isn’t it?”

I spin around at the sound of a perky and very female voice.

For half a second, my brain short-circuits because the person standing in the open barn door, silhouetted by the rising sun, sure as hell isn’t Doc McKinney.

She’s younger. Way younger and prettier than any veterinarian has any right to be. Let alone one working on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.

Long, honey blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail that sways when she moves. She’s wearing Jeans that fit sinfully tight, and a soft flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves with a puffy vest over top. And a smile.

My chest tightens before I can stop it, like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. It’s been a long time since something, or someone, has caught me off guard.

I don’t like it.

“Can I help you?” My voice is rougher than I intended, but at the same time, I’m not trying to make friends. Especially with random young women who step foot on my ranch.

Even if they do have tits like—

“Actually, I think I can help you.”

Completely unfazed by my grouchiness, the young woman steps into the barn and walks toward me.

“I doubt it.” I shake my head and cross my arms, but she keeps coming. “Who are you?”

“Anna Milligan. I’m your vet,” she says, her smile only getting brighter. She stops directly in front of me. “I’m here to check on your horses.” She turns then and rubs Oatmeal’s nose.

“No,” I tell her. “My vet is Doc McKinney.”

“Not this time.” She turns to look at me, the bright smile still in place on her pretty face. “I’m his niece. He sent me out. Something about how he vowed never to set foot on Rock Creek Ranch—”

“Okay.” I hold up my hand. I do not need to hear how my father had burned yet another bridge in this town. But I guess that would explain the lack of veterinary care this place had seen. “I thought maybe he’d retired.”

She laughs. “Not yet. But that’s the plan. I came out about a month ago to learn the ropes and buy the practice from my uncle.”

“Your uncle?”

She nods, brushing a piece of hay from her sleeve. “If you ask me, it’s long past time he stepped down, but I think he wants to make sure I’m serious about things before he backs away completely.”

I grunt. “You’d have to be crazy to move out here and take on his workload.”

“Guess that makes me the fool,” she says lightly, moving closer to Oatmeal’s stall. “But I like a challenge.” She waves an arm around her. “And it looks like I’m going to get exactly that with this place.”

Even though none of the neglect is my fault, I feel my irritation grow. After all, for better or worse, at least for now, Rock Creek Ranch is mine.

ANNA

By the time I finish checking the last horse, hair is falling in my face, my vest is covered in dust and grime, and my stomach is rumbling.

But I can’t stop smiling.

This is exactly why I worked so hard at veterinary school and convinced my uncle to sell me his practice. Well, almost convinced him to sell me his practice.

As long as I could remember, I’ve loved being around horses, especially when I could help them.

The Rock Creek Ranch horses are good stock. They’re nervous, jittery and more than a little neglected, but they’re strong. They just need a little care and attention. Exactly the type of attention I plan on giving them.

That is, if I can convince their grouchy old cowboy of an owner that I know what I’m doing.

Wyatt Thorne.

Even his name sounds cranky.

He’s been following me and watching me all morning. Leaning against the stall doors with those tree trunk arms of his folded across his chest. Quiet but assessing. Judging me to see if I measure up and am worthy to take care of his horses.

Worthy or not, I’m all he’s got. Uncle Randy said that hell would have to freeze over before he’d set foot on this ranch again. Something about being shot at.

But that was Bill Thorne.

And while I could easily see the resemblance between the stubborn, mule of a man my uncle talked about, Wyatt isn’t his father. I’m worried about being shot at.

At least not yet.

Wyatt is clearly not the type of man who wastes words. Probably because he doesn’t need to. He’d communicated plenty with simply a look or two from those dark, brooding eyes.

And Lord help me, I’ve been acutely aware of him the entire time.

As much as I’ve tried to ignore him, it’s impossible.

It’s also ridiculous. I’ve been around plenty of cowboys. But Wyatt? There’s something about him that’s different. All hard lines and authority. He’s the kind of man who takes up space without even trying. The kind of man you can’t ignore.

When I first saw him this morning, standing in that dusty shaft of sunlight, I’d almost forgotten why I was here in the first place.

My heart stuttered in my chest, and my mouth went dry as if I were a teenage girl, instead of a fully grown twenty-five-year-old woman.

And when he looked at me. I mean, really looked at me. I felt his gaze all the way to my toes.

It’s not ideal to be lusting after the boss when trying to look like a competent professional on my very first major job.

“Everything looks pretty good,” I say finally, dusting my hands off on my jeans and jotting down the last few notes in my notebook.

Wyatt grunts.

“There’s room for improvement,” I add. “A few of your mares are underweight and they’re all at risk of lameness if they’re not exercised properly.

I’d say that a few of the older horses, like Blueberry might need to be watched a little closer.

But all in all, considering…well, they’re looking pretty good. ”

“Considering what?”

My smile falters a little. I don’t know much about the history of Rock Creek Ranch, only the little my uncle shared with me and the gossip around town.

But I know enough to know that operations have been going downhill for quite some time, and the reputation of the ranch and the Thorne family wasn’t a good one.

“Considering they haven’t had any veterinary care,” I finish smoothly and meet Wyatt’s eyes.

“I hope that will change now,” I continue.

“Especially for Oatmeal. She’s close. Maybe only a day or two, a week at the outset.

It’s extra important now to keep her calm and warm. Fresh water and easy feed.”

“I know how to handle a foaling, Miss Milligan.”

I can’t help but notice he doesn’t refer to me as Doctor.

“I’m sure you do.” I keep my voice light, unwavering. I won’t let him get to me. “But I’m equally sure that you have your hands full here. I’m just covering all the bases.”

He lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head so his hat casts a deep shadow over his face. Something about the small gesture makes my pulse trip. “You sure talk a lot.”

“Occupational hazard,” I fire back before I can stop myself. “Animals don’t usually tell me what’s wrong, so I’ve gotten pretty used to filling the silence.”

That earns me something dangerously close to a smile. Just the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, gone as soon as it appears. But I see it, and it makes my stomach flip in a way that is decidedly not professional.

“Well, you don’t seem to have any trouble filling it,” he says, pushing off away from the barn wall.

I should move. Or speak. Or breathe.

But now that the work is done, my body seems to have forgotten how to function on the most basic level. All I can do is stand here, my heartbeat loud in my ears as his shadow stretches over mine.

He’s big. At least a full foot taller than me.

I have to tilt my head up to look into his eyes.

There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forearms where he’s rolled up his flannel, despite the chilly day.

And a fleck of sawdust caught in his beard that somehow makes him even more distractingly good-looking.

Focus, Anna. You’re the vet. The professional.

He’s at least twenty years older than me. A grumpy cowboy. A client.

But my treacherous brain doesn’t care. All it can focus on is the shape of his mouth, the gruff timber of his voice and the quiet way he watches my every move, like he’s not sure if he should trust me.

Or kiss me.

My cheeks heat with the unexpected thought, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he says, “Wasn’t expecting a woman.”

I let out a short, dry laugh. “You and everyone else in this valley and up on the mountain.”

That was an understatement. I’d only been in town a month, and it had been an uphill battle to convince both the ranchers and townspeople that I was competent, despite my sex. My age. Or my blonde hair.

“Like I said, it’s a good thing I like a challenge,” I added.

That earns me another almost flicker of a smile, before he shakes his head and says, “Tell your uncle that I’m not my father. I don’t know all of what went on, but I can guess.” He turns away.

“I’ll let him know.” I hesitate before adding, “For the record, I think there’s still a lot of good here at the ranch.”

He pauses and looks back over his shoulder at me. His eyes are dark and completely unreadable. “You’d be the first person to say that in a long time.”

For a heartbeat, the air between us feels charged.

Then Wyatt clears his throat and shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You done for the day?”

I nod. “I’ll check on Oatmeal in a day or two. But call me if she’s ready before then.”

I expect him to object. Instead, he nods. “Fine. You can see yourself out?”

It’s not exactly friendly. But he doesn’t run me off with a shotgun like his father. I’ll take it for now.

As I pack up my gear, I can feel his gaze on me again, but when I glance back before slipping out the door, he’s already turned away, stroking Oatmeal’s neck with an unexpected gentleness.

Maybe Wyatt Thorne isn’t as tough as he wants people to believe.