My One and Only Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  “If we shut down the motel, we shut down our income, and you know we can’t afford to do that,” her father had said every time she asked. So vacations were relegated to an overnight stay at the Bellagio when they could scrape together enough money to check out the competition—a quick trip to the Grand Canyon or the Hoover Dam when they couldn’t. Wade had promised her a honeymoon in Colorado, replete with ski lessons, as soon as they had enough money. But she learned early on that “enough” meant poker funds or Wade’s next no-fail business venture that always failed, and soon, enough equaled in debt. So here she was, twenty-nine years old, and she’d still never seen snow.

  “You all right there, Vegas?” Sam asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  She pointed toward his door. “Close it. You’re letting all the beautiful cold air out.”

  He chuckled. “And you expect me to believe you were going to spend the night in your car? I doubt you’d have lasted five minutes, let alone more than a week out there. No air, no plumbing, no change of clothes?”

  She crossed her arms. “Just because I like cool air doesn’t mean I can’t rough it when necessary.”

  He threw his hat in the back seat of the cab, put on a pair of aviators, and set the truck into gear, pulling onto the road and around her stranded vehicle.

  “Wait!” she cried. “What about towing my car?”

  He shook his head. “I said I had the gear. Not that it was hitched and ready to go. Plus, it’s hot as hell right now. Figure I’ll wait until dusk and then come back.” He cleared his throat, but it sounded very much like a stifled laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone stealing it.”

  She blew out a breath. He had her there. Mildred—or Millie for short—was the affectionate name she’d given the red Honda Civic when she’d bought it used eleven years ago. She saved every tip she’d earned working nights and weekends all throughout high school and while she’d commuted to Pima Medical Institute, where she earned her associate degree as a veterinary technician. Millie—named for the mutt her family rescued from a kill shelter when Delaney and her sister Beth were kids—was the one thing she truly owned, and now she was just a heap of metal on the side of the road, left to bake in the blistering sun.

  “Fair enough,” she finally said. “But I don’t want to leave her—I mean it—too long.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “That old beater has a name, doesn’t it? Or should I say she?”

  “She might,” Delaney admitted. “It’s Millie.”

  He nodded and then gave his dashboard an affectionate pat. “Revolver here hasn’t let me down yet.” He paused, and when she didn’t say anything to the not-so-obvious Beatles reference, he added, “Your car’s in good hands—at the ranch and when the shop opens up after the festival.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. She and Sam were in opposition when it came to the piece of land they both wanted, but she guessed that didn’t mean they were enemies.

  He pulled back up the main drive of the guest ranch but passed the cabin where they’d first met, rolling to a stop in front of a stable instead.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling the key from the ignition. He grabbed his cattleman out of the back seat and set it on his head.

  Her brow furrowed. “Where are we going?”

  He took off his sunglasses. Finally, after all this time playing it straight, he grinned, and holy hell, was he that good looking when they’d met? His chocolate-brown eyes darkened with mischief, and his teeth—straight and white—had the tiniest gap between the front two. She liked perfect little imperfections like that. They gave a person character. It was what drew her to Wade—his crooked smile and asymmetrical nose. She should have seen the red flag when he’d told her his nose had been broken one too many times to be properly set. She’d eventually seen firsthand what a broken nose looked like when Wade couldn’t pay one of his “associates” back for the money he’d lost.

  The line of Sam’s nose was nice and straight. That alone told her he wasn’t the type of guy other men messed with.

  “Look,” he said. “I have empty rooms to spare. Rooms with thermostats that you can make as cold as you want. Why don’t you get situated, rest, do whatever needs doing after that overnight drive? It’s really no trouble.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t going to take advantage of his hospitality or—or let him be so nice to her. She was on a mission, and she was going to show him that she was up to the task, even if the thought of diving headfirst onto a fluffy pillow in an air-conditioned room did sound heavenly.

  “Put me to work,” she insisted. Ugh. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

  He sighed. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  All the tension that had left her body on the short ride over came back as he led her into the stable and straight to a wall where a large pair of dirty overalls hung on a hook. He pulled them down and tossed them to her. She coughed as she caught them, a puff of dust invading her air space.

  “Huh,” he mused. “We should probably wash those sometime this month.”

  Delaney’s eyes widened. This month?

  “We’ve got five horses. They’re all outside enjoying the warm weather, so it’s the best time to muck out the stalls. Pitchfork is hanging against the side of the first stall. Gloves and wheelbarrow are over there.” He pointed over her shoulder. “Make sure you really scrape under the shavings to get rid of anything that’s wet. I’ll let one of our stable boys take care of the wheelbarrow and add fresh bedding after the stalls are dry. I’ll even send someone over with a thermos full of ice water. I hear mucking is thirsty work.”

  She stared at him for several long seconds, but he said nothing. He was serious. And she had no one to blame but herself. This was what she’d asked for.

  Fine. No big deal. When she did her clinical at a Vegas petting zoo, she did everything from grooming llamas to catheterizing a goat with a urinary obstruction. Hell, she grew up taking care of the family’s two dogs and three cats. This was nothing. A horse stall was nothing more than a giant litter box. A giant, foul-smelling, filled-with-larger-than-cat-sized-waste litter box.

  She dropped her bag on the ground, raised her brows, and wriggled into the overalls. She grabbed the gloves from where they hung and put those on too. She should have been exhausted, but she was riding on adrenaline now.

  “Anything else, Mr. Callahan?”

  He shrugged and was gentleman enough to hand her the pitchfork. It took everything in her not to growl in response, even if said growl would have been meant for her and not him. Instead she smiled pleasantly.

  “Thank you for your generous hospitality.”

  He winked. “You’re welcome, Vegas. Happy mucking.” He sauntered out the stable door. When Delaney heard the roar of his truck’s engine and was sure he was out of earshot, she gritted her teeth and finally let loose a guttural sound that would have raised a cat’s haunches or sent a pit bull to cower in a corner.

  Pitchfork in hand, she pushed open the first stall door and winced at the mess inside.

  What Sam Callahan didn’t realize was that Delaney’s spirit had already been broken by one man too many. He didn’t have that kind of power over her. She’d muck his stalls and take whatever else he threw at her, but she wasn’t backing down. She’d come for what was hers, and she wasn’t going anywhere until she got it back.

  Chapter Three

  Sam spent the rest of the morning calling anyone in town who might know where Wade Harper had run off to. He didn’t get very far, especially because he didn’t need the whole town knowing that Wade’s ex was here trying to contest the sale of the land he, Ben, and Colt thought they owned. The last thing he wanted was his business partners finding out the ranch was at risk for more than just getting the books into the black.

  He’d never met Wade Harper and already disliked him not only for putting him in this precarious situation but also for leaving his ex-wife high and dry. No one deserved to
be cheated out of what was rightfully theirs. But if he could convince her how hard they all worked to keep the ranch afloat, she’d give up her claim. Wouldn’t she?

  He drove over to the stable at half past one o’clock. Delaney was sitting on the bench outside the structure with the bib of her overalls hanging open onto her lap as she drank ferociously from the thermos he’d sneaked inside and set down by her bag when she was deep into mucking.

  Tendrils of hair had loosened from her bun, and they were dark with sweat. Her cheeks were pink.

  He stepped through the stable door, taking a peek inside.

  “Finished a half hour ago,” she called after him.

  He gave the first couple of stalls a quick glance, then headed back outside.

  He tilted the brim of his hat over his eyes, attempting to hide his surprise. The stable boy who lucked out with a morning off would have taken twice as long. Sam needed to start either paying him less or giving him more to do on the days he was here.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, hoping he looked unfazed.

  She set the thermos down next to her and crossed her arms. “You sorta left me stranded. And it’s not like I knew where you were or how to get a hold of you. So I waited.”

  Damn. He wanted her to see what it took to run a ranch, but he hadn’t meant to abandon her.

  “You hungry?” he asked. Then he remembered she’d driven through the night. “Or tired? Guess I could have at least given you a room key before putting you to work—which you insisted I do, by the way.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a big girl. I can ask for what I need when I need it. When I want to sleep, I’ll sleep. Right now I’m starved,” she admitted. “And downright dirty. Speaking of things I need, I’d say a shower is top of the list.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. He had a room ready for her but sort of forgot she’d need to eat, and Luis was already cleaning up the kitchen since lunch only ran until one p.m. “I’ll take you to your room. Then, um, you can swing by the dining hall, and we’ll find you something to eat.” The truth was, he’d been so intent on finding information about Wade Harper’s whereabouts that he’d forgotten to eat too.

  She stood, slid the rest of the way out of the overalls, and then pressed both the overworn garment and the thermos against his chest. “Thanks, boss.”

  He clenched his teeth. Something about that word rankled. It brought back memories of his father’s long-winded speeches about being a self-made man, his own boss, someone who called all the shots. He’d worked his way through college and had gone on to study veterinary medicine. Soon he was one of the most sought-after equine vets and breeders in San Luis Obispo County, which often meant travel to other farms and ranches. But to Nolan Callahan, calling the shots had meant mistresses on business-related trips and his wife leaving to find a new man and a new life.

  For years now, ever since his father’s mental health had started to deteriorate, Sam had been his own boss. He answered to no one but himself—and his brother and Colt. But they were equals. Even when it came to his actual employees, he insisted they only ever call him by his first name. His brother was the only one at the ranch related by blood, but to Sam everyone here was his family, which meant no one took liberties that exploited anyone else.

  “You don’t need to call me that, you know,” he said coolly, wrapping an arm around the thermos and the denim that was much in need of a wash.

  Delaney shrugged. “And you don’t need to call me Vegas, but you do.”

  She had him there. “How about I just call you Harper?” he asked.

  Her brow furrowed. “How about Delaney?”

  First names were personal, and he wasn’t getting anywhere near personal with the woman who wanted half his land—half of what he’d built from the ground up with his bare hands.

  “Harper it is,” he said, and nodded toward his truck. “Shall we?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lead the way…Callahan.”

  Satisfied, he strode to the driver’s side of the truck and she to the passenger door. They both climbed wordlessly into the cab of the truck. He traded the hat for his sunglasses again, then slid the key into the ignition and immediately lowered the windows.

  “I know you prefer the air-conditioning—” he started, but Delaney interrupted.

  “Yeah, no. I stink.” She snorted, then laughed—the sound so light and carefree that he couldn’t help but smile.

  “You really do,” he said as he pulled away from the stable and onto the small inner road that wound through the property. “But…you did a damn good job. So, thanks for that.”

  She gave him a self-satisfied grin and crossed her arms. “You’re welcome.” Then, after several moments of silence, she added, “And thank you. For giving me a place to stay until I can get my car fixed.”

  And until she could pull the rug out from under him. He had to remind himself that no matter how sexy he found her bare shoulders or her infectious laugh, she was here to take what he thought had been his since he signed away his life to the bank.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s just business, Harper.” He pulled to a stop in front of the guest quarters, where a bedroom had been cleaned and prepared for their business transaction. He’d purposely built the registration cabin separate from where the guests stayed so the main office was centrally located among the stable, arena, dining hall, and guest quarters. Now he sort of regretted leaving her here and heading back to the office, which made zero sense. She was going to shower. She certainly didn’t want him around for that.

  Sam handed her a key card from the center console. “Here you go. Room 210. Head up the stairs. Make a right, and it’s at the end of the hall. Dining cabin is the building next door. Head on over when you’re ready. I…um…had Ivy run you over something to wear.” He’d at least had the forethought to realize she would want nothing to do with her clothes after mucking out the stalls.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Ivy? Is she your—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. He and Ivy weren’t a thing. She was engaged to Carter Bowen, a lieutenant at the fire station who moonlighted at the ranch leading trail rides. Sam wasn’t a thing with anyone because serious relationships weren’t his thing. Not when his future was so uncertain. He didn’t see the point of getting close to someone he’d likely push away.

  “Ivy’s a friend. She owns a small boutique thingy in town. She dropped by with a few donations off her sale rack. But even her sale stuff is good. I mean that’s what I hear. I don’t have much occasion to go shopping for women’s clothing.” He rolled his eyes at himself, grateful for the mask of his sunglasses. I don’t have much occasion to go shopping for women’s clothing? Why was he fumbling for words around her?

  Delaney raised her brows. “You know, there’s nothing wrong if you wanted to trade your plaid or flannel for something that feels a little softer against the skin.” She snatched the key card from between his fingers. “Tell Ivy I said thanks. I’ll meet you for some food in about thirty minutes.”

  She hopped out of the truck and sauntered toward the guest cabin’s main entrance. His gaze followed her, trained on her like a magnet to the nearest piece of metal. He told himself it was because he was examining her motive—trying to figure her out. But even his silent thoughts knew he was full of shit. Every part of his being filled with an inexplicable heat as he watched her walk away, her hips swaying and that damned top riding up again to expose her lower back.

  He shook his head, then let out a mirthless laugh.

  Things weren’t any easier before he’d left Oak Bluff. Back then he and Ben were their father’s main caretakers while they worked to both sell the family business and start Callahan Contracting. Somehow, Ben had always found room for a social life. Maybe that was because Sam was there to hold down the fort whether he wanted to be or not.

  Some things never changed, which meant Sam had no business feeling any sort of physical stirrings for any woman, let alone Delaney Harper.


  He stopped back by his office where Scout was now taking her afternoon nap.

  “Hey, girl,” he whispered, and her ears perked up before she opened her eyes. “You want to go for a walk?”

  She was up on all fours, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of her mouth, before he could grab her leash and clip it to her collar. Once she was all hooked up, she tugged him toward the door.

  He laughed.

  This—him and his dog, a walk on the ranch, and fall festival underway—this was all he needed. And maybe a few more bookings in the guest quarters. What he didn’t need was for him, his brother, and his friend to be wrapped up in some sort of scandal that could cost them everything. And he certainly didn’t need Delaney Harper threatening to tear his livelihood in two, even if her ex-husband was the one to blame.

  “Just you, girl,” he said as Scout pulled him along. “You, a stable full of horses, and money in the bank so we can do it all again tomorrow.” A simple life with no complications.

  After their walk, he dropped Scout back at his office where she curled up in the sun once more. She certainly got what he meant about simple.

  He left her there and strode to the back of the dining cabin and entered the door that opened straight into the kitchen.

  Luis sat on a stool at the counter, pounding away at his laptop.

  “Are we breaking even yet?” Sam asked his chef, knowing the man was likely balancing the kitchen books like he did after every meal.

  Luis shook his head slowly before looking up. “It’s only been a couple of months. It’s still too early to tell. But maybe I should cut back next week. At the rate we’re going, I’ll have to toss more produce than I’ll use—though you know that’ll piss Anna off if we cut the order in half.”

  Sam felt the tension start in his shoulders and quickly move to the back of his neck. He was so sure that with the Meadow Valley Inn selling out for the festival, the ranch would get much of the overflow. The rooms were ready. He’d already committed to paying their two stable hands overtime for working during the festival, yet now it looked as if it’d be business as usual, which meant he, Ben, and Colt could have handled it on their own—even if Ben disappeared for an overnight rendezvous or two.