“We’re going to have to work on your self-esteem, my love.” She looked up at the love of her life as everything came full circle. “And yes, a million times over. I will marry you.”
The End
From the author:
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and like my author page. http://www.amazon.com/Rhonda-LeeCarver/
Hugs,
Rhonda Lee Carver “Writing Men Who Love to Get Their Hands Dirty…”
At an early age, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she’d write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas were no longer contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first plot was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.
Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.
When Rhonda isn't crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her hero and heroine.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Cowboy Paradise (Cowboys of Nirvana)
For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit:
www.rhondaleecarver.com
Find me on Facebook, too!
www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver
Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver
Diamond in a Rose
Double Dare
Delaney’s Sunrise
Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1, Second Chance Series)
Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)
Second Round Cowboy (Book 3, Second Chance Series)
Second Dance Cowboy (Book 4, Second Chance Series)
Second Song Cowboy (Book 5, Second Chance Series)
Second Burn Cowboy (Book 6, Second Chance Series)
Second Hope Cowboy (Book 7, Second Chance Series)
Castle’s Fortress
Dreaming Ivy
Friends With Benefits
Sin With Cuffs
With Honor
Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)
Wicked Lust (Book 2, Wicked Wolves Series)
Fighting Flames
UNDER PRESSURE (Book 1, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
PRESSURE RISING (Book 2, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
Under the Mistletoe
Have you read Pressure Rising? Here’s Chapter One…
Pearl couldn’t believe her ears!
“Let me get this straight.” She wrapped her arms over her waist and eyed Scrawny with a narrowed gaze. “You’re telling me you caught Pugly with Charmin?” She slammed the gate to the corral shut.
Scrawny bobbed his head and scratched his scraggly beard with his dirt-encrusted fingernails. “Yes, ma’am. They were doing the dirty, yes-siree, they were.”
“I’m going to kill him!” Icy fingers marched down her spine. She’d had enough!
“Who? Pugly?”
“No, that son-of-a-gun DJ Walters. How many times have I told him to keep that donkey off this property? I swear he does this on purpose.” She kicked up dirt with the toe of her boot. “I knew I’d only have trouble with that scoundrel. I’ve dealt with him for years and my patience has come to the very last thread! Just last week I was checking the mail and he drove his truck through a mud puddle, splashing me. Can you believe that? I bet if he was looking down the barrel of a shotgun he wouldn’t be so arrogant.”
Scrawny laughed but Pearl kept a straight face. This wasn’t a bit funny! His eyes widened and his jaw clicked. “You aren’t serious, are you, ma’am?”
“Very!” she snapped. “I should have done something about that man long before now.”
“Come on, Pearl. Don’t go high-tailin’ it over to Walter’s R&R and get yourself into trouble, ya hear?” His thin bottom lip trembled. As a ranch hand at the Rhinestone Ranch, Scrawny was always attempting to keep the peace with Pearl and her sisters. Pearl almost felt sorry for the older man because she knew they never made it easy for him.
But she couldn’t go on as things were.
She had every right to feel the wrath toward DJ Walters and was tired of his shenanigans!
Tightening her hands into fists, her nails dug into her palms. “Will you finish feeding Charmin for me, Scrawny? There’s something I have to do.”
“Rethink this, Pearl. Nothin’ is ever solved in anger.”
She ignored him, turned, and stomped toward the truck. She slipped behind the wheel and slammed the door so hard that the metal rattled. Turning the key, the engine roared alive and she cranked the window down. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she yelled across the yard to Scrawny who was shaking his head.
She threw the gear into drive and sank her foot into the gas pedal. The large tires kicked up gravel and dust as she steered down the narrow lane causing several hands to look up in curiosity as she sped by them.
Satan DJ had falsely accused her of trying to run him over before, but he just might see how capable she was now. The man had no ethics and she understood just how far he’d go to send her blood pressure spiking.
Pearl reached the main road just as Em, the youngest Rhinestone sister, was pulling in. She stopped and waved.
“No time to talk, Em. I have something pressing to do.” Pearl wasn’t sure that Em heard her, but she couldn’t chance that her sister would convince her not to pay DJ a visit.
Turning right, Pearl drove to the lane on the neighboring property. She looked at the hanging metal sign, Walters’s R&R, and sighed. It was new, which meant DJ’s business was doing good. She guessed there was no chance he would take his R&R somewhere else—across the country preferably.
She cursed as she drove the bumpy, gravel road. Her teeth clanked and clattered, which made the ache at her temples turn to throbbing. She couldn’t believe with all the brawny Walters brothers, not one could fix the dang sink holes. Apparently, they couldn’t build a fence either to keep their damned donkey in. Her anger grew to massive proportions.
By the time she pulled up in front of the two story, white farmhouse she was still steaming. Her knuckles ached from holding the steering wheel for dear life.
She was going to teach DJ a lesson, once and for all! Every chance he got, he pushed Pearl to her limits and she was sick of his pestering ways. If he wanted her furious, then he would get just that—or more.
Grabbing the shotgun from the window rack and not thinking of the danger of carrying heat, she darted from the truck and stomped up the flower-lined sidewalk. She had an urge to kick one of the peonies from the dirt, but she had an appreciation for the neat and pretty landscaping of the property.
“I usually find a woman who carries a gun sexy as hell, but you just ruined that fantasy for me. What do I owe this displeasure, Pearl?”
At the sound of the thick Texas twang, Pearl stopped dead in her tracks and shot her chin upward. She came gaze-to-gaze with Satan—DJ to most folks. Her belly knotted and her knees quivered, but the anger remained burning hot. Her throat constricted. She swallowed hard and didn’t remove her gaze from his. The rocking chair creaked as he pushed himself to standing and walked across the porch, his boots pounding the wood.
From the short distance, Pearl could feel the penetrating heat from his hazel eyes that once made her think of tumbles in haystacks and long, scorching kisses. She lost her marbles one hot summer night behind a Rhinestone barn and blabbered her adolescent crush to him. She’d never told anyone about that evening, not even her sisters. Pearl was the only one who knew what happened that night—and of course DJ.
Why was he staring at her like he wanted a repeat? Never!
Why the hell had she been crushing on him anyway? Then again, what adult woman doesn
’t feel a sense of regret over their first stupid crush, especially when the boy was an arrogant jerk?
She abhorred DJ.
Holding the cold metal of the shotgun in her hands, she removed her finger from the trigger and aimed it away from Satan who was now leaning casually against the porch rail, all six foot two, two hundred pounds of egotistical, self-righteous cowboy who sent her temperature rising—and not in a good way.
“Don’t act as if you have no clue why I’m here! Where is Pugly? I’m going to shoot that danged bastard once and for all!” Since shooting DJ wasn’t an option, she could shoot the donkey, or at least take away his ‘tools’ for impregnating her prized horse.
A proud smile spread over DJ’s tanned face making the brackets around his mouth deeper. “Why don’t you put that thing away before you shoot someone? I’ll get you a glass of water to cool you off.”
“Don’t bother!”
“A dip in the pond then?”
He was pushing her every button. “If you can’t keep your donkey in your own pasture then I’m going to take matters into my own hands,” she seethed.
“I’ve been thinking about this.” He hooked his thumb in his front pocket and shifted his work boots. “It seems all of the males here wander over onto Rhinestone to sample the greener grass. Foolish bastards we are.” His words dripped of latent meaning and she caught every implication like a slug into her stomach. She needed to keep her wits.
At times, she questioned whether she truly despised DJ, but the emotion that scorched her insides and made her dizzy told her it was a good possibility. He was a poison she couldn’t seem to medicate or extricate. After so many years she shouldn’t allow fury to consume her, but she had little control when it came to DJ. “Scrawny caught Pugly in the pen with Charmin, again. That makes the second time this month.”
A casual shrug of his shoulder sent an ache through her jaw. “I already heard. Scrawny was nice enough to bring my donkey home. He certainly has a thing for that horse of yours. And from what I hear, Charmin likes the attention.” He winked.
“How can you be so inconsiderate? Does it even occur to you that Charmin is a Thoroughbred, a perfect pairing of sire and dam? I have been preparing her since Thanksgiving to breed with a suitable stud, not with a donkey!”
“Ahh, but wouldn’t their mule be so precious?”
His sarcasm boiled her blood. “I’m beginning to believe you’re walking that ass over to the Rhinestone, opening the gate, and letting him in with Charmin.”
He scratched his jaw and the rasping of his five o’clock shadow made her ears throb—and another place further south she wasn’t about to examine closer. “Why do you hate us boys with a passion, Pearl? We’re your neighbors.”
“I don’t hate you boys.” She sighed.
“Really?”
“I only dislike you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. The same lips that had kissed her virgin lips when she was seventeen and had brought her more dreams over the years than she could count. She gave her head a shake. One freaking kiss! How was it possible she hadn’t forgotten his taste, his leather and soap scent, and the feel of his hands on her back pressing into her flesh?
She became even madder.
“Aren’t you ever going to get tired of busting my balls?” His velvety smooth voice that made women drool only made her want to vomit. Rumors were spinning that he had an entire following of waiting and willing booty call hopefuls. She wouldn’t be a fish he could hook as he’d done before.
“Probably not.” She smirked. “After all, it only seems you get some sick humor out of provoking me.”
“How have I provoked you?” He pushed away from the rail, tucking his hands into his back pockets. The large silver buckle on his belt twinkled in the sunlight.
“For one, you lied. Your dad told mine that I almost hit you with the truck. We both know that no such thing happened.”
His gaze narrowed and he knuckled the rim of his brown hat. “I guess we just have different ideas of vehicular assault.”
Her mouth dropped. “I didn’t hit you!”
“Yeah, because I jumped into the ditch.” His face turned red.
“I was twenty feet from you. If you hadn’t shot into the grass like a varmint, you would have seen that I was merely passing by. Then you went crying to your dad, telling him a cockamamie story.” She laughed and she quite enjoyed his infuriated expression. Securing the butt of the gun on the ground, she held the muzzle. She realized she wouldn’t be using it today.
“I hope you love that little darlin’ mule Charmin foals. I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”
His words crashed into her sanity. Although she hated to admit it, he got the upper hand because the fact was her Charmin was probably with foal—or rather mule. Not only had she bought Charmin because she was beautiful, but Pearl had researched the most beneficial bloodline to mate with her newest horse. All of the hard work could be for naught. “Charmin is worth ten times what that ugly donkey of yours is valued.”
“Hey, don’t offend my donkey.”
“You know he’s ugly. That’s why you called him Pugly. Now where is he?”
Although still irritated, she wouldn’t shoot the donkey. She hadn’t shot anything in her life. In fact, she wasn’t much of a good shot. Somehow she’d probably miss Pugly and shoot herself in the foot.
“He’s in his pen resting. He burrowed a hole through the fence during the night.” DJ’s calm voice had returned.
“And who might we thank for securing a good fence?” She popped up a brow.
“Me.”
“Figures,” she huffed.
“Maybe I should bring it to your attention that your dog, Oyster, is always over here fraternizing with my Callie.” He ascended the steps, pushing back his hat. “But I can handle an oversized dog and I wouldn’t need a shotgun.”
“Who’s Callie?” Her words were barely past her lips when she heard a loud whimper behind her. She turned and her breath caught. A pair of molten, brown eyes stared back at her. “That’s not a dog. That’s a miniature horse.” The Mastiffs tongue plopped out of her mouth and swung like a pendulum.
Pearl loved animals, always had. So when Callie lopped toward her then stopped a few feet away, ears perked as if silently asking for permission to approach, Pearl was more than happy to oblige. “Come here, girl.” Pearl held out her palm. The dog was beautiful.
“Be careful. That dog might appear sweet, but she’s big and powerful,” DJ warned.
“Do you think you’re the only one who can handle a dog?” She patted Callie on top of the head, rubbed her behind the ears, and received what looked like a canine smile. “See, Callie’s a big baby. Ain’t that right, girl?”
The telephone rang from inside the house.
“I need to get that,” DJ said.
“Go ahead. Callie and I will get to know each other better.”
The squeaking of the screen door made Callie’s ears pop forward. Her tail whirled and before Pearl knew what was happening, Callie jumped up, her huge paws pushing Pearl’s chest, sending her backward. Not expecting the sudden onslaught of weight and strength, she lost her footing. At the same time that she was pushed to the ground, hitting her bottom hard on the cement, her hand slipped off the gun.
Bang!
The gun fired.
“Shit!” DJ yelled.
Pearl struggled with Callie and finally managed to slide out from underneath the two-hundred pound pooch. Struggling to her feet, Pearl couldn’t believe her eyes.
This wouldn’t end well for her.
****
DJ stared up at the petite brunette from his hospital bed in the emergency room. The way she had her chin cocked and her fist planted on her slanted hip made his stomach twist. Or maybe it was the dose of pain meds that made him queasy, but he’d bet a month’s wages it had everything to do with the cowgirl who almost killed him, for the second time.
He practically growled a
s he shifted his legs on the stiff mattress. If it wasn’t demeaning enough that he had every nurse and doctor in the ER examining his backside, he had to wear the thin, feminine gown, which added to his annoyance. He’d asked one nurse if they had something manlier, maybe one without the flowered design, but she’d told him ‘one for all’. She did whisper to him that he could take it off if he’d be more comfortable. Her smile had stretched from one hoop earring to the other, followed by a fluttering of her long, mascaraed lashes. He might have found that offer appealing if he wasn’t in a hospital bed with his wounded ass stuck up in the air. This wasn’t a pose he ever wanted to be in.
But thanks to the lady who still eyed him as if she could shoot his other cheek, here he was.
“Pearl, I think you’ve gone and jumped off the deep end,” DJ growled.
“You know I didn’t mean to shoot you. It was an accident,” she huffed.
“This is why crazy women shouldn’t be allowed to have guns.” He shook his head.
“This is why crazy men shouldn’t own pets.” Her jaw softened some. “Anyway, I didn’t kill you. You’ll be like new in a few days.” Her smiled seemed like it’d crack her face.
An overwhelming feeling of wanting to toss her over his knee and spank her rushed through him. “You shot me in the ass, woman!”
“Clarification…the bullet skimmed your ass. Although it might hurt like hell, I can see it and it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? And stop looking.” Rolling his eyes, he swore his rising blood pressure would make the staff in the emergency department think he was having a heart attack. Then he’d be in the hospital for more than the shot in the butt. “I’m sorry that I’m not in the mood for finer details, sweetheart. A shot ass is a shot ass.” He could hear his brothers now joking about his predicament. He’d never live this down. Good thing they were away for a few more days at the cattle auction and rodeo in San Antonio.
Ropin' Trouble (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 2) Page 16
