Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Gail MacMillan
Cowboy Confessions
Copyright
Dedication
Other Books by Gail MacMillan
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Discover the romance between Shelby and Jake in Counterfeit Cowboy and learn more about Officer Frasier MacKenzie, Emma, and their amazing Pug in Holding off for a Hero, also by Gail MacMillan and available from The Wild Rose Press.
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“What?” Astounded by the offer, Jessi stared up at him.
“Dance. With you to support me, I think I might be able to handle this old tune.”
“Ross, what are you up to?” She narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him.
“Nothing, nothing. The desire to try just came to me. But if you don’t want to…”
“No, no, of course not.” She stood. Can’t discourage any bit of initiative he’s willing to try.
He laid his cane up against the veranda railing and took her into his arms. For a moment, he hesitated, looking up at her through the soft black veil of summer night shadows. A butterfly feeling fluttered inside her.
“It’s been a long time.” he muttered, and Jessi didn’t know if he meant since he’d danced or since he’d held a woman in his arms.
“All the more reason to get back in the game.” She struggled to sound casual.
“Okay, let’s give this a go.”
As he drew her against his body and his hand found the small of her back, she caught the scent of his after shave and was struck by a myriad of sensations so powerful they knocked her physically and emotionally off balance. When he started to move slowly, cautiously in time to the music, she stumbled.
“Sorry,” he said softly, his lips close to her ear. “I warned you.”
“My fault,” she managed, but the words sounded falsetto and shaky. She tried for a recovery. “You’re doing just fine.”
“Am I?” He drew her out from him enough to look down into her face. “Am I, Jessi Wallace?”
Praise for Gail MacMillan
Heather, of HEATHER FOR A HIGHLANDER, was chosen as Best Heroine by the Trans Canada Romance Writers Maple Leaf Awards. Dr. William MacTavish placed as second favorite hero. The book’s ending also received Honorable Mention.
“I love, love, loved this book [HEATHER FOR A HIGHLANDER]! It…begins in England with a murder, and ends with a fiery romance in British North America. And it’s all because of a horse bet between brothers. I mean, isn’t that how all good stories begin?”
~Romance Novels for the Beach
“Read in one sitting, which hardly ever happens for me. Truly engaging. I would definitely pick up another book by this author.”
~a judge at TransCRW competition
“Be prepared to be hooked on the first word of the first page and go on to the next with anticipation.”
~Rebecca Melvin, Publisher, Double Edge Press
“Gail MacMillan's stories delight the senses and brighten the dark days of winter like a candle glowing on a windowsill.”
~Sue Owens Wright, author, newspaper columnist
“I love this little adventure [HOLDING OFF FOR A HERO]!…surprises…one light, wonderful read.”
~The Romance Reviews (4 Stars)
“Not sure who I like better, [the] German Shepherd, the Pug, or the sexy next door neighbor.”
~Matilda, Coffee Time Romance & More (5 Cups)
“Not your typical romance story [SHADOWS OF LOVE], but I couldn’t put it down.”
~Michelle, Cocktails and Books (4 Cups)
Cowboy Confessions
by
Gail MacMillan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cowboy Confessions
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Gail MacMillan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Yellow Rose Edition, 2016
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0939-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0940-8
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my equine advisers Joan, Jessi, and Shirley,
who do their best to keep me “horse wise”
~*~
Other Books by Gail MacMillan
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Non-Fiction:
How My Heart Finds Christmas
To All the Dogs I’ve Loved Before
Historical Romance:
Privateer’s Princess
Highland Harry
Heather for a Highlander
Shadows of Love
Caledonian Privateer
Lady and the Beast
Contemporary Romance:
Phantom and the Fugitive
Cowboy and the Crusader
Counterfeit Cowboy
Rogue’s Revenge
Holding Off for a Hero
Ghost of Winters Past
Chapter One
“Now the final event of the day, the big ticket item of rodeo, bull riding. And here’s the man you’ve all been waiting to see, World Champion Bull Rider two years in a row, the rock star of rodeo, Ross Turner!”
As the announcer’s voice blared out across the rain-soaked arena, Jessi Wallace stood behind the high rails of the fence on the far side, her fingers tightening on the top bar. Bull riding had to be the most dangerous sport in rodeoing. No matter how often she witnessed it, she caught herself holding her breath each time a cowboy burst out in front of a crowd on one of those huge bucking, twisting animals.
Today, as she squinted through the June mizzle, she was more tense than usual. Ross Turner was the son of Bob and Laura Turner, good friends of her parents. The Turner ranch was only fifty miles from her parents’ place. She’d known Ross for years, even competing against him a few times in local gymkhanas before he’d joined the rodeo circuit and turned pro. Over the past decade they’d drifted apart, jobs and differing interests the major reasons, but now concern for him rushed over her. With rain turning the arena slick with mud, he’d be facing a treacherous added challenge.
Please, please let him be okay.
Bull and man burst out into the arena. Jessi’s breath hiccupped. The animal bucked and whirled in an attempt to dislodge the man hanging on to his back by the strength of a single hand and arm. So far a good ride. It looked like Ross would make it to the horn and be once
again on his way to another World Championship.
Then it happened. The Brahma lost its footing, skidded, and upset. It landed on its back. Ross Turner was pinned under a ton of bovine flesh.
Oh, dear God!
Bull fighters raced to distract the animal as it struggled to its hooves, dragging with it the man, his hand tangled in the rope he’d used to stay aboard.
Jessi closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch.
When she looked again, the Brahma was being herded into the alley that led back to the paddocks while paramedics rushed to the man lying immobile in the mud and rain. The palomino mare beside her nudged her shoulder, and she drew the animal’s head against her for comfort.
Thank God Mom and Dad aren’t in the audience.
Knowing how her parents felt about the Turner family, it would have been almost as if their own child had been crushed under that massive animal.
Ross. I have to find out how he is. The first aid station—that’s where they’ll take him.
Leading the mare with strides so long and swift the animal had to break into a trot to keep pace, she headed for the trailer that served as a medical center on the rodeo grounds.
“Come on, Maisy,” she urged the shy, apprehensive horse. “This is no time to act up.”
“Hey, Horse Whisperer!” Ginny Morgan’s sarcastic shout stopped her. She turned to look at the young woman in designer jeans, leather jacket, and black Stetson striding toward her on hand-tooled boots. In her right hand she held a quirt. “What’s the story on my mare? Did you get the kinks out of her? Will she be ready to race tomorrow?”
“Ginny, I don’t have time to talk to you now. A friend has been injured.”
“So what?” the woman blocked her path. “You’re not a paramedic. You can’t help. Now tell me, what’s the story on my horse?”
God, I don’t need this now, but I’ll have to deal with it. Otherwise I’ll never get to find out about Ross.
“Maisy isn’t cut out to be a barrel-racing horse.” Jessi faced the scowl distorting the other woman’s otherwise beautiful face. “My two weeks of working with her has only proven the fact. She hasn’t the speed or agility. In fact, it will take a lot more work to give her the confidence she’ll need to be a show horse of any kind.”
“Are you telling me you drove all the way down here to return her to me no better than she was?” Anger snapped in the words as rain dripped off the brim of her hat. “When you asked me to meet you, I assumed I was going to discover stellar results. You’re touted as the best in the business.” She grabbed the reins from Jessi. “Let me have a go at this lazy little witch. Maybe a few good swift cracks will make her move.” She raised the quirt she carried.
The mare jerked back and half-reared, eyes showing white. Passersby jumped away from the cavorting animal.
“That won’t work!” Jessi tried to recover the reins. “It will only make her more apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive! Damn it, if that’s the case, she’s only good for dog food. I’ll sell her off tomorrow.”
“I’ll buy her!” The words were out of Jessi’s mouth before she gave them thought.
“Buy her? For what? You’ve already said she’s no good for barrel racing.” Ginny Morgan scowled at the mare pulling away from her. “And I’ll be damned if I can see her making much of a cutting horse or cow pony.”
“She’ll make a lovely riding animal. She’s got a perfect lope and is so gentle a child could handle her.”
“So…a pet?” Ginny’s scowl turned to a sneer. “Hell’s bells, Jessi, I’m not in the business of keeping pets.”
“How much?” Jessi faced her squarely even as the rashness of buying another horse filtered into reality. Her father had been complaining she was making them horse poor.
“Oh, take the damn thing! I don’t know who besides a softhearted fool like you would want her.”
She threw the reins at Jessi and strode off into the crowd.
What a witch! Too much money and too little heart. Now to find out about Ross.
Caught in the crowd intent on leaving the rodeo ground with the day’s events ending, Jessi realized it would take her a long time to get to the first-aid trailer leading a nervous horse. Turning, she headed back to the stables. She’d leave Maisy in the barn while she went to inquire about Ross.
Once she’d settled the mare in her stall, she headed off at a jog through the thinning crowd, toward the medical facility. An ambulance, lights flashing, siren setting up a scream, was pulling away as she arrived.
“Ross Turner?” She pointed at the vehicle maneuvering out of the rodeo grounds.
“Yes.” A young paramedic watching beside her nodded.
“How is he?”
“Sorry. We’re not allowed to give out information to anyone other than family members. Not his sister, are you?”
“No, but his family and mine—”
“That doesn’t qualify you to receive patient information. Sorry.” He turned and walked back inside the facility.
Damn! I have to find out how Ross is. Mom and Dad will want to know… Of course—Clint!
Her fiancé, saddle bronc rider Clint Harrison, would have information on how badly Ross had been injured. They’d been competitors together at any number of rodeos over the years. When one of the riders was injured, news traveled fast among them. She headed off to find him.
Clint didn’t know she was at the rodeo. Planning to surprise him with her unexpected arrival that evening, she’d learned the location of his trailer. She shoved that plan aside in favor of moving the surprise up a few hours. Finding out about Ross took precedence.
Arriving at Clint’s big silver trailer parked near the back of the rodeo grounds, she didn’t stop to knock. They’d been engaged for over a month, after all. No need for formalities. She pulled the door open…and froze.
Locked in a passionate embrace were the man she was planning to marry and Ginny Morgan. Clint was bare-chested. Ginny wore only a lacy black bra above hipster jeans. They pulled apart as the door opened.
“Good God, Jess, have you never learned to knock?” Ginny threw the words at her.
“Honey, it’s not what it looks like…” Clint backed away from the woman and threw up his hands.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Clint, she’s not that stupid.” Ginny grabbed up her shirt and thrust her arms into the sleeves. “It’s about time she woke up and smelled the roses. You rodeo cowboys are all about as faithful as tomcats. She’s been around the circuit long enough to know the score.”
Ginny’s words snapped Jessi back to mobility. She whirled and bolted out of the trailer. Blinded by anger and pain, she ran, stumbling, toward the barn. She had to get home…fast.
Damn him, damn him, damn him!
Her heart banging at her ribs, she burst into Maisy’s stall, causing the little mare to lurch away from her.
“Stop it, just stop it, Maisy!” Pain and anger sapping her usual patience, she snapped a lead onto the mare’s halter. With long strides fueled by outrage, the skittish mare prancing behind her, she headed for her horse trailer.
Two-timing bastard! I hope the next bronc he rides tosses him so far he’ll be in the land of stars and stripes when he touches down!
“Hey, babe.” The two-timing bastard himself came running after her. His wet shirt hung open over a broad, well-muscled chest. When he caught up to her, he tried to take her into his arms, but she shoved him back.
“Get away from me, Clint.” Anger, hard and brutal, choked up in the back of her throat and made it difficult for her to speak. Her hands clenched into fists. “Don’t ever touch me again!”
“Okay, okay.” He threw up his hands, causing the mare to shy and dance.
Shoving him aside, she led Maisy into the trailer, tied her, and fastened the butt chain. When she emerged, he was waiting.
“Jess, honey.” He plastered his most irresistible grin across his handsome, weathered face. “Come on, baby. This isn’t worth fi
ghtin’ over.”
“Get out of my way!” Her words barked out as he tried to block her. “Go find Ginny!”
“Listen, honey…” He strode beside her as she walked to the truck’s cab. “What you saw back there didn’t mean anything. You know Ginny. Always up for a bit of fun.”
“Fun, is that what you call it?” She clamped her hand on the truck’s door handle. “Fun for a man engaged to be married this fall? Come on, Clint! I’m not a complete idiot!”
“Of course you aren’t, babe.” His hand covered hers, stopping it from opening the door. “I love you. You know that. Ginny caught me fresh out of the shower, that’s all.”
“Oh, and that’s why your arms were around her, and why she had her shirt off? Why your hair was bone dry?” She glared at him through the rain.
“What can I say? She’s one brazen hussy.” The roguish grin widened.
“And you’re one two-timing bastard!” She wrenched free and pulled open the driver’s door. “Get away from me, Clint, before I’m tempted to run you over.”
“Okay, okay.” Again he held up his hands. This time he backed off. “But you haven’t seen the last of me, baby, not by a long shot. As soon as I’m finished on the circuit, I’ll be back courtin’ you hot and heavy.”
“Don’t bother!” She slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and revved the motor.
As she swung out of the parking lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror and saw him standing with his hands on his hips, drenched in the downpour, watching her drive away.
Idiot! If he thinks he’ll find me waiting in September, he has one big surprise in store.
With a knife-sharp pain stabbing body and soul, Jessi nevertheless knew she had to find out all she could about Ross Turner before she headed home. Her mother and father would want to know. Furthermore, she liked Ross…what she could remember of him.
But, oh, God, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and forget what I saw. I swear I’ll never leave myself open to this kind of hurt ever again.
At the entrance to the rodeo grounds, she stopped for the gate to be opened by Bossy, the elderly man who’d been on duty there for all equine events for as long as she could remember.
Cowboy Confessions Page 1
