by Jill Kemerer
Even a millionaire in disguise can’t hide his true heart.
He’s secretly worth millions of dollars...
But is he worthy of her trust?
Dylan Kingsley has learned to hide his millionaire status from strangers. So it’s no wonder Gabby Stover—his infant niece’s guardian—thinks he’s just another drifter. To prove his worthiness, Dylan takes a job as a ranch hand…and accidentally finds the purpose he’s been seeking his whole life. But could the truth steal Dylan’s chance at a happily-ever-after with Gabby and the baby?
“He’d be nothing without his daddy’s money.”
Gabby snorted and pushed the stroller to the trail once more. The words stabbed Dylan’s heart. She could have been talking about him.
“Has he bothered you?”
“His attitude bothers me. Other than that, he’s harmless.” Her footstep faltered, but she adjusted her balance.
He’d have to take her word for it. But it was obvious she wasn’t telling him the whole story. His spirits sank. Why would she confide in him?
He was merely the uncle she was being forced to deal with.
When they reached the end of the paved portion of the trail, they turned back. Gabby didn’t want to tell him about her personal life. He got it.
Loneliness smacked him square in the middle.
He finally had a life worth sharing but no one to share it with.
He was playing at being an uncle, playing at being a cowboy, playing at being part of a small town. Something told him he was going to walk away from Rendezvous disappointed if he played at being important to Gabby.
Jill Kemerer writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com, or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.
Books by Jill Kemerer
Love Inspired
Wyoming Sweethearts
Her Cowboy Till Christmas
The Cowboy’s Secret
Wyoming Cowboys
The Rancher’s Mistletoe Bride
Reunited with the Bull Rider
Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets
His Wyoming Baby Blessing
Small-Town Bachelor
Unexpected Family
Her Small-Town Romance
Yuletide Redemption
Hometown Hero’s Redemption
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
THE COWBOY’S SECRET
Jill Kemerer
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
—John 14:27
To Debbie Hanna and Ronda Gieskin for your friendship and laughter. Love you both!
Contents
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
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Hoping for a Father by Lois Richer
Chapter One
“You can’t trust a cowboy.” Gabby Stover typed instructions for housekeeping at the front desk of Mountain View Inn, the premier—and only—hotel in Rendezvous, Wyoming. Bright June sunshine streamed in through the large windows near the counter, but she kept her focus on the computer where it belonged. Her shift as the day manager would be over soon, and she still needed to check tomorrow’s reservations and review her daily checklist.
“I’d give the cowboy outside a shot.” Stella Boone, the new reception clerk, pretended to brush off her shoulder. “That hottie is definitely not from around here.”
Gabby scrolled through the reservations, not bothering to glance out the window to catch a glimpse of the guy. She did not have time to indulge in Stella’s uncanny radar for spotting attractive men. There was enough to deal with at the moment, especially since Babs O’Rourke, the inn’s owner and Gabby’s friend, had thrown down a bombshell this morning.
Was Babs really selling the place?
Gabby took a deep breath to relieve the sudden tightness in her chest. If the inn transferred to new owners, she’d more than likely no longer have a job. And she loved her job. She’d been working at the inn since she was nineteen years old. She was good at managing it—enjoyed meeting new people and sharing her enthusiasm about Rendezvous with them. It gave her pleasure to make sure they were comfortable. Plus it paid better than most jobs around here.
With the baby to think about, she needed every penny. Her niece, Phoebe, deserved a stable home and wonderful childhood—the opposite of what she and her sister, Allison, had endured.
“Do you think he’s staying here?” Stella asked. “Maybe I can be his personal tour guide.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Gabby forced herself to speak in a pleasant tone. “Take it from me, cowboys are liars.”
“That’s a rotten thing to say, considering you’re such good friends with Mason Fanning.” Stella pulled a compact out of her purse and checked her appearance in the small mirror.
“First of all, this isn’t the place to check your makeup. It’s unprofessional.” She tried to inject as much sternness as possible into her glare. “Second, Mason is a rancher, not a cowboy. There’s a big difference.”
“Sure. Big difference. Whatever you say.” Stella fluffed her hair. “Does this mean Judd Wilson made it on your hot list, or is he more cowboy than rancher?”
Hot list? Gabby’s eye began twitching uncontrollably. She’d hired Stella as a favor to the girl’s sister, Nicole, who’d recently joined her support group and was due this summer with triplets. But Gabby’s goodwill was quickly running out. As for Judd Wilson...the successful rancher was a looker, no denying it, but she had no romantic feelings for the man.
A shame. Judd was a good guy. But she was always attracted to the bad boys—the charmers in Stetsons with a twinkle in their eyes and snake oil on their tongues. Thankfully, she’d come a long way since the Carl debacle, and she had no intention of making a mistake of that magnitude again.
“Steer clear of cowboys, okay, Stella? It’s for your own good.”
“You sound as uptight as my sister. Ooh, he’s coming in!” She tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and flashed her biggest smile.
Gabby had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Only then did she catch a glimpse of the man.
Oh my. Hottie didn’t do him justice.
Her heartbeat thumped as her living, breathing cowboy fantasy-nightmare strode her way. He took off his hat, revealing short, messy black hair. She tried not to stare at his full lips, dark eyebrows and brown eyes. His shoulders were wide, hips slim, legs long. He wore jeans, cowboy boots and a black T-shirt. Flawless. Her knees trembled. She firmed her muscles.
This one was going to be trouble.
He stopped at the counter and exhaled as if something heavy was on his mind.
“May I help you?” Stella batted her eyelashes.
“I’m looking for Gabrielle Stover.” Even
his voice was perfection. Low with a slight rasp—a shiver rushed over her skin.
“You’re looking at her.” Gabby pasted on her most professional smile. “What can I help you with today?”
He frowned, pulling out a piece of paper from his back pocket. She forced herself to look away from his sinewy fingers to check the clock. In another hour she’d pick up Phoebe from Eden’s place and kick off her Friday night with a pizza. Maybe this would be the weekend she’d coax her niece to crawl. At nine months old, Phoebe was scooting and pulling herself up to a standing position with help from the furniture, but she’d yet to crawl. If only Allison could see her daughter... Sudden emotion clogged Gabby’s throat. Her little sister would have been a great mommy if she’d lived.
The cowboy handed her the paper he’d smoothed out. She began to read. Her stomach dropped, leaving her nauseous, reeling.
Oh, please, no. No...
The man standing before her was Phoebe’s father!
“Stella, keep an eye on the front desk.” Gabby rounded the counter and curtly motioned for the man to follow her. She led him down the hall to her private office and offered him a seat before practically collapsing into her own chair.
“You’re here for the baby.” Saying the words out loud ripped something from her soul. He was here to claim Phoebe. He was going to take her niece—Gabby’s whole world, the baby she’d been raising as her own ever since Allison’s heart attack.
“Are you okay?” He tilted his head, those brown eyes darkening with concern. “You look...ill.”
Ill? Of course she was ill! This was what she’d feared from the day Allison first tried to contact him. Her sister’s poor judgment had led to a one-night stand during a trip to Texas. Allison had tracked down the guy, Sam Pine, and had written several emails to let him know she was pregnant and keeping the baby. He’d never responded, nor did he seem to be on any social media sites. After Allison died, Gabby had tried to contact him, too. As a last resort, she’d mailed a letter to the only address she could find linked to his name, although she’d doubted it was current. That had been six months ago.
Unfortunately, a father had rights, and there was nothing she could do about it. He was the dad. She was merely the aunt.
“I’m...fine.” She tried to compose herself. “So, Sam, I—”
“Sam?” It was his turn to look green. “I’m not Sam. Sam died. I thought you knew.”
Sam died? Relief swept in. This guy wasn’t the father! He wasn’t taking Phoebe away!
Shame brought her back to the situation at hand. She couldn’t celebrate the sad fact Phoebe’s father was dead. The baby truly was an orphan. How horrible.
“No, I had no idea.” She shook her head. “He never responded to any of Allison’s emails or mine, after—” she licked her lips and pressed them together, willing her emotions back in place “—after Allison died.”
“I’m sorry about your loss.” He averted his eyes, then glanced up at her once more. “What happened?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words jammed in her throat. Come on. Tell him the facts. Don’t get emotional. You’ve gotten good at it.
“Twelve hours after giving birth to Phoebe, Allison was asleep in her hospital room and had a heart attack.”
His exhalation came out in a whoosh. “A heart attack?” He rubbed his cheek. “In the hospital? And she died? How could that have happened?”
The same questions she’d asked herself countless times since getting the call from the hospital telling her that her sister was gone. A fresh gush of pain spilled down to her gut.
“The doctor told me her death was caused by a spontaneous coronary artery dissection.” Her tone was brisk and no-nonsense, nothing like her current emotional state.
“What does that mean?” He looked genuinely distressed, and her outward calm faltered a bit at the sympathy in his expression.
“A tear formed in her heart. The flow of blood was blocked. They told me she passed quickly.”
“And she had no prior heart problems?”
Gabby shook her head.
“So you’re raising the baby.”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, daring him to question her authority where Phoebe was concerned. Then it hit her—if this guy wasn’t Sam... “Exactly who are you?”
* * *
“Dylan Kingsley. Sam’s stepbrother.” He extended his hand. She reluctantly shook it, and he could read every question running through her beautiful slate-gray eyes. Why was he here and how would his showing up affect her life? He’d prepared answers for both questions before arriving.
He wasn’t going to lie to her—not exactly. He simply couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Not until he was reasonably sure she was raising his niece with love and stability. Two things he’d been deprived of as a child.
Gabrielle Stover sure wasn’t what he’d expected—but then, he hadn’t known what to expect. The internet search he’d done on her hadn’t given him much to go on besides age—twenty-seven, four years younger than him. She had no social media profiles. Neither did he. First impressions? She was professional and not happy to see him. But why would she be? She didn’t know him.
“You’re Phoebe’s uncle.” She leaned back in her chair, eyeing him with suspicion. Her chestnut brown hair rippled over her shoulders in soft waves. The white blouse and crisp black pants she wore hugged a curvy but trim figure, and gave her the authority of someone in charge.
“Yes.” The instant he’d seen her in the hotel lobby, he’d been drawn to her. The blonde next to her with come-hither eyes had been safe, but Gabrielle? Not safe at all. She was his type, which meant she was all wrong for him. A beautiful, confident girl like her would want someone dependable, a man she could rely on. No one had depended on him in a long time. Not even his own father. Dad wouldn’t have sold his company, King Energy, without a word to him if he had. Worst of all, though, Dylan had failed the one person who once upon a time had relied on him—Sam.
“Why are you here?” Gabrielle pierced him with a laser-like stare. He tried not to squirm.
“I want to meet my niece.” Dylan planned on more than meeting the child. He intended to set up a trust fund for Phoebe and monthly child support, too. He could afford it. It was the least he could do for Sam’s little girl. But he wasn’t doing either until he knew for sure Gabrielle was raising the baby with love. And that meant keeping the fact he was a multimillionaire a secret.
What advice would his late father give in this situation? Dad would probably tell him not to screw it up.
Money had only bought him and his father trouble when it came to women.
At least Gabrielle would have to dig deep to find out Dylan was rich. He’d always gone by his middle name, and his father had been private to the point of almost being reclusive. The man never mentioned his son in the rare interviews he’d given. The first fifteen pages of results for Dylan Kingsley in any search engine displayed articles by an astrophysicist with the same name.
“Why now?” Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes. “She’s nine months old. Allison and I repeatedly tried to contact him until six months ago. Why are you showing up here after all this time?”
“I didn’t know about the baby until last week.” It was the truth. But at the skeptical gleam in her eyes, he continued. “Sam died over a year ago. My father had a stroke and passed not long after. I hit the road. When I came back to Texas last week, it was the first I knew of the baby. Your letter had been sent to my address. Sam lived with me briefly before moving to Austin.”
“I’m sorry about your family.” She had the grace to appear contrite. “How did Sam die?”
He flexed his jaw. Thinking about his brother always ripped him up inside. Almost nine years younger than Dylan, Sam had come into his life as a happy five-year-old when Dylan’s mother married husband number three. Despite the
age gap, Dylan and Sam had been close. And he’d let his little brother down. “Does it matter?”
Her eyes widened, lips parted to ask a question. He braced himself. But she didn’t speak.
“He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.” Dylan couldn’t bring himself to tell a stranger that Sam had died of a drug overdose. He wouldn’t let her think the worst about his brother. He still couldn’t believe his brother had been messing around with heroin. Worse, Dylan had been wallowing in his own problems and hadn’t taken Sam’s call the week he’d died. Could he have stopped him from overdosing?
He’d always regret it.
“It matters to me.” She leaned forward with her hands clasped on the desk. “I need to know Phoebe’s health history. If he had cancer or diabetes or heart problems...”
Fair enough. She had a point.
“It was an overdose—an accidental overdose.”
“Oh.”
Right about now would be when he’d expect her to ask about Sam’s estate—find out if Phoebe had inherited anything. His own mother would have dollar signs in her eyes in this situation. She’d used him to squeeze money out of his father countless times. And then there was Dylan’s ex-girlfriend. Robin not only dumped him when his dad sold King Energy, but she’d also had the nerve to try to get back together after finding out he’d inherited Dad’s fortune.
His niece would never be used as a pawn for money if he had anything to say about it.
“Were you close to him?” Gabrielle’s tone softened, and sympathy brightened her face.
“Yes, I was.” He hadn’t expected sympathy.
“I was close to Allison, too.” Her words broke at the end. “I miss her.”
The naked emotion touched him. He missed Sam, too. To distract himself, he studied her office. Paneled walls, jewel-toned carpet, an oak desk and two typical conference room chairs. A file cabinet stood to the side, and a potted tree was in the corner. The walls had two framed paintings of mountain scenes. No personal photos he could see.
