by Jillian Neal
Coincidental Cowgirl
By Jillian Neal
Published By Realm Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2015 Jillian Neal
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincident
Other works by Jillian Neal
The Gifted Realm Series
Within The Realm
Lessons Learned
Every Action
Rock Bottom
An Angel All His Own
All But Lost
The Quelling Tide
Gypsy Beach Series
Gypsy Beach
Gypsy Love
Gypsy Heat
Gypsy Hope
Dear Friends,
Welcome to Pleasant Glen, Nebraska, home of Camden Ranch and all of the captivating characters that reside there. This book is a continuation of Brock and Hope’s story from Gypsy Hope (Book #4 in the Gypsy Beach Series), but don’t worry, you don’t have to have read Gypsy Hope to enjoy Coincidental Cowgirl. You can head back to Gypsy Beach for the beginning of their story later, if you’d like.
Brock and Hope are now married and have recently moved to Camden Ranch so Brock can take over his portion of his family’s lands. In this book, as in all of my books, I hope to affirm the most important things in life: love, family, community, forgiveness, and impassioned sexual experiences that bring about growth in a relationship. Brock and Hope quickly discover that the first few years of marriage can be tricky. It’s a steep learning curve, to be certain. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading the next part of their journey.
Before I began this introduction to the Camden Ranch series, I spent many long hours chatting with a dear childhood friend of mine. It was so much fun to reconnect. This was one of my dearest friends all through school, and we don’t get to talk nearly as often as we would like. She’s solely responsible for my love of the romance genre, too. One day, many, many years ago, we were standing at her locker and she handed me a deliciously thick book with a picture on the cover that immediately had my attention. There was a lovely blonde woman dressed in a beautiful gown caught up in the arms of a dashingly handsome pirate. “Don’t break the spine or my mom will know we read it,” she whispered to me as she placed the prized possession in my adolescent hands. I loved to read. I read endlessly, but nothing had ever enthralled me quite like that novel. I probably read the book cover to cover four times that week alone. The title of the book, “The Magic,” perfectly described how I felt about the story. I’ve been hooked on romance and love ever since.
Although my friend and I have laughed over that moment many times in the last 20+ years, that wasn’t why I contacted her. She lived in Nebraska for many, many years in her adult life, and if I was going to set a series there, I wanted to know everything from just what exactly a Runza tastes like to how much snow they really get on any given day. I wanted every detail she could provide on life in Nebraskan ranch lands, even the seemingly insignificant. She talked and I took meticulous notes on every single thing she shared. I also dedicated Coincidental Cowgirl to her. I don’t think I could have captured Nebraska on the pages of this book without her.
As the cover indicates, this book is but an introduction to this series. Several of the Camden cousins will have their own stories in 2016. I’m so thrilled to add Pleasant Glen to my repertoire of fictional locales. I live in a tiny town and though I occasionally lament the fact that the grocery store bagger knows entirely too much about my regular purchases, I do love small towns. I’ve tried to capture the sweet insanity that can come from living where everyone knows everything about everyone else.
As for the cattle, I have a little experience with that, as well. At the ripe old age of 10, I helped a mama cow birth her calf. A few years ago, I won a ribbon for milking a cow while accompanying my eldest son’s class on a field trip to a dairy farm. No six-year-old can out milk me, I tell you. I’ve done a little horse back riding and still have the slight scar on my chest where a horse decided to take a nibble of me. Although I didn’t know it at the time, all of my childhood experiences on my grandfather’s farm would come to fruition in my writing some twenty years later. You never really know where life will take you. All we can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.
I do hope you love reading Coincidental Cowgirl as much as I enjoyed writing it. I cried several times. I laughed even more. I always try to capture the essence of real life in my novels. Life comes with a wide range of emotions, and if I did my job, you’ll find them all tucked safely between the covers of this book.
Happy Reading!
Love,
To Kelli - my lifelong friend.
Explainer of all pre-teen things,
introducer of Aqua-Net,
giver of my first romance novel,
and (many years later)
my unofficial informant
on all things Nebraska.
“Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, and sometimes in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself. “
-Author Unknown
Table Of 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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter One
Lonely and exhausted were two things Hope Camden was beginning to associate with winter in Nebraska. She stared at the dent, the approximate shape of her sexy husband Brock’s head, on the pillow beside her. Tucking herself deeper under the sheets and electric blanket and squeezing her eyes shut tighter didn’t help. Brock was causing the racket that had awoken her, trenching out their little prairie-ranch cottage with the tractor-driven snowplow. She fought not to groan. Bellowing cows and the grind of tractors had become her early morning alarm clock ever since they’d moved to his family’s cattle ranch six weeks before. If only they had a snooze button.
Overtaken by another deep yawn, she shifted and felt the tender, rubbed sensation between her legs from the way Brock had taken her so thoroughly the night before. The reminder brought a slight grin to her features. Yeah, four months of marriage hadn’t dampened their sexual appetite at all. Hope just wished he was there for more than late night sex sessions before he fell into an exhaustive sleep.
She’d gotten spoiled the first few months of their marriage. They’d lived in her rental house on Gypsy Beach, the town that had raised her. Memories of the warm shorelines had taken to taunting her as of late. Their extended honeymoon had not only afforded Brock the opportunity to heal from a nasty fall he’d taken off of a roof. It had allowed them to bask in one another constantly. She missed waking up in his arms, talking to him all day long about what their life might be, recalling memories from her childhood she’d lost along with her paren
ts when she was only ten, and listening to him tell her all about life on his family’s ranch. Somehow, his cowboy stories sounded far more glamorous than anything she’d yet experienced in Pleasant Glen. All of their talking would eventually led them to her bed. She’d been relatively inexperienced right up until she’d asked Brock to show her everything she’d been missing out on. In her twenty-six years of life, she’d never felt anything as astounding as being taken fully by her husband. The way he dominated her every sense and filled her with his unending love was perfect. Now they skipped the talking, the reminiscing, the dreaming, and just made time for the sex.
Sighing, she sat up in bed. The sun was barely up, not that the sunlight changed much hour to hour when the entire world was swallowed up in feet of snow. As soon as Brock made the path out of their home navigable, he’d head to the ponds all over Camden Ranch to bust through the ice so the horses and cattle would have water. Then he’d be off to run the feed trucks.
He’d announced the evening before that he was going to a bull sale that afternoon with his Uncle Ev and his cousins, Grant and Austin. He’d promised to be back in time for a late supper. Not that his promise necessarily meant anything. The night before, two sick calves had kept him in the barn until midnight. The evening before that, yet another flat tire on his truck had to be repaired, and then there was another round of feeding to help the cattle survive the harsh weather. Brock would never intentionally lie to her. Ranch life had just been rough as of late.
With Brock and his family working hard to keep the cattle alive through the winter, who was she to complain about rarely seeing her husband? The thing was she missed him constantly. He’d been her best friend for years. Now, she had no one to talk to. The lonliness was getting to her.
She just wasn’t herself lately. She wasn’t sure she’d been herself since they’d moved to Pleasant Glen. Drawing a deep breath, she ordered herself not to ask him to spend more time with her. She was perfectly capable of figuring out life on this ranch and coming up with a way for them to be together more.
His uncle had brought up the idea of Brock hiring hands to help with his portion of the ranch again at dinner the evening before. Brock didn’t want to take money from the family accounts until he felt like he’d added to them. Paying hands was out of the question in his mind.
At one time, Hope had admired her husband’s work ethic and his stubborn resolve never to let anything beat him. He’d been through so much the last few months, including learning to read. As soon as they’d set foot on Camden Ranch, he’d thrown himself into the work full-force. He was determined to make the ranch more profitable than it had ever been in the past. He wanted to prove his worth. Hope certainly understood that after all he’d been through. They could survive one winter with him doing most of the work, couldn’t they?
Standing beside the bed, she moved towards the windows to see if perhaps she could spot her husband on the tractor nearby. She scanned the expansive, snow-covered fields. He was nowhere to be found, and the freezing cold air sneaking past the window frame made her shiver.
Returning to the bed, she begrudgingly folded the sheets, blankets, and quilts back in order. Did other cowboy’s wives always get up and make the bed? She wasn’t sure, but something told her they did, and then they had a yummy dinner waiting on their ranchers when all of the work was done. That’s what Brock’s Aunt Jessie always seemed to do. In fact, Brock and Hope ate dinner up at his aunt and uncle’s farmhouse most every night. All of Brock’s cousins ate up there as well. That was just the way things worked.
Considering, Hope wondered if she could make dinner for her and Brock that night, just the two of them. That would be nice. They could talk and reconnect. She didn’t want to hurt Aunt Jessie’s feelings, but Hope really missed cooking. They were newlyweds — surely no one would be upset if they wanted to spend a night alone together.
While she got ready for work, she debated what to cook. Staring down at her thighs as she pulled off the jogging pants she’d slept in, she sighed, “Maybe not beef.” Afraid to check the ancient bathroom scale left in the cottage by a previous owner, she went ahead and estimated that she’d gained a good twenty pounds since she’d gotten married. In Gypsy Beach, she’d settled into married life and had been able to eat more since she and Brock combined their incomes. That was where the first ten pounds had come from, but the second half had been packed on in the last few weeks alone.
It seemed beef was the only thing anyone in Nebraska ever ate. It was all delicious, but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a salad. Beef stroganoff, beef tips, hamburgers, brisket, stew, steak; the meals all centered around red meat, and the extra helpings were definitely making themselves known. Well, you’re living on a cattle ranch, so that seems fairly logical. Even the license plates on the trucks say, ‘The Beef State.’ She jiggled her thighs with her hands to add to the effect.
Not that Brock would ever complain about her added weight. Oddly, he seemed very pleased with it. When they were alone, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her rapidly thickening curves. She loved that, but all of her jeans were getting uncomfortably tight, and it was entirely too cold to wear anything loose fitting to work.
Raising her head, she stared into the dresser mirror and lectured herself sternly. “You’re being a baby. Buck up. You’re the one who insisted the two of you move up here, so make the best of it.” She’d repeated that same speech to herself several times as of late. It was true. When they’d visited the ranch back in September, she’d been certain Pleasant Glen would make the perfect home for the two of them. Her Gypsy side had told her so. Of course, back then their home wasn’t buried in multiple feet of snow and constantly freezing, and her Gypsy side seemed to be on hiatus as of late. She couldn’t settle in. Her heritage was much easier to access in a beach town full of Gypsies. Here, she was going to have to work harder to locate herself, it seemed.
Shaking her head, she clenched her jaw in determination. She would not complain about the ranch to Brock. This was his family’s land. He loved being there. Things would get better. He wouldn’t always work endless hours. If nothing else, spring had to arrive eventually, didn’t it? She’d be fine. She just had to get the hang of this cattle business. That was all.
Digging deep, she considered. A meal at home that didn’t involve beef and spending hours cuddling and reconnecting would go a long way. She could do that. It wasn’t Brock’s job to fix her problems. She wanted to be able to save herself. Rancher’s wives were a very capable lot.
Somewhat bolstered by her evening plans, she traipsed past stacks of boxes in the hallway they still hadn’t unpacked. She’d been training to take over the library, and if it didn’t involve a cow, Brock really didn’t have time to deal with it. They’d get to that later, she supposed. Stepping around a large box in the kitchen, she grinned at the full pot of coffee he’d managed to perk for her before he left. As of late, the coffee produced from the ancient maker would leak out the bottom, leaving the carafe full of nothing but watery grounds. Brock had tried to work on it the afternoon before. It must have been a success. A full pot of coffee was even better than a love note, right?
You’re married to the best guy on the planet, she reminded herself as she made a large mug of coffee and decided to scramble some eggs on the one burner on the stove that worked reliably. She melted a heap of butter in the old iron skillet and continued her regular morning pacifications. A new coffee maker could be purchased after the spring cattle sale, and maybe also a new stove. They could fix up the house when they’d made more money than she was bringing in from working at the library.
Their cottage house was lovely in the warmer weather, but currently it was twenty degrees outside, and the house didn’t feel much warmer inside. Once again, Hope found herself wishing that her husband would lose a little of his stubborn streak and take his uncle’s advice that he use money in the family accounts to at least fix up the house since he was working his ass off.
&
nbsp; Putting all of that out of her mind, she sat down at their tiny kitchen table with her plate. Today would be a better day. She’d see to it. She’d go out in town during her lunch break. She hadn’t really ventured outside the library too much yet. Maybe she’d meet a few people that hadn’t yet stopped into the library to say, ‘hi,’ get groceries, and she’d make a fabulous dinner for her and her husband.
***
“Whoa there,” Brock Camden pulled back on his horse, Cinder’s, reins. The horse whinnied and shook his head as the snow flew back off of his Uncle Ev’s horse’s hooves. Tugging to the right side, Brock guided Cinder up beside his uncle instead of riding his flank.
“Every winter I think it’s the worst I’ve seen yet. I been ranching since I was too small to saddle a pony, and I swear this one is the worst.” Uncle Ev shook his head.
The icy wind bit at Brock’s cheeks. It seemed to take up residence in the marrow of his bones until he was concerned they were going to shatter. The only time he felt warmth was when Hope was tucked safely in his arms, and that didn’t happen nearly as often as he’d like, since ranching took up all of his time. He tried to remind himself that come July he’d be cursing the heat. “You got that right. I don’t know how I’m gonna keep my herds alive ‘til spring.”
“Ah, they’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, need to take it easy,” Ev urged. “You need to hire some help or you may not make it ‘til spring.”
