Copyright © 2019 by Charlene Bright
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Editing: Flying Elephant Editing
Cover Design: Killion Group
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He didn’t want anyone’s help …
Dylan McDaniel had been on his own since becoming an adult, aside from the guidance of his friend and mentor Bill Campbell. Now that Bill was sick, Dylan was determined to take care of him, as well as Bill’s ranch and his own ranch without having to reach out for help.
It was her duty to help …
Tara Shores had few friends and no family. Her job as a live-in nurse kept her moving around, giving all of herself to others. Now her job was Bill Campbell, but her attraction to Bill’s sexy friend just might make her start to think of her own needs.
They discovered that their independence was also lonely …
From the minute they laid eyes on each other, Tara and Dylan began to see what having passion in their lives could bring them that they didn’t know they were missing. They had made themselves believe they didn’t need companionship and passion to live a fulfilling life, but their growing attraction to each other was causing them to doubt everything they’d ever believed.
1
As he opened the front door to his ranch house, Dylan McDaniel wrinkled his nose, trying to avoid the sneeze he knew was coming. It erupted anyway, and he slammed the door shut, disgusted with how much he’d let things go around here. The layer of dust was clear evidence that he spent precious little time at home, and there was good reason, but it didn’t mean he liked the results.
He’d only come in today to grab more clothes. He’d done laundry over at Bill Campbell’s house, but with the time-consuming job of caring for a sick, aging man and his ranch while still trying to maintain his own meant he couldn’t stop to wash his clothes every couple of days. He planned on filling a duffel bag that he could unload into the closet and dresser of the spare bedroom. He’d also get all his own shampoo and aftershave over there. He didn’t like Brut; it was old school and smelled like dirt, but that’s what old Bill kept around. Dylan preferred Old Spice, if he was going classic.
He glanced longingly at his own bed, the mattress brand new. He’d bought it two weeks before he’d found out about Bill, and it had been delivered just in time for him to get three beautiful nights’ sleep in it. Maybe Bill would get good news from the doc, and Dylan would have some time to get his own business back in order. He’d already put off breaking his new mustang to make sure old Bill wasn’t alone. Even with his energy and determination, Dylan didn’t know how long he could keep handling both ranches on his own. And he couldn’t afford to hire help.
His cell rang, and he closed his eyes, reminding himself that no one else knew how thin he was stretched. Bill hadn’t told anyone else yet, since telling one person meant all of Five Forks would know in less than a day. He wasn’t exactly surprised to look and see Noah Thomas’s name on his screen, and he answered with a gruff, “Hey, Noah, what’s going on?”
“Not much. I hadn’t heard from you. Just thought I’d check in. We were supposed to be working together on your beast,” he said brightly, but Dylan heard the concern in his voice. Dylan wasn’t the type of person to back out of an agreement, and he certainly didn’t procrastinate. Noah had to know he was going through something unusual, since he’d called Noah three weeks ago about getting a little expert help breaking the mustang he’d caught running wild on his land and stirring up his other horses.
But Dylan couldn’t exactly divulge the details of what had him delayed, not without talking to Bill first. “Hell, man, I’ve been so busy I don’t even know if it’s day or night. I haven’t forgotten. I just haven’t had a chance to even think about working with the brute, much less getting you over here to help me.”
“Not a problem. It’s no skin off my back either way. But if you’re going through something, I’d be more than happy to help, if I can. I’m sure Zoe would too.” Noah was searching, trying to feel out if it was something personal or financial or else, and it made Dylan smile. Noah didn’t pry directly, but he was just as much of a gossip as anyone else around there and wanted to know the scoop.
If his wife got in touch, she wouldn’t be so subtle. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need anything right now. And even if I did, I wouldn’t ask your pregnant wife. Zoe needs to take care of herself.”
“I keep telling her that, but she says helping others helps her.” Noah chuckled. “Listen, we’re here if you need us. Remember that, and don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, bud,” Dylan promised, hanging up and tucking the phone back in his pocket. Damn, he needed a break, not just to get his thoughts straight but to make sure no one started asking too many questions before Bill was ready to give out answers. Dylan looked around at the house he’d rebuilt with his own hands, the complete renovation of the house his grandfather had first built nearly sixty years before. It usually seemed warm and lived in, but since he’d barely stepped foot inside for the last couple of weeks, it felt cold and empty.
He didn’t dare look in the fridge, not knowing what sort of aged and outdated junk he’d find in there.
With a sigh and a determined step, Dylan did a quick walkthrough with the duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and then he locked up and went out to the truck. He dumped off the bag and spent a few minutes out in the stables, feeding his horses and checking to be sure they were all safe and sound. He’d have to come out and let them run in the next day or so, but he’d figure out that part of the schedule later. For now, he’d been away from Bill long enough, and he needed to get back over there.
He hoped the constant need would at least slow down as the old man got used to his meds, and they could come up with a schedule that allowed Dylan to take better care of his own affairs.
He wanted to drive straight through, but the diner drew him in. He’d been cooking for days, and he was tired of the small selection of dishes he could make that Bill would eat. He was starved for something different, and he pulled in quickly and ordered a meal to go that he could share with the man he’d taken as his charge.
While he waited for the food, he nodded to Noah and Zoe, who sat at the back of the diner, choosing a table rather than a booth to accommodate Zoe’s growing stomach. She looked ready to burst, and Dylan tried to do some math in his head. Her due date had to be right around the corner, but she looked happy and healthy. Pregnancy looked good on her.
The smell of the pot roast platter and the fried chicken filled his truck, making his mouth water, and he was glad he’d gotten a gallon of sweet tea to go with it. Just because he didn’t technically live in the south didn’t mean he couldn’t eat like it. He’d clog up his arteries with all the grease, but he’d be satisfied with the taste in the meantime.
Bill was sitting in the porch swing when Dylan pulled up, staring at the forest, which was still healing from the blaze. Dylan shook his head, still finding it hard to believe that anyone could be so ruthless as to try to ruin an entire community’s livelihood, just so they could take over the land. If it hadn’t been for Ryder and Amanda digging around to uncover the truth, th
at investment firm might have gotten away with the arson.
As he approached, Bill didn’t look away from the trees, but he didn’t miss a single detail. “What’s in the bags?”
“All the meat,” Dylan told him playfully. “We’ve got some fried chicken, some pot roast, and a lot of veggies slathered in butter to go with it.”
“Did you get some of them sweet rolls?” Bill asked, finally meeting Dylan’s eyes. Dylan didn’t know what bothered him more, the rasp in the older man’s voice that had become permanent with all the vomiting in response to chemotherapy, or the missing sparkle in his eyes that showed just how sick he really was. Both startled him at least once a day.
Smiling, he told Bill, “There’s four in here. You can have three, but one’s mine.”
“Good man,” Bill said, chuckling. But the laughter quickly became a fit of coughing, and Dylan set the bags on the porch.
He went to Bill, assisting him to his feet. “All right, old man. Let’s get inside and pour some of this all-healing sweet tea. It’ll help that cough of yours.” He guided Bill to the kitchen table and sat him in a chair so he could return to bring the food in. He filled a glass with ice, poured the tea, and handed it to Bill, who gulped at it until the glass was half empty.
As Dylan took it back to refill it, Bill wheezed, “The nurse should be here first thing in the morning. I know you’ve got your own things to do, but …”
Dylan didn’t let him finish. “Of course I’ll be here, Bill. I’ll let her in, get her settled, and help her figure out the routine.” He felt guilty. Bill couldn’t afford to have a full-time, live-in nurse, but Dylan couldn’t afford to ignore his ranch and spend all his time with Bill anymore, either. He had no intention of walking away from the responsibility he’d taken on here, especially since he didn’t think it would be fair to leave poor old Bill with a stodgy old nurse all the time. He was also going to find out how much the insurance and disability paid toward the home health care and see if he could help with the remaining out-of-pocket cost.
As he plated food, Bill groused, “I guess I’m going to have to swallow some more of my pride. I asked for a man, but there weren’t any available, so I have to reconcile the idea of letting a woman help wipe my ass.” He laughed, but Dylan heard the embarrassment in his voice.
“Come on, Bill, I’m not going to disappear,” he assured, plunking down the delicious meal on the table. “I’ll still be here to wipe your ass most of the time.” Dylan was going to continue taking care of the ranch, even if it stretched him so thin he couldn’t breathe.
“I appreciate you, Dylan. I hope you know that.”
Aw, hell. Dylan had to put an end to this before everything got emotional. He was in no place to handle it right now. “We’re friends, Bill, and that’s what friends do. Besides, you’re still better company than my television.”
2
The dark seemed to close in around the car as Tara Shores drove toward Five Forks. It seemed thicker out here, away from the city, and though she enjoyed the stars overhead, she was relieved when her GPS, which had been spotty, announced that she was less than ten miles from her destination.
The truth was, she wasn’t supposed to be at William Campbell’s house until morning, and she should have stopped a couple of hours ago, the last time she’d seen a Holiday Inn. But she’d been anxious to get into town and figured she could get a motel room there. It would allow her to relax and put her best foot forward in the morning without having to drive any further.
Unfortunately, she found that the short strip of businesses through the town of Five Forks didn’t seem to include a motel. In fact, the only things that seemed to be open were a small diner and a coffee shop. She had no idea how far away the next stop would be, and it was after nine o’clock already. Apparently, it was only another 3.2 miles to her destination, and she crossed her fingers that Mr. Campbell wouldn’t be upset at her early arrival.
She glanced in her rearview mirror, tilting it so she could assess herself. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but she just wanted to make sure she didn’t look as harried as she felt. After all, she’d been driving since seven o’clock this morning, and she hadn’t put on makeup or even worn nice clothes, assuming she would get a chance to change. At least her cobalt-blue eyes didn’t look as tired as they felt, and her light-brown hair with its reddish tint was still mostly pulled into a ponytail.
“In one thousand feet, turn right.” She frowned at the GPS, thinking she’d gotten lost again. She couldn’t see a road up ahead. She slowed down, and a pebble road appeared out of nowhere just as the GPS told her to turn. She marveled at how far out in the middle of nowhere she felt as she heard the crunch of the gravel under her tires. The agency had told her this was a ranch, but she hadn’t thought it was a real ranch.
Honestly, Tara hadn’t spent a day in her life outside the city. She knew nothing about rural life or living on a farm or ranch. She’d hoped that, in taking this job, she’d be able to take a load off her shoulders. She’d spent three years as an ER nurse and then been placed in a home with three special-needs children for the next year. She loved the kids, but she’d been overwhelmed, and when the parents had moved, she’d almost been glad.
She’d gotten the call for this job three days later, and she’d taken it, excited at the opportunity to see what small town life held. Apparently, though, she wasn’t even going to be in the small town. The GPS spoke again, directing her left, and this time there wasn’t even gravel. The narrow dirt path seemed to be a very long driveway, with a small house at the end of it. She couldn’t see much, but as her headlights swept across it, she noted a porch swing and what looked like an actual wood structure, like a cabin.
Two trucks were parked at odd angles, and she tried to pull next to one of them, wondering just how many vehicles an old rancher needed, especially when her notes said that William Campbell wasn’t driving and had grown quite weak from chemotherapy and spreading cancer.
Shaking it off, she took a deep breath. She wanted to make a good first impression, and that meant holding her head high, even as she apologized for arriving a day ahead and at such a late hour. She might have to reassure him that he wouldn’t be charged for this time, since he’d been told her arrival time would be tomorrow. No matter what, she intended to greet him with a smile.
She didn’t get her bags out of the trunk yet, just in case. Instead, she grabbed her purse and medical bag, complete with her agency ID card, and strode to the door, knocking and waiting patiently. An older man like William Campbell had probably been slow to begin with and, with his ailments, could take quite a while to …
The door opened, and Tara’s heart stopped. She thought she must be at the wrong place because the man in front of her was definitely not old, sick, or decrepit. Trying to correct her mistake, she stuttered, “I’m sorry. I’m looking for Mr. Campbell.”
The stranger with auburn hair and piercing green eyes looked as startled as she felt. He narrowed his gaze, assessing her, and it took all of her self-control not to squirm under the scrutiny. But the corners of his full lips twitched as if he were trying to hide a smile, and she felt a bit less intimidated. “He’s … indisposed at the moment. Can I help you?”
Relieved, she sighed and smiled. “Thank goodness! I thought I’d come to the wrong house. I’m Tara Shores, the nurse from the agency. I got to town a little earlier than expected.”
He didn’t ask for her badge. Instead, he held out his hand in greeting. “Dylan McDaniel. I’m an old friend of Bill’s.” She shook his hand, his grip firm and warm, his palm rough. This man obviously did real work on a real ranch. You didn’t get rough hands like that pushing papers. What had she gotten herself into?
And who was this handsome stranger?
He stepped aside to let her enter, looking a bit confused. “Do you have any bags?”
She blushed, not sure why the question embarrassed her. Maybe it was the way his tone teased and taunted, as if daring her to d
efy the cliché of the woman who brings everything she owns. Unfortunately, short of the furniture in her small apartment, Tara had brought everything. After all, she was going to be living here for an unspecified period of time. To the man, whose cologne made her heart race, she said, “I have some luggage in the trunk and a couple of small bags in the backseat. I can bring them in later.”
But he shook his head. “No need. Is it unlocked?”
She clicked the button on the key fob in her hand. “It is now.”
He nodded. “I’ll get it. Have a seat.” He gestured toward a rustic table of aged wood and matching chairs, set in a U-shaped kitchen that was completely open to the living area to her right. He didn’t wait for her to sit down as he went to her car, and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing toward him, taking in the way his jeans hugged his rump just right.
She really shouldn’t be paying so much attention to him. She was here for a job, one that didn’t involve Dylan McDaniel. She doubted she’d even see him much. He was probably here, looking after his friend while he waited for her to arrive. He would be on his way now that he was relieved of duty.
At the same time, she marveled at his gentlemanly gesture. She wasn’t used to men volunteering to help her out. She was the caregiver, and she did everything for everyone else, not vice versa. She took a seat at the table, trying to follow orders, and was impressed when the man came back, his arms loaded with all of her things after a single trip.
“I locked it up again,” he said, “though out here, there’s no one around to steal anything.”
He was an incredible specimen, and she had trouble concentrating on his words. “Thank you,” she said simply. She felt like she was being given the red-carpet treatment.
“You’re welcome. Are you hungry? Tired?”
She was hungry, but mostly, she wanted to freshen up. “I don’t want to be a burden. If you can just show me where to clean up a bit, I can fix a snack for myself. I brought a few things. I know I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow morning.”
Cowboy Casanova (Wild At Heart Cowboys Book 3) Page 1
