Her Right-Hand Cowboy (Forever, Tx Series Book 21)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Where there’s a will, she might find her way home

  Can a cowboy convince her to stay?

  A clause in her father’s will requires Ena O’Rourke to work the family ranch—site of many unhappy memories—for six months before she can sell it. She’s livid at her father, but Mitch Randall, foreman of the Double E, is there for her. As Ena spends time on the ranch—and with Mitch—new memories are laid over the old...and perhaps new opportunities to make a life.

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author Marie Ferrarella

  Ena put her hand on his chest. Warmth instantly generated from the points of contact. “What if I told you that I’m not afraid?”

  “I’d tell you that you should be.” He said the words so quietly they sounded more like an invitation than a reason for her to flee.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she told him, her lips so close to his now that he could almost taste the words as she uttered them.

  And that finally did it. Mitch lost what little control he was trying so desperately to hang on to.

  The next second, he was no longer attempting to block his urges. Instead, he pulled Ena to him, his arms wrapping around her as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  And then he did what he’d been wanting to do since the very first moment he had laid eyes on her back in high school more than ten years ago.

  He kissed her.

  * * *

  FOREVER, TEXAS:

  Cowboys, ranchers and lawmen—oh my!

  Dear Reader,

  Ena O’Rourke couldn’t wait to leave Forever. She and her father never got along, and after her mother died, it just became worse. So bad that the day after she graduated from high school, she took off, relocating to Dallas and reinventing herself. She is now a successful accountant in a major firm. A letter from her father’s attorney brings her back to Forever and the family ranch. According to the terms of her father’s will, if she wants to inherit the ranch, she needs to work on it for six months. Ena is furious, but she isn’t about to walk away because that would prove her father right. She is a quitter.

  Mitch Parnell lost both of his parents while still in his teens. He was an outcast until Ena’s father took him under his wing the same day that Ena took off for Dallas. Loyal to a fault and secretly in love with Ena since he first saw her in high school, Mitch is determined to make her see that her father wasn’t the dark ogre she thought he was. He is there to help her through the various hurdles and also to convince her that she shouldn’t sell the ranch. The path is not smooth by any means, but it is one he feels she will always regret if she winds up turning her back on it.

  I hope I’ve aroused your curiosity just a little. If so, I thank you for taking the time to read one of my books, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

  All the best,

  Marie Ferrarella

  Her Right-Hand Cowboy

  Marie Ferrarella

  USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author Marie Ferrarella has written more than two hundred and fifty books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, marieferrarella.com.

  Books by Marie Ferrarella

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Matchmaking Mamas

  Coming Home for Christmas

  Dr. Forget-Me-Not

  Twice a Hero, Always Her Man

  Meant to Be Mine

  A Second Chance for the Single Dad

  Christmastime Courtship

  An Engagement for Two

  Adding Up to Family

  Bridesmaid for Hire

  Forever, Texas

  The Cowboy’s Lesson in Love

  The Lawman’s Romance Lesson

  The Fortunes of Texas: The Lost Fortunes

  Texan Seeks Fortune

  The Fortunes of Texas: The Secret Fortunes

  Fortune’s Second-Chance Cowboy

  The Montana Mavericks: The Great Family Roundup

  The Maverick’s Return

  Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.

  To

  Charlie,

  My one and only

  Love,

  After fifty-one years together,

  You still make the world fade away

  Every time you kiss me.

  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

  Excerpt from Second-Chance Sweet Shop by Rochelle Alers

  Chapter One

  It felt familiar, yet strange.

  The closer she came to the sprawling two-story ranch house, the simple five-word sentence kept repeating itself over and over again in Ena O’Rourke’s brain like a tuneless song. Part of her just couldn’t believe that she had returned here after all this time.

  She could remember when she couldn’t wait to get away from here. Or rather not “here” but away from her father because, to her then eighteen-year-old mind, Bruce O’Rourke was the source of all the anger and pain that existed in her world. Back then, she and her father were constantly at odds and without Edith, her mother, to act as a buffer, Ena and her father were forever butting heads.

  The way she saw it, her father was opinionated, and he never gave her any credit for being right, not even once. After enduring a state of what felt like constant warfare for two years, ever since her mother lost her battle with cancer, Ena made up her mind and left the ranch, and Forever, one day after high school graduation.

  At the time, she had been certain that she would never come back, had even sworn to herself that she wouldn’t. And although she wavered a little in the first couple of years or so, as she struggled to put herself through college, she had stuck by her promise and kept far away from the source of all her unhappiness.

  Until now.

  She swung her long legs out of her light blue sports car and got out. She had sincerely doubted that a man who had always seemed to be bigger than life itself was ever going to die.

  Until he did.

  Bruce O’Rourke had died as tight-lipped as he had lived, without ever having uttered a single word to her. He had never even tried to get in contact with her. It was as if, for him, she had never existed.

  It figured, Ena thought now, slowly approaching the house where she had grown up. Her father hadn’t bothered to get in contact with her to tell her that he was dying. Instead, he had his lawyer summon her the moment he was gone. That way, he hadn’t given her a chance to clear the air or vent her feelings.

  He hadn’t wanted to be held accountable.

  Because he knew he had driven her away, she thought now, angry tears gathering in her eyes.

  “Same old Dad,” she bit off angrily.

  She remained where she was for a moment, just staring at the exterior of the old ranch house. She had expected to see it on the verge of falling apart. But apparently her father had
been careful not to allow that to happen. He had taken care of the homestead. The house looked as if it was sporting a brand-new coat of paint that couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

  She frowned to herself. Bruce O’Rourke took a great deal more care of the house and the ranch than he ever had when dealing with her. Her mother, Ena recalled with a stab of pain, was the only one who could effectively deal with the man. What Edith had advised her on more than one occasion was to just give the man a pass because he was under so much pressure and had so much responsibility on his shoulders. It wasn’t easy, the genteel woman had told her in that soft low-key voice of hers, trying to keep the ranch going.

  “So you kept it going while pushing me away—and what did it get you in the end, Old Man? You’re gone, and the ranch is still here. At least for now,” she said ironically. “But not for long. Just until I can get someone to take it off my hands. And then I’ll finally be done with it, and you, once and for all,” Ena concluded under her breath.

  She was stalling. She supposed she was putting off dealing with that oppressive wave of memories that threatened to wash over her the moment she walked through the front door and into the house.

  But she knew that she couldn’t put it off indefinitely.

  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and took another tentative step toward the house. And then another until she reached the steps leading up to the wraparound veranda. The place, she recalled, where her mother and father used to like to sit and rock at the end of the day.

  As she came to the second step, Ena heard that old familiar creak beneath her foot.

  Her father never had gotten around to fixing that. She could remember her mother asking him to see to it and her father promising to “get to it when I have the time.”

  “Obviously you never found the time to fix that that, either, did you, Old Man?” she said, addressing the man who was no longer there.

  “Is that a Dallas thing? Talking to yourself?” a deep male voice behind her asked.

  In the half second that it took Ena to swing around to see who had crept up so silently behind her, she managed to compose herself and not look as if the tall, handsome, dark-haired cowboy behind her had launched her heart into double time.

  “Is sneaking up behind people something you picked up while working here?” Ena countered, annoyed.

  Her father had had that habit, materializing behind her when she least expected it, usually to interrogate her about where she had been or where she intended on going. And no matter what she answered, her father always sounded as if he disapproved and was criticizing her.

  The cowboy, however, sounded contrite. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I wasn’t making enough noise for you.” He then coughed and cleared his throat. “Is that loud enough?” he asked her with an easy grin.

  Ena pressed her lips together and glared at him without answering.

  The cowboy nodded. “I take it from that look on your face that you don’t remember me,” he said.

  Ena narrowed her clear blue eyes as she focused on the cowboy, who must have towered over her by at least a good twelve inches. There was something vaguely familiar about his rugged face with its high, almost gaunt cheekbones, but after the restless night she had spent and then the long trip back, she was not in the mood to play guessing games with someone who was apparently one of her father’s ranch hands.

  “Should I?” she asked coldly.

  Mitch Parnell winced. “Ouch, I guess that puts me in my place,” he acknowledged. He pushed back his worn Stetson and took off his right glove, extending his hand out to her. “Welcome home, Ena.”

  The deep smile and familiar tone nudged forward more memories from her past. Her eyes slowly swept over the dusty, rangy cowboy. It couldn’t be—

  Could it?

  “Mitch?” she asked uncertainly. But even as she said his name, part of her thought she was making a mistake.

  Until he smiled.

  Really smiled.

  Even as a teenager, Mitch Parnell had always had the kind of smile that the moment it appeared, it could completely light up the area. She and Mitch had gone to high school together, and for a week or two, she had even fancied herself in love with him—or as in love as a seventeen-year-old unhappy, lost girl desperately searching for acceptance could be.

  Her mother had died the year before and communication between her father and her had gone from bad to worse. It felt as if the only times Bruce O’Rourke spoke to her, he was either lashing out at her or yelling at her. Hurting, she had been desperate to find a small haven, some sort of a retreat from the cold world where she could pretend she was loved and cared for.

  But at seventeen, she had been awkward and not exactly skilled in womanly wiles. Consequently, she just assumed that Mitch had missed all her signals. It even felt as if he had dodged all her outright romantic gestures. In any event, she wound up withdrawing even further into herself, biding her time until she finally graduated high school and could flee the site of her unhappiness.

  At the time, Mitch had just been someone she’d gone to school with. If anything, he had been a further reminder of her failure to make a connection with someone. She didn’t associate him with her father’s ranch. Had he come to work here after he had graduated high school? The few conversations they’d had back then, he had never mentioned anything about wanting to work on a ranch. Seeing him here was a surprise.

  It occurred to her that she knew next to nothing about the good-looking guy she had briefly thought of as her salvation.

  “Mitch?” she repeated, still looking at him, confused.

  Pleasure brought an even wider smile to his lips. “So you do remember me.” There was satisfaction evident in his voice.

  Ena fervently hoped that he merely thought of her as someone he’d gone to school with and not as the girl who had made an unsuccessful play for him. This was already awkward enough as it was.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I work here,” Mitch answered. His tone was neither boastful nor solicitous. He was merely stating a fact. “As a matter of fact, your dad made me foreman of the Double E almost three years ago.”

  Ena stared at him, trying to comprehend what Mitch was telling her. When she’d left, her father only hired men to work on the ranch who he’d either known for years or who came highly recommended by men he had known for years. Apparently, some things had changed in the last ten years.

  “Where’s Rusty?” she asked, referring to the big barrel-chested man who had been her father’s foreman for as long as she could remember.

  The smile on Mitch’s lips faded, giving way to a somber expression. “Rusty died.”

  She stared at Mitch in disbelief. “When?” she finally asked.

  This was almost more than she could process. Rusty Hayes had been the man who had taught her how to ride a horse. When she was really young, she remembered wishing that Rusty was her real father and not the man who periodically growled at her and even growled at her mother on occasion. Rusty had been even-tempered. Her father couldn’t have been accused of that.

  “Three years ago,” Mitch told her. There was sympathy in his eyes. “You didn’t know,” he guessed.

  “There’s a lot I didn’t know,” Ena bit off. “My father and I didn’t exactly stay in touch,” she added angrily, trying to process this latest blow.

  Mitch continued to look at her sympathetically. “So I gather.” She was still standing on the top step of the veranda. He decided that maybe she needed a gentle nudge. “Would you like to go in?” he asked.

  The question seemed to snap her out of the deep funk she had slipped into. Ena pulled her shoulders back as if she were gearing up for battle. “I lived here for eighteen years. I don’t need your invitation to go in if that’s what I want to do,” she informed him.

  Mitch raised
his hands up in mute surrender. “Didn’t mean to imply that you did,” he told her, apologizing without saying the actual words. The next moment, he saw her turning on her heel. She walked down the three steps, away from the porch. “Are you leaving?” he asked her in surprise.

  “Are you trying to keep tabs on me?” she demanded.

  To Ena’s surprise, rather than answer her, Mitch began to laugh. Heartily.

  Scowling, she snapped, “I wasn’t aware that I had said something funny.”

  It took him a second to catch his breath. “Not exactly funny,” he told her.

  Her eyes had narrowed to small slits that were all but shooting daggers at him. “Then what?” she asked.

  This whole situation had made her decidedly uncomfortable, as well as angry. This person she had gone to school with—and had briefly entertained feelings for—was acting more at ease and at home on this property than she was. For some reason, that irritated her to no end.

  Mitch took in another deep breath so he could speak. “I was just thinking how much you sounded like your father.”

  If he had intentionally tried to set her off, he couldn’t have found a better way. Anger creased Ena’s forehead.

  Struggling not to lose her temper, she informed him, “I am nothing like my father.”

  Mitch’s response was to stare at her as if he were trying to discern whether or not she was kidding him. Before he could stop himself, he asked in amazement, “You honestly believe that?”

  “Yes,” Ena ground out between clenched teeth, “I honestly do.”

  The smile on Mitch’s face was almost radiant. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing again, sensing that she really wouldn’t appreciate it if he did. But he couldn’t refrain from saying, “Wow, you really are like your father.”

  No wonder her father had made this man his foreman. Mitch Parnell was as crazy in his own way as her father had been. “Stop saying that,” she insisted.

  “Okay,” he agreed good-naturedly, relenting. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”