by Susan Crosby
A GOOD MAN IS HARD TO FIND
Single mom Annie Bernard needed a new beginning for her young son and a miracle for her run-down farm. Enter Mitch Ryder, the sexy blue-eyed handyman who answered her call for help. Their attraction was instant, and with Mitch’s tender ministrations, more than Annie’s farm began springing back to life….
Mitch yearned for a fresh start of his own—or at least more time before he had to return to the life he left behind. And what better way to avoid his past than to mistakenly slip into the role of Annie’s handyman? But he’d never counted on falling for Annie and her precious son. His true identity might be hidden, but his feelings toward Annie might be too strong to hide....
Annie listened for sounds of Mitch, the stranger she was trusting to treat her and her son right.
A few minutes later the shower came on. She pictured him shampooing his hair, which curled down his neck a little, inviting fingers to twine in it gently.
Some time passed after the water was turned off. Was he shaving? Yes. She could hear the tap of his razor against the sink edge. If they were a couple, he would be coming to bed clean and smooth shaven.…
Tonight she would sleep even better, knowing a strong man was next door. She could give up her fears for a while, get a solid night’s sleep and face the new day not alone, not putting on a show of being okay and in control for Austin.
Now, if she could just do something about her suddenly-come-to-life libido.
Dear Reader,
Beginning a new series is exciting. First I get to create three heroes and three heroines, three plots that are different but weave in and out of each story, plus the usual suspects of goals, motivations and conflicts. Then there are the occupations and settings, which are sometimes beyond my scope of knowledge, so I interview experts and dig deep in the internet, picking and choosing elements different from what I’ve done before, but that I hope readers will enjoy.
The Red Valley Ranchers series has been an absolute delight to create and to write. I didn’t know much about cattle ranching or organic farming, and now I know a lot more. I admire the families who keep our country sustained, and I know how very hard they all work, battling so many potential problems daily. My hat is off to them, all around our great country.
This is the first book in the series. Mitch the cattleman and Annie the grower are hardworking, worthy people who deserve to find their one true love. I hope you enjoy their journey.
Susan
The Cowboy’s Return
Susan Crosby
Books by Susan Crosby
Harlequin Special Edition
*The Bachelor’s Stand-In Wife #1912
††The Rancher’s Surprise Marriage #1922
*The Single Dad’s Virgin Wife #1930
*The Millionaire’s Christmas Wife #1936
†The Pregnant Bride Wore White #1995
†Love and the Single Dad #2019
§The Doctor’s Pregnant Bride? #2030
†At Long Last, a Bride #2043
‡Mendoza’s Return #2102
*Husband for Hire #2118
*His Temporary Live-In Wife #2138
*Almost a Christmas Bride #2157
§§Fortune’s Hero #2181
‡‡A Date with Fortune #2239
¶The Cowboy’s Return #2266
Silhouette Desire
**Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached #1554
**Private Indiscretions #1570
**Hot Contact #1590
**Rules of Attraction #1647
**Heart of the Raven #1653
**Secrets of Paternity #1659
The Forbidden Twin #1717
Forced to the Altar #1733
Bound by the Baby #1797
*Wives for Hire
†The McCoys of Chance City
**Behind Closed Doors
††Back in Business
§The Baby Chase
‡The Fortunes of Texas: Lost…and Found
§§The Fortunes of Texas: Whirlwind Romance
‡‡The Fortunes of Texas: Southern Invasion
¶Red Valley Ranchers
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
SUSAN CROSBY
believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average coed and earned a B.A. in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.
Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.
More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.
With gratitude to Kathy Coatney,
author and friend, who steered me to some brilliant experts in their fields, and who is a constant cheerleader.
And to Kirsten Olson,
a cheerleader for family-run orchards and farms.
Thank you for sharing your process and your passion. Without your generosity, I could’ve gotten it all wrong!
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 One
Nostalgia struck Mitch Ryder with unexpected force as he drove the final miles toward home. He’d been out of the country and might have continued to stay away longer except his father had issued his fourth edict—more emphatic than previous ones—to get home or else. The Ryders were cattlemen, having ranched in this particular area of Northern California since the gold rush. Mitch was expected to pull his own weight in the family business, something he hadn’t done for three years now.
As he drove, Mitch drew a deep breath, letting the heat of midsummer fill his lungs, savoring the magnificent view. The landscape changed with almost every mile—except for the spectacular sight of Gold Ridge Mountain, which was a constant, the centerpiece. The Red Valley surrounding it could be flat endless acres of hay or low grassy hills or orchards, all of it beautiful in its own way, but Gold Ridge Mountain dominated from every vantage point.
Nerves grabbed at Mitch as he neared the road leading to Ryder Ranch, gripped so hard he didn’t make the turn but kept going. Twenty miles later, his gut finally unclenched, just before his truck coughed and lurched. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lulu?” he asked his prized old vehicle as she smoothed out. “I shouldn’t have driven past the homestead?”
Mitch was only half kidding. He believed in omens. As a man who dealt with the realities every day of animals and often unforgiving land and weather, it probably seemed fanciful, but he’d learned to pay attention to his instincts, even if it was for something mechanical.
Like now. His truck coughed harder and lurched farther, signs of imminent death. He spotted the mailb
ox and private driveway of John “Barney” Barnard and turned in. Then Lulu died.
He checked his cell phone. No service.
Mitch didn’t waste energy getting angry. He’d been asking a lot of the old girl to be in top shape after three years of neglect.
He started walking. The land looked different, less abundant, not the well-tended orchard it had always been. Barney’s small, weathered house was blocked from view until Mitch got much closer, where the property looked better maintained, less of a jungle. Berry bushes stretched in orderly rows, and raised boxes held thriving plants, although the greenhouse was a dilapidated mess. Chickens pecked at the ground, ignoring him.
What had happened here? Barney had always been—
The front door opened, and out stepped a woman—maybe five-five, curvy, with long, blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Younger than him, he figured, but not by much.
“It’s about time,” she said, plunking her fists on her hips. “Did you get lost? Or go on a binge?”
“Um, no, ma’am,” Mitch said, entertained. He wondered who she’d mistaken him for.
“You were supposed to be here yesterday. That’s what you promised on the phone. Look around. You can see how much work there is to be done.”
Mitch swept his hat off and brushed it against his thigh as he considered her. She looked anxious, and sounded desperate.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to take the job? Room and board, just like we discussed, and a small salary. I can’t do more than that.”
His whole body relaxed as he settled his hat back on his head and moved a little nearer to the house. Mitch took her offer as an omen and went with it. She needed a handyman, apparently, and he’d just realized he could use a little adjustment time himself before going home. Whatever his father wanted was not something he was anxious to learn. “I keep my word, ma’am.”
“Please don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old.”
He’d gotten close enough that he could see she had eyes the color of the moss that grew on rocks by the stream he’d played in as a boy, a dark, rich green with bits of gold—and annoyance—giving them some glitter. “What should I call you?”
“Annie. Annie Barnard.” She stuck out her hand.
Mitch noted the dirt under her fingernails, the scrapes and scratches along her arms and hands. No wedding ring. He took a second, surreptitious, appreciative glimpse at her body. She would be a generous handful, that was for sure. He happened to like generous handfuls. A lot.
“Mom?”
“Come on out and meet... I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“Mitch.” He hesitated, waiting to see if she reacted to it. The Ryder family, generations of cattlemen, was well-known, but Mitch had been gone a long time, and this woman was a newcomer. When she didn’t ask for his last name, he offered his hand to the boy standing beside her.
“This is Austin,” she said. “He’s ten. He’s a great help.”
The boy grinned, eyes the color of his mother’s lighting up just like hers, his hair a shade darker blond and buzz-cut.
“Are you hungry?” Annie asked. “We were just sitting down to lunch.”
“I could use a little something, thanks.”
“Where’s your gear?”
He hitched a thumb toward the road. “My truck broke down just as I arrived.”
They entered the clean, cared-for house. Mitch hadn’t been inside for years, but it looked pretty much the same as he remembered. Old, threadbare furnishings and rag rugs filled the space. Maybe the curtains were new. Framed photos scattered about were her own, but nothing else had her stamp on it.
“I’d like to wash up first,” he said.
“Second door on the right.”
He nodded his thanks and headed in that direction, wondering how any woman hired a guy off the street like that, without even knowing his full name, offering him a room in her house, trusting him around her son—and herself.
But then, he’d never been as desperate as she seemed to be. Maybe he would do all sorts of things not in the usual way if he found himself in the same straits.
He could give her a few days’ help, give himself time to feel at home again. Win-win, he figured.
* * *
Annie Barnard let out a calming breath as she ladled chili into a bowl for the man, Mitch. No last name, apparently. It was fine with her. He’d come recommended, and they’d agreed she would pay him in cash anyway. What was one more risk?
“Did you run a background check on him, Mom?” Austin whispered.
Her ten-year-old knew way too much about the scary parts of life, Annie thought. “I’m a good judge of character, honey.” The man spoke well, wore clean clothes, was freshly shaven. His dark brown hair had been professionally cut. And those brilliant blue eyes just plain ol’ looked honest.
Most important, she needed help. Desperately. Right now. Even if it came from a one-named drifter with an unreliable truck and a strong, powerful body. He looked like he could manage the heavy lifting around her little farm.
Annie closed her eyes for a moment. She could not fail at this. She needed to be successful—for herself, but especially for Austin. He was entitled to a stable home and good role models, more than she’d ever had. She’d grown up in a family where people didn’t live in houses long enough to establish a home or keep jobs long enough to become a career. She wanted roots for herself and her son. And she loved her ramshackle farm.
Mitch took a seat where she’d set the bowl. She passed him a basket with saltine crackers. The meal wasn’t fancy, but it was filling. Soon they would have fresh vegetables from their garden. Almost everything she’d canned or frozen from last year’s slim crop was gone. They ate a lot of protein-rich beans.
“This is great,” Mitch said. “Good and spicy.”
“Thanks. We have it a lot.”
“A whole lot,” Austin added. “Sometimes she mixes spaghetti into it. I like that.”
“Sounds tasty,” Mitch said. “What’s first on your list of chores, Annie?”
“I bought a new high tunnel greenhouse, so the old one needs to be disposed of. We can pile it somewhere until we can get rid of it.”
“All right. Mind if I push my truck closer to the house first? I’m hoping I can fix what’s wrong with it myself.”
“I’ve got a tractor you can use to pull it. You can put it in the shed, out of the weather, if you want.”
“That’d be great, thanks,” Mitch said. “How long have you owned this place?”
“My ex-husband inherited it from his uncle two years ago. We decided to give it a try. He didn’t take to being a grower, but I did.” The truth was she’d fallen in love with the farm and out of love with him. And he’d fallen out of love with both.
“I’m going to visit him in San Diego before school starts,” Austin said. “My first airplane ride. You ever been on a plane, Mr. Mitch?”
“Just recently, in fact. I was working at a cattle ranch in Argentina. Do you know where that is?”
“No. Can we look it up on the internet?”
“We can do that.”
“Was it fun?”
“Yes, and hard work.”
“You can question Mitch after supper, Austin. For now we need to get to work.”
That brought an end to the conversation. Soon after, they went outside. Annie drove the tractor as Mitch and Austin walked alongside.
“Wow! Cool truck!” Austin said, running to it. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Her name is Lulu and she’s a 1954 Chevy,” Mitch said. “She belonged to my grandfather. He gave her to me on my sixteenth birthday, so I’ve had her a long time.”
“She looks good.”
“I love this old girl. I’ve take
n care of her.” He ran a hand over her fender affectionately. “Unfortunately she’s been sitting in someone’s garage for three years while I was gone.”
Annie wondered what that large, competent hand would feel like against her own skin. When she’d first spotted him from her kitchen window as he walked toward her house, she’d been worried. She couldn’t see his face, just the cowboy hat, solid belt buckle, tight jeans and boots—the whole cowboy thing. She’d been ready to send him on his way. She needed help, but she didn’t need anyone that good-looking, that tempting. Then he’d spoken respectfully and intelligently, including to Austin, and his appeal increased in a different way.
“Lulu’s got five windows,” Austin said as Mitch hooked up the tow chain from the tractor to the truck. “I’ve never seen that before. She kinda needs a paint job.”
“Maybe someday I’ll splurge for one. I’m fond of her flaws, though. I always think about my granddad when I drive her. Annie, would you like to steer the tractor or the truck?”
“I’ll take the truck. I’ve never pulled anything that big.” She hopped inside the spotless vehicle, noted a large duffel bag on the floorboard. He’d been gone a long time. Were these his sole possessions?
Mitch came up to the driver’s window. “Put ’er in Neutral, would you?”
“Does the seat move up? I can’t reach the clutch.”
He opened the door, found a lever and held it while she slid the whole split-bench seat forward. He smelled good. Clean. Not like aftershave, but like a breath of fresh air among the farm smells.
“Where’s Neutral?” she asked, feeling ridiculous, but the gear knob wasn’t etched with a diagram.
“Step on the clutch. Excuse me.” He reached across her lap and wiggled the gearshift. “That’s it. Just keep her true and steady. I’ll do the work.”
It took him a couple of seconds to take his arm away. Her thighs were on fire where he touched them. No man had laid a hand on her for a very long time. Now this sexy stranger was going to be living in her house, sleeping in the room next to hers, using the same bathroom.
