Cowboy Edition EBook

by Maree, Kay

  The Dirty Dozen

  COWBOY EDITION

  AN COWBOY ANTHOLOGY BROUGHT TO YOU BY

  KAY MAREE

  Contents:

  COPYRIGHT

  WARNING

  CARILLO’S COWBOY

  SMOOTH WHISKEY WHISPER

  MONTANA MOONSHINE

  SASSY DAIQUIRI KISS

  FREE FALLING

  LET ME BE YOUR WHISKEY

  NEVER A CHOICE

  SHOW GIRL

  VENOM RIDGE

  SWEET TEQUILA SUNSHINE

  COPYRIGHT

  © 2020 by following Authors:

  Carrillo’s Cowboy – Tee Smith

  Smooth Whiskey Whisper – Kay Maree

  Montana Moonshine – Vi Summers

  Sassy Daiquiri Kiss – Kay Maree

  Free Falling – Aleisha Maree

  Let Me Be Your Whiskey – Lauren Firminger

  Never A Choice – Ann Mickan

  Show Girl – Gemma Arlington

  Venom Ridge – Penny Blush

  Sweet Tequila Sunshine Part 1-Kay Maree

  The right of the above authors to be identified as the authors of these works has been asserted by them under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the authors.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  WARNING

  The following stories may have adult content.

  Some may contain graphic violence and dark emotional scenarios which may trigger some readers.

  Proceed with caution.

  You have been warned.

  Cover Design– Susan Horsnell and Kay Maree

  Format – Susan Horsnell

  CARILLO’S COWBOY

  TEE SMITH

  CARRILLO’S COWBOY

  Copyright © 2020 Tee Smith

  The right of Tee Smith to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  “Just leave that over there,” Callie barked. Her voice hoarse. She rubbed her hand over the back of her neck. She could do with a stiff drink and perhaps a nice warm bath. “How many more boxes do you have?”

  “Another six,” the delivery man shrugged in response.

  Callie let out a long sigh. She had loved working in corporate events management, but running a show on her own was starting to take its toll.

  “That’s it. Sign here,” the man donning the fluorescent shirt and dirty green hat shoved a note attached to a clipboard under her hand.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled as she scribbled her name- Callie Carrillo. She had started using her maiden name again just recently. It felt odd after using the name Green for so long, but since finalising her divorce, it gave her some distance from the man she had been married to for far too many years. She would still need to see him, co-parent their children, Austin and Grace, but as far as she was concerned, other than pick-up and drop-off, she hoped never to have to speak with him again. The writing had been on the wall. When she had returned home to Carrillo Estate three years before, Adam had barely batted an eyelash.

  If her dear dad hadn’t taken ill, she might still be living the high-life of an investment banker’s wife. What had she been thinking all those years? Getting back to the country, running the family business, had been the best move she’d made. It was funny how life threw things at you that you didn’t know you needed.

  “Hey, Mum,” Grace’s voice broke through her silent reverie.

  She had lost track of time and forgot she had to pick the kids up from the bus. She hadn’t heard them come in. Usually, the bus would drop them at the farm gate, and they would ride their quad bikes the two-kilometres back to the homestead. That morning, she had locked their vehicles and told them they could only have them again when they stopped fighting. In her frustration, she had told them they could walk from the gate, when in fact, she had intended to drive out to pick them up. Her gaze flashed to the clock above her desk, then back to her twelve-year-old daughter.

  “Why are you here so early?”

  “We hitched a ride with the man at the gate,” Grace shrugged.

  “What man?” Her heart sunk. “What have I told you, kids? You can’t just go around hitching rides.” They had been city kids until she’d moved them back home. Stranger danger was a real thing.

  Grace drew her shoulders up before dropping them again. “I don’t know. He was looking for you, so we told him we would show him the way.”

  “And where’s this man now?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “Out there,” Grace thumbed over her shoulder as she made her way to the small fridge in the corner of her mother’s office.

  “Not until you clean your room, young lady.” Callie snatched the cold drink from her daughter’s hand. “Where’s your brother?”

  Grace shrugged again. “Not my problem.”

  Callie shook her head. She had always heard teenagers threw attitude at their parents; she hadn’t expected it to start quite so early.

  “Excuse me,” came a deep voice on the back of a cleared throat. “Are you Callie Green?”

  “She calls herself Carrillo now . . . as in, Carrillo Estate,” Grace piped up again. “She was Green until she divorced my dad; now she wants to be called, Ms. Carrillo,” Grace announced Callie’s name with a plum in her throat, sounding every bit the posh investment banker’s daughter.

  “Ms. Carrillo,” the man repeated, stepping further into the small office space and holding out his hand for her to shake.

  Callie eyed the man suspiciously. He was tall, at least a few inches above her five-foot-six frame. About her age, with short scruffy blond hair, a strong, clean-shaven jaw, blue eyes, and a broad smile. So, what if he was good-looking? He still couldn’t go around picking children up. Who did he think he was?

  “This is the man I told you about.” Grace smiled up at him adoringly, and he patted her shoulder.

  Callie instinctually reached for her daughter and pulled her closer to herself. “Go find Austin, get yourselves a snack, then start on your homework.” Not that she needed to worry, Austin wouldn’t miss out. Most likely, he would be raiding the fridge already.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, eventually turning back to the man standing just to the left of her door frame.

  “My name is Cody Tanner, Ma’am. The folks in town told me you might be looking for a worker, and well,” he removed his hat and clutched it with both hands. “I’m looking for work and lodgings.”

  “Who told you?” her eyes narrowed as she took him in.

  “I’m sorry. I
didn’t get his name. The old codger at the general store.”

  “Old Jim?” she asked, then continued without waiting for him to answer. “Where are you from, Cody Tanner?”

  “I’m from around,” he shrugged. “Schooled in Sydney. Haven’t stayed anywhere else long. Other than that, did a stint in the states, rode a few horses.”

  “Wow! We’re a long way from America. What brings you to Harlow’s Bend?”

  “Money . . . mostly.” He leaned against the door frame, his eyes dancing around the room. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a wow of a time in the states, but Australia is home. And with great adventure, comes great spending,” he let out a laugh.

  His deep voice sent vibrations through the room and made Callie’s skin prickle a little. It had been a long while since she had heard a decent laugh. The locals did little more than grumble. There was never enough rain, never enough tourists, never enough of anything. Perhaps having someone around that knew how to laugh might not be such a terrible thing.

  “So why here?” She pointed to the floor. “Why Carrillo?”

  “As I said, ma’am, the old codger at the store told me you might be looking to hire,” he held out his palms, “so here I am.”

  Callie mused for a moment, assessing him. “What skills do you have?”

  “What do you need? I’m up for it. A bit of horse work, cattle, fencing?”

  “I have a show coming up in two months. I can use you until then, after that, I don’t know.”

  “Fair enough, ma’am. I’ll take whatever you can offer me.”

  “Callie,” she stated, holding out her hand to shake his.

  “Thank you, Callie.” Cody offered her a wide grin and took her hand in a firm, strong shake.

  “You’ll be needing accommodation?” she asked but continued talking. “You’ll find the workers’ quarters across the way.” She waved in the direction of the homestead and dwellings. “There’s a communal kitchen, and each room has its bathroom. It’s empty at the moment, but with the show coming up, it will get pretty rowdy in there.”

  Cody nodded his understanding, and she figured if he had been around the rodeo circuit, he was probably familiar with shared accommodation.

  “All the beds are made. There is fresh linen in the storeroom near the laundry. I expect the area to be kept in reasonable order. You will have to take care of your cleaning. I don’t have a housemaid.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “I’ll need your working documents so I can add you to the payroll. I’ll draw up a casual contract and have it ready for you to sign in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. You won’t regret it.”

  “Oh, and Cody,” she called to his back as he made his way through the door. “Please, don’t be picking my children up from the bus stop.”

  He stopped still in the doorway, turning back to her.

  “I’m sorry. They said they thought you had forgotten them, and I didn’t think . . . I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

  She had forgotten them, or at least the time, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “You didn’t do any harm. I’m trying to teach them they can’t accept lifts from strangers.

  “I understand,” he nodded.

  “Good. Report to me in the morning to sign your contract, and I’ll have a list of jobs for you.”

  “Thank you,” he repeated.

  She watched as his jean-clad butt left her office, taking a rare moment of indulgence to check him out. Cowboys weren’t her thing, but there was nothing wrong with appreciating a fine-looking man.

  Cody

  Stepping out of the shower, Cody reached for the towel he’d draped over the rack. It felt good to have a real shower, and spending a night in a real bed had been a high priority too. He’d been couch-surfing since his return from the states. Had expected to pick up some work in the city, but his contact had fallen through, leaving him high and dry.

  Harlow’s Bend wasn’t exactly Eden, but a place to crash. Some dollars to line his pockets might get him back on the road again. The fact his new boss was easy on the eye wasn’t going to be too much of a drain on him either.

  Wrapping the towel around his waist, he reached for a second and scrubbed it through his hair before making his way into the kitchen. The quarters were old; the kitchen could do with renovating. It was usable, but the bright orange bench tops screamed seventies. The building itself was not unlike the homestead, which he guessed was built around the early nineteen hundreds, but the inside had clearly had work done over the years. He’d speculate it had initially been servants’ quarters, then laughed to himself, in a way it still was. With his stomach rumbling, he opened the overhead cupboards, then the lower ones, then finally the fridge.

  “You’ll have to get your own supplies.”

  The voice startled him, and he spun on his heel to find his new boss, Callie Carrillo, standing in the doorway.

  “I see you found the towels.” She nodded at his bare, sculptured chest, her eyes wide as she took him in. He knew he had that effect on women; it was good to see that his new lady boss was no different.

  “I, ahh . . .” she held up a stack of fresh white towels between her hands. “I just brought these over. I didn’t think there were any in here.”

  “I found these on the bed. I hope that’s okay.” He indicted down the hall, where he had set up camp.

  Her eyes followed his as if she didn’t know where he was talking about before returning to him. Her dark hair was pulled tight into a low bun; just a few strands framed her petite face. She wore a button-up shirt over black trousers, and dust-covered shoes finished off her look, giving away the fact that she didn’t spend all her time holed up in her office.

  Dirt and dust were somewhat inescapable in these parts; drought had long set in Harlow’s Bend, as in much of the country. This made it harder to find work. Once upon a time, farmers were crying out for decent stockmen to help them on the land. These days, they were selling up their stock, and many moving on. It just wasn’t viable anymore.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Callie finally responded to his question. “You won’t find any food in there, though, and the store will be closed. You’re welcome to come up to the house for a meal. It won’t be much; it’s just the kids and me.”

  His stomach groaned its gratitude before he even had a chance to open his mouth. Callie’s gaze fell to the offender, then back up to him, and they both laughed.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that. It’s been a long day.”

  “You might want to put some clothes on first,” she waved a slender finger in the air, and smirked, before adding, “or not.”

  She was flirting with him. Perhaps he had misread her professional façade from earlier. He liked it.

  Pulling on a shirt and plucking a cleanish pair of jeans from his knapsack, he made his way up to the homestead. “It won’t be much,” Callie had said, but the smell oozing from the old stone building smelled like everything. Then again, after weeks of travelling around and eating out of roadhouses, anything other than a meat pie or a bacon and egg sandwich would be heaven.

  Raising a fist to bang on the door, he was surprised when it opened before his knuckles hit the old glass panelling.

  “Mum, it’s Cody,” Grace called before even acknowledging him.

  “Hi Grace,” he smiled down at the lanky pre-teen. She had her mother’s dark hair and pretty blue eyes, but her face seemed rounder. He imagined she would take after her father. Although Grace had mentioned her parents were divorced, so he may never find out.

  “Oh, hey, Cody,” Austin drawled, propping his hip against the doorframe.

  Cody nodded and responded in kind. He guessed if there were no men around, that task would fall on Austin’s young shoulders. The boy carried it well.

  “Come and wash your hands, you kids,” Callie called from the kitchen before appearing.

  Her hair now
free from its bun; it cascaded in long lengths around her shoulders. Her professional attire from earlier replaced with more casual jeans and a t-shirt, much like his own. Her feet were bare, showing off red painted toenails.

  “Oh, hey, you came,” she smiled. “Dinner is served.”

  He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Better wash my hands, huh?”

  Her smiled extended across her pretty face. “You better.”

  Austin led the way to the bathroom before showing him back to the kitchen. The house was spacious and modern in contrast to the workers’ quarters. Whilst the home was old, it had been tastefully remodelled with modern fixtures.

  “It’s a beautiful home you have here,” he said as he took his seat at the massive dining table built for a much larger family. “Have you lived here long?”

  “Much of my life,” Callie answered with a wistful tone in her voice.

  “Mum grew up here,” Grace added. “She left here when she married my dad, but came back when Granddad got sick.”

  Cody’s eyes shot between Grace and her mother as this child told the story. He loved how kids were willing and eager to fill in the blanks where an adult was hesitant.

  “We’re going to move back in with Dad soon,” Austin piped up.

  “No, we’re not, Grand Pooba,” Grace chuckled. “He’s got a new family now.”

  “That’s enough,” Callie admonished. “We have a guest, and you know better. Mr. Tanner doesn’t want to hear all this.”

  Both children’s eyes turned to him, pleading with him as if he was their only hope of avoiding their mother’s wrath.

  “It’s okay,” he managed out. Not sure what else to say.

  “It’s not okay. I’m sorry.” Callie’s voice changed from authoritative to sympathetic. “I invited you in for dinner, not to listen to these two fighting. If they don’t cut it out, they will be going to bed hungry.”