Contents
Cowboy Charming
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Dear Reader
The Toad Prince sneak preview
Copyright
Cowboy Charming
Prologue
Fourteen-year-old Ethan Townsend stood next to his dad's hospital bed, shaking.
Terminal.
His thoughts circled like the wheels on his bike when he rode really fast. Wasn't a terminal part of the airport? Somewhere you went to check in for your flight? Not a diagnosis.
His dad was dying.
He nervously picked at the sheet that covered Dad's lower half. Dad reached out and clasped Ethan's hand.
How long had it been since Dad held his hand? His thoughts spun faster. The last time he could remember, he'd been ten, and his best friend had snubbed him in Cub Scouts.
Back then, Dad's hand was warm and rough, calloused from the work he did on the family-owned dairy farm.
Now Dad's skin was cool and clammy.
"I know it's hard, but I need you to be brave."
He couldn't look at his father, not yet. He stared through the half-open hospital-room door. His stepmother, Carol, stood in the hallway, sobbing silently into her hands.
How could Dad expect him to be brave? He was just a kid.
His jaw wobbled, and he clamped it tight, trying to keep the emotion he was bottling from spilling over.
"It's okay to cry, Ethan."
Dad tugged him closer, and he climbed into bed, curling up against his father the same way he had when he'd been five and they'd lost Mom.
"Don't ever let anyone tell you it's not okay to cry."
And he felt Dad's tears fall on his head.
Later, when they'd both cried themselves out, Dad let Ethan stay next to him in the bed.
"The dairy will provide for you and Carol and the boys. But with me gone, Robbie and Sam will need you to show them how to be real men."
He could barely think about his stepbrothers. Could barely think about the lessons Dad had taught him, usually when tossing a football around in the backyard.
Dad was supposed to be here to watch him start on the JV football team this fall.
He wasn't supposed to die.
Dad ruffled Ethan's hair when tears threatened again. "You've got your mother's courage." Dad's voice was rough, like he was close to tears, too. "Don't ever lose it."
#
Nineteen-year-old Ethan clutched the envelope in his hand, making the half-mile walk from the mailbox to the single-wide mobile home on the dairy farm. Two years ago, Carol had sold the house in town, and they'd been forced to move into this little trailer. He'd been born in that house. It held his memories of Mom and Dad.
Now, he slept on the living-room sofa while Robbie and Sam shared one of the two bedrooms. Carol had the other.
He'd been waiting for weeks for this envelope. It was going to be his ticket out of here.
The envelope was made from thick paper. Nice paper. Embossed with the university crest. And inside was his acceptance letter. He'd gotten in, even though he'd had to delay a year to help Carol make ends meet on the dairy.
She wasn't going to be happy he was leaving. But this was his chance to get the education he'd dreamed of since before his dad had died. He'd even been awarded a scholarship.
As he crested the slight rise leading up to the trailer and barn, shouts met his ears and drew his head up.
Eleven-year-old Robbie ran toward him, shouting. His expression was panic-stricken.
Ethan would've dismissed it as one of his stepbrothers' many pranks—always at his expense—except for the tears streaming down Robbie's face.
"It's Mom!"
Two hours later, Ethan sat in the hospital waiting room between his stepbrothers. The same numbness he'd felt after his dad's death had stolen over him, though to a lesser degree. He hadn't loved Carol. She'd given him a roof over his head and—most of the time—three meals a day. But she'd also expected a lot of him. He'd been running the dairy since he was sixteen. He'd never gotten to play JV football, or varsity. When he wasn't working the dairy, she'd expected him to maintain the trailer and the yard—though Robbie was old enough now to run the push mower.
Before he'd turned sixteen, she'd fired two managers, run up her credit card bills, and lost so much revenue that she'd been forced to sell off most of the land and a number of the producing cows. Which meant that no matter what he did, they barely eked out a living. If they ever had extra, she spent it on new clothes for her and the boys.
Ethan wore secondhand clothes from the Goodwill store. Just as well, since he was usually up to his knees in muck.
College was supposed to be his ticket out, but the doctor had just delivered the worst news possible.
Carol was gone.
The boys had no other relatives.
Which meant there was no one else to look after them. He was their closest relative.
Looking down at them now, Robbie at eleven, and Sam at ten, Ethan remembered what it had felt like when Dad died. How could he abandon them to the system?
He couldn't.
Chapter One
Six years later
Princess Mia, third in line for the crown of Glorvaird, stood in the shade of a big, red Texas barn and watched a real cattle operation.
The October sun warmed everything, baking the brown grasses in the fields and the cowboys working there. But the wind carried a distinct chill that had her shivering in her jean jacket. She was used to mild, rainy weather in the coastal kingdom of Glorvaird, but this dry wind was new and made her nose itch.
She'd traveled to the States a few times before on royal business, but always to one of the bigger cities. New York. L.A. This was her first experience with country life.
So far she had to admit the view wasn't bad. Cowboys prowled everywhere, all of them busy bringing a long line of cows through a series of pens and then chutes where a cowboy shoved some kind of tube into the cow's mouth and medication was dispensed down their throat.
It was disgusting work.
Her sister, Princess Alessandra, sat atop a rail fence, avidly watching. It was smelly, loud work as the cattle bawled and milled, stirring up dust. She couldn't imagine what her sister found so fascinating.
Or maybe she could. Alessandra was likely watching the love of her life, ranch owner Gideon Hale, who worked amid the other cowboys. The sunlight sparkled off the diamond ring she wore on her left hand.
Mia was only a little jealous.
She was aware of the admiring glances she kept receiving from the men as they moved around the yard. Gideon and Alessandra had introduced her to a few of the hands, but there were several others whom she hadn't met yet.
Texas had its fair share of handsome cowboys.
And all of them seemed to enjoy looking at her.
Except one.
The auburn-haired cowboy—at least what she could see of his hair beneath the tan cowboy hat he wore—hadn't glanced at her once.
It shouldn't bother her. She shouldn't be curious about him. It wasn't that he was withdrawn, because he spoke several times to the men he was working with, and she saw him smile more than once. It was that he was the only man on the place, other than Gideon, who hadn't looked at her once.
And so what if she was used to attention, admiring glances? She couldn't forget the promise she'd made herself back in Glorvaird. She wasn't going to kiss another man until she was sure he was the one she'd marry.
Which
meant she really shouldn't even be looking at the cowboy. At any cowboy.
She was only twenty-three and had five failed relationships behind her. One for each year since her eighteenth birthday.
Was she so wrong to long for true love?
She was glad to have been included in this trip with Alessandra and Gideon. Her sister had asked for her help with final preparations for the big engagement ball that she and Gideon were throwing in three weeks. There would be a similar ball in Glorvaird, but Alessandra wanted this party to celebrate with their American friends, for whom it wouldn't be cost effective to travel so far for a party, though some would come to the royal wedding in her home country.
And Mia had wanted to get away from the media storm still raging after her last, very public, breakup.
She'd thought being here would be a distraction.
She just hadn't planned on the distraction being a handsome cowboy who refused to look in her direction.
#
Ethan couldn't help but be aware of the beautiful blonde.
He'd first noticed her mid-morning, when she and another blonde had emerged from the ranch house to watch the chaos ensuing near the barn.
Their appearances were similar enough that he thought they must be sisters, though he didn't know either of them. The blonde, who he guessed was the older sister, wore jeans and a man's work coat. Her boots had seen their fair share of farm work. He guessed the coat must belong to Gideon because at one point, she'd stopped him, and they'd shared a warm kiss.
But the younger sister... she wore skinny jeans that hugged her slender curves, and a white blouse beneath a rhinestone-studded denim jacket.
Nobody who worked on a ranch wore white around farm chores. And her high-heeled boots were more appropriate for a fashion event than the barnyard.
Regardless, he couldn't keep from sneaking glances at her. At first, she hung back, perching on an ice chest closer to the barn than the corrals where they ran cows through.
But soon enough, she was moving among the guys, distributing cold bottles of water out of the ice chest. She made it a point to speak to the different hands.
The October weather couldn't be called brisk, and the work was grueling. He'd sweated through the T-shirt he wore beneath a flannel overshirt. The sweat was downright refreshing compared to the cow drool and medication that had been slung onto him by the ornery beasts. He was sure he smelled worse than the bovines they were drenching with worming medication.
Finally, it was his turn to take a break from the drenching position—sticking the elongated tube down the cows' throats and squeezing de-worming medication down their gullets.
He'd take five and then climb back in and start driving cows into the chute. Another hour and a half, and he could take a short break in the AC in his truck before heading home to start the afternoon milking. Taking on this extra job would make for a couple of eighteen hour days, but the extra cash was needed at home. Like always. His stepbrothers were demanding new kicks.
He leaned on the railing, not holding his breath for the beautiful young woman to head his way with one of those water bottles.
He'd learned early on that girls like her never gave the time of day to guys like him. He hadn't seen her around town before, and there was no doubt she was related to the beautiful blonde that was Gideon Hale's girlfriend, but somehow he knew that she'd know just by looking at him that he was hired help. Dirt poor hired help.
"Thirsty?"
The lilting female voice shocked him into looking up before he'd thought better of it. She was right there, extending a bottle still dripping from the ice water in the chest.
He pushed his hat back slightly on his head and took it. "Thank you, ma'am. Miss."
His face went hot as he stumbled—didn't younger women hate to be called ma'am?—and he cursed his fair coloring, knowing he was probably blushing.
She was even more beautiful up close, with dancing, ice-blue eyes and the lightest splash of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones. Her long, blonde hair was pulled behind her head in a curly ponytail.
"You can call me Mia." Her smile had him noticing her shapely lips. "No, 'miss' required."
He swallowed hard. "I'm Ethan Townsend."
Her flowery, feminine scent was noticeable, probably because he stank so badly. That realization just made him blush harder.
He expected her to walk away, having done the polite thing by not leaving him out as she was handing out cold drinks. To his surprise, she propped her pretty, pointy-toed boot on the bottom railing and leaned her elbows on the fence next to him.
"So, Ethan. How long have you worked on the Triple H?"
He'd taken a gulp of the cold water, and now swallowed it wrong. It burned all the way down. He cleared his throat.
"I'm just extra help for a couple of days."
"Oh, I didn't realize."
There was a short, awkward pause, and then she asked, "What do you do?"
"I run a dairy farm on the opposite side of town." He didn't like to say he owned the farm, because really, the bank owned it. Carol had mortgaged it to the hilt, and he was lucky to make the payments and keep enough cash for himself and the boys to eat. Teenaged boys weren't cheap to feed.
"That must be a fun job."
Fun. Said the woman who'd obviously never had to be on the clock at four a.m. She'd probably never even thought about cleaning machinery and shoveling cow patties until your eyes crossed, and then doing it all over again in the afternoon.
And repeating it. Every single day.
He didn't nod, couldn't lie, though he softened it with what smile he could dredge up. "It's something." Hopefully only for another three years, but he couldn't focus too hard on that. Couldn't afford to jinx himself.
He was no expert in holding his own in a conversation with a beautiful woman, but it seemed like it was his turn to say something. "Are you just visiting our part of Texas?"
She tilted her head to one side, her brows furrowed slightly in a way that shouldn't be so adorable. Like she couldn't figure him out. She glanced over to where Gideon's girlfriend sat and then back to him. "Yes, for a few weeks."
And then Brian, one of the Triple H hands, rode by inside the temp fence they'd constructed early that morning, his horse kicking up dust. "Townsend, you about done flirting with the princess? I know it's a treat having a real royal highness around, but you ain't getting paid to stand there."
He was used to the ribbing from the Triple H hands. They were a tight-knit group, and when he got hired on for the most unpleasant tasks, like today's drenching and springtime steer cutting, they made him a part of the pack.
But this joke hit him right in the solar plexus. Princess? This gal was a princess?
Brian laughed. "You didn't know? How could you not know, man?"
Most days, he barely had time to eat. His stepbrothers had the only TV in the house in their bedroom, and they couldn't afford to take the paper.
And ever since last summer, he'd blocked his ears from all town gossip.
He could barely glance at her, but when he did, he noticed the color high on her cheeks. "I think it's refreshing," she called out to Brian, who was already spreading Ethan's humiliation to the next closest cowhand.
She slid a glance to him, offered a smile. "My sister is engaged to Gideon."
There must be a story there, but his throat had closed up. He wouldn't have asked anyway.
He'd been standing here next to a real, live princess and probably making himself look a fool. As if he needed any help with that.
He'd grabbed the water and now forced it down his gullet, twisting the cap back on the empty bottle. He tossed it in a nearby barrel and nodded at the beautiful princess who'd given him the time of day. "Thank you."
He didn't dare glance at her as he ducked through the railing and back into the corral.
He was such a dunce.
#
Alessandra rubbed her eye sockets, blinking away the after-gla
re from staring at her laptop screen for too long. She was curled up on the couch in Gideon's living room, only one lamp lighting the space. Gideon's German Shepherd Dog Apollo snored softly from his cushion near the front door.
Though she was frustrated with her self-assigned task, she was glad to be on the Triple H. It felt like home, maybe more so than her suite of rooms at the castle in Glorvaird. Her kingdom was part bustling metropolis and part seaside village, but when she was there, she missed the wide-open spaces of Gideon's north Texas ranch.
"You still up?"
Gideon stood in the doorway, leaning one broad shoulder against the jamb. He'd told her he needed to work on the ranch's books for a while, but that had been... she checked the clock on her laptop's screen. Nearly three hours ago. He'd untucked his shirt and now stood in sock feet, apparently ready to go to bed.
"I thought this would be easier," she admitted, closing the laptop's screen and pushing it away on the couch cushion. Before she'd left Glorvaird, her older sister Eloise had delivered a piece of unexpected news—that the princesses had a half-sister from an affair their father'd had years ago—and tasked Alessandra with finding the lost princess.
Gideon came closer, and Alessandra stood, stretching her stiff muscles. She'd been so zoned-in to her search on the computer, following rabbit trail after rabbit trail.
Gideon's hands closed over her elbows, sliding slowly up her arms as he held her close.
"It'll take time," he said into her hair.
She knew he'd put out feelers with his contacts in the military—Gideon was a former Navy SEAL. She also knew her older sister had hired two private investigators to try and find the girl—woman now—who'd fallen off the map several years ago.
Her father wanted to see his long-lost daughter before he died. And though the doctor could only estimate when that might be, the clock was ticking. Alessandra felt the unknown deadline pressing down on her, and with it, a desire to return to Glorvaird to try and build the closer relationship with her father that she'd always wanted.
If Father was willing. When he'd first been diagnosed with MS, he hadn't wanted to make any changes to his lifestyle, hadn't wanted to spend more time with his daughters, even though his time on earth was limited.
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