Kissed by a Cowboy

by Pamela Britton

  Wes took it. “I know who you are, sir.”

  “You mind if we talk for a moment?” He scanned the area, clearly looking for a place where they could be in private instead of by the always-busy gate.

  Jillian caught Vivian’s gaze. She looked ready to cry.

  “Do you know who that man is?” she said as the two of them walked away.

  Jillian shook her head, the sight of Vivian’s tears—happy tears, she realized—causing her own eyes to burn. “I have no clue.”

  “He owns some of the best cutting horses in the business. He wouldn’t be talking to Wes if he wasn’t serious about making him an offer, and after the go Wes just had, it’ll be a lot of money.”

  “But we don’t even know how he scored.”

  Now Vivian shook her head, a smile slowly creeping up her face, her eyes glittering. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what he’s capable of. Anyone who knows anything about cutting horses knows Dudley’s going to be a star.” Vivian looked amazed. “Do you know what this means? It doesn’t matter what Wes scores today. He’s going to make the last bit of money he needs. No matter what. Either with prize money or with the sale of Dudley, although I hope it’s prize money. I kind of like that little horse. Wish I could buy him myself.”

  The speakers popped. Vivian and Jillian froze.

  “We have the score for entry 1550. Judges mark a seventy-nine.”

  “Hah!” Vivian cried. “Hah, hah, hah.” She turned and tried to catch her son’s eye. He must have heard, because he reached down and patted his horse’s neck, a wide smile on his face.

  “Do you think he’ll win?”

  “I don’t know, but he’ll be in the money.”

  So he’d done it. As Vivian said, one way or another. Even if he didn’t have the top score of the day, he would still be okay. He’d earned his right to own Landon Farms.

  “Tell him congratulations.”

  She needed to get away, although why, she couldn’t articulate. Her heart had started to pound as she turned away.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” Vivian asked.

  Jillian waved. “Looks like Wes will be a while.” She forced a smile. “And I need to get something to eat. I’ll be back.”

  She had to come back. She needed a ride home. It was just that seeing him sitting there, all his dreams having come true, it hurt for some reason. Was she jealous? No. She couldn’t be more thrilled for him. Yet she needed to avoid him. She almost laughed. Who was she kidding? She’d been avoiding him for weeks.

  Overcoming that fear makes victory all the sweeter.

  He’d been talking right at her. And after the way he’d been smiling at her earlier, and the look in his eyes when he’d come out of the ring, she knew he still had feelings. He didn’t hate her.

  So?

  They were friends. They were still friends. They would always be friends.

  Except suddenly, she wanted more. She longed for it with a keening pain that was almost physical.

  She quickly wiped her eyes, embarrassed by her tears. There were people around. People walking. People riding. People driving around in golf carts. She clutched her hands to her stomach. It wasn’t just the pain in her gut; it was her heart. It beat so quickly and so harshly that it felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

  It’s your own damn fault.

  That little voice again. The one that had called her ten times a fool for being afraid to fall in love with Wes. He was perfect in every way—and she had never believed in a perfect man. But Wes was as close to perfect as a man could get. He was the best. Kind to animals. Good to his mom. A hard worker. The ideal man—and she knew, she just knew, if she fell for him, life would never be the same. She’d spend the rest of her life scared to death that something would take him away. And not just Wes. What about Maggie? Hell, if she were being completely honest with herself, she was more afraid of assuming the role of mom than she was of falling in love with Wes. What if she let his little girl down? What if it turned out she was better with animals than she was with people?

  A dog barked. Jillian swiped at her eyes. A dog barked again, closer this time, and there was another sound, a clippity-clop that was unmistakable. The sound of a horse running.

  She turned.

  Wes.

  He rode toward her, hell-bent for leather, scandalized looks following in his wake, and out in front of him, Cowboy. She stood there, frozen, wondering what he was doing. They were going to boot him from the show grounds for turning his dog loose and for running like that. And then he was close enough that she could see into his eyes, and she knew, she just knew what he was going to do.

  “Wes, no.”

  Cowboy reached her first, jumping up on her. She almost fell. It knocked her off balance so that when Wes rode up alongside of her, she was still unsteady, which made it easy for him to bend down and hook her around the waist.

  “Wes!”

  Cowboy barked. People stared. Someone yelled. Wes ignored them all, just tugged her up in front of him and pulled her into his arms, and she knew it was over. All her fighting. All the distance she’d put between them. All the time she’d kept away from Landon Farms. Pfft. That was where it went. Out the door, because the moment Wes Landon held her, she was lost.

  “Damn you,” she said, trying to wiggle away. “I told you to stay away.”

  “No.”

  “I’m warning you, Wes, I’ll scream.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Not if I kiss you.”

  “You will not—”

  He kissed her. Her indignation lasted about 2.1 seconds. That was all it took. One more kiss. One more time of tasting him, of breathing him in, of being near his amazing goodness. It tipped her over the edge and she knew she’d kidded herself. She could resist no longer. She loved this man. Loved him with every fiber of her being.

  She released a sob. He must have heard it, because he drew back. “What is it, love? Why are you crying?”

  “Damn you,” she said. “Damn you all to hell, Wes Landon.”

  Somehow he juggled the reins and her and his horse and yet managed to lift a hand to wipe away her tears. “Sometimes the thing we fear most is the thing we want most in the world.”

  She sucked in a breath, one that released tears for some reason. “Will you stop going all Dalai Lama on me?”

  “It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

  The kindness in his green eyes proved to be her undoing. “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  She drew back.

  He kissed her again. Someone let out a woof of approval. Jillian hardly noticed. She was too busy letting go of it all. Her fears. Her insecurity. Her self-doubt. She admitted in that moment that with Wes by her side all things were possible.

  “I love you,” she repeated against his lips, her hands finding his cheeks. “I love you so much, Wes.”

  He leaned back, one side of his mouth tipping up in a smile. “You’re just after my money.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. Suddenly she was laughing and hugging him and kissing him again and she realized perhaps being in love wasn’t such a scary thing after all.

  Epilogue

  The day of the wedding dawned beautiful and bright. In one of the upstairs rooms of Vivian Landon’s stately home, the bride checked her appearance in the mirror once again.

  “You look amazing.”

  Mariah Stewart, soon to be Mariah Johnson, turned away from her reflection, used both hands to adjust her breasts—one for each hand—and said, “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

  Jillian tried not to laugh. But she was right. Her friend looked like a million bucks.

  “I really thought white would bleach me out, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “It’s your hair.” Jillian pointed to the upswept do. “You could never be washed out with all that red hair.”

  Somehow they’d managed to tame it today. It was piled atop her
head, allowing for the column of her neck to be exposed, and her shoulders, too. She wore a strapless gown, one with a skintight waist and flared skirt. She never would have figured her best friend would go for rhinestones and pearls, but she’d gone all out with her wedding gown. She glittered like a disco ball—a thought that Jillian kept to herself because nothing could outsparkle the joy in her eyes.

  “Wait until you and Wes get married.”

  Jillian glanced down at the diamond ring she wore, and as they always did, her eyes warmed when she looked at the two-carat stone. It had been Vivian’s. Her future mother-in-law had cried her eyes out when Wes had slipped it on her finger two months after winning the Million Dollar Futurity.

  “I’m counting the days,” Jillian admitted. “Although it should be easy to follow in your footsteps. You did all the work figuring out where to put everything in Vivian’s backyard.”

  “That’s not a backyard—that’s a football stadium disguised as a backyard.”

  “And a good thing, too. Half of the racing world is out there. I just hope a riot won’t break out when our friends from CEASE figure out they’re sitting next to an evil racehorse owner.”

  Mariah smiled, but whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted as Natalie burst into the room. “They’re ready for us,” she gushed. “And I think—” She gasped. “Oh, Mariah. You look...” She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. “You look amazing.”

  “You think?”

  “You do.” Natalie’s gaze fell on the flowers. “Here.” She handed Jillian her maid-of-honor bouquet, a tussie-mussie of white roses, baby’s breath and lemon sprigs, then grabbed her own. “All the groomsmen are downstairs, waiting for us. I tried to get that moron Colton Reynolds to take off his cowboy hat, but he insists on wearing it. I swear, Mariah, that man’s an ass.”

  “That man’s one of the most famous rodeo performers around.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll have to take your word for it. I, for one, wouldn’t be able to stand watching him for even five seconds.”

  “Are you ready?” Jillian asked as Mariah took an even bigger bouquet from Natalie.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Natalie stepped back, her gaze sweeping Mariah up and down.

  “Perfect,” she said before turning and leaving the room.

  Jillian helped Mariah lower an ivory veil, then darted around the back of her friend, making sure her train didn’t catch on any of Vivian’s furniture. Down the steps into the massive foyer they carefully trod, passing by the living room where Vivian had tried to tell her not to be afraid and then to the back door, where she paused while Natalie opened the door.

  “Here we go.”

  Mariah glided onto an ivory-colored runner that led down the pathway of Vivian’s tiered backyard, where wedding guests sat in chairs on each level, and to an altar in a garden area down below.

  “Beautiful,” she heard her friend whisper. “Just perfect.”

  When she slipped through the doors, her gaze scanned the group of men standing outside. She found Wes almost immediately. He was Zach’s best man, which meant they would walk down the aisle together, not for the last time, and he couldn’t have looked more dashing in his black tuxedo and cowboy boots.

  “I’ll see you after,” Jillian said to Mariah as she hooked her arm through her perfect groom’s.

  Mariah stood next to her dad, a man with a shock of hair as red as Mariah’s, waving her forward. Jillian glanced up at Wes as they began their walk. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t tell the bride, but you’re the prettiest thing here.”

  “Pfft.” She shook her head, but not before returning his smile. “Not possible. I swear I’m going to make Mariah wear a pumpkin-orange dress when we get married.”

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but pink was not her favorite color. It looked great on Natalie. Then again, her blonde friend would look like a million bucks in duct tape and camouflage. Not so for Jillian. At least it was a summer dress, though, a sleeveless bodice with an ankle-length skirt. It was the color that bothered her most. Pink. Ugh.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  She shook her head, but they were halfway down the aisle and up ahead sat Vivian, Maggie in her lap and looking absolutely adorable in a matching pink dress, a wreath of flowers on her head. She was a flower girl today, although she was a little too young to be on official duty. Cowboy, too, had been invited to the wedding. The dog looked ashamed of the big pink bow tied around his neck, although his tail thumped when he spied the two of them. Vivian lifted the baby’s hand as they approached as if making her wave, and Jillian couldn’t help but smile even more. The little girl had taken over a permanent spot in her heart. She loved her as if she were her own, although Maxine still had custody of her from time to time. Wes had full custody, though, and that was good because Maxine had quickly resumed her party-girl lifestyle. Thank God the little girl had Wes. Thank God they both had Wes. It hadn’t taken Jillian long to admit she’d been a fool to fight off falling in love. You couldn’t fight fate, and she had no doubt she and Wes were meant for each other.

  “See you after.” Wes echoed her own words. She nodded, smiled at Zach, who stood near the altar, and then turned to face the crowd just as the bridal march started, and though she’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, she found herself close to tears as she watched her best friend pause at the top of the steps. A summer breeze caught the edge of her veil, pressing it against her face. She no longer looked like a disco ball. Instead, she resembled a heavenly angel, one who’d fallen from the stars to land in their midst.

  “Damn,” she thought she heard Zach whisper.

  Mr. Stewart handed his daughter off, but not before lifting her veil and kissing her. Mariah, too, seemed on the verge of tears as she leaned in close to her dad, glanced behind him to her mom sitting opposite Vivian, then locked gazes with her groom. Jillian saw her take a deep, shaky breath, her eyes full of pure joy as she walked to Zach’s side.

  So much for not crying.

  The ceremony passed quickly. Wes and Mariah had opted for the quickie version—or so the pastor had called it. It seemed Jillian blinked and the pastor was saying Zach could kiss his bride. With a whoop and a holler that startled baby Maggie into crying, Zach and Mariah kissed like a couple in a romantic movie.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the pastor announced, “may I present Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Johnson.”

  And there went the tears again, this time because of the look of pride on Zach’s face and the answering expression of love on Mariah’s face. It made Jillian’s breath catch. Did she look at Wes like that? Did Wes look at her like that? She had a feeling they did.

  Wes must have been thinking the same thing. “Our turn next,” he whispered as they followed in Zach and Mariah’s wake. “If you don’t chicken out on me.”

  “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  He leaned back and smiled. “Never.”

  She didn’t blame him. She’d been an idiot. Wes had compared her to a timid mare, one who’d been afraid of her own shadow. It had taken a gentle hand to tame her and to teach her to trust in his kindness, but eventually she’d learned to accept love. She wasn’t so sure she liked being compared to a horse, but it was an apt analogy.

  “You know what?” Wes said as they reached the top terrace. “I think you’re right. I think that dress looks terrible on you.”

  “Wes!”

  “In fact, I think I’m going to have to rip it off you right now.” She giggled. He tugged her around and into his arms. “But first I think I need to kiss you.”

  He did exactly that, and even though Mariah and Zach’s wedding guests were no doubt watching, she didn’t care, because it was his kiss that reminded Jillian that she had nothing to fear. In his kiss she found not just love but courage, the courage to face a wild world, a world made just a little less crazy by Wes and his daughter and his mother—her family. Her new family.
/>   “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

  His kissed her back, gently, softly, before teasing her. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Good, because I’m not going anywhere, Jillian Thacker.”

  She rested her head in the crook of his neck. “I know.”

  “Not ever.”

  She leaned back. “I know.”

  And she did know. And she was right about him never leaving her side. It was a promise he did keep—a promise they both kept—forever.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TWINS’ RODEO RIDER by Tina Leonard.

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  Chapter One

  Francisco Rodriguez Olivier Grant stared at the very petite, very darling woman dressing him down. Suz Hawthorne giving a man hell was an impressive sight despite her five foot two and a half inch size, due to the streaky blue-in-blond hair, strategically placed cheek studs, a tiny diamond stud in her nose and a miniscule silver loop in her right eyebrow. Though they were small and delicately designed, her tats spoke loudly of her rebel status—a fragile red rose on one wrist, and a beautiful, delicate Celtic cross on the other. When a man adored a woman like he adored Suz, being in her line of fire was enough to nail a man’s boots to the ground—and his boots were nailed down good.

  “Here’s the deal, so pay attention.” Suz put her hands on her rounded, feminine hips, guiding his eyes farther down her oh-so-delicious body. Well, he just knew her body would feel delicious—if he could get his hands on it.