The Accidental Cowboy

by Heidi Hormel

  “That sounds right, doesn’t it?” Lavonda asked Jones, laid out along his body, not embarrassed that they were in front of hundreds of people.

  “You won, all right,” Jones said, rolling his r in that delicious way she loved. He tasted her lips and his hand pulled her close. She resisted nibbling at Jones’s lips because they were in the middle of an arena with the entire—

  Danny pulled Lavonda to her feet. She reached toward Jones and said, “Stop it. Let me go.” She tried to pull free of her brother’s grip.

  “Say hi to Mama and Daddy, Lavonda. Wave.”

  “Don’t be funny, Danny,” she whispered.

  He said into the microphone, “Modern technology is a wondrous thing. We were able to live broadcast this touching scene—” he swept an arm to her and Jones, who had gotten to his feet and loomed behind her “—to our parents and friends. With them as witnesses, as well as all of you, and with me in my official capacity as mayor, I pronounce the two of you man and wife. And since you’ve already kissed the bride, I believe my new brother-in-law should tell everyone why he loves my sister.”

  “Danny, what are you doing? And what do you mean—”

  “Lavonda,” Jones said, taking her hands in his and pulling her around to face him. The look of love in his gaze took her breath away. “I love you—anything else we can solve together.”

  * * *

  JONES WAITED FOR Lavonda to say something. She always said something. Her cartoon-princess eyes shone brightly, sparkling with tears. His heart stopped for a second. He was sure that she was crying and about to tell him no, to tell him that this idea he and her brother had concocted had been stupid. Then a smile curved her clever mouth.

  “I love you, too, Jones... Ross Nigel Meredith Kincaid.”

  He needed her in his arms again. He dragged her close, crushing her near enough that he didn’t know where she started and where he ended. “Your pixie dust enchanted me.”

  A laugh rippled through Lavonda, and Jones felt more than heard her words, “Good thing I’ve got a lifetime supply, because that’s how long I expect you to stick around.”

  “A life plus forever.”

  “Yes. A life plus forever.”

  He kissed her again, gently taking her lips, lifting her to him so that she fit along him in the spaces created just for her.

  “Lavonda girl.” He heard a woman’s voice come booming over the sound system. He kept Lavonda tight against him even as she tried to wriggle away. He was glad he was wearing a sporran because she had managed to—

  “That’s Mama. Danny really did it.” She pulled away. Jones wanted to grab her back, but Lavonda’s chin had pushed out and her eyes narrowed—the look that told everyone to not mess with her.

  He watched her stalk over to her brother and saw his...well, hell, the man was his brother-in-law holding out a phone in front of him like a shield. He guessed their mother was on that phone.

  No matter what, Jones was not allowing Lavonda to get out of this ceremony. They were married. They could go to the courthouse or registry or wherever and make it official.

  “Is Jessie there, too?”

  “Lavonda, this is Daddy,” interrupted a slow, drawling voice. “Put that Scotsman on the phone.”

  “We’re not on a phone, Gerald,” Lavonda’s mother said. “It’s Facechat. Tell him, Jessie.”

  “It doesn’t matter, woman,” the man went on, his voice being picked up by the microphone. “I want to talk with that foreigner. Danny, get him on—”

  “Gerald,” the woman interrupted. “You can talk with them later. See all of those people waiting for something to happen. Just tell them that we’re happy, but until we give our blessing this marriage is not official. Danny, I know you’re mayor and you can marry anyone, but I’m your mother and I say this one isn’t official. You just take it back until we can—”

  A loud whinny came over the PA system. “Dear Lord, no,” Jones heard Lavonda whisper, and turned to her.

  “What?”

  “That pony is a menace. She’s horned her way into two weddings—she is not going to be a part of a third. Who knows what she’ll demand.”

  “I don’t care. We’re already married. Your brother said it’s official.”

  She picked up his hand and squeezed. “Danny, give me the microphone.” She held out her hand and her gaze was steady on her brother.

  “It really was Jessie and Olympia’s idea,” her brother said, holding out the microphone and backing up.

  “One day, you’ll be in the same boat and I’ll treat you as well as you’ve treated me.” She took the microphone, but kept holding Jones’s hand as she turned to the crowd.

  Jones really didn’t hear what she said because her pixie dust filled his ears and he only had eyes for her. He knew that he was in way over his head, and today felt almost like the day he’d fallen into the arroyo, unreal and wonderful at the same time. How could a day that started out so badly turn out so well?

  He didn’t care what spin she was putting on today’s events, as long as at the end of it she couldn’t get out of the marriage. Enough. They needed to talk privately. He might also have other reasons for wanting to be private. He plucked the microphone from her hand, gave it to Danny, then picked her up in his arms. She gave a little squeak before putting her arms around his neck. “I’m carrying you across the threshold.”

  “No, you’re not, because this isn’t where we live.”

  Danny’s voice came across the sound system. “Folks, you have just seen another ancient Scottish ritual usually reserved for the eyes of DNA-tested Scots. It’s the reenactment of the kidnapping of the first Queen of Scotland who was reported to be a pixie.”

  “What have you been telling Danny?” Lavonda asked, struggling now to get out of his arms. He didn’t stop moving as he adjusted her weight and tightened his grip.

  “It could be true.”

  “No one called me pixie until you showed up, and I’m not sure I like it.”

  “You like it just fine, and I think your brother may be more Scots than I am—which as you know is a high compliment, indeed.”

  “Put me down,” she finally said after a brief kiss on his neck.

  He ignored her comment and walked to her mobile pixie unit of the Mini Cooper and the tiny horse trailer. He put her down still in the shade but away from the carrier that he knew contained Cat.

  “Jones,” Lavonda said. “Are you sure? I know that Danny shamed you into—”

  “My brother-in-law did no such thing.” He watched her, a bright smile lighting every inch of her face. “The only thing that I want to do is love you for the rest of our lives.”

  “Jones,” she whispered. “Me, too.” She lifted herself onto her toes and pulled his head down so their mouths met in their own vow. One that said no matter what happened, they would face it together. Neither of them would be on their own anymore.

  After a final soft kiss, Jones pulled himself away because he knew that they had a lot to talk about. The kissing was great and saying they loved each other was even better. All of that would make what they had to figure out possible.

  “I guess I can get my green card now.”

  “I guess so,” Lavonda said. “So you want to stay in Arizona?”

  “Maybe. But that’s not what you want. It might take time to straighten things out in Scotland, but are you positive you don’t want to go to Hong Kong?”

  Her rich brown eyes sparkled with the beginning of tears. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. She shook her head and spoke quickly. “No Hong Kong. That’s not for me. Maybe it would have been for that young girl running away from the boots and the saddles. That’s not me anymore.”

  “I don’t want to stand in your way.”

  “You won’t. You’ll be standing besid
e me.” She liked that idea. “I’ll need help if I try and make a go of the tour company in Angel Crossing. But first we go to Scotland for you to get straight with the university and to talk with your brother.”

  She really meant it, even though giving up Hong Kong and staying here made no sense. And yet it made perfect sense. Talking with Iain, though... “We’ll see. Who will look after Reese and Cat?”

  “Covered. Olympia or maybe Danny. They both owe me.”

  “You’re not upset about the maide leisg and the phone call?”

  “No. It’ll be quite a tale to tell our wee ones. Is that right? Isn’t that how the Scots say it?”

  He laughed because many a Scotsman on telly said that. He didn’t care. For now, he would enjoy the warmth in his heart. He wouldn’t look for any troubles, except— “I don’t have a job and probably not a career.”

  “What do you mean? You’ll be my co-guide. Did you think I intended to do that all by myself? And we’ll offer the Kincaid Cache tour. That’ll give you a chance to keep looking for the secret treasure.” She smiled so broadly he was nearly blinded by her happiness.

  “That’s what she said,” he whispered, just before gently kissing her.

  * * * * *

  Read on for a sneak preview

  of ONCE A RANCHER by

  #1 New York Times bestselling author

  Linda Lael Miller,

  the first title in her brand-new series,

  THE CARSONS OF MUSTANG CREEK.

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  Once a Rancher

  by Linda Lael Miller

  CHAPTER ONE

  SLATER CARSON WAS bone-tired, as he was after every film wrapped, but it was the best kind of fatigue—part pride and satisfaction in a job well done, part relief, part “bring it,” that anticipatory quiver in the pit of his stomach that would lead him to the next project, and the one after that.

  This latest film had been set in a particularly remote area, emphasizing how the Homestead Act had impacted the development of not just the American West, but the country as a whole. It had been his most ambitious effort to date. The sheer scope was truly epic, and as he watched the uncut footage on his computer monitor, he knew.

  160 Acres was going to touch a nerve.

  Yep. This one would definitely hit home with the viewers, new and old.

  His previous effort, a miniseries on the Lincoln County War in New Mexico, had won prizes and garnered great reviews, and he’d sold the rights to one of the media giants for a shitload of money. Like Lincoln County, 160 Acres was good, solid work. The researchers, camera operators and other professionals he worked with were the top people in the business, as committed to the films as he was.

  And that was saying something.

  No doubt about it, the team had done a stellar job the last time around, but this—well, this was the best yet. A virtual work of art, if he did say so himself.

  “Boss?”

  Slater leaned back in his desk chair and clicked the pause button. “Hey, Nate,” he greeted his friend and personal assistant. “What do you need?”

  Like Slater, Nate Wheaton had just gotten back from the film site, where he’d taken care of a thousand details, and it was a safe bet that the man was every bit as tired as he looked. Short, blond, energetic and not more than twenty years old, Nate was a dynamo; the production had come together almost seamlessly, in large part because of his talent, persistence and steel-trap brain.

  “Um,” Nate murmured, visibly unplugging, shifting gears. He was moving into off-duty mode, and God knew, he’d earned it. “There’s someone to see you.” He inclined his head in the direction of the outer office, rubbed the back of his neck and let out an exasperated sigh. “The lady insists she needs to talk to you and only you. I tried to get her to make an appointment, but she says it has to be now.”

  Slater suppressed a sigh of his own. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

  “I’ve actually pointed that out,” Nate said, glancing at his phone. “It’s five after, to be exact.” Like Slater himself, Nate believed in exactness, which was at once a blessing and a curse. “She claims it can’t possibly wait until morning, whatever ‘it’ is. But if I hadn’t been walking into the kitchen I wouldn’t have heard the knock.”

  “How’d she even find me?” The crew had flown in late, driven out to the vineyard/ranch, and Slater had figured that no one, other than his family, knew he was in town. Or out of town. Whatever qualified as far as the ranch was concerned.

  Nate looked glumly resigned. “I have no idea. She refused to say. I’m going to bed. If you need anything else, come and wake me, but bring a sledgehammer, because I’d probably sleep through anything less.” A pause, another sigh, deeper and wearier than the last. “That was quite the shoot.”

  The understatement of the day.

  Slater drew on the last dregs of his energy, shoved a hand through his hair and said, “Well, point her in this direction, if you don’t mind, and then get yourself some shut-eye.”

  He supposed he sounded normal, but on the inside, he was drained. He’d given everything he had to 160 Acres, and then some, and there was no hope of charging his batteries. He’d blown through the last of his physical resources hours ago.

  Resentment at the intrusion nibbled at his famous equanimity; he was used to dealing with problems on the job—ranging from pesky all the way to apocalyptic—but at home, damn it, he expected to be left alone. He needed rest, downtime, a chance to regroup, and home was where he did those things.

  One of his younger brothers ran the Carson ranch, and the other managed the vineyard and winery. The arrangement worked out pretty well. Everyone had his own role to play, and the sprawling mansion was big enough even for three competitive males to live in relative peace. Especially since Slater was gone half the time anyway.

  “Will do.” Nate left the study, and a few minutes later the door opened.

  Before Slater could make the mental leap from one moment to the next, a woman—quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—stormed across the threshold, dragging a teenage boy by the arm.

  She was a redhead, with the kind of body that would resurrect a dead man, let alone a tired on
e.

  And Slater had a fondness for redheads; he’d dated a lot of them over the years. This one was all sizzle, and her riot of coppery curls, bouncing around her straight, indignant shoulders, seemed to blaze in the dim light.

  It took him a moment, but he finally recovered enough to clamber to his feet and say, “I’m Slater Carson. Can I help you?”

  This visitor, whoever she was, had his full attention.

  Fascinating.

  The redhead poked the kid, who was taller than she was by at least six inches, and she did it none too gently. The boy flinched; he was lanky, clad in a Seahawks T-shirt, baggy jeans and half-laced shoes. He looked bewildered, ready to bolt.

  “Start talking, buster,” the redhead ordered, glowering up at the kid. “And no excuses.” She shook her head. “I’m being nice here,” she said when the teenager didn’t speak. “Your father would kick you into the next county.”

  Just his luck, Slater thought, with a strange, nostalgic detachment. She was married.

  While he waited for the next development, he let his gaze trail over the goddess, over a sundress with thin straps on shapely shoulders, a midthigh skirt and a lot of silky, pale skin. She was one of the rare titian types who didn’t have freckles, although Slater wouldn’t be opposed to finding out if there might be a few tucked out of sight. White sandals with a small heel finished off the look, and all that glorious hair was loose and flowing down her back.

  The kid, probably around fourteen, cleared his throat. He stepped forward and laid one of the magnetic panels from the company’s production truck on the desk.

  Slater, caught up in the unfolding drama, hadn’t noticed the sign until then.

  Interesting.

  “I’m sorry,” the boy gulped out, looking miserable and, at the same time, a little defiant. “I took this.” He glanced briefly at the woman beside him, visibly considered giving her some lip, and just as visibly reconsidered. Smart kid. “I thought it was pretty cool,” he explained, all knees and elbows and youthful angst. Color climbed his neck and burned in his face. “I know it was wrong, okay? Stealing is stealing, and my stepmother’s ready to cuff me and haul me off to jail, so if that’s what you want, too, mister, go for it.”