How to Catch a Cowboy in 10 Days
Unlikely Cowgirl
Kimberly Krey
Copyright © 2018 by Kimberly Krey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Kimberly Krey
Chapter 1
Ann’s grip tightened around the worn paperback in her hands, anticipation stirring within her. She’d long ago tuned out the nasally voice of the flight attendant. The whining baby two rows up was no more than a distant memory. Even the gossipy old gals behind her stood no chance of disrupting the scene Ann had been waiting for – the first kiss.
“Miss?” Something pointy jabbed her shoulder. “Miss? Would you like a beverage?”
Ann pried her eyes from the yellowed page and looked up to see a flight attendant beside her. Gangly. Long in the neck. And eyes bulging like someone had a fist squeezed around her middle.
“Sorry,” Ann blurted. “You want me to order something?”
“Well, if you’d like a beverage, I can bring you one. If not, I’ll move right on down the aisle.” Her words – though feathery light – packed an irritated punch.
“Tomato juice,” Ann said. “Please.”
The woman grunted, scribbled something on her notepad, and stepped forward.
“I ordered a dumb root beer,” the guy beside her said. “Stewardess won’t give me a real beer.”
“Flight attendant,” Ann corrected. “That’s what they’re called now.” She turned to glance at him. She’d figured – by the looks of him – that he’d stick to himself throughout the flight. Head shaved on one side. Gauges in both ears. And a half-sleeve of tattoos covering one arm. “Why wouldn’t she give you a beer? Are you under-aged?”
He shrugged. “I’m nineteen. I’ll be twenty in a couple of months, but everyone says I look older.”
“Yeah, you do,” she said, though he didn’t look any older to her.
“How old are you?”
His question took her off guard. “Me? I’m twenty-four. No, twenty-five.”
He laughed. “You don’t know how old you are?”
“Trust me. Once you pass twenty-one you start losing track.” Only that wasn’t exactly true. Ann was very aware of the years that separated her from the big three-O. Just five years now. Soon four, three, two… Her eyes wandered back to her book. Would it be rude if she returned to it so soon?
“I guess I should ask what your name is,” the kid said. “I’m Noah.”
“Hi Noah.” She folded an arm awkwardly over her chest to shake his hand. “I’m Ann.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Noah leaned in, a conspiratorial quirk on his lip. “Maybe you could order me a drink. The rest of my family’s in first class, so they’ll never know.”
“Sorry,” Ann said through a laugh. “You’ve got the wrong woman for that. Had you been seated next to my friend—she’s a few rows up—you’d have probably gotten that drink.”
He stretched his neck. “Which one is she?”
“The redhead,” Ann said. “Her name’s Zoe. She loves anything that reeks of rebellion.”
“My kind of chick.”
As if on cue, Zoe glanced around the airplane seat and gave Ann a wicked looking grin, followed by that brow lift she always did.
Ann nodded. “She’s lots of men’s kind of chick.” She shifted in her seat, wishing she could escape the bitterness behind her words.
Noah propped an elbow on the small tray before him, eyeing Ann the way one looked over a takeout menu before settling on something less than appetizing. “So if you two are friends, why aren’t you sitting together?”
“Take a look at the guy next to her,” Ann said. “Zoe thought he was hot. Wanted to get to know him during the flight.”
“Root beer for you,” the flight attendant said from behind. “Tomato for you.” She set the drinks down, tossed a bag of pretzels on each tray, and moved to the next aisle.
“So you got dumped by your friend for some nameless dude,” Noah said, swirling his drink, “and I got dumped by my parents for first class seats.”
Ann chuckled, feeling oddly at ease around the kid. “Here’s to being second rate,” she said, lifting her cup to his. The plastic rims bumped, and Ann lifted the drink to her lips. The sharp scent of celery warned Ann—before she even took a sip—that it wasn’t tomato juice, rather vegetable juice. She took a sip anyway, fighting back the shiver that rocked her body.
“What’s the matter?” Noah asked.
Ann shook her head. “Nothing. This just isn’t tomato juice like I thought it would be. But it’s fine.”
“What’s in there?”
“It’s like, some vegetable blend.”
Noah raised his hand up and whistled. “Here, let’s say something.”
“No, no,” Ann protested. “Please don’t. It’s fine.”
“Is it?” He gave her a questioning look.
“Mmm, hmm.” She took another sip to prove it, hoping he’d let the subject drop. “So why are you headed to Montana? Family trip?”
“No,” he said. “My brother lives in Seattle. We were just visiting. Wish I could have stayed with him, though. It’s way better there.”
“I’ll trade you,” Ann said. “I’ve lived in Seattle my whole life, but I’ve wanted to move to Montana for as long as I can remember.”
“Why?” The question sounded more sardonic than curious.
“I’ve always wanted to live in the country. Slower paced living. Sunshine and blue sky.” She glanced at the weathered paperback on her tray, a tattered grocery receipt marking her place. “I also wouldn’t mind meeting a cowboy,” she admitted, her face flushing with heat.
He sneered. “You’re into that type, huh?”
“I’ve been reading western romances since I was twelve years old. I can’t help it.”
Noah tipped his drink back until it was gone. “So is that why you’re here? To find yourself a cowboy?”
“No,” Ann said. “Zoe and I used to work with our friend, Cassie, right?”
“Okay.”
“It’s a long story, but in short, Cassie moved to Montana and married a cowboy. None of their friends and family were able to go to the wedding since it was a last minute thing, so they’re having a ring ceremony so everyone can attend.�
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“So it’s like a wedding,” he said.
Ann nodded, looking forward to it already. “Yep.”
“I bet your friend’s husband knows lots of cowboys he can set you up with.”
She smiled, eyeing him for a moment. He was easy to talk to. And if Ann were being honest, she’d been dying to share a piece of information she’d kept from both her family and Zoe. “Can I tell you something?”
“What is it?”
Ann reached an arm under the tray and shoved her hand into her backpack, the cool zipper scratchy against her wrist. She snagged the corner of the book she was aiming for, then straightened up to show him. “I’m doing a bit of research on this trip,” she said.
Noah’s eyes squinted. “The New You You Never Knew?”
“It’s a cheesy title, but everything this guy writes turns to gold, so every journalist wants a piece of it. And if I follow what’s suggested in here and document my results, I could score an awesome writing slot with Walquest Weekly.”
“Why do you think you need to change?”
Ann shrugged, figuring it was obvious. “I need to learn to assert myself better.”
Noah gave her drink a pointed look. “Like by telling a snooty flight attendant she brought you the wrong drink?”
Ann groaned. “Yes. Exactly. I should have totally done that.” She glared at the gross-smelling drink. “I just don’t want to cause trouble, you know?”
Noah turned in his seat to face her. “If you gave someone the wrong thing, would you want them to tell you so you could get it right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But I doubt that lady cares.”
“So what? It’s her job. The people who pay her care.”
“True.” She thought on that for a moment. “I guess I’m focusing more on asserting myself where…” She dropped her gaze to her hands, “where guys are concerned.”
“Ah, I see. The rebel redhead hogs all the attention?”
“Not on purpose. Zoe is witty and flirty and loud. Guys are drawn to her, and I just sort of fade into the background.
The kid looked at her for a breath or two. “It doesn’t mean she’s the better catch. Guys, most of us, anyway, aren’t really into the whole hard to get thing because we don’t like being shot down. If a girl’s talking to me, flirting with me, even, I’ll ask her out a whole lot sooner than one who won’t even look at me.” He tipped his cup back, let a few cubes fall into his mouth, and crunched on the ice. “Between you and me, you’re a lot prettier than your friend up there. Besides, I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.”
A rash of warmth seeped into Ann’s face, no doubt flushing her pale cheeks with blotchy patches of red. Sure, this kid was young and nowhere near her type, but he was still a male. A good-looking male who was close to twenty who had paid her a very kind, albeit untrue, compliment.
“And since she ditched you for some unknown guy,” he continued, “I hope you get the better cowboy.”
Ann’s grin grew, her affection for the kid doing the same. “Well, thanks. I appreciate that. And I hope you get to move to Seattle and find the rebellious girl of your dreams,” Ann said.
He let out one, hard chuckle. “Sounds good to me.”
Ann fanned the pages of her self-help book, the possibilities brushing over her fingertips like butterfly wings. Would following the instruction in this book really change her life?
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter 2
“Grab that box for me, will you? The one on the dresser?” Trey’s arms were filled with crumpled bed sheets, a quilt that hadn’t been washed in months, and an old tee shirt he’d used to dust his neglected room.
He spun around to see Randy flick open one flap of the cardboard box with a beefy finger. “Why? What you got in here?” He ducked his massive shoulders to peek inside. “Dirty magazines?”
Trey made for the doorway and rolled his eyes. “No. Just a few… personal things. Set it in your closet someplace. I’ve got to throw this in the wash.”
“Can’t believe I have to move downstairs while they’re here,” Randy hollered down the hall. “That sucks.”
“Guess you should’ve picked paper instead of scissors, buddy. You know I always pick the rock.” Trey didn’t feel too bad for the kid. After all, Trey might be staying upstairs with the girls, but he was giving up his room, too, seeing that Randy’s was too big of a mess for the ladies to sleep in. Besides, Randy hung out with the rest of the ranch hands more than Trey ever did; wouldn’t hurt the guy to bunk with them for a few nights.
“We might be doing all this for nothing,” Randy persisted. “There’s no way Cassie’s going to let them stay at the bunk house with us.”
Trey lumbered down the hall, shuffling awkwardly around the heavy load. “Cassie’s the one who asked me to get the room ready; her and Shane are worried their furniture might not come today.”
Morning sunlight poured over the side of Trey’s face as he trudged past the sliding glass door. He thought back on his conversation with Cassie just twenty minutes earlier where she’d asked if he and Randy could pick her friends up from the airport.
Despite the workload Trey had before him, he was happy to oblige. Trey had worked as a ranch hand for Shane Emerson’s family for years now, and he’d come to care for Cassie as well. Beyond that, he’d heard an awful lot about the friends who were flying in for the ring ceremony. And though he hadn’t met either of them yet, one of the women had already gained Trey’s attention by Cassie’s description alone. Naturally, thoughts of the other had Randy in full peacock mode, ready to strut his feathers once they came into town.
In the laundry room, Trey cranked the washer knob, gave it a pull, and dumped a scoopful of fragrant soap into the drum. He glanced up, noticed the bottle of softening stuff he usually neglected, and decided to pour some of that in, too. If the women did end up staying there, he’d want the fabrics to feel nice and soft for them. He also mused—as he poured the blue liquid into place—that they’d like the scent as well.
“There.” He dropped the lid and spun to see Randy hovered over his memorabilia box. The one he’d asked him to put in the closet. A small pang tightened his chest.
“Who’s the chick?” Randy asked, flicking through Polaroid pictures. “She’s pretty.”
Without looking, Trey knew just what images those Polaroids held. Knew who was in them and where they were taken. “Just a girl I…” He gulped down the odd lump of panic rising within him. The fear of sinking back into a place it had taken years to climb out of. “She was my first love.”
Randy’s brows shot up. “Oohh,” he bellowed. “You mean like, your first time…”
Trey snatched the pictures from his hands, dropped them back into the box, and forced down the flaps. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grabbed the box, took a step back, and bumped Randy’s shoulder as he barreled toward the hall.
“What’s the big deal? What, did she break your heart?”
Trey ignored him.
A bout of laughter said Randy thought he was right. “What’d she do? Dump you? Cheat on you with another guy? Turn into a guy herself?” Randy appeared in the doorway, his teasing voice carrying through the room.
Trey knew he didn’t mean any harm. Heck, he and the ranch hands razzed one another all the time. But this was different. Especially with summer fast approaching, reminding Trey of that terrible time in his life.
“Hey, she’s not the reason you don’t give a girl a chance these days, is she?”
Trey cast his eyes to a frayed edge of the rug and nudged the frazzled-looking strands with the side of his boot. Though the photos were now tucked back into place, they lingered in his mind like captive ghosts. “Shell was different,” he said. “Special. And she didn’t dump me or cheat on me or turn into a guy.” He lifted his chin, strode for the doorway, causing Randy to back up so he could get by. “She’s dead.”
He moved down the hallway, ready to leave
the house— along with the conversation— behind. “Come on,” he said, flicking his head toward the door. “We better go.”
Chapter 3
Bodies and bags bumped Ann from every angle as she shuffled down the crowded corridor, thoughts of her young, new friend on her mind. Noah’s words of encouragement had given her hope. Made her feel as if she was, in fact, on the right track.
Still, Ann had already failed at one very simple task on the plane: speaking up about the drink. She’d failed at her first real challenge. She couldn’t afford to do that again. Especially with Ms. Life of the Party by her side.
And there was the she-devil herself, her sleek red hair blowing slightly off her shoulders as she stood before the breezeway.
Ann’s eyes shifted to her surroundings. Dim, overhead lighting gave way to the glowing outdoor shine that poured through the endless stretch of windows. Blue sky! Blue sky that surrounded her like a fresh, country hug. Even through the glass, it was a presence all its own. A smile spread over her lips. Montana. What an inspiration. What a joy. What a—
“Joke. That was such a joke.” Zoe wrapped a hand around Ann’s arm and yanked. “That guy next to me was married.
Ann caught her footing while wheeling her carry-on close behind. “He was?”
“And it took me like, an hour to figure it out, too,” Zoe griped. “I mean, he wasn’t wearing a ring, so I assumed he was single. Asking about a wife and kids wasn’t even on my radar.”
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