Finding Her Cowboy

by Sarah Gay

  Finding Her Cowboy

  Sarah Gay

  Literary Evolution

  Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Gay

  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

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Introduction

  When Sarah asked me to write an introduction for her latest novel, I was honored and hoped I could do the intro justice. It’s not every day you get asked to do an intro for one of your favorite all-time authors!

  Sarah’s books are the perfect mix for me of deep characterization, fast pacing, snappy dialogue, and touching themes. I anxiously await each one and she never disappoints. Her books and characters stay with me even after I have to say goodbye and close the book.

  I’m thrilled to introduce Finding her Cowboy and the new Jones Brothers Romances from my incredibly talented friend, Sarah Gay.

  Cami Checketts

  Author of Do Date Your Handsome Rival

  Prologue

  Three Years Earlier

  “Sorry, miss, but your card didn’t go through.”

  Becca’s face heated with embarrassment and worry. Her eyes dropped to her credit card as the card slid across the counter back to her.

  The city hall employee’s long red nails tapped the card. “Would you like to try another card?”

  “No,” said Becca with a sigh, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. “Can you give me a minute to think this through?”

  The mature woman with wavy white hair nodded. “Take your time,” she said, lifting her refillable water bottle and walking away, leaving Becca to contemplate how she’d pay for her business license.

  At least the city employees were gracious enough not to make her feel worthless; everyone in her small town of McKinney, Texas was kind—except for the folks at the bank, who all but laughed at her when she’d applied for a small business loan last month.

  She pressed her palms together and rested her chin between her fingers. There had to be a solution. She’d already maxed out both credit cards and spent all her savings on merchandise and first month’s rent for the tiny retail space on McKinney square. Getting her business license hadn’t seemed important at the time. She’d heard that was the easy part. No one had told her that a business license should’ve been her top priority. Without her business license, she wouldn’t be able to open her store in two days, and without sales, she wouldn’t be able to pay rent.

  A hot tear rolled down her face. She swiped at her cheek as a female employee laughed at the far end of the counter, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

  The giddy woman leaned her torso toward the cowboy she was assisting. They were both around Becca’s age, early twenties. Before Becca caught a glimpse of the man’s face, he turned, angling away from her. He wore his jeans tight, his boots worn, and his hat in his good arm; his other arm was wrapped up in a sling.

  A cowboy who can’t use his right arm. He must be worse off than me, she thought. She studied his profile. After a few seconds of staring, she no longer pitied him. From her limited vantage point, he appeared both attractive and charismatic, having the city employee as giddy as all get out.

  The cowboy glanced over his shoulder at her, causing Becca to avert her gaze. Instead of catching his eye, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, contemplating calling her parents, but they were strapped too—always had been.

  She stole a glance at the cowboy as he strutted past her. He tipped his chin down as he slowly raised his hat to his head. She didn’t have time to see his face, but got a good look at his hat, which is all she needed in order to know what kind of man he was. Cattleman style. Tanned leather with a decorative band lined with historical buffalo nickels. This cowboy was tough.

  If she weren’t standing here in such a pinch, she would’ve followed him out of the room, hoping to catch his eye. But here she stood.

  She took pride in having put herself through school, even graduating a year early with honors. I can do this, but how? What college graduate didn’t have a few hundred dollars in their checking or savings account? “This college graduate,” she said aloud to herself, casting her eyes up at the ceiling and praying for inspiration on how to get herself out of the mess she’d gotten herself into.

  “You okay, sweetie?” The employee who’d been helping the cowboy popped in front of her with a huge grin.

  Becca blew out a breath. “Yeah,” she said, biting at her bottom lip. “I’m gonna have to come back later when I figure out how I can pay for this.”

  “You’re all set,” the girl said, handing Becca a piece of paper.

  Becca shook her head as she stared down at the license with her business’s name on it. Had there been some sort of miscommunication between the two employees and this girl didn’t know she hadn’t paid yet? Her heart raced with the notion that she could grab the license and run, but her conscience set in. “All set? I don’t understand.”

  The employee leaned her midsection into the counter, staring toward the exit door and released a sigh of longing. “He didn’t want me to tell you until he’d made it out of the building, but he paid for your license. I swear, that man is so charming, he could make the heart of a salt-water crocodile go pitter-patter.”

  Becca bit her nail, hopping up and down with excitement. “What’s his name?”

  The employee clicked her tongue. “You think he’d ever talk to me again if I told you?” she asked, scrunching her brows together. She did a quick dip of her eyes to dismiss Becca before she walked back to her employee station.

  “Thanks,” said Becca, waving the license in the air as she sprinted out the exit door. She had to find the cowboy, had to thank him. She ran out of the building, stopping on the top step, scouring the sidewalk and parking spaces in front of the building for the man who’d saved her.

  Conflicting emotions whirled inside her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss the cowboy for having been so kind or curse him for not having given her the choice to accept or reject his kind gesture. A large pickup truck sputtered out of an angled parking space in front of the building and zipped down the road. The only car left was a deep blue Tesla. Her heart dropped; she’d missed him. She pressed the document to her chest and smiled, blowing a kiss to the truck as it turned the corner. “If I ever catch up to you, you’re getting a real kiss.”

  Chapter One

  Becca Foley stepped out onto her screened back porch, pushing the metal door to her back yard open with a loud screech. A cool breeze brushed her cheek and ruffled her hair, causing the exposed skin on her legs and arms to ripple with goosebumps.

  She leaned her shoulder into the doorframe for support as she stared out at the October sunset. The sky swiftly blushed a deeper hue of pink and blue, as if it were being painted with the gentle strokes of an artist’s hand. She smiled at the memory of sitting on a colorful mat as her mother created one of her whimsical watercolor paintings.

  Where’s my lost cowboy watching the sunset right now? she wondered. She envisioned him standing with his back to her, leaning against a white post on his front porch as the insects chirped in the background, his horses running in the pasture in the last few minutes of daylig
ht.

  A husky bark reminded Becca of why she’d stepped outside. Her mind had been cluttered the last few weeks; the memory-loss-moments of walking into a room and not knowing why had become the norm.

  “Navi!” she yelled. Cats always find their way home, she told herself to calm her unsettled nerves as she scanned her back yard. Back-weeds would be a better term for the quarter acre of tall, wild grasses within the confines of her wooden fence that held all the natural wilderness in. At least her fence protected her neighbors from the encroaching weeds.

  She tapped her toes into the prickly wooden step as she elongated her back, straining her neck to see over the fence and into her neighbors’ immaculate gardens, contrasting her own yard, which resembled an uncultivated Midwestern countryside, but the weeds had come as a package deal with her historic home—the home she’d dreamt of owning since she was a kid. She’d need to find a good gardener who understood Texas soil, specifically, her McKinney clay.

  “Navi!” she yelled again. Navi didn’t know this was their home yet. How could she? They’d only begun moving in three days ago. She’ll find her way.

  Becca turned to admire her home’s interior—the winding staircase, the quaint kitchen with the black iron antique stove—but all she saw were boxes, dozens and dozens of unpacked boxes stacked haphazardly, leaving sparse stepping space. She released an exhausted sigh and pulled at her ear. “Where to start?”

  She plucked her ringing cell phone from the bib pocket of her faded jean overalls. “Hey, Daddy,” she said, stretching her back and praying the pang in its lower region wouldn’t turn into something more severe—like the crippling backache her chiropractor couldn’t crack out of her last year. At least one good thing had come from her back troubles last fall: Ronny and Grace, the extra hands she’d hired during her convalescence. They’d proven to be angels sent straight from heaven. With their assistance at Positive Impact, McKinney’s largest, fair-trade boutique, she finally had time to travel to some of the poorest regions in the world to purchase responsibly sourced, handmade home and body products. Having dedicated employees had made all the difference in her bottom line.

  “Have you seen your mom?” Her dad’s hurried voice marked his anxiety. “She’s not answering her phone.”

  “No, but I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably still painting at the studio. I can walk over and see if she’s there?” Becca never worried about her mom taking care of herself, at least not since she’d left them for a year when Becca was only eleven.

  “I wouldn’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

  “It’ll only take me five minutes from my new house, but Mom’s a free soul, like Navi. I don’t think you need to worry.”

  “That’s for sure,” he said with a sigh. “Wait…did you lose your cat?” His voice took on a higher pitch, noting his increased concern.

  “No, Daddy. My cat lost me,” Becca joked, but she could visualize the deep worry-lines crease her father’s glistening, leathery forehead—the mark of a true cowboy. She leaned against her empty wall. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as losing a cat. Cats always find their way home. Navi’s never given me a moment’s worry.” Until now. She didn’t allow her father to read the concern in her voice; she didn’t want to upset him more than he already was.

  “Your mom’s coming in the door now. I guess you were right,” he said with a laugh. “Remember that time your mom traveled to Europe and Asia for a quick get-away, then showed up on our doorstep a year later?”

  Her jaw tightened. “All too well. Night, Daddy,” she said, lowering her phone. The dark feelings of abandonment and anger didn’t end with the call. Her dad always found a way to joke about the year his wife had taken off to “find herself.” Perhaps his indifference was a protective mechanism, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Becca had caught him crying several times that year, but there wasn’t anything amusing about her mom walking out on them.

  Becca stepped to the white vintage refrigerator and dragged her hand over the shiny chrome latches and locks. She licked her lips as she pulled out a thick slice of chocolate cake, left over from Ronny’s birthday lunch yesterday. She tapped her fingernails against the underside of the porcelain plate as the aroma of sweetened chocolate warmed her senses, causing her mouth to water.

  “Now, where did I pack the forks?” Her stomach growled as she walked the house in search of the boxes with “kitchen” scribbled in thick black ink.

  After a few minutes of ineffective wandering, she placed the plate onto the white marble countertop and carefully pinched the sides of the sticky cake, carefully lifting it up to her face. “Ah. That’s better,” she said, allowing the moist, sweet goodness to rest on her tongue and coat the top of her mouth before she swallowed.

  A loud knock came at her front door, causing her to squish the cake in her hand, a portion of which plopped onto the front of her overalls. She threw the remnants of the cake into the white porcelain sink and quickly rinsed her hands. The knock came again. She grabbed a dish towel from off the counter and rubbed off the chocolate as she hurried to the door. Whipping the dishtowel onto her shoulder, she swung the thick wooden door open to find a young couple around her age, staring at her with wide, inquisitive smiles.

  A petite red-headed woman, several months pregnant, stretched out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Holly Thorne and this is my husband, Nick. We came to welcome you into the neighborhood.”

  “Come in.” She shook their hands as they stepped past her into the tight front entry. “I’m Rebecca Foley. Please call me Becca.” She bit at her lower lip as she waved her arms at her sides, glancing around her house. “Sorry. I don’t have a place for you to sit yet.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” said Holly with a flick of her wrist.

  Nick handed Becca a jar of red preserves, along with a card. “We stopped by to drop off some of Holly’s homemade raspberry jam.”

  “It’s still warm,” said Becca, cupping the jar in her hands, loving how it heated her cold fingers. “Brilliant!” She held up the jar to examine it in the ceiling light; it shimmered a bright rose color. “Do you mind if I copy you and gift jars of prickly pear preserves to our neighbors for Christmas?”

  “I’d be honored.” Holly touched her chest, her eyes brightening. “I’m impressed you dare cook with prickly pears.”

  Becca laughed. “I’ll be gifting the jam, not making it,” she said, tapping the side of the jar. “Prickly pears are the perfect shade of red for Christmas. Who would refuse preserves made from our state plant, even if the person gifting it isn’t the person who made it?” Her eyes fell to the brown, watery splotch on her front. “As you can see, I’m not exactly Martha Stewart.”

  Holly pulled at her gray sweatshirt which stretched taut over her round bump and patted a dark stain. “I’ve given up on trying to stay clean. When this baby comes, I’m finally gonna get the sleep I need. Then maybe I won’t be so clumsy.” Holly paused, then tilted her head to the side and stared at Becca with suspicion. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

  Becca scrunched her nose. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah,” said Holly, glancing at her husband. They exchanged a look, then nodded toward Becca. “Everyone else I’ve told that to has laughed, then contorted their faces into patronizing expressions, like I don’t have a clue what’s coming,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  Becca blinked. “You won’t get that look from me. It’s just me and Navi, my cat. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.” She bit at her fingernails while glancing at her back door. “If you see a calico cat wandering around the neighborhood, will you please let me know?” She touched her phone’s screen and opened her contacts to add in Holly’s information.

  Holly’s eyes grew wide. “You lost your cat?”

  Becca sighed. “I didn’t lose—”

  Holly squealed. “There was a bobcat sighting today. Someone posted it on our neighborhood app.” Holly cut Becca off while shaking her ha
nds out nervously, “And I swear I heard the haunted screech of a small animal last night…” Her voice faded.

  Becca’s stomach twisted and her body went cold, causing the hair on the back of her neck to prickle.

  “I’m sure your cat’s fine,” said Nick in a calming voice as he placed a thick hand on his wife’s shoulder and nodded to her with an expression of caution. “Holly’s cell number is on the card. If you text her a photo of your cat, we’ll post it to the neighborhood app.” He scratched his chin as he glanced around Becca’s house, his eyes resting on the small cubby off the front entry that would soon be transformed into a cozy library. “We’d better go and give you time to unpack,” he said, pulling the front door open.

  Holly nodded, agreeing with her husband as she cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m sure your cat’s fine.” She said the words with a hopeful smile, but her disconcerted big blue eyes contradicted her words of hope.

  The sky flashed, then splintered, shooting bright white roots across the sky seconds before thunder pounded in the distance. Holly buried her head into her husband’s chest, melting into his side as they walked down the sidewalk.

  Nick lifted his arm, wrapping his windbreaker around her to shield her from the whipping wind that blew past Becca and ruffled a few loose papers on the kitchen table. Holly gazed up at Nick with a flutter of her lashes and an endearing smile.

  Becca released an unrestrained sigh of longing. “How would that be?” she asked herself.

  “It feels amazing.” Holly craned her head over her husband’s arm and smiled back at Becca. “Sounds like someone’s ready for love.”