Cowboy Summer

by Joanne Kennedy

  “Nope. I like yours.” He held her close and kissed the back of her neck. “Sky pie’s the best kind. You left me once to get it, but crazy as it sounds, the reason I lost you is the reason I love you. You’re meant for something big.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “A big family.”

  He pictured little Cades and Jesses running around the place and felt as if his heart might burst. “Whatever your dreams are, we’ll make them happen.”

  “They already did—the ones that matter.” She snuggled against him. “A little time away, so you can work with Baker and I can tie up loose ends. Then all I want is you, me, some horses, and this old house, Molly and Dad next door, and the land spread all around. That’s more than enough for me.”

  Epilogue

  Jess stood before the full-length mirror in her mother’s ridiculous bathroom. Behind her, the glowing pink travertine reflected bride upon bride upon bride, receding into the distance, in a haze of blush pink.

  “You look so pretty.” Molly brought her fist to her mouth, blinking back tears. “I thought I might never see this day.”

  Jess turned, grinning. “You made this day, Molls. It was your plan that got us here.”

  “I still feel bad about that, but it came out okay, didn’t it? But I still think Dot…”

  “Hush.” Pushing her veil to one side, Jess bent and kissed her stepmother’s cheek. “You’re all the mother I need. Mom’s always too busy. This is a new life, my life. She wouldn’t understand.”

  A tap on the door interrupted them, and Jess opened it to find Riley James standing stiffly in a blue bridesmaid’s dress. With her silver hair and pale, hooded eyes, she looked startlingly lovely.

  “Cade wants to see you,” she said.

  Jess stared. “Holy cow, my brother wants to see you. I’m sending pictures, and he’s gonna wish he’d made it home so he could see you in that dress.”

  “Don’t laugh,” Riley said. “This is the first time I’ve worn a dress in public since—well, since I can’t even remember. I feel like a little girl playing dress-up, and then I look in the mirror, and I’m like, who’s that?” She swayed, hands clasped behind her back, and stared down at her toes. “But I wish Griff could come home for this. His own sister, married to his best friend. Darn Army.”

  “I’d have liked that, too,” Molly said. “And I’m sure Griff would have come if he could. But Riley, go tell Cade he can’t see Jess. It would be bad luck and against convention.”

  “Cade’s always good luck for me, and this isn’t a conventional marriage.” Molly had been a handy human etiquette book through the wedding preparations, but she’d forgotten Jess wasn’t a rule follower. “Besides, he probably has some sort of crisis going on. I’m betting it’s his tie. Where is he?”

  “In the barn,” Riley said.

  Molly made sweeping motions with both hands. “Go, then,” she said. “Go be unconventional, you wild bride, you.”

  Picking up her billowing white skirt, Jess kicked off her shoes and raced out the front door, Riley following with her own high heels in her hand. Summer had ended, and the yellowed grass was coarse and spiky, but they barely felt it as they sprinted across the yard, slowing as they neared the barn.

  “I always thought Cade was pretty conventional,” Riley said.

  “He seems that way, and then he surprises you.”

  “Like how?”

  Reaching the barn, they paused for breath.

  “Like when he proposed. It was definitely not conventional.”

  Riley raised her brows in an unspoken question.

  “He was naked.”

  “Go, Cade.” Riley burst into giggles—another girlish miracle from the least girlish woman Jess knew. Riley was delicate and beautiful to look at, but she was tough as nails and had the hammer to prove it. Still, there was something fragile there, something sweet. She and Jess had become good friends when the porch design blended into the wedding preparations.

  They found Cade waiting in the barn, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly impatient.

  “I brought her.” Riley punched Cade in the arm. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, buddy.”

  Giving Jess an up-and-down look that reminded her of Boogy sighting bacon, Cade staggered backward, almost falling on his tightly tuxedoed butt as Riley slipped away.

  “Wow. You’re wearing a wedding dress.”

  “News flash.” She grinned. “I’m getting married. You seen a groom around here anywhere?”

  “There’s one right here, and he’s all yours. But he’s got a crisis.” He gestured toward a stack of hay bales that rose halfway to the ceiling. “We’re not either of us dressed for it, but we need to move this hay.”

  “What?” Jess stared at the mountain of hay. “When did it come?”

  “Last night. Help me out?”

  She looked down at the dress, then back at Cade. He wasn’t the sort of man who’d mind if she had dust on her wedding gown or hay in her hair. And a rancher had to be ready for anything, anytime. So did a hotel manager or a horse trainer’s wife. This was her chance to prove herself.

  “Sure.”

  Reaching high, she grabbed a bale from the top of the stack. The two of them worked in silence, stacking the bales against the wall across from the horse stalls. She had no idea why it had to be done right then, but she and Cade were partners now, or would be in…she checked her watch. Two hours.

  “Hey, look.” Cade pulled a bale aside to reveal a slab of wood, painted white. “There’s something back there.”

  Aha. Catching the glint in Cade’s eye, Jess grabbed another bale and tossed it aside, then another, not bothering to stack them. He’d hidden something back there, and judging from his expression, it was some sort of surprise.

  Gradually, they revealed a sign—a big, square sign bearing a bold, professional jack of diamonds, with the words Diamond Jack below it.

  “Oh, I love it,” Jess breathed. “Cade, it’s beautiful. The one by the drive is so worn out.”

  She wouldn’t mention how her brother had painted it—her brother who was off at war. She’d long had a superstition about the sign, believing keeping it safe would keep her brother from harm. But Cade didn’t know that, and anyway, it was silly. They could have two signs.

  “Keep going.” He grinned. “We have to get this hay moved. All of it. I want you to see the whole thing. I wouldn’t replace Griff’s sign for nothing, you know.”

  Like a terrier digging for mice, she tugged the remaining bales aside. At the bottom of the sign, two more words gave the gift a new meaning.

  “Diamond Jack Dude Ranch,” she breathed. “Oh, Cade.”

  He grinned. “I got you some pie.”

  Jess stared a moment and then spoke in a rush. “I’ll work up a website while we’re in California and some brochures. I’ve already talked to Molly about it, and she wants to learn chuck wagon cooking. You can do clinics—week-long ones, and you won’t have to travel. Folks will bring their horses to you.”

  “To us,” he said.

  She took his hand, squeezing it so hard, it hurt. “We’ll fix up that old bunkhouse, okay? And the back wing of the house—nobody uses those rooms. I’ll fix that old fireplace…but what about Molly and Heck?”

  He loved her for worrying. He loved her for everything.

  “Your dad’s all in. He figures the extra revenue stream will pay for an RV. They’ll take off on vacation whenever they want.”

  “He thinks dude ranching will make that much money?”

  Cade laughed. “No, he figures your stepmother will fleece the guests at poker every night.”

  Jess laughed. “She will. But Molly should be in charge of the kids, and Riley…” She turned left, then right, looking for Riley. “Where’d she go? I was thinking she could do some renovations. We
need…”

  “We need nothin’.”

  Cade stepped up and stopped her with a kiss. She hushed, remembering this wasn’t a time for planning. She needed to stop thinking and let herself fall—into love, into Cade, into the happiest life she could imagine.

  And she did, just two hours hour later, when Jessica Jane Bailey and Cade Thomas Walker stood before God and the entire town of Wynott and repeated the vows they’d written, which said nothing of obedience but plenty about love.

  And when they finally kissed as husband and wife, Jess felt the golden light of all her Wyoming summers glowing around them, summers filled with Cade smiling, Cade working, Cade helping and laughing and, most of all, loving. Cade never giving up on her, no matter how foolish or selfish or crazy she got.

  Through the twin miracles of love and forgiveness, he’d promised to hold her heart in his own, sharing all the wins, losses, and unexpected disasters of a country life that would fit them like a perfect pair of boots for the rest of their lives. There’d be some time away, right at first—time for learning and planning. And then, for the rest of their lives, it would be Jess and Cade, living the life they were born to live, always and forever at the Diamond Jack.

  For more Joanne Kennedy check out

  One Fine Cowboy

  On sale now

  Acknowledgments

  It’s been a while since Wynott turned up on your GPS, I know. Things have been a little complicated in my life lately, but Cade and Jess have been with me all along. I’m happy to be bringing them to your bookshelves at last.

  As many of you know, I’m a breast cancer survivor. While my treatment was successful and I’m blessedly cancer-free, the side effects from treatment were severe and long-lasting. That doesn’t happen to everyone, but “chemo brain” is real, and I was one of the few who just couldn’t seem to shake it. I finally had to take a break from writing and concentrate on my recovery.

  When it seemed like I’d never be able to get this story done, I called my editor at Sourcebooks and offered to send back my advance. But Deb Werksman wouldn’t take it. She told me she believed in me, and she knew I’d get better. Her generosity and confidence helped me through some very dark days. Everyone else at Sourcebooks has been incredibly supportive as well, especially Susie Benton, my hummingbird friend.

  I also want to thank Wyoming writers Amanda Cabot and Mary Gillgannon. Not only did they encourage me through the darkest of days, but they took time from their own busy writing schedules to check my manuscript for memory blips. They are my dearest friends, supportive, generous, and understanding, and they never ask for anything in return.

  Last but not least, my husband, Ken McCauley, stood beside me through the whole journey. It wasn’t always easy, but he never let me down or stopped believing in me.

  Cancer and its aftermath make you grateful, and I know how lucky I am to have a happy life, good friends, and great love. I hope some of my good fortune touches you through this story about second chances and the kind of love that never gives up.

  And for all you cancer survivors out there—if you’re struggling with side effects from treatment or you just need some support, drop me a line through my website. We need to stick together and support each other.

  —Joanne Kennedy

  May 2018

  P.S. Cade’s dog Boogy is a real dog. His owner, a local veteran, became too ill to care for him, but Boogy found an angel in my friend Janet Marschner. Janet’s nonprofit, WY Pets Matter, serves the animals of southeastern Wyoming and the people who love them.

  Janet won Boogy’s star turn as a romantic hero at Cheyenne Animal Shelter’s annual Fur Ball Auction with a generous donation to Cheyenne’s homeless animals. She’s truly a remarkable person who lives the Wyoming lifestyle to the fullest, all while saving homeless animals.

  You can learn more about Janet’s organization on the WY Pets Matter Facebook page.

  About the Author

  Joanne Kennedy is the RITA-nominated author of ten contemporary western romance novels, including Cowboy Trouble, Tall, Dark and Cowboy, and Cowboy Tough. The first book in her Decker Ranch trilogy, How to Handle a Cowboy, was named one of Booklist’s “Best Romances of the Decade.” She lives in a secret mountain hideout on the Wyoming border with too many pets and a retired fighter pilot. The pets are relatively well-behaved.

  Joanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, joannekennedybooks.com.

  Can’t get enough of Joanne Kennedy’s charming cowboys? Keep reading for an excerpt of RITA finalist One Fine Cowboy

  Chapter 1

  The cowboy boot was the most pathetic piece of footwear Charlie had ever seen. Upended on a fence post, it was dried out and sunbaked into dog bone–quality rawhide. She glanced down at the directions in the dude ranch brochure.

  After pavement ends, go 1.6 miles and turn right. Boot on fence post points toward ranch.

  The boot’s drooping toe pointed straight down toward the ground. Evidently, Latigo Ranch was located somewhere in the vicinity of hell.

  No surprise there.

  Still, the boot was a welcome sight, signaling the last leg of the weird Western treasure hunt laid out in the brochure, and putting Charlie one step closer to getting done with this cowboy nonsense so she could go home to New Jersey where she belonged. Back to New Brunswick, with its crowded streets and endless pavement, its nonstop soundtrack of whining sirens, its Grease Trucks and commuter buses. Back to the smog-smudged brick of New Jersey and the slightly metallic, smoky scent of home.

  Wyoming, on the other hand, smelled disturbingly organic, like sagebrush and cowflops, and offered nothing but endless expanses of featureless prairie with a few twisted pines wringing a scant living out of the rocky ground. If this was home on the range, the deer and the antelope were evidently taking the summer off. She hadn’t seen so much as a prairie dog at play since she’d crossed the Nebraska border.

  Cranking the steering wheel to the right, Charlie let her back end spin up a plume of dust, then winced as the Celica jerked to a halt. Yanking on the emergency brake and flinging open the door, she stomped around the front of the car to watch the right front tire hiss out its life in a deep, jagged pothole.

  She pulled in a long breath and let it out slow. She could handle this.

  Reaching under the seat, she hauled out the jack and climbed out of the car. After a fair amount of fumbling around, she managed to set the jack handle and start cranking, ignoring the itch that prickled between her shoulder blades as the sun leached sweat from her skin. The car rose, then rose some more. Then it shifted sideways, groaned like a tipping cow, and slammed back onto the ground, its wounded tire splayed at a hideously unnatural angle.

  This was no ordinary flat tire.

  Charlie knelt in the dust, staring at the crippled car. What now? She was in the middle of nowhere with a screwdriver, a roll of duct tape, and a 1978 Celica hatchback that looked as if euthanasia would be the only humane solution.

  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets to push back the tears. She wasn’t scared. She really wasn’t. That couldn’t be her heart pounding. Couldn’t be. It was…it was…

  Hoofbeats.

  Hoofbeats, drumming the road behind her. She turned to see a Stetson-topped silhouette approaching, dark against the setting sun. Lurching to her feet, she fell back against the car as a horse and rider skidded to a stop six feet away, gravel pinging off the car’s rear bumper.

  The sun kept the horseman’s features in shadow, but Charlie could see he was long-boned and rangy, with pale eyes glimmering under a battered gray hat. She could almost hear the eerie whistle of a spaghetti western soundtrack emanating from the rocky landscape behind him. She’d have been scared except one corner of his thin lips kept twitching, threatening to break into a smile as he looked her up and down.

  It had to be her ou
tfit. Saddle Up Western Wear called it “Dude Couture,” but she was starting to think “Dude Torture” would be more appropriate. The boots were so high-heeled and pointy-toed she could barely drive in them, let alone walk, and she was tempted to follow local tradition and upend them on a fence post for buzzard bait. Then there was the elaborately fringed jacket and the look-at-me-I’m-a-cowgirl shirt with its oversized silver buttons. She cursed the perky Saddle Up salesgirl for the fourteenth time that day and straightened up, squaring her shoulders.

  “Whoa,” the rider said, shifting his weight as the horse danced in place. “Easy there, Honey.”

  “I’m not your honey.” She tossed her head and her dark hair flared up like a firecracker, then settled back into its customary spiky shag. The horse pranced backward a few steps, then stilled, twitching with restless energy.

  “I know. Easy, Honey,” the rider repeated, patting the horse’s neck. “Tupelo Honey. That’s her name,” he explained.

  “Oh.” Charlie looked up at the animal’s rolling eyes and flaring nostrils and blushed for the first time in fifteen years. “I thought you meant me.”

  “Nope. The horse. So you might want to calm down. You’re making her nervous, and she’s liable to toss me again.” Honey pitched her head up, prancing nervously in place as he eased back on the reins. “It’s her first time.”

  “Her first time,” Charlie repeated blankly.

  “First time in the open under saddle,” he said. “Doing just fine too.” He bent down to fondle the horse’s mane. “Doing just dandy,” he crooned softly.