The Cowboy
Good News, Bad News–Or Both?Mitch Smith is one happy rancher–at least, until a lady P.I. barges onto his property, bent on lassoing him into a family he didn't know he had. It turns out that his business is built on money from the McCoys–the family with the biggest retail empire in the country. Suddenly his hard-earned success and his independence vanish, and he's saddled with a million-dollar debt.P.I. Alison Sullivan is counting on the hefty fee she'll get once the rugged cowpoke is delivered to the wealthy Missouri clan. Since she's practically down to her last dime, she'll do whatever it takes to corral him. Coming from this fiery green-eyed redhead with determination to spare, that's no idle threat…but she may have met her match in this stubborn rancher!Men of the West
Читать The Cowboy онлайн беплатно
âIâm just trying to do the job I was hired to do here,â Alison said softly
âAnd Iâm just trying to live my life here,â Mitch told her.
âPart of your life is in Dependable, Missouri.â
âNo, itâs not.â
She grabbed his arm. âYou owe it to Joseph McCoy to say that to his face.â
The desperation in her touch was hard to ignore.
He did it anyway. âI donât owe him a thing, Miss Sullivan.â
She mimicked his stance. âIs that a fact?â
His hand slipped from the back door, and she let go of him. âIf you donât come back with me, heâll just send someone else. You canât make it go away.â
Icy determination flowed through his veins. âThatâs where youâre wrong, Alison. I know exactly how to make it go awayâ¦.â
Dear Reader,
I canât think of anything as romantic as a cowboy.
Okay, I can, but thatâs because itâs my job. Still, the idea of being swept off my feet by a man as strong and independent as the land heâs dedicated his life to is my favorite fantasy. Or at least one of them. Clearly, I am well suited to the career Iâve been blessed with!
And what a perfect kind of hero to make life interesting for the powerful McCoy family. Nothing about Mitch Smithâother than his mere existence, that isâwould threaten the morally upright reputation of the McCoy family patriarch, Joseph McCoy, (despite his billions) but Mitchâs stubbornness would threaten the patience of a saint.
Alison Sullivan is no saint, but sheâs a woman with her whole future hanging by a thread. Being hired to bring one of the illegitimate McCoy heirs into the fold is her salvation. And as stubborn as any cowboy might be, heâs no match for a gal from Dependable, Missouri.
Enjoy the fireworks!
Leah Vale
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Having never met an unhappy ending she couldnât mentally âfix,â Leah Vale believes writing romance novels is the perfect job for her. A Pacific-Northwest native with a B.A. in communications from the University of Washington, she lives in Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband, two adorable sons and a golden retriever. She is an avid skier, scuba diver and âdo-overâ golfer. While having the chance to share her âhappy endings from scratchâ with the world is a dream come true, dinner generally has come premade from the store.
For Dad.
Because he likes the ones with the dogs in them.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
Dear Mr. Smith,
It is our duty at this time to inform you of the death of Marcus McCoy due to an unfortunate, unforeseen encounter with a grizzly bear while fly-fishing in Alaska on June 8 of this year, and per the stipulations set forth in his last will and testament, to make formal his acknowledgment of one Mitchell Davis Smith, aka Mitch Smith, age 31, of the Circle S Ranch, Rural Route 5, Whiskey Ridge, Colorado, as being his son and heir to an equal portion of his estate.
It is the wish of Joseph McCoy, father to Marcus McCoy, grandfather to Mitch Smith, and founder of McCoy Enterprises, that you immediately assume your rightful place in the family home and business with all due haste and utmost discretion to preserve the familyâs privacy.
Regards,
David Weidman, Esq. Weidman, Biddermier, Stark
MITCH SQUINTED AT THE LETTER in his hand, the June Colorado morning sun reflecting brightly off the expensive white business stationery. He laid his dusty work gloves over the top rail of the corral and tipped his tan cowboy hat back with his finger. His squint deepened into a frown as he tuned out the bawling Angus calves behind him. Even after a second reading, the letter still made no sense, and the day wasnât even that hot yet.
He settled his forearms on the rail and looked up at the leggy redhead whoâd brought his men to a standstill in the middle of inoculating some prize calves. Sheâd sashayed from her rented white pickup truck in high-heeled black boots, snug black jeans and a black knit top to hand-deliver the envelope bearing this letter to him.
It wasnât every day that a woman who looked like a darker-haired Nicole Kidman in one of his crewâs favorite movies, Days of Thunder, showed up in a U-Haul Rental pickup. He could tell from the conspicuous lack of whistles and shouts behind him that she still had their interest.
He nodded at the letter. âWhat is this?â
âJust what it says.â Her voice had a rasp to it, as if sheâd had a little too much fun the night before. Which might explain her lack of anything bordering on friendliness. He certainly knew the type. And did his damnedest to steer clear of them after almost committing himself to one. He wouldnât have had a dime to his name within a year.
He waited for more explanation, staring at a distorted reflection of himself in her dark, rimless sunglasses. Didnât get any.
Great. A tight-lipped female when he wanted answers. So far all sheâd done was ask if he was the Mitch Smith who owned this ranch, then handed him an envelope with a ringless left hand.
