The Cowboy Next Door

“Never.” Jay’s heart did a funny dance as he held the baby in his arms. He couldn’t stop looking at Lacey. And she had the nerve to laugh at him.

“Sit down before you drop her. You look a little pale,” Lacey said.

Jay sat, still clutching the tiny little girl in his arms. He smiled down at her, and she smiled back, her tiny nose scrunching up.

“Now aren’t you something else.” He spoke softly and the baby smiled again. “You’re a little charmer. I think I’ll buy you a pony.”

“She wants a bay,” Lacey said, still smiling. “Ready to go?”

He handed the baby over, still unsure with her in his arms. As he looked at Lacey, she was one more thing that he was suddenly unsure about.

Jay held the front door and let Lacey walk out first because he was afraid to walk next to her, afraid of what it might feel like to be close to her with a baby in her arms and a smile on her face.

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006, her dream to write for Steeple Hill Love Inspired came true.

Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her Web site, www.brendaminton.net.

Truly my soul silently waits for God;

From Him comes my salvation.

—Psalms 62:1

This book is dedicated to my mom,

Rosetta (Kasiah) Cousins. (May 1937–November 1980). She taught me to dream and she encouraged me to use my imagination. She put up with baby birds and mice in the house, numerous wild kittens, possums, ponies, goats and puppies. And to my dad, Don Cousins, who is still excited by every accomplishment. You taught me the value of hard work, even when I didn’t appreciate it. I love you.

And to the memory of Patsy Grayson,

encourager, friend, blessing.

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Questions for Discussion

“Lacey, when are you going to go out with me?” Bobby Fynn hollered from across the dining room of the Hash-It-Out Diner.

“Maybe next week,” Lacey called back as she refilled an empty coffee cup, smiling at her customer, an older woman with curly black hair and a sweet smile.

“Come on, Lacey, you can’t keep turning me down.”

Lacey smiled and shook her head, because Bobby wasn’t serious, and she wasn’t interested.

“Ignore him,” Marci, the hostess, whispered as Lacey walked past.

Lacey shot her friend a smile. “He doesn’t bother me. I’ll be back in a minute. I need to get a pitcher of water.”

She hurried to the waitress station, set the glass coffeepot on the warming tray, and grabbed the pitcher of ice water. The cowbell over the door clanged, announcing the arrival of another customer. She hustled around the corner, pretending her feet weren’t blistered and her back wasn’t aching from the double shifts she’d worked for the last week.

If it wasn’t for the perfect piece of land she wanted to buy…

Two strong hands grabbed her arms, stopping her mid-stride and preventing a near collision. The pitcher of ice water she’d carried out of the waitress station sloshed, soaking her shirt. She looked up, muttering about clumsiness and met the dark gaze of Officer Jay Blackhorse.

Gorgeous, he was definitely gorgeous. Tall with black hair and brown eyes. All cowboy. All rugged and sure of himself. But not her type. He’d been back in Gibson, Missouri, for a month now, and she already had him figured out. He was too serious, not the kind of customer who chatted with a waitress, and she was fine with the knowledge that they weren’t going to be best friends.

Several men called out, offering him a chair at their table, as Lacey moved out of his grasp. Not only was he the law, his family also raised cattle and horses. He hadn’t lived in Gibson for the last seven or eight years, but he still fit in on so many levels that Lacey didn’t know how he could do it all.

She was still trying to find something other than round holes for her square-peg self.

She was the girl from St. Louis who had showed up six years ago with a broken-down car, one hundred dollars and the dream of finding a new life.

Jay waved at the men who called out to him, but he didn’t take them up on their offers to sit. Instead, he took hold of Lacey’s arm and moved her toward the door.