The Hot Cowboy (Western Romance Love Story) Read online

  THE HOT COWBOY

  By Alexa Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis

  From the Author

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  Chapter One

  Rachel

  The light was blinding after being stooped over a lab table for the previous two hours, but I was just grateful to finally be enjoying the perfect, spring day as I checked the final class off my list. I was done school for the summer! I texted Tracy and asked if she was done with her math final yet, then headed toward Veterinary Medicine Complex. I wanted to drop by the dean’s office and pick up another list of prospective summer internships, just in case the interview I had Saturday didn’t pan out.

  Dean Green was out, but her admin, Carol, had already printed a short list of ranchers and veterinary clinics, waiting for me to swing by. She handed me the envelope before I managed a “hello,” which made me laugh out loud at myself.

  “Am I that obvious?” I asked as I slipped the list into my oversized purse. The dean’s assistant shook her head and smiled.

  “The dean doesn’t understand why you’re even looking for other options. She swears up and down that you’re perfect for the Lago Colina ranch, and she’s willing to break heads to make sure they see that,” Carol replied. I laughed and shook my head in the negative.

  “Carol, I need to do this on my own steam. I need to fail or succeed by my talent and abilities, or no one will ever take me seriously,” I declared. “I’m just not as sure as the dean is that I’m even what they’re looking for.” I sighed and hitched my heavy bag up onto my shoulder.

  “I just have to get some more experience in the field. I’m a senior now; I just finished my last lab. I’m torn between being ecstatic that I’m done with school for the summer and terrified that I’ll have done all this work, graduate summa cum laude, and still not be able to find a job,” I admitted with chagrin. Carol leaned forward on her desk and cupped her chin in her hands.

  “Rachel, you are Dean Green’s top student and the pride and joy of the veterinary program. You’ll find work, with or without an internship. But, I’m impressed that you’re working so hard, so if I hear of any other high-end ranches looking for a trainer, I’ll make you another list.”

  I thanked the older woman and bounced out the door. I checked my phone, which had been buzzing in my purse, but the only reply from my roommate and best friend was a frowny emoticon. I had to chuckle at her math-induced dismay. To cheer her up, I replied with a sandwich and a thumbs up, then headed toward the math building. I figured I could read on a bench outside while I waited for Tracy to finish. I wasn’t hungry yet, anyway.

  Tracy responded in the affirmative, and added, “20 minutes.” It was plenty of time for me to enjoy the sunshine on the trees and go over my answers again in preparation for the interview tomorrow with the owners of the Lago Colina ranch that overlooked Lake Austin. Nervous tension crackled through my gut like electricity as I went over the pages of research I’d done to prepare to meet the Hargraves. Their family had owned Lago Colina Ranch for two generations, with Frank and Hannah Hargrave’s five boys all grown up and ready to begin their reign as the third.

  The ranch itself ran along a section of Lake Austin, with the property encompassing not only water rights, but a small mountain and the forest that covered it. Including grazing pastures and the small portion of tilled fields, the ranch was still about 100,000 acres of almost completely untouched land, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands, or rather, my horse, Peacemaker, on it. I was still going over my resume and past achievements as a trainer and horse medic when Tracy bounded out of the math building, scanning the pavilion for me.

  “Rachel!” my friend exclaimed when she saw me. “I can’t believe we’re both done on the same day, and you can’t celebrate with me because you already have an interview lined up!” She pouted as she stood blocking my sunlight.

  I looked up to see a few guys watching her, and when Tracy followed my gaze, she popped out her hip and winked over her shoulder at them. I stuffed my notebook back in my shoulder bag and pretended to gag in disgust as the guys laughed and jockeyed with one another. Just as one of them finally strutted towards us, I grabbed her arm and strode off in the other direction.

  “You do that on purpose, don’t you?” I asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question. I looked sideways at Tracy, who giggled and shook out her hair, an old habit from the days when it had hung almost to her perfect behind.

  “Of course I do, Ray,” she scoffed. “That’s why I always have dates, and you don’t. You’re pretty enough; hell, you’re prettier than I am by far. You just hide it all away and stare down at your books so much, no one even knows you’re available.” She stressed the last with an arched eyebrow.

  “I’m too busy to be available,” I snapped.

  Tracy fell silent. She knew the real reason why I didn’t want to date or even be noticed by men. She was a good enough friend not to push the point and ruin the afternoon. In fact, she was such a good friend, she held more hate in her (usually self-absorbed) little heart than I did for the man responsible for my dating hiatus. I looked over at my usually bubbly friend, who was glaring at the ground and huffing as we walked. My heart filled with gratitude for her loyalty. I bumped her shoulder with my own and smiled when she stared in surprise and our eyes met.

  “I hate that bastard so much it gnaws at my insides,” she admitted, tears in her eyes. “It would do my little narcissistic self a lot of good to see you back up on the dating horse. Of course, it would also do my heart good to see Jason staring up at me from under the rear wheel of my car, so…” I laughed at my friend’s matter-of-fact tone, but didn’t want him to ruin our evening for us, so I mentally shook myself and opted for a subject change.

  “So…” I began. “What’s it gonna be for our celebratory, pre-club supper?” Tracy immediately regained her bouncy good mood and clapped her hands like a little girl on Christmas morning.

  “If we are drinking tonight – I mean, if I’m drinking tonight,” she corrected herself, “then we’re going to have to eat protein and stay away from the carbs.” She sighed and thought for a moment. “Why don’t we hit Texas Roadhouse and then walk over to 6th Street and just club hop?”

  I nodded my assent and Tracy wrapped her arms around my elbow. “We are going to party tonight. Seriously. You have a two-drink minimum, lady,” she commanded me with a glare. “I won’t have you making me look like a booze-hound, drinking all by myself. A drink or two won’t get in the way of your interview tomorrow.”

  I laughed in reply. “The fact that you are a booze-hound doesn’t play into this at all, does it?” I drawled. Tracy held onto my arm as she belly-laughed.

  “Of course not,” she finally gasped through her laughter. “Now, let’s go get gorgeous. Which, admittedly, is going to take me longer than you,” she added with a sigh, shaking her shoulder-length hair back again.

  I shook my own head without answering. I already knew Tracy was mostly kidding. The lovely redhead was about as physically perfect as any human being I’d ever encountered, with a peac
hes and cream complexion that managed not to freckle and a svelte figure kept lean and fit through her rigorous training for the swim team.

  We headed back to the modest apartment we shared and I jumped in the shower before Tracy could take all the hot water. I took my time, washing and conditioning my long hair and running a razor over my legs even as I wondered why I bothered to, since no one was going to be touching them. I stalked to my room in a bath sheet, ignoring Tracy’s pout as we passed in the hall, and stood in front of my closet wondering what would be an appropriate outfit for celebrating the start of summer break.

  I chuckled as I listened to Tracy belting out an off-key Taylor Swift song in the shower and thought to myself, “What would Tracy wear?” The obvious answer, of course, was the shortest, tightest miniskirt she owned. I, however, opted for a thin–strapped, navy summer dress that fluttered and twirled prettily around my legs when I moved, and my navy and candy-apple red cowboy boots. I felt almost like a princess as the dress swung around my knees and did a small twirl in my room where no one could laugh at me. I blew out my hair and tied it up off my neck in a beribboned chignon and quickly applied a little mascara and lip gloss—the only make-up I ever wore.

  By the time Tracy was exiting the steamy bathroom, I was curled up on the sofa with my legs tucked under me, reading the list that Carol had given me and making notes about each of the prospects. I chewed on my lip and alternated between Google searches on my laptop and making notes in my trusty, spiral-bound notebook. Tracy emerged from her room in a predictable, but nonetheless sexy and chic, mini-dress and heeled sandals. She posed at the door to the living room and waited for my approval, but I was so engrossed in my research that I didn’t know she was there until I heard her make an explosive sound of disgust.

  “Ugh. I don’t even know why we’re friends,” Tracy whined, as I looked up in surprise. I laughed at the exaggerated pose my friend had struck in the arched doorway.

  “You look amazing, hot, expensive, and so very…you,” I asserted obligingly. I uncurled and tried to stand, wincing at the pins and needles that had developed in my feet from sitting so long. I wiggled my toes in my boots and took a couple of experimental steps before judging myself okay and striding over to the kitchen. “I’m grabbing a drink of water, then I’m good to go,” I told Tracy, who was making last-second adjustments to her hair and lipstick in the hallway mirror.

  I snuck a peek to make sure she wasn’t paying attention, then slipped my anti-anxiety medication into my clutch. It had been months since I’d needed it, and I didn’t want to take it unless it was an emergency, but knowing my friend, we’d be in the middle of the 6th Street mob all night, and I preferred not having a panic attack over a glass of wine. I was just too embarrassed to admit that after everything I’d been through, sometimes the world outside of school just terrified me.

  So, Tracy pretended not to notice me hemming and hawing over the tiny prescription bottle before tucking it away in my purse like a dirty secret. It hadn’t been nearly long enough since my world was turned upside down.

  Even in the mirror’s reflection, I knew Tracy could see the very top edge of an angry scar that peeked out the back of my dress. She knew there were more scars under the pretty, embroidered fabric; she’d seen them all when she helped nurse me back to health after the car wreck that left me nervous, timid, and embarrassed by my weakness. I was determined to make my way in the world in spite of how people perceived me now.

  Tracy grabbed the car keys and automatically tossed them to me. When I arched an eyebrow at her, she shrugged in response. “Why fight you to let me drive when I’m planning on needing you to DD for me anyway?” she explained nonchalantly. I laughed and slung the slim strap of my purse over my head so it hung across my body. Ever since the car accident nearly two years before that had left me scarred and broken, I preferred not riding in cars at all, if I could help it. However, as long as I was in the driver’s seat, I seemed to manage just fine as time progressed, with only discomfort where there had been panic attacks even a few months earlier.

  I found parking in a public lot on the far end of 6th Street and we walked to dinner. We sat and chatted over our individual plans for the summer. Tracy let me know that our friend, Frederica, had agreed to sublet my room while I was away if I got the interning position I was interviewing for. Tracy started getting texts from friends as we ate, and by the time the check arrived, we had plans to meet up with a couple of our best school mates. Our friend Frederica and her boyfriend Jayden were already at Coyote Ugly and holding a table for us. We decided maybe getting to sit for a little while before we spent the rest of the evening out in the mad crush of the 6th Street nightlife wasn’t a bad idea.

  We met up with the two math majors, who were lamenting the fact that we were finished with finals while they both had one more week. Tracy ordered beers for us and we sat, watching the bartenders kicking bottles over as they danced on the bar top for tips.

  “I can’t help it if I’m finished early. I went full time, plus six credits, all year long,” I teased. “I never thought I’d see the light at the end of the finals tunnel.” Jayden raised his beer to that, and we all toasted the end, or near end, of the school year.

  The music was so loud already that there was no point in talking, so we watched while Jayden and Freddie danced in the dim light of the bar. Another beer each, and Tracy was on the floor shaking her ass and bouncing to the club rock. I sat in the corner, happy to be alone in the crowd, watching my friends have fun.

  A tall, good-looking cowboy sauntered over with two beers and set one in front of me. My first instinct was to brace myself and pull away, but he didn’t get any closer or try to touch me, so I forced myself to smile and say thank you. Before I could lift the bottle to my lips, Tracy ran up and snatched the bottle out of my hand.

  “Sorry, do we know you?” she asked in an accusing tone. He shook his head and lifted his hands, palms out, in a sign of surrender. “Yeah, I think we’ll just have to let you keep that, then.” She handed him back the bottle and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go, Sugar. We’re going to go listen to street music.” I shrugged my shoulders at the guy, who saluted us with the bottle she handed him and drained it without stopping. He winked at me and set the empty on the table, then walked away.

  “Yeah, yeah, I saw,” Tracy griped before I said anything. “You can never be too careful, you know.” I agreed with her whole heartedly and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “No one with half a brain would mess with me with you by my side.” I gave her a squeeze and picked up my pace to catch up with Jayden and Freddie. Strings of lights, bands playing on the street, and vendors drew crowds that made the 6th Street district a dirty, noisy spectacle. By midnight, we had traversed the entire outdoor music scene and were making our way back the way we’d come. Fredericka and Jayden had disappeared already, both having early work hours.

  I’d more than doubled my Tracy-imposed drink minimum and had switched to diet Coke a couple of hours before. When Tracy’s signature strut turned into a sloppy stumble, I knew it was time to call it quits. I tucked my shoulder under one of her arms and held her steady while we made our way down the crowded street to the car. The night was perfect, still warm enough that I didn’t need a sweater, even after midnight.

  By the time we got home, Tracy had moved from the happy, sloppy stage of drunk to apologetic, half-sober, which my back appreciated. I hadn’t wanted to have to put the girl to bed. The day had well and truly caught up with me, so I took a quick, hot shower to relax and slipped between the sheets without drying my hair or dressing. I didn’t even feel my face touch the pillow before I fell asleep, to dream of horses racing over a grassy hill toward a lake as smooth as glass.

  Chapter Two

  Daniel

  Kaiser was already saddled and waiting for me when I got to the stables Saturday morning. Pete, our stable master and horseman, was almost finished feeding the horses their morning oats, and Kaiser was pulling
at the bit to get at the breakfast being denied to him. I saw his ears flick as he recognized my approach, and he shook his mane out and pranced in place, willing me to hurry. I didn’t doubt that he could already smell the apples in my pockets. I waved to Pete as he came around for another bucket of oat mix.

  “Normally, I’d be irritated that you took care of saddling Kaiser for me, but I’m short on time today and appreciate the extra minutes I can spend riding,” I called out in greeting. Pete laughed and walked over with a handful of oats for my big, bay stallion. Kaiser snuffled his hand and munched on the grain, spilling it all over our feet and the stable floor.

  “I didn’t give the big boy much to eat, either. I knew you’d want to go out before your big debut,” he joked, referring to the interview I had later that morning. I’d hired people before, but always under my father’s rather close direction. Frank Hargrave was a particular man, and that he was willing to relinquish any piece of his control to me was important enough to make for gossip.

  “It isn’t even a real job,” I protested. “We’re Texas A&M alum; we’re doing the dean of the veterinary program a favor by placing an intern in your competent hands,” I reminded him with smug satisfaction. Pete was less than ten years my senior, but he’d worked hard and had a God-given gift with horses. The combination of talent and grit had earned him the reputation of being one of the top horsemen in not only the state of Texas, but the whole equine world.

  It was my father who had given Pete his start, and in turn, it was Pete who had taught me everything I knew about horses and ranching. I swung up onto Kaiser’s back as Pete brushed the wet remnants of grain from his work gloves. With a wave, I turned Kaiser toward the high pasture and gave him his head. The stallion bounded forward as he felt the reigns loosen and loped toward the gate. I felt his muscles tense as we approached and tightened my grip on the reigns, urging him into a gallop. He leapt and cleared the gate with room to spare. I let him take the lead as he galloped across the field toward the forest trail we often followed.