Cowboy Rough_A Steamy, Contemporary Romance Novella Read online

  Cowboy Rough

  Colorado Cowboys Book 1

  Harper Young

  Copyright © 2018 by Harper Young.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Content Warning: this book is intended for adult audiences only, and contains violence, swearing, and graphic sex scenes.

  This e-book/book is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 2018 by Madeline Farlow at clause-effect.com

  Editing by Madeline Farlow at clause-effect.com

  Contents

  1. Sloane

  2. Cord

  3. Sloane

  4. Cord

  5. Sloane

  6. Cord

  7. Sloane

  8. Cord

  9. Sloane

  10. Cord

  11. Cord

  12. Sloane

  13. Cord

  14. Sloane

  15. Cord

  16. Sloane

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  1

  Sloane

  I clutch my rolling suitcase’s handle and step onto the train platform. The few passengers around push ahead, each of them with a destination in mind. I’m the only one who’s stuck, unsure of where to go or what to do next.

  The moment couldn’t be a more accurate metaphor for my entire life.

  “Sloane!”

  I turn at the sound of my name. Past the small station’s building, a red pickup truck waits in the tiny parking lot. Beside it, Uncle Daniel waves his cowboy hat at me.

  A smile pulling at my lips, I make my way to him. As I get closer, a grin mirroring my own stretches across his face. I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen Uncle Daniel in my nineteen years, but the few short visits we’ve had with each other were more than enough. He’s my favorite relative, hands down. Not even my cousin Kelly, who lives in a million-dollar apartment in New York City and gets invited to all the hottest clubs and fashion shows, has him beat.

  “Look at this girl!” he roars as I get closer. “Are you sure you’re my brother’s daughter? The little girl I remember barely comes up to my shoulder.”

  Before I can answer, I’m in his arms, the earthy scents of hay and grass filling my nose. His embrace is strong and tight, the hug I didn’t know I needed. My muscles shake against him, threatening to give up and atrophy in the blink of an eye. I hold it together, though, blinking back tears and stepping out of his arms.

  “How are you, Uncle Daniel?”

  “Just swell.” His eyes, set deep in his wrinkled and weathered face, twinkle like he really means it. “You being here is a real treat.”

  “Yeah?” I don’t mean for my voice to go up so high, to sound so skeptical. The second the word is out, I press my lips tight together, hoping I won’t accidentally say anything else embarrassing.

  He takes my suitcase and sets it in the back of his truck. “Why would I lie about that?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t,” I admit, going around the front of the vehicle and climbing into the cab. “It’s just that . . .”

  “Some people don’t want you here,” he finishes for me as he hops behind the steering wheel.

  Sighing, I turn my face to the window. I shouldn’t have brought that up. “It’s beautiful out here.”

  “Wait till you see the farm.”

  He pulls out of the train station parking lot and into the street. We trace a line alongside the Rocky Mountains, the truck running parallel to the monolithic peaks.

  “How’s the ranch?” I ask.

  Uncle Daniel hesitates. “It’s . . . good.”

  “Good?”

  “There have been some, ah, issues lately.” He clears his throat and smiles. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing for you to fret about. You’re here to enjoy the summer.”

  I smile back, but this time it feels less genuine. It’s going to be hard to enjoy the summer when it’ll be one of the most tumultuous ones of my life. I wish I could say I’m doing the right thing by coming to McPherson Ranch. I wish I could say I’m doing the right thing by dropping out of school. Or by disobeying my parents and basically ignoring all of their calls and text messages.

  I can’t even explain why I’m doing anything that I’ve been doing. All I know is that I feel inexplicably drawn to Gramsby, Colorado—a place I’ve never been until today. It’s a deep-down, gut feeling that I have. It’s like the one I got when I woke up one morning and suddenly knew I needed to leave school.

  My parents don’t understand any of this. But why would they? To them, life is all about a series of carefully taken steps, each one laid out like clockwork, and each one being a one-size-fits-all situation. To my lawyer father and business-consultant mother, hunches and intuitions aren’t real.

  But sometimes you feel things you’ve never felt before. And sometimes you have thoughts that seem to come out of nowhere. They’re things that can’t be explained.

  I’m supposed to be in Gramsby, Colorado. There’s a real and urgent need living inside of me. It told me to leave school. It told me to get on that train and just go for it.

  Am I crazy? Yeah, maybe I am.

  But the really insane thing to do would be to stay in a place where I wasn’t happy. Maybe following a hunch across the country is a stupid thing to do, but isn’t staying immobile when you feel like you’re slowly suffocating even more ridiculous?

  I’m being led somewhere. I just know it.

  Here’s hoping it’s somewhere good.

  2

  Cord

  The sun burns like hell, even through the fabric of my shirt. Though we’re only a few hours away from dusk, it’s hotter than balls today. Has May always been this cruel? Or is it just the extra stress in my life that’s making it seem so?

  “I’ve never seen stronger fences than these,” Steve says, placing his gloved hand on one of the posts and attempting to give it a shake. The wood doesn’t budge.

  I exchange a look with Dane, who, like me, is sitting on his horse. Steve’s own palomino, left alone, gives a whinny.

  “We still have the southern fences to check,” Dane says.

  “We checked them yesterday,” I remind him.

  Both of the men grimly nod. We’re all thinking the same thing. Repairing fences on a cattle ranch is a nonstop job. It’s rare that each inch of fence is secure. We should be happy things are looking so good. But with the amount of local cattle going missing over the last month, it’s hard to be anything other than morose.

  “No bull or calf is getting through this fence,” Steve murmurs.

  “Unless they have help,” I respond through gritted teeth. “Come on. Let’s get back for dinner.”

  Steve climbs on his horse, and the three of us ride along the northern fence line, which will take us right to the main house. My shoulders are tight, and I can’t seem to unlock my jaw. Seeing the intact fences did nothing to assuage my worries. Cattle are going missing in Aston County. Either all of my neighbors have suddenly become negligent or someone is stealing heads. Luckily, none of my own cattle have up and vanished. Not yet, anyway.

  “I’ll put the horses up,” Dane says once we’r
e at the stables.

  “No,” I firmly answer. “You two go and get washed up. I’ll take care of them.”

  Dane nods silently. As my closet friend since JV football, he knows there’s no arguing with me. Dane would work until his hands bled if he needed to, but I won’t ask that kind of commitment out of anyone but myself. I’m the only McPherson left on this ranch, which means the brunt of the work is my responsibility alone.

  Dane takes off his Stetson and wipes the sweat from his dark brows before following Steve to the house. I stand by the horse stable and watch them for a moment. Halfway up the hill, the mansion of a log cabin my grandfather built with his own hands waits for them. The house is a marvel. I never get tired of looking at it. I just can’t stay in it. As beautiful as some things are, they’re also painful. That house holds too many memories for me—they’re mostly good ones, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hard as well.

  “Come on, girls,” I tell the horses, leading the three of them into the stables. They eagerly follow, anxious to get their dinners and rest in the cool stalls.

  “You all did good today.” Since all eighteen of the ranch hands are at the house for dinner, I’m not worried about anyone hearing me talking to the animals.

  My boots thud against the concrete of the stable’s walkway. I go a few feet in, toward Starlight’s stall, then stop. There’s a figure leaned over Mikey’s stall, but it doesn’t belong to anyone who works here.

  My lungs freeze on an inhale as I take in the long, pale legs . . . the tight, jean shorts . . . the soft, round hips.

  “Aw, you’re so sweet,” a musical female voice says.

  The words send electricity through my veins. I work my jaw around, knowing I need to say something to announce my presence, but I can’t seem to get my damn mouth open.

  The woman unexpectedly straightens up and turns around. She’s younger than I originally thought—that’s the first thing I notice. Also, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. With blond hair that falls around her face in layers and big, brown eyes, she looks like a model from the pages of a magazine.

  She gasps as her eyes fall on me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .”

  I hold up my palm to silence her. “That’s all right. I just got here. And I talk to the horses myself, so there’s no need to be embarrassed over that.”

  She ducks her face. “I just couldn’t help it. Uncle Daniel said it was all right to explore, as long as—”

  “You’re Daniel’s niece?”

  She nods.

  I inwardly curse myself. How the hell did I forget that Daniel’s niece was arriving today? Usually I’m good at remembering even the smallest details, but somehow I’d let the information about the girl who’d be coming to stay at the ranch for the summer slip my mind.

  Realizing I’m just standing here staring at her, I clear my throat and take off my hat. “I’m Cord McPherson.”

  She licks her lips, and the simple action makes heat fill my core. Damn, this girl is something. Either I’ve been working too hard, or I’ve gone too long without the touch of a woman. On second thought, it’s probably both.

  “I’m Sloane.”

  “Sloane.” The name slips off my tongue like cool spring water flows over worn-down stones.

  Behind me, one of the horses huffs, but she’ll have to wait just one more minute. It’s not often that I run into a beautiful girl. After basically giving up dating two years ago, my encounters with the world outside of this ranch have been reduced to close to zero.

  Grocery store. Library. Home. Repeat. That’s my life.

  “When did you get in?” I ask.

  “About an hour ago . . . So you’re the owner of the ranch, right?” She steps forward and extends a hand. The gesture seems at odds with the shyness she just exhibited, but I take her hand and give it a careful shake. Her fingers feel so delicate in my own. I’m afraid that if I accidentally squeeze too tight, I might break her.

  The thought of being rough with her sends a quick, forbidden image flashing through my mind. It’s that of Sloane, her hair tousled and her lips parted. She’s beneath me, her soft skin pressing against each available inch of my own . . .

  Pervert, that voice in my head whispers. You don’t even know how old this girl is.

  I quickly clear my throat and put my hat back on. “How long are you staying for, Miss Sloane?”

  She chews on her bottom lip. “Uncle Daniel said the summer would be fine, so I guess until then. Thank you for letting me stay here, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. And no money in the world could buy another foreman as good as your uncle. His family is my family.”

  Sloane smiles in appreciation. “I just want to make sure I’m not imposing.”

  “Not at all.”

  She folds her hands together in front of her and solemnly nods. It’s another action that seems out of place on a woman so young. Either I’m reading her all wrong, or she’s the result of some good breeding.

  “Where are you from?” I ask. Daniel probably told me, but I was a dumbass and forgot.

  “Los Angeles. Well, most recently, Connecticut.”

  “Those two places are a long ways from each other.”

  “I went to school in Connecticut.”

  “Where abouts?”

  “Um, Howe.” She tucks some hair behind her ear and looks uncomfortable. “Just for one year.”

  “Howe?” I press. “Isn’t that where Bexley is?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” she stiffly responds.

  I stare at Sloane, trying to make sense out of what’s happening. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s embarrassed over going to school at one of the most sought-after universities in the world.

  “Hold on,” I say slowly. “You didn’t graduate yet, did you? You look so young.”

  “I’m nineteen.” Sloane clears her throat. “And I left.”

  The tone of her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t want to talk any more about it. Knowing I’m getting dangerously close to pushing her away, I back off. “Can I walk you up to dinner?”

  A hint of a smile plays across her lips. “Sure.”

  “Let me just put these girls away.”

  We’re quiet as I brush down and feed the horses. The other ones have already been taken care of for the evening and are comfortably resting in their stalls. Though Sloane and I don’t say anything as I work, I can feel her eyes on me the whole time. Her presence charges the air with a strange, cackling energy. It’s like the change that sometimes comes over the ranch when a thunderstorm is on its way. Except its better. It’s pleasing . . . calming.

  I find my fingers shaking slightly as I close up the last stall door. A hundred questions regarding the mysterious girl next to me are swirling around in my head. Why did she leave school? What made her want to come to my ranch? Does she have a boyfriend back in Connecticut? I want to ask her everything all at once, but I’ll have to wait. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so attracted to a woman, and I can’t afford to fuck things up.

  “All done,” I announce, wiping my hands on my jeans. Sloane and I leave the stable and begin a slow walk toward the house. The sky is awash with shades of pink and purple, another beautiful and original sunset. Sloane walks just a few inches away from me, and my hand nearest her keeps swinging in her direction, like its pulled by a magnetic force.

  “Did you meet Miranda yet?” I ask.

  “No, not yet. Uncle Daniel took my stuff in. I’ve just been looking around outside since I got here. You just raise cattle?”

  “That’s about all we have time for.”

  “It seems hard.”

  “It’s fulfilling.”

  “Did you ever want to . . .” She looks wistfully up at the sky as she walks. “Did you ever want to do something else?”

  I can’t keep my eyes off of her. “Why would I?”

  Sloane shrugs. “I don’t know . . . Just because the things that seem right aren’t always that way. You
know?”

  Irritation pricks my chest. “No.”

  Sloane keeps going on, almost as if she hadn’t heard me. “It’s like all of life is other people telling us what to do all the time. Do you ever stop and think about that?”

  I dryly laugh. “I’d like to think I’m the boss of myself. I do run this ranch, after all.”

  Sloane stops walking and turns to face me. “But sometimes we think we’re doing what we want to be, but we’re really just living someone else’s life.”

  The irritation I’m feeling transforms into all out anger. I don’t know who this girl thinks she is, coming in here and questioning my entire life, but I’m not putting up with it. I have too much shit to deal with as it is. The fact that Sloane is so fucking beautiful makes her suggestions even worse.

  “I’m not feeling that hungry,” I announce. “You go on ahead of me.”

  Sloane’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “You’re not? But haven’t you been working all day?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “And I have even more work to get done.”

  Before she can say another word, I turn and stalk back toward the stables. My temples pound, and my hands curl into fists. The nerve of that woman . . .

  I should have known. Born and bred in Tinsel Town. Educated at Bexley. Beautiful as a supermodel. Why wouldn’t a girl like that just waltz in here and act like she has everything figured out?

  And it’s probably not even her background that makes her stuck-up. She’s so much like that girl, Samantha, who I met at the rodeo. I thought she was cute until she started talking shit about the riders. Or Caroline, the girl I dated for three months—until she informed me that, were we to become serious, I’d have to quit ranching. Some girls just think they can say and do whatever they want.