Built like a cowboy, p.1
Built like a Cowboy, page 1
Copyright © 2021 by Heatherly Bell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters created are purely fictional, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
For Lori Wilde, who read Lucky Cowboy for me and encouraged me to write small town westerns.
Built like a Cowboy
Men of Stone Ridge
Heatherly Bell
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
A recipe for Southern fried chicken by Delores
About the Author
Also by Heatherly Bell
Prologue
Well, I’m certainly glad I was sitting down when I heard this news. If you’re at all faint of heart, you might want to do so yourself, and get the smelling salts right now. Yes, it’s true. THE Winona James, famous country singer, and CMA three-time winner of the best vocalist of the year, has made Stone Ridge her home. But were that ALL I’d have to tell you, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. After all, Stone Ridge, Texas, is home to Jackson Carver, country singer, and bona fide man of Stone Ridge. Born and bred. To us, famous country singers are not as big of a deal as they would be somewhere else, like for instance, say…Kerrville.
As the head of the SORROW, I was one of the first to welcome the new young lady to our small town. We were sure happy to have her, as we certainly don’t have enough single women for all of our single men, and we would like to see some marriages going on lickety-split. And though I was getting ready to launch an email-order bride service, a few in town are squeamish about the idea. I’m in agreement that we can’t just let any woman move here and stake her claim to one of the men of Stone Ridge. But this is all to say that I more than welcomed Winona James into our quaint little female-scarcity town. She comes vetted, so good or bad, we know what we’re getting.
Then I heard what she was up to, and that’s when I required said smelling salts. Apparently, Miss James is here in town to acquire herself a sperm donor! Yep, you read that right, folks. Not a husband, not a partner, not a lover, all she seems to need is the seed. For shame! The few of us in the know about her plans want to ask why on earth she doesn’t just go to one of those banks they have in big cities where all the heathen live. Like, for instance, Dallas. Well, don’t you know Miss James’s first victim target was Jackson Carver himself, her THIRD ex-husband. But when his fiancée Eve got wind of that, well, you can just imagine. Jackson was rumored to have said, “‘No thank you, ma’am’ but in more colorful language. I’ll spare you the details.
Now, as if all of this isn’t scandalous enough for us, the woman is interviewing men for the position of the father of her child. Butter my biscuit, because I never imagined the line would be so long! All I can say is, whoever the poor man is, he best find a way to keep his baby in Stone Ridge, even if he has to hog-tie the mother.
~ Beulah Hayes, President of SORROW (Society of Reasonable, Respectable, Orderly Women) and keeper of the Men of Stone Ridge bible, 10th edition ~
Chapter 1
Winona James was in Stone Ridge for the men, and at this point, she didn’t care who knew it.
But placing an ad hadn’t seemed appropriate, so this had become a word-of-mouth situation. At this rate, she could be here for a while. This was not the happiest of thoughts.
Stone Ridge was a small town on the outskirts of Hill Country and didn’t even have a hair salon. When she’d asked about the closest Starbucks or Peet’s, her landlord had laughed and called her “precious.” She’d had to suffer with the inadequate coffee from the General Store and beg the new owner of the Shady Grind to please start serving stronger coffee. He happened to be her ex-husband, so he knew how dangerous life could become if she didn’t get her caffeine fix.
Of course, if her plan worked well, soon she’d have to stop drinking coffee altogether or switch to decaf (horrors). But by then, she’d be happy to leave this small town, kick the dust off her boots, and go back to the outskirts of Nashville, where she’d raise her sweet baby. She’d wanted a child for as long as she could remember, but the intensity had grown every year past the age of thirty. It had reached the point where she’d be on the verge of tears every time one of her friends or colleagues announced their pregnancy. She wanted to be happy for them, but when would it be her turn?
The “baby contract,” which she’d worked out with her manager and lawyer, Kimberly Foster, left nothing open-ended. Everything was covered. Simply put, if the man agreed to her terms, he’d be the biological father of her child, and would hand over sole custody. If they wished to, of course, they could have visitation but she didn’t expect that they would. But so far, the young men interested in being the father of her baby were so young they were not thinking much beyond making their “deposit.”
Not that she blamed them because she’d been wild in her twenties, too, and most of her thirties. But Winona would be forty later this year and it was time to settle down. She’d longed to be a mother for years but none of her marriages had stuck. Nobody’s fault. They’d just been the wrong men. Either abusive and controlling (her first husband), cheating (her second), or in love with someone else (Jackson, her third and last).
She heard a knock at her front door and rushed to open it. This had to be another prospect, arriving for his appointment. Her jaw gaped when she saw the man standing on the other side of the door. She had an interview scheduled for today but could have never hoped for someone like him. Holy cow, this man had been built in cowboy heaven. Judging by his height in comparison to her own average one, he had to be well over six feet tall. He was exactly what she’d had in mind. She’d peg him to be in his late thirties or early forties. Not a kid but a full-grown man. Tall, lean, but muscular, he wore a tipped Stetson slightly shadowing a penetrating gaze. Eyes the color of whiskey matched dark hair slightly graying at the edges, with some light beard scruff on a square jaw. Testosterone leapt off him in waves. He’d probably started shaving when he was three.
He made her think of long, lazy days in bed. Her womb woke up, ready to do the two-step.
Yes, girl! Yesss! This is more like it!
“Please come in, sweetheart. You’re early. You get extra points for that,” she said, trying not to drool.
“Actually, I’m a little late.” He followed her into the living room. “And I’m never late.”
She pointed him to the couch and sat in the chair in front of him, ready to begin the interview. “Tell me, why are you the perfect person for this job?”
He straddled the chair between two long legs. “I have a lot of experience.”
“You do?”
Dear Lord, what were the odds of this kind of man dropping right in her lap like this?
“Of course. I’m a rancher, but I fill in here and there for these types of jobs.”
What a progressive town! “And they let you do this? Does everybody know?”
“Does everybody know what?” He looked annoyed and hooked his thumb. “Look, I’m wastin’ daylight here. Can I just get on with it?”
While she’d be willing to drop everything here and now for this man, that was the old Winona. The new and improved version wanted to have a baby and she couldn’t just hook up with a handsome stranger. Besides, he had to sign the contract and have a visit to the doctor for a clean bill of health. So far, she’d had two interviews, and not one returned contract, which made her think these young men weren’t taking her seriously.
“I love the enthusiasm!” She winked. “But I have a few more questions before I can offer you the position.”
He cocked his head. “I thought I already had this job.”
“Well, you pretty much do, but there’s just few little things we have to go over first.”
“Like what? I don’t have much time.”
Oh dear. Well, looks weren’t everything. He wanted to get this over with. Not too promising.
She sniffed. “I had hoped this would at least take an afternoon.”
“Well, it’s goin’ to take me more than one afternoon. I don’t do shabby work and I always get the job done well.”
“Oh boy, I’ll just bet you do.”
“What else did you have in mind?” He leaned back, splaying large hands on his thighs. “Because all Merle mentioned was the patio addition.”
Merle. That name was familiar as Merle Stephens was her landlord.
Every randy thought, every hope she’d held for a virile hunk of a man her age ready and willing to knock her up, evaporated. With looks like his, he was probably married with children. Taken, like most of the good ones. Her hopes fizzled and dropped dead of exhaustion. At least she hadn’t asked about his sperm motility. It was hard to come back from that one. She could act as if she’d been talking about the same thing.
“Oh no. That’s it. The patio addition. Right this way, please.” She led him through the kitchen to the connected patio.
Even though she’d hopefully be renting this home a short time, she’d wanted an enclosed area protected from the heat and elements where she could enjoy Hill Country and possibly write some songs. Mr. Stephens had agreed because he’d planned to sell this property after she left anyway and agreed it would be a selling point.
She supposed this drool-worthy cowboy would be here every day until the work was complete. Torturing her with his big, hard body. Well, she didn’t care. She had a mission to accomplish.
“What is your name? I assume it isn’t Jeremy Pine.”
“Riggs Henderson.”
“I’m Winona James.”
“I know.”
He shook her hand, a strong firm shake and a gaze that met her eyes without a hint of male appreciation or interest. She, on the other hand, felt a sizzle whip through her like a category three hurricane. Story of her life.
There remained only a slight glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. Who are you, again? You look vaguely familiar.
His wife was probably a fan.
He stood outside the open patio, hands on hips. Then he nudged his chin in the direction of the house. “Okay, Miss Winona, you can go back to whatever you were doin’ when I got here.”
“I hope it’s not askin’ too much, but I have interviews scheduled almost every day, and while that’s goin’ on, I would appreciate a little quiet out here. Just so that I can hear myself think. I have some big decisions to make.”
He quirked a brow. “Sure. I’ll work quietly.”
A truck pulled up to the side of the house, kicking up gravel, and Winona turned toward the sound. “I think that’s my appointment.”
“Don’t mind me. I’m good.”
Winona went inside to meet Jeremy Pine and after a short greeting, led him into the living room and pointed to the couch. “Have a seat.”
Jeremy Pine was blond but also tall and built, as were most of the cowboys in these parts. The young single men had been following her around like puppies since she’d arrived. She’d actually come to stop her ex-husband from getting back together with the woman who stood him up at the altar. Also, she’d asked him for his sperm, since she’d already made the trip.
That hadn’t gone well. Awkward.
“How old are you again, sweetie?” Winona asked, holding her pad and pen.
“I’m twenty-five, darlin’,” Jeremy said.
Oh, sigh, he was so young. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dated someone her own age. Unfortunately, all the single forty-something men she knew were in relationships with twenty-something women.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I will be twenty-five. In about six months.”
She gave him a small smile. Lying about your age to be older. Lord, how sweet.
He was certainly attractive enough physically, though there were no real sparks between them. She’d have to feel something for a few minutes at least, longer if she got lucky. See, Winona had decided early on, after Jackson had refused, that she’d go ahead and do this baby thing the old-fashioned way. There were two reasons for this. First, Winona hated needles, although the word “hate” wasn’t strong enough. And secondly, Winona enjoyed sex, as long as it was on her own terms.
“Have you had your physical?”
“Yep, doctor said I’m as healthy and clean as I could be.”
“You sure look good.”
He grinned, but rather than a wicked smile it was sweet, and far too innocent for her liking. Despite all the filthy tabloid lies printed about her in the past, Winona didn’t set out to make men out of boys. She far preferred men her age and only wished that one of them would give her the time of day. But here in Stone Ridge, most of them were already married. And anywhere else, well, she was far too old for them.
Winona went back to her questions. These were important, because she not only wanted good physical attributes in a father, she also preferred he have some intelligence and higher-level education. Her child would probably get musical talent from her, as well as the stubborn ability to survive just about anything. But for education, she’d need the father’s help. Winona had barely graduated from high school back in Welch, Oklahoma, and though she had it on good authority that she wasn’t stupid, she certainly wasn’t educated. It was one of her deepest regrets.
“How well did you do in school?”
“All As and Bs.”
“Wonderful. And—”
Bang, bang, bang.
She blinked, then tried again. “…how about—”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
Winona threw a glance to the window. “I told him to work quietly when I’m interviewing.”
The hammering stopped and Winona smiled. “Okay. Where were we?”
“You were asking me about my education.”
“Oh, that’s right. Now, do you have a—”
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“Degree—”
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
He had the saw going now! Looker or not, he was going to die!
“Oh, now that’s it!” Winona stood. “I will not tolerate this.”
“Ma’am?” Jeremy stood, voice laced with concern.
Winona stomped to the back of the room, hauled up the window and hung halfway out of it. “I asked you not to make noise while I’m busy in here.”
He stopped sawing on a two by four long enough to give her a long, patient look. “You were serious about that?”
“Yes!”
He scratched his jaw. “But I’m runnin’ behind schedule. Ma’am.”
And he’d probably added the ma’am to make her feel older. By the tiny crinkles around his eyes, he was probably slightly older than she was anyway. Maybe she should start calling him “sir” and see how he liked it.
“I’m almost done in here.”
He went palms up and stepped back from the saw. “If you don’t care when this gets finished…”
“Thank you!”
She stomped back to Chris, or Jeremy. Pine, was it? She was so bad with names. And the buzzing appeared to be in her head now.
“So sorry about that.” She took her seat again. “Your degree is in—”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Here’s the contract, sugar.” Giving up, she reached and handed over the four-page document. “Just read it over, and if you agree with everything in there, we’ll talk some more.”
“Okay, then.” He stood, holding the hat to his chest. “I think we could make a beautiful baby, and I know I’d sure have a good time doing that. And you would, too, of course. I’d make sure of that. Thank you, ma’am.”
The second “ma’am” pretty much spelled the end for Jeremy. She would not have sex with a man who’d referred to her as ma’am.
But her chest tightened because she had to pick someone soon. The ovulation kits she’d purchased indicated she should be at the height of ovulation for just a few more days, and yet so far, she’d failed to find the right father for her precious baby. It wasn’t all that easy to do since she was shoving months, or years, of courtship and relationship into a few weeks. And if she didn’t find someone in a few days she’d be stuck out here for another month.
Kimberly already thought Winona was nuts but given that she had once married in a Las Vegas drive-through, Kimberly was used to a high bar. Those had been her hard-drinking and partying days and they were over. She’d been in training to be someone’s mother for a year. That meant no more drinking, smoking, and no more hookups. Not that she’d ever been nearly as active as the press liked to believe.
