Her Unexpected Cowboy (Unforgettable Cowboys Book 1)

  Her Unexpected Cowboy

  Unforgettable Cowboys Book One

  DANAE LITTLE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2019 Danae Little

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13:

  DEDICATION

  To all who dare to wish for the unexpected.

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Join Danae’s Reader Group for new releases and a FREE book!

  ~1~

  ~2~

  ~3~

  ~4~

  ~5~

  ~6~

  ~7~

  ~8~

  ~9~

  ~10~

  ~11~

  ~12~

  ~13~

  ~Epilogue~

  NEXT in Unforgettable Cowboys

  Reach Out!

  More Books by Danae Little:

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to thank everyone who has been a part of my writing journey, from my editor, beta readers, ARC readers, and family to the people who I meet who might unknowingly spark a new story in my mind.

  Join Danae’s Reader Group for new releases and a FREE book!

  ~1~

  Yellow light flickered in the small room, causing shadows to grow and shrink. Beads of wax rolled lazily down the candles and melted into the chocolate frosting on the homemade cake. Sydney sighed, causing the flame to wiggle in a frantic dance.

  “Well, happy birthday to me,” she said in resignation. “Twenty-eight years old...”

  “Meow.” A black and white cat sat in the chair next to her, blinking his yellow eyes in the dim light before stretching and jumping onto her lap.

  “What’s that, Mr. Paws?” She stroked her companion. “I need to make a wish?”

  “Meow,” Mr. Paws confirmed.

  A chuckle bubbled up through Sydney. If her old friends could only see her now. In her defense, Mr. Paws could actually hold a decent conversation. Her laughter died as she rested her chin in her calloused hands. The wax melted, drip, drip, drip, polka-dotting the cake with small pink and blue spots.

  This was the second birthday that she had spent alone on the ranch. Her heart squeezed in the grip of loneliness now so much more than the first. That first year here had been an answered prayer, a perfect escape from the nightmare her life had become. Sydney silently sent thanks to her Aunty Mag and Uncle Joe for leaving her this place.

  Sydney had always enjoyed her summers here as a kid. Working with the goats and horses, and having the freedom to run and be alone gave her the strength to make it through the rest of the year. She never thought she would get to the point that being alone would feel, well, so lonely.

  “Meow.” Mr. Paws arched up and put his white socked paws on her chest to touch noses.

  “I’m so grateful to have you.” Sydney touched his wet nose with hers, relishing in his methodic rumbling of a purr.

  A deep bellow of a bark traveled from the porch. A shaggy bear of a dog stood at the screen door and let out a grumble as he circled twice before finally dropping into a pile of white fur.

  “Yes, I’m grateful for you too, Guardian.” Sydney loved having the door open to let the fresh spring night air into the small stuffy house. Plus, it let her interact more with Guardian. She rubbed her hand down the cat’s sleek fur. “Silly dog,” she whispered. “Always acts like he’s left out.”

  “Meow.”

  “I know...a wish.”

  Another sigh escaped. The purring from her lap, the crickets outside, and the occasional bleat from the goats,—all music to Sydney’s ears, settled her. A wistful smile spread across her lips. “Well, since it’s only you and me.”

  “Woof,” Guardian added.

  “And Guardian, too, of course. I can be as silly and fanciful as I desire.” Sydney’s heart ached as a sad wash of desperation flooded her. “Okay, I wish that a tall, dark, handsome man...”

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, I know that’s a cliché. Okay, with magnificent green eyes and large hands.” She looked towards Mr. Paws for approval, and he nodded as he began licking his paw. “In a cowboy hat,” she huffed at her absurdity, “would show up here, sweep me off my feet, want to live in this old cozy house, love goats and horses, and of course you and Guardian, enjoy hard work, and this simple life.” She hesitated and checked her mental list of attributes of her perfect man.

  “Meow.”

  “Oh, yes, of course we fall madly in love with each other.” With a deep breath, feeling quite senseless and despondent, she blew out the candles which, by now, only stood a half-inch off the cake. If her wish didn’t show up at her door, she would have to leave this ranch and the tiny town it lived in to find Mr. Right. The only options here were grizzled old men who looked like remnants of the fur-trapper days, a toothless drunk, a few punk kids, and, well, she couldn’t forget, a married man.

  “Meow.”

  “Oh, you’re right, Mr. Paws. I forgot to add in that he would be respectful, kind, honest, and not an all-round loser.”

  “Woof-woof.”

  “Thank you for the reminder, Guardian, and not in trouble with the law.” Her face scrunched up in memories she didn’t want to stay in. “Too bad I already blew out the candles.”

  “Woof-woof.”

  “I know, Guardian. I know.” Sydney slowly took the candles out and sucked the chocolate frosting off the bottoms.

  Guardian continued barking, more adamantly. Pricks of anxiety encouraged Sydney to investigate what caused his trouble as a deep growl emanated from him. Guardian didn’t growl unless.... She would have heard a car come down the long, gravel driveway. The goats were quiet except for the occasional bleat. Whinny neighed and stamped her feet, but the crickets—they were silent.

  Her hair stood up on end and her heart hammered. Maybe the wolves had returned or that dang bear that liked to spread trash from here to the barn. Her hand grasped the cold metal barrel of her uncle’s old shotgun just as she heard what sounded like a boot grating on gravel.

  In an instant, she brought the butt of the gun into the familiar calloused nook of her shoulder. At that moment the automatic sensor lights blazed to life, illuminating a man standing just off the porch who quickly shielded his eyes. The breath caught in Sydney’s throat. Thank God, she wasn’t a screamer, because this was definitely a screamable moment!

  “Stop,” Sydney choked out, trying to get a lung-full of air. With a deep breath, she firmly planted her feet on the hardwood floor. “Stop right there.” Adrenaline stung her skin. She prayed she would have the courage to do what needed to be done.

  The man froze, still shielding his eyes. He held his body in a peculiar way, closed in on itself, arm held tight to his chest and one leg awkwardly straight, slightly kicked out to the side. The outside light passed shadows over him, hiding his features, though the dark couldn’t hide his size, neither could his posture. Broad shoulders filled in his black t-shirt. He must have stood around six foot at least. A fraction of a chiseled jaw peeked out from out of the shadow and into the light as he shifted his weight.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am.” His voice crackled as if he hadn’t used it in some time. He cleared his throat, causing him to take in a sharp bre
ath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Where did you come from? Where’s your car?” she shot the questions at him.

  He wavered before steadying himself. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re hurt,” she stated.

  “Yeah.” A slight pain-filled chuckle traveled across the cool evening breeze.

  “I’ll call the Sheriff and maybe an ambulance,” she said, backing up towards the table where the phone sat next to her cake. She had thought for sure at least her parents would have called today. She shook her head, refocusing on the issue at hand.

  “No,” he said quickly. He took a couple steps forward, placing a foot on the lowest step of the porch.

  Guardian picked up his incessant growling with more fervor. Sydney’s heart raced as she squared the gun towards the man’s chest again.

  “Please,” he pleaded, his one good hand moving away from shielding his eyes and outstretched towards her.

  Blood rushed through her as she saw his face for the first time. Handsome...so handsome. The gun slowly lowered as she stared, mesmerized by his eyes still dark in the shadow.

  “I don’t want to be trouble,” his words soothed, sounding as if he were taming a wild horse. He turned slightly towards the barn a hundred yards or so past the house. “I...If you don’t mind, I could just sleep the night in your barn.”

  Sydney glanced at the outbuilding, knowing full well that she had two mother goats in there about to give birth and no bed. She thought about Homer, the grizzled old foreman, a half-mile down the road. She could send this stranger there. Watching him, though, she wasn't sure he could make it

  “Just tonight,” he soothed again.

  “You should see a doctor, at the least,” she said, hesitantly. Why in the world aren’t you calling the sheriff right now?! Her good sense continued to yell at her while she studied his strong jawline and high cheekbones. His dark, short hair stood out all over the place, somehow making him even more attractive.

  “I’ll be fine, just banged up.” He wavered again, and this time he reached out to the railing to steady himself.

  As if pulled by an unseen force, Sydney reached for the screen door and stepped out, the gun still nestled in her shoulder, but pointed towards the ground. Guardian backed up to shield her, his low growl menacing.

  “Quite the dog you have there,” the man said, his voice fading and his knuckles turning white as he squeezed the splintered railing.

  Sydney couldn’t stop staring at the size of his hand. Thick, long fingers and a palm that would put that pesky bear to shame. She snuck a glance at Guardian—his white, furry head came to her waist, and his fist-sized paws stood in a wide ready-to-pounce stance. He was an intimidating view.

  “Yes, and very loyal,” she replied accentuating the very part—which he was. With Guardian around, she didn’t fear for almost anything. Yet this man wavering in front of her scared the pants off her, in more ways than one. Her heart thundered and she fought to breath every time their eyes connected. What was it about this cowboy that made her fear more for her heart than her life?

  The man nodded. With his eyes never leaving hers, he slowly lowered himself to the step at the bottom of the porch. A burst of air left him, as if he desired to blow his pain out onto the wind. Then he scanned the land intensely.

  Sydney followed his eyes, seeing the silver of moonlight touch the top of the lodgepole pines beyond the clearing and glinting off the metal roof of the barn. The crickets had picked up their song once again. A peace filled her, even in the midst of this scary, crazy situation. This was her land...her home.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, fully on the porch now, only a good twenty feet from the alluring stranger.

  His eyes dropped from the landscape to his jeans which were covered in dirt. “I, uh, I can’t remember.”

  “Hmmf,” she said. Now that’s a lame line. “Fine. We’ll play it your way, and Sheriff Whitmore will be out here to help jog that memory of yours.”

  “Whitmore?” he questioned in a pondering whisper.

  “Yeah,” she said with a bit of attitude. The sheriff, Wil Whitmore, had once been a hired hand on this ranch as a teenager. They had spent time working together during the summers she spent here. Goosebumps crept on her skin thinking of him. Had Wil really changed that much or had she just been a naïve young girl?

  “What county are we in?” The stranger in front of her asked, bringing her back to the situation at hand.

  “Mountain Valley.”

  “Huh.” He shook his head slightly before quickly bringing his hand to his head. When he moved it away, his fingers glistened in the porch light.

  “That’s a nasty cut you got there.”

  He looked down at the blood on his hand. “Yeah, guess that’s not good.”

  Without thought she turned back into the house and filled up a baggie with ice. What are you doing, Sydney? There’s a beat up stranger on your porch, and you are getting him a bag of ice instead of calling Wil? Her hands froze in mid zip of the bag...there was just something about the stranger.

  “Meow.” Mr. Paws rubbed between her feet before stretching up to get more pets. Absentmindedly, she squatted down to pet the cat.

  The gun! Where did I leave the gun? You stupid girl!

  She took two long strides back to the screen door. Relief washed over her when she saw the shotgun leaned against the frame, right where she left it. She snuck a peek at the man who had leaned back against the railing, his eyes shut. He really was quite the specimen...and she did make that wish. A frantic giggle escaped her lips before she shot a hand over her mouth.

  The sound stirred the man on the porch, and he looked towards her as she made her way out the door.

  “Here,” she said lamely, handing him the bag of ice. The tips of his fingers grazed hers as he took the bag. Sparks ignited and rushed throughout her in a most pleasant way, in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time.

  “Thank you.” A small grin tugged at the right side of his mouth. He raised his eyes up to hers, and for the first time she was close enough to actually see them.

  Her heart froze and her breath caught in her throat. Staring back at her were the greenest eyes she had ever seen. She took a step back, a hand on her heart, and took another and another until her back hit the screen. Guardian, now calm, glanced up at her, letting out a single woof.

  Yeah, yeah, I know, she silently responded to him.

  “What?” the man asked, an endearing furrow scrunching between his eyebrows. “Do you recognize me or something?” His voice came out hesitant, almost awkward.

  “No, no.” She shook her head, still dazed in disbelief. “Should I?”

  “I just hoped you did.” He placed the bag of ice on his head. A small grimace lined his face, and he closed his eyes.

  “You really don’t know what happened,” she said, her mouth dropping open. “Do you know what state you are in?”

  He gingerly shook his head. “No.”

  “Do you know if you were driving?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know if you were alone?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what month it is, or year? Do you know how old you are? Do you even know your own name?”

  “No.”

  “Wow.” Her mind reeled with what that must feel like—to have no memory at all.

  “Do you always ask this many questions?” The right side of his mouth turned up again.

  “Yeah,” she admitted while a deep blush burned her cheeks. “What do you remember?”

  He sat forward and scanned the area again as if he expected someone or something to come crashing through the forest. “I woke up amongst some brush on the side of the road about a half-mile left of your driveway. You really do live out in the boonies.”

  A smile eased across her face. Yes, she did, and she loved it that way...at least, usually.

  He rested back agains
t the railing again. Exhaustion lined his face.

  She judged he was probably in his early thirties. His shirt, besides dirty and rumpled, looked like an ordinary shirt. His jeans, ripped and caked in dirt, were Wranglers, which ninety percent of Wyoming wore. His boots, though scuffed and muddy, were fancier than a ranch hand’s or pretty much anyone in this small town. He was definitely from this part of the country but those boots placed him as city.

  “That’s it?” She leaned against the railing opposite of him.

  “I walked down your extensive driveway, and here I am.” His voice sounded full of defeat, and she found herself yearning for his soothing horseman’s tone to return.

  “How about a wallet or ID?” she kept trying.

  “Checked. Nothing.” He opened his eyes again and used his good hand to raise up the shirt sleeve of his left arm. “I have this tattoo. It looks military.”

  Her mouth hung open. The tattoo on his gun of an arm definitely looked military. It had two swords overlapping each other. Yet, it was the muscle bulging underneath it that had her tongue-tied.

  “You checked yourself for tattoos?” The thought burst forth, untying her tongue in a not-so-convenient way.

  “Well, not all of me.” He eased back again with that one-sided grin.

  Could there be more tattoos hidden on him? The thought raced through her, speeding up her heartbeat and causing her cheeks to burn again. Thank goodness he had closed his eyes. She watched him, wondering where he came from and why he was out here, and looking like he got the crap beat out of him. Was he in some kind of trouble?

  Her heart hammered. Strangely, no gripping fear filled her when she thought of this stranger, at least not of him harming her. Her eyes scanned the land that lay beyond in the darkness and she bristled. Were the men that did this to him still out there somewhere?

  “Ma’am?” His voice was weak, dripping exhaustion. “If you have decided to let me stay, I better make my way to the barn before I can’t.”

  “One more question.”

  That sideways grin made another appearance. How could she be frightened of a man who had such an amiable smile?