Captivating the Cowboy

By Jenna Bayley-Burke

Fashion designer Jules O’Connor is counting the days until she leaves the three-stoplight town of Opal Creek to start her life in New York. She’s finally going to be able to focus on building her career instead of layer cakes. One of the things she will miss about her current job waitressing in her small town is getting to witness sexy rancher Slade Weston attempt to find “the one”.

Fourth-generation cattle rancher Slade Weston is looking to settle down, but not even NotMyFirstRodeo.com has found him a match. When Slade’s string of first dates in the restaurant where Jules works gets comical, she offers to be his wing-woman. He can use all the help he can get. Friends turn into friends with benefits, but Jules doesn't want to be a wife and mom, and Slade sure as hell doesn't want to move to New York City.

With no strings to get tangled in, Jules is free to follow her dreams. But as their attraction grows deeper, both wonder if they need to rethink their dreams of the future

Each book in the Not My First Rodeo 2 series is a STANDALONE story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Books in series:

Captivating the Cowboy
Roping the Rancher
Seducing the Sheriff

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640634015

Jenna Bayley-Burke

By day, Jenna Bayley-Burke is faster than a speeding toddler, stronger than a stubborn husband, able to leap tall Lego structures in a single bound...but by night, while the family sleeps, she writes romance novels where no one ever has to scoop up after the dog, change diapers, clip coupons, drive carpool, do laundry, mop floors, get Silly Putty out of hair, vacuum, empty the vacuum bag (gross!), exercise, count calories, apply Band-Aids, clean up puke...wait where was this going? Oh, Jenna writes romance because it is glamorous.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

Discover more Entangled Select Contemporary titles…

Love on Tap

Worth the Wait

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Jenna Bayley-Burke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Select Contemporary is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Heidi Shoham

Cover design by Fiona Jayde

Cover art from iStock, Period Images, and Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-64063-401-5

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition November 2017

Dedicated to

Natalie, Sidney, Clara, & Harper

Always remember, no one knows you better than you know yourself.

Chapter One

Slade Weston’s broad shoulders led the way as he pushed through the heavy mahogany doors and into the wood-paneled lobby at Cattlemen’s, the only steakhouse in the three-stoplight town of Opal Creek. Jules’s stomach dropped as he glanced behind her, to the table he’d vacated minutes ago. With as busy as they were on a Friday night, she’d reset it as soon as he’d cleared the sidewalk.

Did you forget something? She didn’t have to check the seating chart to know they were full; there were two tables about to turn, but they were reserved for the couples waiting patiently in the lobby. Sure, people could drive the half-hour from here into Mollalla for more selection, or even the hour into Portland for a food cornucopia, but just as many people made the trip in the other direction. Her uncle had made a name for himself with his blue-collar brand of upscale dining. Cattlemen’s topped the list of the best steakhouses in Portland every year, all the way out in Podunk.

Slade closed his eyes and shook his head, his light brown gaze piercing through her when he opened them. I should have mentioned I was coming back.

Yes, but that didn’t solve the problem. She snagged a leather-bound menu and crooked her finger at him to follow. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.

She didn’t know who she felt worse for, Slade or his ditched date. For almost a year now, he’d been coming in every Friday night with a different woman each week. There weren’t that many available women in Opal Creek, but apparently everyone from the neighboring counties had gambled for a chance at his glass slipper.

The whole town knew sexy Slade wanted to get married. At least that was the rumor going around. But a man who looked like that wouldn’t have any trouble tying the knot if that’s what he genuinely wanted. Any red-blooded woman would exchange her panties for a ring from a Weston brother. Well, marriage-minded women. Which she was not.

Tucked behind the bar were four high-backed leather booths. They kept the one in the back corner empty for employees, loyal customers who needed a favor, and situations like this. She set the menu in front of him as he slid into the booth.

Do you need some time with the menu, or should I have them walk a rib eye near the grill?

Oh, that smile. Yes, he must be a player of the first order. Because his grin was irresistible.

Am I that predictable?

Apparently not, since I was sure you’d left with your lady of the evening. She tucked the menu under her arm. Curiosity niggled at her to find out what his obsession was with first dates. He might be toying with his parade of women, but she sensed something more.

He pushed back his sun-streaked hair. Isn’t that a hooker?

Where? Jules scanned the sedate restaurant. Nothing exciting ever happened here, even on the busiest nights.

A lady of the evening. That’s what they called hookers in the westerns my dad and granddad used to watch. He tilted his head, and she couldn’t tell if he were amused or annoyed. Amused she could work with, but she couldn’t let him leave tonight displeased. Weston Ridge provided the prime beef for Cattlemen’s, and her uncle would have her head if he lost the deal.

Oh, that’s not what I meant. You’d never have to pay for it. Her eyes widened, her common sense slapping her upside the head as he laughed. And now I owe you a beer as well as dinner. I’m going to go put in your order before I put my foot in it again and wind up having to sign over my first born.

Jules clutched the menu to her chest as she sped to the bar. She keyed in his order, grateful the bartender wasn’t busy and could deliver the draft. Thank goodness, she only had a few more weeks in this town before she finally got to head back to New York. No telling what she might say next week when Slade Weston brought in yet another first date. She sure as hell wouldn’t be giving away his table again, even if he bailed before the entree.

…

Slade Weston studied the sepia-toned photo of a barn hanging on the exposed brick wall, the wood-beamed ceiling, and the wagon wheel chandeliers in the dining room. Anything to keep his gaze off the toned ass of the hostess. He always made a special effort to try not to notice she wore a different dress each time he saw her, or that her eyes were the same bottomless blue of Crater Lake. It didn’t do to notice another woman while you were on a date.

Not that he was anymore. He’d done the despicable, and faked an emergency to get out of this one. She’d seemed nice enough on the phone, but they hadn’t even ordered and she’d regaled him with the history of Weston Ridge and their rise from family ranch to successful cattlemen. And he knew what it meant when he’d been the keyword in a Google search. Was it really too much to ask to want a woman to see him and not dollar signs?

This close to the kitchen of Cattlemen’s he could hear the sizzling steaks popping over the croon of Sinatra on the sound system. The unbuttoned steakhouse was perfect for a date night. Everyone in the place was coupled up, only he’d spent the better part of the year looking for his plus one with no luck. And he was done. With summer coming, work on the ranch would be ramping up, and he’d be too busy to be bothered with looking for the next Mrs. Weston.

He took a long draw of the hoppy brew the bartender had delivered. Every date was another step away from what he needed, and he’d made no progress all damn year. The only thing that kept him trying was how much he hated going home alone. Friday nights were the worst. The kids were at his in-laws, which made his place hauntingly quiet. After growing up as one of five kids on a bustling cattle ranch, silence was one of the few things that unnerved him. That, and the meddling matchmakers around town.

A friend had told him about the Not My 1st Rodeo dating site, a service that specialized in matching people within the western lifestyle for the divorced or widowed. Like him. He took another drink. He missed Amanda every day, but Friday nights were the hardest. Friday nights, holidays, and each time he had to take April to the doctor. Two-year-olds were supposed to talk.

He leaned his head back against the booth and wished he could get drunk. But he’d spent the first few months after Amanda died in a stupor, and his behavior caused more problems than it solved. He had to cowboy up, keep trying to find a wife, whether he liked it or not. Because his kids deserved a mother.

The scent of hot steak and grilled onions brought him back to reality, and a burning punch of attraction hit him in the gut. She delivered his plate, her black lace dress reminding him of lingerie as she leaned down, gifting him with an ample view of her cleavage.

One Weston, rare. She slid into the booth opposite him, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She’d brought a glass of wine so pale it could be water. Am I forgiven?

For what? He cleared his throat, trying to focus on her heart-shaped face. A woman like her could catch the eye of a hurricane.

Giving away your table, calling your date a hooker. The usual. She rested her slim fingers on the white tablecloth. She had a sparkly ring on each hand, but not on that finger.

The table was my fault. But no harm, no foul.

Good, because now that I have you alone, I’ve been dying to ask you something.

He licked his lips, wary of whatever it could be.

You’re here every week, but never with the same girl. Tell me, are you burying them in your backyard? Aren’t you running out of room?

A bark of laughter escaped him as she grinned. I’m a serial dater, not a serial killer.

Pity, I was thinking I had the scoop. Why is it you’re the king of first dates?

He shifted against the leather of the seat. That’s not a crown I want to wear. I liked being married. I want a wife, and more kids. I’ve been using this dating website, but the matches haven’t clicked.

Then try a new one.

If only it were that easy. He sliced into his steak and tried to explain. This one worked for my sister. Though she did have to drive three hours south.

Road trip!

He shook his head. No, she wound up moving, and I’m rooted to the ranch. Honestly, I’m exhausted by the whole process. And summer’s coming, so the ranch is busy. I’ll pick it up again in the fall.

Screw the website. I’ll be your wingman.

Oh hell no. He did not need a personal dating assistant. Especially one