Gorgeous, Callous Cowboy

By Marie Coulson

Michael Bentley-James had life all figured out.

Great career, big house, a beautiful wife, and an adorable daughter, in the best city in North America. But when life threw him a curve ball, crumbling the very foundations of his happiness, Michael is forced to tear down his picket fence and move back to the place he grew up. Hawkin Spring, Texas, is a far cry from the city life he had traded it all for.

The family ranch was never his plan, but neither was raising his daughter alone. It wasn’t city living, but it was uncomplicated, and Michael loved that. No time for dating, no interest in falling in love ever again, and absolutely no room for another woman in his life.

Then, suddenly thrust upon him by his meddling mother, she arrived...

Penny Lane needed a fresh start. With her divorce finally signed, sealed and delivered, she was ready to break free of the humdrum, glum place she no longer
felt was home. When she is offered employment as a live-in nanny to an eight-year-old in Texas, Penny packs up her life and makes the trip from the UK to
the USA. But what she finds there is not exactly what she expected. Having freed herself from an emotional train wreck of an ex-husband, it’s soon clear that Penny has swapped her old life for a new kind of misery, and his name is Michael Bentley-James

His stunning physique, handsome features, and southern twang drive Penny to distraction the moment she stumbles head-first into his world. Which is a relief since they’re the only good qualities he possesses.

But Penny is determined to stick things out, no matter how difficult the gorgeous, callous cowboy may make it for her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marie Coulson
• Release date: Jun 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463937006

Marie Coulson

Born and bred in Essex, England, Marie Coulson discovered her love of writing in her early teens. Beginning with poetry and song lyrics, she tried her hand at creative writing while studying for her English GCSE.It was love at first line.Unfortunately, Marie's career as a childcare and education practitioner soon took up most of her time and writing became something she only dreamed about.In the summer of 2012 she quit her job and enrolled at university, ready to start a new career as a therapist. This left her with a lot of time on her hands and on August the 20th she sat down and wrote the first chapter of Bound Together.Bound Together was a story that had been waiting three years to be written and when fingers hit the keyboard...Layla, Jared and Ollie's story was born.Look out for other books by Marie Coulson including the tantalizing sequel to Bound Together. Burning Up - Available NOW, Romantic British comedy - Diary Of A Dieter and the Bound Together novella - Last Christmas.

Book preview

Michael

Staring at the floor, my blood ran cold. My stomach churned and I swallowed hard, trying not to vomit in the quiet isolation of the waiting room. I’d been sitting rigidly in the same spot for what felt like days, but in reality it had only been three hours. In just three hours my life had crumbled and fallen apart right on the other side of a set of white double doors. I couldn’t get the images from my mind. Her car. The guys from my own precinct cuffing that asshole as he cried like a baby. The clanging of empty bottles being bagged. The look on the Captain’s face when he saw me, and the blood on the road.

Letting out the breath I had been holding, I pressed my hand to my chest and winced. The words were echoing in my ears, over and over. ‘There was nothing we could do.’ It felt as though each of those words had stabbed holes in my lungs and carved around the outlines of my heart. It was complete and total agony.

The sound of the doors opening and footsteps caught my attention, but I didn’t look up.

Doctor Brooks asked if you wanted to wait to see her, Jim asked. His voice trembled, and he was sniffling a little.

I didn’t answer, still numb with shock and feeling utterly broken.

Michael? Is there someone I can call?

I shook my head slowly.

No, I murmured.

Ok. We can go to my office. I have a bottle of bourbon in my desk. You look like you could use a drink, and I certainly could.

I looked up and glared at him icily.

Go fuck yourself, Jim.

Shaking his head, he swept his fingers through his hair, his expression remorseful.

I’m sorry, Michael, I am so sorry.

Standing abruptly, rage coursing through my veins, I gripped his collar and yanked him towards me.

The surgeon, when he came out here to tell me Grace, my wife, was lying dead on his fucking operating table, he was sorry. When my sergeant called, he was sorry too, but sorry won’t bring my daughter her mother back or take away the pain!

Releasing him, I thrust my hand into my pocket and pulled out my badge.

You see this? I’m supposed to protect people, to protect her and stop guys like him!

Hurling it at the floor, I roared in anger. It doesn’t mean shit, and neither does your fucking apology.

His eyes met mine, and I could see the regret in them, but my hatred and disgust were overwhelming me as I stared back at him.

First, you destroyed my life, I swallowed hard, choking back my tears. You broke everything I fought hard to protect and hold on to.

My fists clenched and my jaw tightened. And then, he goes and takes her from me. He took her, and I never got to say I was sorry!

I’m sorry, Michael, I -

No, you’re not! You’re not sorry for what you did. You’re sorry for what it cost! Well, fuck you! Gripping his shoulder, I spun him around and shoved him hard towards the exit.

Turn around and walk out that door before I throw you through it. You’re dead to me, asshole.

He stumbled forward, and I slumped down onto my seat again. My head dropped, and my eyes closed tightly as I was determined not to lose it any more than I already had. He wasn’t worth it.

I’m so sorry, Michael, for everything. I’m sorry. His sorrow was etched in his voice.

I looked up and watched as Jim sobbed with his face in his hands. My own tears slid down my cheeks.

Rising to my feet, I swiped away my tears and began walking toward the doors that separated me from my wife. As I reached for the door release button, I paused for a moment and turning around, I gave Jim a piercing look.

I never wanna see your sniveling, sorry ass again. Stay the hell away from me, Jim, and stay away from my kid.

Chapter One

Penny

Four years later….

Looking around my sparse, magnolia painted room, I sighed heavily. This was it. The big moment. The final goodbye. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the far wall, opposite my wardrobe.

My blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun. It was looking brittle and had gotten a little out of control in the past few months. I’d neglected many things regarding my appearance. I’d gone up a dress size, going from a slim size ten to an average twelve. I was ok with that though because, for the first time in years, I had plump and round breasts. They even jiggled when I walked, as did my bum. Stepping closer, I inspected my reflection. My once bright green eyes were dull and hidden behind the giant bags that sat beneath them. Stress and lack of sleep for two years will do that to a person.

Glancing at my dresser, I smiled as my eyes fell on a framed collage of pictures.

Walking over, I picked it up and cradled it in my hands, scanning each image. The memories each provoked were bittersweet. I missed the people that adorned each image so much, and yet, I was more than ready to leave them behind. After all, they had abandoned me long before I had turned my back on them.

That’s the problem with breakups. Inevitably, one of you gets custody of all your joint friends. You lose friends that became family and the family that came with having a significant other too.

Divorce was an ugly thing. Well, at least for me it was. Messy, vicious, and fueled by bitterness, jealousy and anger. I had vowed to give my life to a man who had no intention of doing the same. I promised to love, honour and be faithful to him, for as long as we both should live.

He promised those things too, though it was now unequivocally clear that he had lied. You know how I knew that my husband was lying to me? After seven years together and a four-year marriage? His lips would move. Yap yap yap yap yap. Blah blah blah. Lie. Lie. Lie!

After we separated, he proceeded to tell everyone that would listen, that I was the source of all our problems. Oh yes, I was painted as the nagging, controlling, jealous and possessive wife. He always failed to mention the part where he was evidently shagging anything that moved for the majority of our relationship. I’d tried to keep things classy and civil, so I also kept that information to myself. Besides, I knew he would only flip it back onto me and blame my behaviour for his infidelity. I wouldn’t have been so paranoid, jealous or nagging if he’d treated me with some damn respect. But he didn’t. He used to make me believe it was all in my head, that I imagined things. His distance, the smell of perfume, the sudden attachment to his phone…I wasn’t blind. I knew he was cheating on me. At first, I turned a blind eye, pretended it wasn’t happening and put on a brave face, but the more he strayed, the harder it was to keep up the façade.

Three years into our marriage, I reached my limit with his lies, deceit, and the mental and emotional abuse. After weeks of missed dinners, secret phone calls and credit card charges I couldn’t recall, I cracked and confronted him for the first time. Of course, he denied it. He told me I was paranoid, or that I was just insecure and neurotic. It wasn’t until I thrust the proof right under his nose that he finally admitted it. He tried to justify his behaviour by saying he was overworked and stressed, but that he was sorry, loved me deeply and it would never happen again. Like a fool, I stayed and tried to work on our marriage, even as far as booking marriage counselling, but after the first session, he simply never showed up. I knew then that he was having an affair. It wasn’t a meaningless fling or office romp. No, he had a full-blown relationship.

It didn’t take much more digging to find the evidence I needed to confront him for the second time. I expected him to try and deny it again but seeing the messages and emails, the receipts for restaurants we never ate in, or the bills for hotels we never stayed in, he knew he was out of excuses. Thus, began his assault and assassination of my character to everyone and anyone who knew us. Our friends, his family, they were all given a wonderfully fictitious and dramatic account of my emotional abuse of him for so many years.

He moved out the same day to be with his mistress, and a year later, we filed all the papers and buried our marriage. I was left alone, divorced, and grieving for the life I had so naively imagined I would have and had now lost.

Dropping the picture frame I was still gripping in my hands into the wastepaper basket beside the dresser, I sighed heavily.

He’d kept the friends, the ones who promised they wouldn’t take sides, the ones who swore to stay in touch. They never did. It wasn’t surprising after all the lies Christopher had fed them, but it stung none the less. I felt like an outcast, the black sheep that they would all gossip about at parties while simultaneously sending me messages like, You ok hun? Ridiculous, two-faced and backstabbing bunch of toffs. Goodbye and good riddance.

The saddest part of the whole ordeal wasn’t even the dissolving of my marriage, it was that I couldn’t afford to keep the house on a teacher’s salary. Heartbroken, I had listed it with a couple of agencies shortly after he had moved out. Still, it had taken almost a year to find a buyer who put in a reasonable offer. Of course, this was much to Christopher’s annoyance. He wanted his share, his pound of flesh, and accused me constantly of stalling to spite him. Considering that for a large chunk of our time together, I had been paying the lion’s share of the mortgage, I felt it only fair that the house should sell for its value and not a penny less. The buyers had put in a good offer and paid in cash. I agreed and accepted on the spot with a promise I’d be out within a month. It wasn’t much of a profit once Christopher got his share, but it was a tidy sum. I had never imagined signing over my home on the very day I received my official notice that our marriage was over, but what is life without a little kick in the gut now and then?

Penny? If we don’t leave now, you’re going to miss your flight! I’m not driving all the way back there to get you.

My father’s voice echoed up the stairs, and I smiled. I’d miss that. Bill Lane had been my strength, my saviour, and my shoulder to cry on all my life, and now, I was leaving him behind to start a new one. One that he had so eagerly insisted I pursue.

Coming, I yelled back down to him. I heard him mutter something to himself as he walked away. Picking up my bag, I inhaled deeply and looked longingly around the room one last time.

Closing the door behind me, I jogged down the stairs and did a final sweep of the house to make sure nothing had been forgotten. I dropped my key on the kitchen counter, and the loud clank echoed around the empty room. My heart sank and ached as I rested my hand over it for a moment, needing a minute to gather my thoughts. I had once loved this house, my home, our new beginning as husband and wife, our happy place, but it had become something else that past year.

It was the place I cried over my broken heart. It was the floors I had walked and paced, waiting for him to come home after another late evening with her. It was the walls he had punched in anger when confronted. It was the garden where I had thrown all of his clothes, angry and hurt that he could do such a thing to me over and over. The rooms where we had argued, fought and screamed at each other, casting blame and accusations fueled with bitter resentment. It was a house of nightmares. No, this wasn’t my home anymore. All of my things were either in storage or boxed up at my dad’s place.

As the door shut for the final time, I forced myself not to look back at the house. Dwelling on the what-ifs, broken dreams, and empty promises was pointless. My grandmother once told me that a home isn’t the place you live. Home is wherever you feel loved and are surrounded by those you love. It can be a desert island, a wooden cabin, or a grand mansion…without the people, it’s just a place. Nothing more.

She was right, and I was ready to leave this place far behind me. Looking down at my hand, I frowned and yanking it from my finger, I chucked my wedding ring into the bushes that had lined our front garden.

Goodbye house, goodbye marriage and good riddance Christopher!

* * * *

Pulling up at the airport, my father turned the key and silenced the car engine. He stared straight ahead, and after a long sigh, he shrugged.

Seems so odd, leaving you here and knowing you won’t just be back in a week.

I smiled at him and rested a hand on his arm.

I might be. You never know. Maybe I’ll hate it and demand to come home.

He shook his head and smiled softly.

No, you won’t. You’ll stay, determined to find some redeeming qualities in the place and the people in it, because, my darling girl, that’s who you are. It’s your greatest gift and your greatest downfall. Sometimes, you stay when you ought to leave.

He gave me a knowing look and understanding passed between us. I ought to have left Christopher long before I did.

Promise me, Penny, if you hate it, just come home. There’s always space for you at my place. It’s still your home, the family home. You can stay as long as you need to.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slipped it off and wrapped my arms around him tightly.

I promise, Dad.

As I pulled away, I caught a glimpse of unshed tears in his eyes, and it tugged heavily on my heartstrings. But I wasn’t doing this to run away. I wasn’t doing it because I had no other option. I was doing it for myself. I was thirty, divorced and had spent too long in a job with little prospect of promotion. I needed a shakeup to kick my arse into gear, a fresh start, an adventure into unknown places, and the idea excited me.

Well, go on, you best go.

Getting out of the car, he made his way to the boot and pulled out my two large suitcases. They were pre-paid and ready for transportation, just like me. Tagged, signed, sealed, and waiting to be delivered to my new destination.

I gave Dad a final, tight hug before kissing his cheek twice; once for him and once for mum, as I always had since her passing eighteen years ago.

See you soon, Pet.

I nodded. See you soon, Dad.

Turning, I looked at the entrance doors and couldn’t help but beam at them. Goodbye hometown, goodbye nosey neighbours, goodbye friends, family and the safety net I had come to rely on far too heavily. It was time to cut the ropes and fly solo. It was time to leave my old, fractured life behind and build a new one.

Hello, Texas.

Chapter Two

Michael

Throwing Macy’s duffle bag into the backseat of the truck, I climbed behind the wheel and looked at her.

Got everything?

She nodded. Closing the door, I started the engine and began driving down the dirt driveway that led from the ranch to the road.

Grandma said we’re gonna make cookies this weekend.

I shot her a smile before focusing my attention on pulling out onto the road.

That sounds awesome. You like baking them, and I like eating.

She giggled and giving her a brief side glance, I could see her bright blue eyes dance as she laughed. Her blonde hair swayed a little, the large ringlets resting on her shoulders. She really did look so much like her mother.

Grandma said hopefully it’d make you a little sweeter if you were stuffed with sugar.

I rolled my eyes.

She did, huh?

Macy nodded. She said you could use all the help you can get today.

I pressed my lips together and scowled as we drove the short distance to my parent’s place. As we pulled into their driveway, I saw my mother standing on the front porch, grinning and waving.

Macy waved excitedly from the passenger seat.

The second the truck came to a halt, she unbuckled her belt, leapt from the truck and went rushing into the waiting arms of her grandma.

Grandma!

Macy!

They held each other as though they hadn’t seen the other in months, rather than three days. Opening my door, I stepped down from the truck and grabbed the bright pink duffle bag from the backseat before making my way over to where the two of them were still in a warm embrace.

Dropping the bag on the porch, I pressed a kiss to the top of my mama’s forehead. She was at least a foot and a half shorter than me. At five-foot-five, and me at six-foot-seven, it always made me smile when she would look up at me, forced to crane her neck to meet my eyes.

Hi, Honey, she said, smiling at me.

Hi, Ma.

Is that Mikey I hear out there, Margie?

My father's voice carried from inside the house.

Sure is, Howard, Mama called back to him.

Stepping out onto the porch, Dad beamed as his eyes fell on my eight-year-old.

Baby girl!

Pop-Pop, Macy replied as she released my mother and rushed to wrap her arms around her Grandpa.

"And how is my sweet girl today?

She bounced on her heels with excitement.

Sooooo good, Pop-Pop! She’s coming today!

My father grinned at me.

She is, huh? Well, that’s mighty fine news, Macy girl!

Looking at my mama, I rolled my eyes.

What time?

Her flight gets in at two, so at the least, she’ll be joining you for dinner. Everything ready?

I raised my eyebrow. What exactly are you expecting me to prepare? A red carpet? Fanfare? Maybe a throne and tiara?

Groaning, she turned to my dad and nodded, signaling for him to take Macy inside.

Come on, Darlin’ say goodbye to your daddy, and let's go have some ice-cream, my dad said to Macy, his flannel covered arm around her shoulder.

Macy hurriedly hugged me and following him eagerly, skipped into the house after my father.

Waiting a moment for Macy to be out of earshot, my mother turned her attention back to me.

I don’t expect some grand parade for her, sweetheart, but did you at least make up the bed? Run the vacuum around or spruce the place up a little?

The animals live outside my house, Ma. Believe it or not, I know how to keep a clean place. This ain’t the first time I’ve had a woman living in my home. I have a daughter living there too.

She raised a brow at me.

Finished?

I could go on about how this wasn’t my idea, that I am perfectly capable, or that this woman wasn’t even my choice. Probably some pretentious, pompous, boring little woman from a small town who-

Michael Anthony Bentley-James!

Silencing me by using my full name, I stared down at her wide-eyed.

But, Ma, I was just-

She shook her head. But nothing! You are making assumptions before you’ve even met her. I raised you to be better than that! Even if you have no confidence in her character, could you at least have some confidence in my ability to hire someone appropriate?

Ok, I should probably give her that.

And you may have moved here from the big city, but don’t forget where you started from, Mr. Smallville. You may have played the part of a city slicker, but you still grew up right on that ranch playing cowboys.

Biting my lower lip, I nodded.

Yes, ma’am.

She let out a heavy sigh and ran her fingers through her short, white hair. Her eyes closed tightly, as though she were wincing, and I instantly felt guilty.

Sorry, Ma. I just don’t see why we need someone coming into our home, taking over.

She’s not there to take over, Michael, she’s there to help.

I don’t need help! I said a little sharper than I had intended.

Macy needs someone there, someone to be there after school, someone to help her with homework, someone to play with.

I groaned. I can do all of those things.

Ma shook her head at me. No, you can’t. You couldn’t do it for the past three years, and you can’t do it now. You’re a rancher, and a cattleman, not a superhero. I can’t do it anymore, either. I’m retired, Michael. I love Macy, but I did my child-rearing, and now it’s time for your Dad and I to be with each other. It’s time you accepted that.

I rolled my eyes as I turned on my heel, stormed back to my truck and threw open the door.

Mikey, don’t screw this up! Make sure she’s coming to a house that feels like a home.

I clenched my jaw and climbed into the truck. I turned the truck around and leaning out of the window, I yelled out to my mother.

Her fucking ladyship will have to make do with the spare room I’m afraid the royal suite ain’t available. The only princess in my house is Macy.

Groaning, she rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air in defeat which I took as my cue to leave. Stepping on the gas, I backed out of the driveway and sped away.

● ● ● ●

Pushing the thick, heavy, and splintered barn door against the wall, I sighed.

I salvaged some of the wood from the old shed, but it’s gonna need strengthening. If Hector gets loose again, ain’t no way that door will survive. Sam fisted his hands on his hips as he looked at the damage our longhorn had done.

Turning, I nodded in agreement with him. My brother had been working on the ranch with me for about a year after being fired from yet another job.

Need a new blade for the table saw, I replied, exasperated. He was right about Hector. That longhorn was the bane of my existence. Two days prior, he’d somehow made his way from the field, smashed through the gate, and knocked it clean off two of its four bolted hinges. Sam swore he’d locked it, but something told me that was unlikely. Hector couldn’t have taken it out if those locks had been fastened. I had practically armor-plated the damn thing to reinforce it.

I’ll head into town and grab one, Sam offered, staring at me. What? I said, wondering why he was fixated on me all of a sudden.

You’re wringing your hands, what’s got you all worked up?

Glancing down at my hands, I was suddenly acutely aware of the sweatiness. I’d apparently been doing it for a while.

Nothing, I’m fine, I lied.

Yeah, not buying it. Go on, spill.

Shrugging, I wiped my hands on my jeans and shook my head. Mama’s picking up the new nanny today.

Realization swept across his face and smiling, Sam wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Oh, I see, and you’re worried about having a woman in the house again?

Hitting him on the arm, I scoffed. Stop looking at me like that. What are you? Fifteen? I am not worried. I just can’t think of anything worse. I don’t need some stranger in my house, with my kid, making me look like a shitty parent.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. Macy loves you; no nanny will change that.

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, well, mama expects me to roll out the red carpet and embrace her as one of the family.

Sam shrugged Ain’t she gonna be? I mean, she will be spending every day with your daughter, and you.

I glared at him. I will be spending as little time with her as possible. She can live in my house, she can teach my daughter math and reading, but I won’t be inviting her into my life.

It was bad enough that I had to clear out a whole room for her. Maybe she’d take the hint, realize she wasn’t welcome, and go back to wherever my mother had found her.

I think you should cut her some slack, hell, you haven’t even met her yet. She could be really nice, real Mary Poppins.

Frowning at him, I nodded in the direction of the truck.

I don’t give a spoonful of sugary shit, just go get the blade. When I need advice or your opinion, I’ll ask. Until then, you just focus on helping me run this place.

I pointed at the barn door, and helping me get this thing repaired.

Shaking his head at me, he took off to the truck mumbling something about a spoonful of sugar or some nonsense and headed into town. I grabbed my tool belt and tools and made my way over to Hector’s field to install extra bolts on his gate. It didn’t necessarily need any more, I’d repaired the broken parts, attached new hinges and new, more robust locks, but at least this gave me a reason to not be at the house when mama got there. I knew I couldn’t avoid this new nanny forever, but I had no desire in making small talk with the woman who would be squatting in my spare room.

Chapter Three

Penny

Standing in the busy arrivals lounge, I scanned the faces of those waiting to greet loved ones. I hoped that I would recognize Margaret instantly, but I suddenly became faced with the task of finding her in a sea of people. There were so many, and it was difficult to see through the hugging families and huddles of reunited relatives.

Penny!?

A loud, enthusiastic, and very strongly accented voice called out my name. Looking in the direction it came from, I smiled broadly as a short, white-haired woman in dainty spectacles waved at me. She wore khaki shorts, a black tank top and was carrying a sign that had my name written in bold letters across it.

Waving back, I hurried over with my trolley, loaded with my luggage, to meet her.

As she reached me, she immediately dropped her sign and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.

Oh, it is so good to meet you finally! I’ve been waiting for months for this moment!

I couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm.

Me too! It’s so good to see you, Margaret.

She scrunched up her nose.

Pffft. How many more times do I have to ask you to call me Margie?

Margie, I repeated, feeling a little awkward at the familiarity. I wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to meeting face to face at last. Emails, skype calls and a few exchanges of photos was the limit of my contact with Margie.

Shall we head out to the truck?

Truck? Not a car? I asked, not meaning to sound so shocked as I followed her outside.

The instant my feet stepped through the exit doors, the intense, dry heat hit me like a wave. I looked down at my outfit. Jeans, a white blouse, and pumps were possibly not the best choice when travelling to a southern state in late July.

Christ almighty! It’s hotter than the devil's arsehole!

Forgetting myself, and slapping my hand over my mouth, I gave Margie an apologetic look.

Chuckling heartily, she nodded. Welcome to Texas, sweetheart. We have air conditioning everywhere, and even an ol’ gal like me, can drive a truck.

I pressed my lips together. Sorry.

She shook her head and waved off my apology.

No need to apologise. From what you told me about your own hometown, things are real different here, compared to what you’re used to. And if you apologise for being shocked at everything you see, you’ll be doing it all day. Here we are.

My jaw almost dropped as this five-foot-five, sixty-something-year-old woman, stopped beside an enormous machine. It was silver, well, the paint was somewhat aged, and there were countless scuff marks on the bodywork. It was like the bodybuilder of vehicles. It was certainly not what I was used to. Trucks like this just weren’t seen around my hometown. White vans with obnoxious drivers with beer guts and a cigarette hanging from their mouth, maybe. Margie gestured for me to place my luggage in the back seat before telling me to get in the passenger side. She must have caught the look of surprise and astonishment on my face.

It’s a Chevy Silverado. She looks like a beat-up old truck, but she’s a good runner. Come on, or we’ll hit traffic.

I nodded and heaving my cases into the truck, I climbed in next to Margie.

Nervous? she asked with a raised brow.

I was gnawing on my bottom lip as we pulled out of the airport and onto the main road.

That obvious, huh?

She shrugged.

Well, before we get there, there are some things you should know.

My interest piqued, I listened intently.

Howard and myself, we live not too far from the ranch so anything you need, just call, even if it’s just for a cup of coffee and a listening ear. It’s no bother, and we both want you to feel like part of the family.

I nodded, smiling. Thank you.

Sighing, she furrowed her brow a little. Now, about town, everybody knows everybody, and every other body is a busybody. You’ll probably hear gossip and tittle-tattle. Ignore it. It’s the idle chit-chat of people with little to do. It’s the way things are in a small town. Opinions around there are like assholes. Everyone has one, and most of them stink.

All I knew about my new home, was that it was called Hawkin Spring, it was a small town just outside Midland. Not that I knew where Midland was either. I could just about get my head around the idea that I was in the state of Texas.

You’ll have your own room at the house. Michael fixed it all up and ready for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I added a few little touches to make it feel homier.

As we drove, Margie seemed to grow anxious, the further from the airport we got and the closer to ‘home’ we travelled.

The ranch will seem a little scary at first, but there’s really nothing to worry about. Michael takes care of everything along with his brother, Sam.

When we spoke, you said Sam works on the ranch too? I asked, curious to know a little more about him.

Shaking her head, she smiled. If you can call what he does there all day work, but yes, he’s there every day so you’ll probably see him often. He has a small place of his own closer to town. So, most of the time it’ll just be you, Michael and Macy.

Ah, Macy. I couldn’t wait to meet this sweet little girl I’d heard so much about. Margie hadn’t gone into much detail about what happened, so I knew very little about the tragic reason for Michael and Macy being alone. What I did know was that when Macy was four years old, her mother had died, leaving Michael a widower. Though Margie had tried to help care for Macy, it had gotten too much to oversee the running of the ranch, care for Macy and have any form of life. It was apparent how much she adored her granddaughter. Her face would light up, and her eyes would sparkle whenever she spoke about her. It was endearing to see so much love, and it made me confident that I was entering an incredibly close family.

I am so looking forward to meeting Macy, I stated, smiling.

She’s excited too. She’s told everyone that she’s got a real-life Mary Poppins coming to live with her.

I chuckled.

You laugh, but you’ve been warned. That girl has high expectations of you, she teased.

I nodded. Noted. I’ll do my best to uphold Mary’s glowing reputation.

As we continued our journey, Margie and I discussed everything from time zones, to the weather I should expect while I was there.

So, how long ago did you unhitch your wagon?

I stared back at her, blankly.

You keep playing your fingers over where a wedding band used to be. Don’t have to be a genius to work that one out, sweetheart.

I sighed. Two years ago. It’s one of the reasons I took this job.

To escape?

I shook my head, vehemently. Gosh, no! No, I sold the house and decided to use my half to start a new chapter of my life. Nothing was keeping me in England, except my father.

She pressed her lips together and stared at the road.

How does he feel about it?

He’ll miss me, but he urged me to come here, to have an adventure and get out of our town for a change.

Laughing, Margie turned the dial up a little higher on the air conditioning and much to my relief, more, cold air began filtering into the truck.

Looking out of the window, I was struck by just how much desert there was, acres and acres of it. The sight was alien to me, and for that very reason, I loved it. The landscape was enthralling and so very different than my hometown. My eyes scanned the barren desert. It was a stark difference from the built-up concrete jungle I had once called home.

We’d been driving for a while, and I was eager to not only stretch my legs but also to get some much-needed rest. Travelling from London to New York, then boarding a connecting plane to Midland, had drained me and I desperately longed for sleep. Sleeping on the plane had proven impossible with a man beside me who sounded like a motorbike engine was lodged in his sinuses as he snored in my ear. There had also been the most irritating woman two seats down who insisted on using her ‘call’ button every five minutes and using the flight attendants as her personal waiter and waitresses.

I was just about to allow myself to grab a quick nap when I noticed a sign up ahead that read Hawkin Spring. My heart leapt, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach as excited anticipation gripped me.

Here we are, Margie said as she pointed toward the town fast approaching. My eyes fixated on the buildings, I gazed out of the windows as we drove through the charming, wholly American and Hollywood-esque town. It looked as though it had been plucked from a movie and plonked down in Texas. Margie had told me the population was small, and as I watched people going about their day, I smiled. Even my hometown boasted an extensive population, and it was refreshing to see such a stark contrast. The hustle and bustle were missing, oh, there were still those in a hurry, but it all seemed so much more relaxed. It was a breath of fresh air. Noticing we had passed entirely through the centre of town, I sighed.

Is it far, the ranch? I mean, to get into town? I asked, hoping that I would have this place at my doorstep.

About twenty minutes in the truck, Margie replied, her expression full of concern and focus.

Are you ok? I asked.

Pulled from her thoughts, she nodded. Sure am.

A companionable silence fell between us as I watched the landscape turn from a township into rolling fields and agricultural land.

Pointing ahead, she smiled. There it is.

Up ahead, I saw an enormous house. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. As we drove down the dirt path, I was struck by the charm of the building. The wooden panels that covered the outside gave it a rustic and what my father would describe as ‘country’ look. It stood solitary, surrounded by land as far as the eye could see. I could just make out some fencing around some of the fields. Horses and cattle occupied a handful of the enclosures, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of ranch I was entering. Did they breed and slaughter? Were they dairy farmers? I had no idea. It occurred to me that these were questions one really should have asked before taking the job.

Pulling up outside the house, Margie hopped out of the truck, and headed inside, leaving me to exit the vehicle and merely stand in wonderment, taking in my surroundings. I noticed yet more buildings around the other side of the house, as well as more fields. The sound of grunting caught my attention and following the noise, I made my way around to the side of the house, and across to a corrugated steel building. The ground was thick with mud and whilst trying to avoid any larger patches, I decided to peer over the wire and steel, chest height doors.

Pigs! I exclaimed, a little surprised and a lot louder than I had intended.

That’s not very nice, they speak so highly of you.

Startled, I turned around sharply. My pump squelched as my heel sunk into the thick mud. Sliding, I completely lost my balance and found myself hurtling face-first toward the ground. At least, I would have, but for the grace of God, a hand reached out and catching my arm, pulled me up and steadied me with the other hand.

My shoe slipped from my foot and hopping, held up by my rescuer, I looked up to see a pair of stormy grey-blue eyes staring back at me.

Oh, Penny! Are you alright? Here, darlin’.

Wiping my shoe on her shorts, Margie held it out to me, and I took it eagerly, placing it back on my foot. With me finally able to stand, my rescuer released me. I gave a short leap over to a patch of dry dirt and brushed myself down.

I’m fine, just a bit of mud, slippery stuff, I said, my face red with embarrassment.

So, this is the woman you want to look after my daughter?

Tilting my head, I stared up at the tall, and broad man that stood beside Margie. His hair was dark, and he had a slight five o’clock shadow which accented his chiselled jaw.

Nodding, Margie beamed at me.

Penny, this is Michael.

Chapter Four

Michael

I stared in utter bewilderment at the woman as she brushed herself off and tried to hide her embarrassment. Don’t bother, I thought. That ship had sailed, and I already knew all I needed to know about this haphazard, useless woman my mother had shoved into my life.

Gazing up at me, she blushed. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, watching her with interest.

She looked a damn mess. She wasn’t tall, but not short either, maybe five foot seven. Her blonde hair was tied up in a nest that I assumed used to be a bun, and her make-up was smudging in the Texas heat. However, there was one thing I couldn’t seem to ignore, her striking green eyes. I found myself somewhat bewitched by them. Despite her disheveled appearance, she was undeniably an attractive woman. She had curves in all the right places, hips that held her jeans so well that she would never have use for a belt. Her low-cut V-neck shirt showed just enough cleavage without looking trashy.

She bit her lip and held out her hand to me.

Hi, nice to finally meet you.

I raised a brow and looked at her hand. I bet.

She stared at