Her Cowboy Sweetheart: A Clean Romance

By Cathy McDavid

He’s been a good friend

But can he be her sweetheart?

At Sweetheart Ranch, single mom Carly Leighton finds a fresh start, and a friendly neighbor in former bull rider JD Moreno. Neither are looking for love—Carly must think first of her son, Rickie, while JD is recovering from a career-ending balance disorder. But when her former in-laws demand access to Rickie, Carly turns to JD for support and finds he is becoming more than a friend in need…

New York Times Bestselling Author

From Harlequin Heartwarming: Wholesome stories of love, compassion and belonging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin Heartwarming
• Release date: May 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781488068072

Cathy McDavid

New York Times bestselling author Cathy McDavid has been happily penning contemporary westerns for Harlequin since 2006. Every day, she gets to write about handsome cowboys riding the range or busting a bronc.It's a tough job, but she's willing to make the sacrifice. Cathy shares her Arizona home with her own real life sweetheart and a trio of odd pets. Her grown twins have left to embark on lives of their own, and she couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

CONVINCING STUBBORN OFFSPRING to cooperate was nothing new for Carly Leighton. Hardly a day or hour passed when she didn’t engage in a power struggle with her adorable but often temperamental year-old son.

This particular youngster, however, was different. Born three months ago, she stood with all four legs braced in a defiant stance and her hind end pressed firmly into the round pen railing.

It won’t hurt you, Carly cooed. I swear.

The foal glared at her with huge, suspicious eyes. Both ears lay flat against her head as her feather duster tail flicked back and forth.

See? Carly held up her latest originally crafted horse necklace. Late-morning sunlight reflected off the intricately woven silver chains and ruby glass beads, splintering into a hundred shimmering fragments. Totally harmless.

The foal stomped a tiny hoof, her way of refusing, and then nose-butted her mother in a bid for reassurance. The sturdy brown mare paid no attention. She was much more interested in the group of students jumping their mounts over low fences in the adjacent arena. Not five minutes earlier, she’d willingly allowed Carly to place a similar necklace on her, one with a matching brow band that dipped to a point in the center.

Your mother doesn’t mind. Carly took a small step forward and lifted the necklace a few inches higher.

The foal turned her head away, much like Carly’s son did when he resisted her efforts to wash his face.

Two pictures. Okay, three. That’s all I need for my website.

These pieces of horse jewelry were Carly’s latest creations, finished just last evening after she’d put her son to bed. Many of her orders came from her website, and she strove to keep her catalog fresh with a steady stream of new offerings.

When not working at Sweetheart Ranch—she’d been hired this past spring to manage their new wedding boutique Monday through Friday—she sold her original handmade horse jewelry at craft fairs, livestock shows, rodeo events and holiday bazaars. The extra money came in handy since Carly’s was a one-income household. Her income.

Her ex-husband didn’t pay child support and that was just fine with her. She’d gladly agreed to the condition when he abdicated his paternal rights. Someday down the road, she might have to allow him into her son’s life. Rickie was bound to ask questions when he was older, and she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. But until that day, she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the man.

Pretending he didn’t exist was the only way she could forget the terrors he’d inflicted on her and the emotional damage he’d caused. The momentary reprieves were too short, however. Fear and worry always returned, burrowing into their hiding place deep in her heart.

Be good, she told the foal, checking her jeans pocket for how many apple slices and carrot pieces remained, and I’ll give you another treat. Taking one tentative step after the other, she lifted the necklace toward the foal. That’s right. Good girl.

Without warning, the foal squealed and twisted sideways, colliding with the round pen railing. The resulting loud clang startled the mare, and she darted away, the foal prancing beside her as if electricity ran through its slender legs. Carly stepped out of the way while the pair made two full circuits of the round pen before finally slowing.

All the commotion triggered another squeal, this one from Carly’s son. He sat buckled in his stroller, which she’d parked just outside the round pen gate in close visual range. He wasn’t happy about the arrangement, preferring to be part of the action rather than an observer.

Shh, honey bun. Mommy will be done soon.

His protests increased in volume, upsetting the foal even more. Carly was about to abandon her efforts and take pictures of just the mare, when a familiar male voice hailed her.

Hey, I didn’t know you were here.

Help, it seemed, was on the way.

She turned and produced a wide smile for JD Moreno, head barn manager here at Powell Ranch, the largest horse facility in Mustang Valley. His constant companion, a tricolor Australian shepherd named Hombre, hurried to the round pen fence. Squeezing his head between the two bottom rails, he stared at the mare and foal, his tongue lolling.

One word from JD and the dog would have climbed in with the horses. He liked nothing better than herding—anything from sheep to cattle to horses. Carly had once seen him nipping at the heels of a group of small children visiting the ranch.

Last-minute decision, she said, explaining her presence. My friend said I could use her mare and foal for models. As you can see, it’s not working out like I’d hoped. Her gaze traveled from her still-squalling son to the skittish foal.

How about I give you a hand?

I won’t say no.

JD started toward the gate. When Hombre whined, he stopped and leveled a finger at the dog. Stay.

Hombre obediently sat but continued to whine softly, a bundle of nervous energy.

Carly assumed JD would enter the round pen. Instead, he stopped first at the stroller and bent over Rickie.

How’s it going, Rico? he asked, using his pet name for Rickie.

Instantly, her son stopped fussing and lit up like a starburst. Arms and legs flailing, he babbled a string of nonsense syllables. Carly mentally translated. Hi, JD! I’m happy to see you. Please play with me.

JD removed his scuffed cowboy hat and plunked it down on Rickie’s head. Can you hold on to this for me while I help your mama? I’d appreciate it.

Rickie giggled and pulled on the sides of the hat, distorting its shape. JD didn’t appear to mind and, after cuffing the boy gently on the chin, he unlatched the gate.

Like Carly, he was also relatively new to town and new to his job. Perhaps that was why they’d become fast friends.

Plus, he was safe. JD had made it clear from the beginning that while he liked her very much, he wasn’t in the market for a romance—which was fine with her since she wasn’t ready, either. Not that his dark good looks weren’t appealing. They were. Extremely. But the timing wasn’t right.

Perhaps someday down the road, when their respective lives were less complicated, they could act on their mutual attraction. Until then, they were better off remaining in the friend zone.

Foal acting skittish? He entered the round pen and shut the gate behind him.

She refuses to wear the necklace. I’m afraid if I’m too aggressive, I’ll upset her and won’t be able to get any decent pictures.

Hmm. Let me give it a try.

He sauntered toward the mare, prompting Carly to pause. She might not be interested in him romantically, but that didn’t make her immune to the confidence he exuded, the mirth twinkling in his chocolate-brown eyes and his crooked grin that hinted at mischief.

Speaking softly in Spanish, he approached the mare and foal, exhibiting the slow, easy manner she found so appealing. At the same time, there was an undeniable determination and deliberateness that surfaced in moments like this. Under different circumstances, Carly’s insides would have melted in response.

While she stood and watched, he approached the mare.

That’s right, he murmured, stroking her neck and scratching her between the ears.

The mare visibly relaxed. Her foal appeared equally mesmerized and, surprise, surprise, stood quietly beside her mother, watching JD’s every move.

Just like Carly.

He reached an arm out toward her. Here, give me the necklace.

She did and was even more impressed when he slipped it over the foal’s head with no more resistance than a slight head bobble.

You’re a miracle worker, she whispered. At least with horses and little boys.

I don’t know about that.

He stayed beside the mare and foal for another couple minutes, continuing to stroke the mare and talk to both her and the foal. Then he slowly backed away.

That was Carly’s cue to move in and snap some pictures with her phone. She took them in rapid succession, hoping one or two would be usable. Horses weren’t very good about holding still or following instructions on how to pose. She feared there were too many shadows at this time of the morning but kept snapping away. Afternoon would have been a better choice, but she was busy and Rickie didn’t tolerate the heat well.

Are those necklaces new? JD asked from where he waited by the gate.

My latest and greatest.

They’re pretty.

Thanks. She didn’t know how much he appreciated them. Men weren’t usually into accessorizing their horses. Not like women, who were Carly’s main customers. Besides loving her decorative necklaces and earlaces, they hung her charms on manes and tails and placed bejeweled bracelets around ankles. I wanted to get a few new designs finished and uploaded to the website before the horse show next weekend at WestWorld.

Carly was fortunate to have weekends off. Especially with June, the busiest month of the year for the popular Western wedding venue, looming right around the corner. Sweetheart Ranch was open on Saturdays and Sundays, but someone else manned the boutique. That allowed Carly the freedom to spend time with her son and her parents and to work on her side business. Her parents frequently accompanied her to wherever she was selling her horse jewelry, helping her with setup and sales but mostly watching Rickie.

There’s a good chance I’ll see you there, JD said.

Yeah? Don’t tell me. You’ve entered some reining and trail classes.

He chuckled—a nice rich, appealing sound. No, but a few of the ranch’s regular customers have. I drew the short straw among the wranglers.

You sound like you don’t mind.

I have no other plans.

She wondered, did he miss his family in New Mexico or spending every weekend on the rodeo circuit? He’d given up both when he moved to Arizona. Stop by my booth and see me if you have a few spare minutes. The vendor area is just inside the main entrance.

Carly marveled at how easily she’d extended the casual invitation. She’d once doubted that would be possible again. Her ex-husband had stolen her trust in people and so much more.

Snapping one last picture, she pocketed her phone and removed the necklace from the mare. When the foal trotted off, she said, I may need your able assistance again.

JD obliged. After putting the halter back on the mare, he slipped the necklace off the foal with almost no trouble.

Show-off, Carly teased.

My one talent.

That wasn’t true, and they both knew it. JD had been in contention four years running for a World Championship in both bull and bronc riding, finishing in the money but not quite earning the title. That was before his troubles started this past winter and he’d been forced to quit.

Once they exited the round pen, he took over leading the mare and foal while Carly pushed Rickie in his stroller a safe distance away. JD had yet to reclaim his hat despite the boy having fallen asleep.

Hombre scurried after the mare and foal, diving at their feet and yipping loudly. The mare retaliated by throwing out a kick, but Hombre was much too fast and deftly dodged her flying hoof. JD whistled to the dog, who reluctantly trotted back to him.

We’re working on training, he said by way of explanation. We obviously have a long way to go.

Not entirely his fault. Carly smiled when the dog came over to nip at the stroller wheels. He’s young and doing what he was bred for.

At the maternity pasture, Carly rewarded the mare and foal with the remaining treats before JD released them. Hombre bolted into the pasture and took chase. JD whistled, calling him back before the pregnant mares and those with foals scattered. For once, the dog listened.

He rewarded Hombre with a head-scratching. Good boy.

The horses don’t mind nearly as much as they pretend they do, Carly said. To them, it’s a game.

Yeah, but what if he got hurt? Or one of the horses? I can’t let that happen.

They turned simultaneously to leave, Carly pushing the stroller. Three steps later, JD unexpectedly swayed and knocked into her. The next instant, he moaned and pitched forward.

She caught his arm and instead of him face-planting on the ground, he dropped slowly to his hands and knees. Alarm shot through her.

JD! JD! Are you okay?

---

THE FIRST THING JD heard when the cotton batting surrounding his head finally lifted was Hombre’s insistent barking. Next was Carly’s sharp...scolding?

Wait. When did she ever raise her voice? Never. Not even with Rickie.

No, Hombre, she shouted. Be quiet.

It’s okay, JD croaked.

Hombre didn’t stop. He wouldn’t until JD reassured him. Reaching out an arm, he gathered the dog into a hug.

Good boy, he said.

Hombre licked his face over and over, further rousing JD.

Carly knelt down beside him and cradled him with her arm. You all right?

Just embarrassed.

Oh, my God. Don’t be. It’s not your fault.

He didn’t need to explain to her what had happened. She’d witnessed this before, unfortunately—though not to this extent. His Meniere’s Disease seemed to always pick the worst possible moments for an attack.

Once, he’d collapsed in the middle of an elevator full of people. Another time, he’d thrown up at the table while having breakfast with his rodeo buddies. He doubted he’d ever live down that humiliation. The worst had been when he staggered from the arena after being thrown two-point-six seconds into his bull ride. Everyone assumed he’d been injured, and they’d called the medics. He’d had to explain he was simply dizzy and disorientated.

Soon after, JD had gone to his first doctor. Two months and two new doctors later, he had a diagnosis. Turned out, his condition wasn’t life-threatening. It was, however, lifestyle-altering. Extreme sports were out of the question, and that included rodeo. Just swimming in the ocean or riding a bike down the street could be dangerous.

Worst of all, he may have to give up driving altogether if the attacks worsened in frequency and severity. And a romantic relationship? Out of the question. How could he get involved with someone when he had no idea what the future held for him, work-wise or health-wise? That seemed unfair—even if the woman was willing.

Honestly, he’d been lucky to wind up at Powell Ranch, taking over the job of head barn manager from his good buddy Tanner Bridwell, who’d recently returned to bull riding after a year off. JD hoped for the same outcome: to pick right up where he’d left off.

The only drawback was leaving his family behind in Las Cruces, New Mexico. He missed them, accustomed to returning home regularly during breaks on the rodeo circuit. Between his new job and inability to easily travel, he wouldn’t be heading home anytime soon. Another reason to resent his new limitations.

Patting Hombre’s head, he pushed himself to his feet, wishing his legs weren’t so wobbly. Carly gripped his arm, surprisingly strong for such a tiny person.

He tried not to notice her proximity and how much he liked it. As always, he failed.

Not for the first time, he wondered what had gone wrong in her marriage. If she’d been his wife, and Rickie his son, nothing short of world disaster would have made him leave her.

Except it was the other way around. She’d left her ex-husband. And from what little she’d shared with JD, for good reason. He admitted to being curious about the details but hadn’t pressed her. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.

Go slow, she warned, still supporting him.

Thanks. And, please. No posting this on social media.

What! Her brow rose, emphasizing her expressive green eyes. I swear... I—

I’m kidding. He smiled down at her.

JD. She gave him a playful jab in the ribs. Oops, sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.

I’m fine. He was. Thanks to her. Is Rickie okay?

Still sound asleep. I can’t believe Hombre’s barking didn’t wake him. She let go of JD and grabbed the stroller handle.

Together, they headed toward her car. Hombre trotted along, not at JD’s heels but weaving back and forth from one distraction to another. When he wasn’t herding, he was investigating.

I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier, JD said. But his barking helps me to focus when I have an attack.

You didn’t snap. And now that I know about Hombre, I won’t try to hush him next time.

Next time? JD hoped there wasn’t one. Too bad I can’t take him everywhere with me.

What if he was a certified service dog?

He doesn’t have the personality or the restraint. He gets excited when there’s a lot going on and forgets to listen. Kind of like having doggie ADHD.

Aw. She cast Hombre a sorry look. Poor guy has a short attention span.

As if to demonstrate, the dog went from digging at a spot beside a rock to chasing a bird foolish enough to land nearby to spinning in a circle. All in a matter of thirty seconds.

Yeah, but he still has a lot of puppy in him. JD had gotten the dog five months ago from a rescue organization. I’m hoping he’ll settle down as he gets older.

At her car, they lingered, chatting as if neither of them was quite ready to part. Carly parked the stroller in the shade and adjusted the cover, making sure Rickie wouldn’t get overheated.

He really was a cute little kid, thought JD. And pretty well behaved. Not that JD had much experience. He hadn’t lived near his sister since long before her kids were born, and none of his former girlfriends had been mothers.

Not that he considered being a single mother a deterrent to dating. Were their situations different, he’d ask Carly out in a heartbeat.

Have you changed your mind about surgery or implants? she asked.

No, though I may have no choice. Especially if I suffer any significant hearing loss, which can happen. For now, I’m self-managing with medicine and coping techniques. Except he wasn’t managing. Not well, anyway, as today had proven.

What kind of coping techniques?

The usual. Exercise and diet. Limiting my salt and caffeine and alcohol. I also use a pulse generator.

Does it help?

A little. Balance exercises, music therapy and meditation work better.

Meditation? A smile pulled at her mouth.

I get it. Hard to imagine a big lug like me sitting cross-legged on the floor listening to soothing music and chanting while I imagine myself inside a blue aura.

Do you? She laughed. Chant and imagine a blue aura?

He laughed along with her. I’m not telling.

I think it’s great. She retrieved his hat from atop Rickie, plunking it down on JD’s head. And you’re not a big lug. Not a lug, anyway.

Huh. If he didn’t know better—and he did know better—he’d think she was flirting.

Clearing his throat, he said, The thing about Meniere’s Disease, it’s a vicious cycle. Stress can trigger an attack, but having the condition is what causes me the most stress.

Because you’re worried you’ll have an attack?

That. I also don’t sleep well, my social life is practically nonexistent and half my free time is eaten up with managing my health.

He skipped the part about being unemployed for months before he landed the job at Powell Ranch and how he’d only been hired because his buddy Tanner vouched for him. Being a walking liability and answering yes to the question about having a physical condition that could potentially affect his job made getting hired next to impossible. Neither did he mention his dismal dating prospects.

Who knows if I’ll ever live a normal life again?

You will, Carly assured him. You said yourself you’re making progress.

Not as fast or as much as I’d like. With each passing week, a rodeo comeback felt less and less obtainable.

What will you do if you can’t ride bulls and broncs anymore?

That’s a good question. I’ve never wanted to do anything else.

You must have considered a career path once you retired from the circuit.

Not enough, obviously. He shook his head. Poor planning on my part.

Every occupation he might have pursued, like ranch manager or horse trainer or bull-riding instructor, was inconceivable for someone who couldn’t sit a horse without the risk of falling off. He supposed he was lucky. There were some people with his condition who became housebound or even bedbound.

Oh, gosh. Carly checked the time on her step tracker and opened the rear door on her car. I need to run. I promised my parents I’d be there by noon.

Lunch again?

Are you kidding? I don’t dare miss it.

She spent every Saturday with her parents, rain or shine. It wasn’t just so Grandma and Grandpa could see Rickie. Carly had spoken of her traditional parents and her strict, ultra-conservative upbringing. She’d been raised with certain expectations that had continued even after she grew up and moved away. Regular weekly visits were one of them.

JD watched as she loaded a sleeping Rickie into the car seat, grinning when she double-checked each buckle. He then helped her collapse and stow the stroller in the trunk.

I’ll see you around, then, he said when they were done.

She closed the trunk and swiped her hands together. On Monday for sure. At the boutique, she prompted when he stared at her