His Angel For Keeps

By Nikki Jackson

Cowboy Ethan Cartwright thought his life was finally coming together.  Still saddened by the death of his mentor and father figure Robert Whitcomb, he was sure he would inherit Robert's vast pasture land and prime livestock.  However, Ethan was shocked to learn Robert's will came with a stipulation and that stipulation involved his granddaughter.     

 

Angel Whitcomb, the errant granddaughter of Robert has until midnight to appear before his attorney to stake her interest in the inheritance.  Robert's will stipulates she has one year from the day of his death to appear, then reside on the property for 6 continuous months, to claim his vast holdings of land and livestock.  Not only had Angel not appeared in nearly a year, she didn't even attend her grandfather's funeral.  Ethan is sure it's only a matter of time before the land and stock are his.  

 

Angel's 11th hour appearance upsets all of Ethan's plans for the ranch land and the premium stock.  Now the clock starts again.  If Angel lives on her grandfather's land for 6 months she inherits it all.   Ethan digs in determined to fight tooth and nail for the inheritance he feels is rightfully his.  Likewise, Angel vows not to let her family's land and legacy fall into the hands of what she considers a stranger. 

 

Both are spoiling for the fight of their lives.  What happens when love rears its ugly head?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikki Jackson
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201705169

Nikki Jackson

When she’s not cutting up with her sisters you can find Nikki hovering over her keyboard imagining the next book, series, great American novel, and fantasying what it would all look like on the big screen.  Nikki’s favorite adage - “Why just shoot for the moon when you can dream to the universe and beyond.”

Book preview

Chapter One

Y ou’re kiddin’ me Liam ! Ethan Cartwright shouted in a deep voiced drawl. I got plans for that land! I went so far as to have blueprints drawn up! Quotes on the materials!  Everything!  Just ask Charlie Baker he’ll tell ’ya! 

Charlie Baker was the owner of Baker Construction the only construction company in Glassrock, NC.  Just a few miles outside of Raleigh the little town was nestled among a mountain backdrop, dense forest, and softly rolling hills. Barely a dot on most maps, it was home to a cornucopia of old timers, newbies, throwback hippies, and millennials who worked in the city but wanted the small town pace and tight-knit community feel small towns like Glassrock exuded. 

Liam Grady’s law office was downtown on Main Street, huddled in-between Jan’s Coffee Shoppe and Bucky’s Hardware.  The two-story copper brick building had once been Agatha’s Apothecary.  Agatha was the town midwife and herbalist; mixing up everything from medicines to brews and perfumes.  As a result, the building still carried the faint odor of herbs and spices.  Liam typically found the atmosphere in his office soothing, but not at the present moment.  Presently, sweat had broken out across his brow and his palms were just as damp.    Now, Ethan m’boy, Liam said with a slight Irish lilt. You know the stipulation of the will as well as I do. 

This is thievery! Ethan shouted coming to his feet.  The Scottish oak arm chair he’d been sitting in was flung back and crashed it to the hardwood floor.  Liam winced hoping his vintage chair would survive the meeting. 

Now, now... Liam waved his hands a bit trying to calm the burly man who stood in front of him. At 6’3, Ethan Cartwright towered over the much shorter Grady by a good foot.  Muscular and broad shouldered, he was more than imposing in the snug faded jeans and tight white t-shirt that hugged his taunt frame.

I challenge this! Ethan yelled, snatching the Stetson from his head and slamming it down on Liam’s desk.  Landing a little too close to the framed photograph of his wife and daughters Liam reached out and slid the photograph closer to his side of the desk.   

A soft knock at the door stilled Ethan’s further tirade as Liam’s secretary peeked in, worry lining her thin face. 

Do I need to call the sheriff? she stage-whispered. 

Angel giggled from her place on the twin to the chair Ethan had been sitting in. Liam had spaced the chairs a wide distance from each other, just in front of his desk. 

The short bespeckled secretary lingered at the door; looking from her boss to the tall mountain of a man Liam called Ethan.  Angel let her eyes take in the shouting giant and she felt her heart hitch a bit.  The already tight t-shirt was stretched even tighter across his broad back, straining against his fine set of muscles.  And when he put both hands on Liam’s desk and leaned toward the man’s face, Angel literally felt her mouth water. 

Dang, that butt...

We’re fine, June, Liam said. June gave them all a long look before nodding, then she turned, shutting the door behind her. 

Angel felt sorry for Liam.  His slightly balding white hair was disarrayed and his full cheeks and large nose were red from exertion. Angel thought he looked a little like Santa, but with an Irish accent.  

Liam took a deep breath, and he took his time exhaling it.  He steepled his fingers in front of him on the desk and seemed to have found his reserve.  There’s nothing to challenge m’boy. She’s well made the time stipulation. 

Ethan turned his head towards Angel, while maintaining his position looming over Liam’s desk.  He shot a withering glare at the interloper who’d shown up out of nowhere and dashed his well-laid plans and future to pieces.   His scowl was harsh enough to leave grown men quaking.

Angel sat looking at Ethan with mild indifference. He’d been shouting and gesturing wildly for twenty minutes straight, and Angel Whitcomb had barely twitched. Instead, she sat there clad in tight black leather pants, royal blue tee, and a worn leather jacket. Her slim legs were crossed; her right elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and her chin was propped against her knuckles.  Ethan all but growled at the stranger who had taken his months of careful planning and flung it all out the window, just by her mere presence. Ethan was yelling again, like a she-bear looking for her lost cub, and this woman was just sitting there, unmoved.

I followed the stipulation of the will to the letter, Liam, and you know it! I have every right to that land and all the stock! Ethan yelled.

Ethan, you don’t. Liam said lifting the group of papers and shaking them in Ethan’s face.  The will stipulates that you both have one year to move onto the place—you on the north half and Angel here on the south end. That’s one year from the date of Robert Whitcomb’s death before midnight, to take up your place on the land.  Robert Whitcomb was this woman’s granddaddy and he died exactly one year ago today. He looked at his watch. It’s 4:45 p.m. Ethan.  She beat the deadline by seven plus hours. Now, the clock starts ticking for her. She must live on the land for six months. If at any time she does not fulfill that stipulation, all two hundred acres of pasture land and all the stock will transfer to you, free and clear. If she maintains residence on the land for the six months, then one hundred and ninety-eight acres as well as half of the non-stud stock will belong to her, to do with what she will. Your half of the stock will include the stud animals. But, he said, turning to Angel, You cannot rent, lease, or sell so much as a yard of that land before the six months have expired. That rule’s unbreakable.  Angel nodded her understanding.  Ethan stood and leveled an angry frown at Angel who responded with a larger grin. 

Liam could tell by the determined look on Ethan’s face that he was already trying to find a way around the seemingly unbreakable condition of Robert Whitcomb’s will. 

Ethan’s brows knit together in a frown; then his expression brightened. What if I paid her to leave? he said turning to Liam.  I wouldn’t be paying her for the land and her half of the stock, I would be paying her to just walk off and not contest everything coming to me once the six months are up. So what if the check happens to match the value of the land and half the stock, just coincidental. You could write up papers for us to sign, all legal like.

Angel scowled at Ethan’s back. Just who did this Ethan Cartwright think he was? Okay, so he was tall and tanned and had the strong muscular body of a lumberjack or someone who made his living doing something else outdoors. He had high cheekbones, a long nose, and a chiseled chin covered with a dark 5-o’clock shadow, the same color as his close-cropped black hair. That with the deep set brown eyes gave him a rugged handsomeness that would have most women looking twice, but she wasn’t most women. She was tired and just needed a place to lay her head for a while, and her grandfather’s place would do. 

Angel stood for the first time and a knot caught in Ethan’s throat. He gulped as he took in the full view of her. She had a soft face; oval with almond shaped eyes, a cute pert nose, thin arched eye brows and cupid bowed lips. Most striking was the long wavy hair; shiny as a bright copper penny, and her shocking grey eyes.  At 5’7" she was curvy and toned; the look of a woman who worked out, Ethan imagined, something like yoga or some other womanly exercise. Ethan cooled his runaway pulse by reminding himself she was the enemy, robbing him of his carefully planned future. 

I appreciate your attempting to devise a plan to get around my grandpapa’s will, but I have no intention of selling or giving anything away to anyone. Angel said leveling him with her own glare.  She’d never been attracted to steam-rolling men and she wasn’t about to start now, regardless of how drop-dead handsome the man was. 

Ethan squinted his dark smoky brown eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. Angel took a step, planted her feet with her hands on her hips, and glared right back.

You’ve got some nerve showing up nearly a year after Robert’s death! Ethan gritted.

It’s none of your business when I show up, cowboy!

You didn’t even have the decency to attend his funeral!

Again, none of your business!

Why, I have half a mind...

Yes you do, you big lug! 

Liam was between them with his arms stretched out in an attempt to keep the yelling pair apart. June dipped her head in again, this time without knocking, and the sight of Ethan and Angel yelling and waving their arms menacingly at one another made her turn on her heels and run for the phone. 

Please, please, Liam pleaded, can’t we have some decorum?

You’re going to have to explain the meaning of that word to this oaf! Angel yelled trying to push closer to Ethan’s face.

You college educated princess!

You oversized ogre! I ought to sock you in the jaw!

And ruin your prissy painted nails?!

Thirty minutes later Liam was seated behind his cherry wood executive desk, and Angel and Ethan were sitting in the arm chairs that were now spaced three feet apart. Two sheriff deputies stood behind them with their arms crossed. June had called the sheriff, telling him that blood was going to be shed at any moment in Attorney Liam Grady’s office. The sheriff arrived with two deputies in tow to find the yelling match in full swing.

Liam lifted the will. The one page document was short and succinct. Robert Whitcomb, your maternal grandfather, he addressed Angel, and your close friend, he said to Ethan, left his parting wish in this document. I will give each of you a copy before you leave today. Angel Whitcomb is the closest surviving heir of Robert’s—the only child of his only child Rebecca Whitcomb. And you, Ethan, are his closest friend. Robert left to you, two acres of land and his half of the business you two formed together, with the stipulation that you take up physical resident on said land and live there for no less than six consecutive months. You did just that and a deed to said two acres of land was filed in your name some months ago.  Further, according to Robert’s will, his half of the business has transferred to you.

Angel turned to look at Ethan and met his scowl with an angry glare of her own. 

Liam cleared his throat and continued. Angel Whitcomb has fulfilled the first stipulation of the will, and that is to report to this office before midnight today to establish her claim. The second part of the stipulation requires she resides on the property for no less than six consecutive months. You understand what this means? Liam asked her.  "You must physically reside on the land. You can’t live in town for six months, then claim the property." 

Angel nodded. I understand.

Ethan leaned toward the desk with his arms outstretched. There’s nothing on that land but an old ramshackle pole barn. She’s lying if she’s saying she’s gonna live in it.

You’re calling me a liar? Angel asked, straightening in the chair.

I surely am! Ain’t no prissy butt female gonna live in that run-down shack, and she’s a liar if she says she will.

You don’t know anything about me! How dare you call me a liar to my face!

To your face, behind your back, you’re plum lying!

Angel jumped up, and Ethan did too. The deputies immediately got between them.

How dare you!

"I’m daring you!" 

June had been listening just outside the door, and when they started at it again, she threw open the door and asked the deputies if she needed to call for backup. Both declined.

Angel turned to Liam. I have to physically live on the land, correct? she asked him.

That’s right, yes. Liam sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose.  The mild throb at the front of his head was threatening to go full blown. 

I traveled here in my RV camper. There’s no stipulation against me living in my camper on the land is there?

Wait a minute...! Ethan argued.

Liam raised a hand quieting him. Ethan, there’s nothing in this document that says she has to live in that pole barn. She can live in a RV, pitch a tent, build a tree house, just so long as it’s on the land, anywhere she chooses, on that land.

Angel turned to Ethan with a satisfied grin on her face. Well, I guess I’ll be taking that dare, Mr. Cartwright. 

Chapter Two

Once the meeting was over, the deputies had the warring pair leave the office fifteen minutes apart, to keep trouble from breaking out in the parking lot. 

Angel left last, taking the opportunity to speak with Liam a little more in depth to assure she wouldn’t disqualify herself by unwittingly committing some mistake. Liam confirmed the will’s condition was in fact fairly simple. It was March 28, if she was still living uninterrupted on the land on September 28, the one hundred and ninety-eight acres would be hers. 

After Angel finished talking to Liam, she rode the three blocks from his office to Flo’s Diner on her 1942 vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle. Angel restored the World War II motorcycle to its original condition—olive drab paint, ammunition boxes across the front fender, heavy duty cargo rack, military style windshield, and authentic World War II saddlebags straddled over the rear tire. 

Angel parked the bike in front of the diner and removed her U.S. World War II style helmet. It was heavy; dark brown, stitched leather on the outside with a Kevlar reinforced fiberglass shell. She wore U.S. Army Air Force pilot goggles, and when she climbed off the bike she slung the googles and helmet over the handlebars.

She braced herself to hear grief from Flo. She’d arrived earlier in the day, only taking time to park her RV on her grandfather’s property, get the motorcycle off the trailer lift, and head to Liam’s office. She hadn’t wanted to waste any time in making her claim, feeling she’d pushed it to the eleventh hour as it was. She hoped Flo would understand why she hadn’t come to visit her first, after having spent so many years away.

Angel’s attitude waned the minute she entered the diner. Standing at the counter, between a pair of swivel high back chairs, was Ethan Cartwright.

Can you believe it?! he groused to the old timer seated to the left.  The old man was seriously tucked into his heaping plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans.  He spared Ethan a glance and a nod before digging back in.  My schedule is blown! I got a whole construction company on hold now cause of her!

Julie Lewis was waitressing on the other side of the counter, and she noticed Angel when she walked through the door. Ethan was ranting, and Angel was just standing there, getting madder by the moment.

That prissy lil’ thing’s probably gonna sell them acres to some development group the minute she gets her snooty hands on ’em, and Lord only knows what she’s gonna do with the stock. She’ll be sellin’ ’em off too!

That’s a bold faced lie! Angel shouted. She saw Ethan’s back stiffen, and he slowly turned to face her. She took a step back and fought to keep the gasp from escaping her lips. Not because she was intimidated by his unbridled scowl, rather, her pulse was racing under the heat of his eyes taking her in from head to toe. Goodness, she breathed, as her thoughts started to jumble a bit. Get a grip, he just insulted you in front of half the town. The nearly packed diner was church quiet, watching as the pair squared off.

Now everybody, simmer down, Hector said, coming through the swinging door that led to the back office and grill. He was carrying a white take-out bag. 

Simmer nothing! Ethan said.  She come out of the woodwork at the last minute tryin’ to steal what’s rightfully mine.  Everybody knows that land and them horses are rightfully mine!

Did you get kicked in the head by one of those horses or what?! Angel demanded, hands on her hips. "None of that property or that stock is rightfully yours unless you dug in your pockets and paid for something! Those are Robert Whitcomb’s horses and Whitcomb land, land that’s been in the Whitcomb family for four generations, and I’m here to ensure it stays that way! No lousy two-bit horse thieving farmer is going to steal my family’s property out from under me!" 

Family! You ain’t been near the old man in years!

That’s family business, which makes it none of yours!

I’m making it my business, since I was the one taking care of Robert for his last sickly year!

And you got paid for it! His house, stables and the two acres of land they’re sitting on.  That’s all of my family’s property you’re getting, Festus!

Diners chuckled and giggled as they all craned out of their seats, enjoying the show. 

If you wasn’t a woman... Ethan threatened.

I was just thinking the same about you, Shirley! Angel retorted.

There were hoots and howls and outright laughs now, and some older gents sitting near the rear of the diner were taking bets as to whether the sheriff would have to be called.

C’mon now Ethan, Hector said pushing the paper bag into his hands. Here’s your dinner. He pressed the bulging bag of food into Ethan’s hands while attempting to nudge him around Angel and toward the door.  The pair stood glaring at one another, each dug in and holding their ground. Now c’mon, the two of you are gonna be neighbors, Hector said, patting Ethan on the back. Angel thought if she wasn’t so mad the two men in front of her would be a comical sight. The tall, tanned, rock solid Ethan, and the shorter, rail thin Hector. Hector was pasty white with a smattering of freckles across his cheeks, and dirty blond hair peeking from under the paper diner hat. 

Ethan let his eyes roam over Angel’s face then slowly over the rest of her.  Angel folded her arms across her chest looking for some form of shield against the heated stare.  What’s wrong with me?  He’s the enemy.  Nonetheless she felt herself melting under the heat of his perusal.   

Ethan shook his head as if he were in a daze.  Six months, that’s half a year you gotta live on that land. Personally? I don’t give you two weeks. Ethan gave her one more pointed glare, then stormed out the door. 

Feeling as if she’d been hit in the