At the Rancher's Pleasure: An older woman younger man Western romance

By Joss Wood

Will this older woman—younger man romance give the town something to talk about? Find out in this Texas Cattleman’s Club: Heir Apparent story from Joss Wood!

He bailed on a wedding to the wrong woman,

only to fall right into temptation’s next trap

Runaway groom Brett Harston has long been the subject of town gossip—and so has Sarabeth Edmonds, who’s returned to Royal after leaving her hateful ex-husband. Soon an innocent kiss to rile the rumor mill unleashes a red-hot attraction they can’t resist. Will the wealthy rancher fall hard—or will she be the one to run this time?

From Harlequin Desire: Luxury, scandal, desire—welcome to the lives of the American elite.

Texas Cattleman’s Club: Heir Apparent

Book 1: Back in the Texan’s Bed by Naima Simone

Book 2: At the Rancher’s Pleasure by Joss Wood

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin Desire
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781488070457

Joss Wood

Joss loves books, coffee and traveling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa and, well, anywhere. She’s a wife and a mom to two young adults. She’s also a servant to two cats and a dog the size of a small cow. After a career in local economic development and business, Joss writes full-time from her home in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

Book preview

One

The runaway groom returns.

Brett Harston winced as he passed through the gates leading to Heritage Ranch, his hands loose on the steering wheel of a brand-new Ford-150 Limited, which he’d picked up in Dallas on his way back from the Cayman Islands. The best thing about being rich was being able to afford private jets, secluded beachside cabins and treating yourself to a new truck.

Not that he deserved to be rewarded for last month’s shitshow.

Brett rubbed the back of his neck before hitting the button to lower the electric window. Sweet Texas air rushed inside the cab and he inhaled deeply, some of his tension easing.

He was finally home, the only place he’d wanted to be for the past fortnight.

His staying away was intended to give Lexi some space, to allow some of the more salacious gossip over him bailing on their wedding to die down. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the Royal Reporters—his name for the three biggest gossips in town—had to say—the Harstons had been a favorite subject of Royal gossip for as long as he could remember. But this was, as far as he knew, Lexi Alderidge’s first brush with being the focus of the town’s speculation.

Being alone in a secluded, luxurious cabin on a private beach that he’d booked for their honeymoon had given him plenty of time to think about why he’d stumbled so close to becoming hitched and stitched.

It had all happened so fast: he’d been caught off guard when his first love—one of a handful of people who’d looked past him being the son of the town drunk—dropped back into his life looking to reignite their intense teenage love affair.

Knocked off his feet, attraction and memories and lust creating a thought stealing concoction, he’d dived right in, casually ignoring the fact that she was fresh off a divorce and clearly on the rebound. After a few weeks of spectacular sex, Lexi suggested getting married and, half asleep, he’d sorta, kinda suggested that they would, sometime way in the future.

But he’d hadn’t considered Lexi’s selective hearing or the savvy organizational skills of the Alderidge women, namely Lexi and her mom, Violet. Before he had time to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, the news of their engagement was all over Royal and mother and daughter were determined to prove they could arrange a kick-ass wedding in two months.

Winston Alderidge expressed his reservations about their marriage from the get-go, and Brett reluctantly admitted that his disapproval was enough to make him dig in his heels. Lexi’s dad had an overinflated opinion of his own status and worth, and Brett, despite his wealth, wasn’t good enough for his baby girl. So if Winston said the sky was blue, Brett’s instinct was to thwart him by insisting it was green. Winston still made him feel like the poor kid working any extra hours he could for Tweed Huggins, desperate to prove himself.

Brett was now one of the richest landowners in the district, a respected cattle rancher and horse breeder. But to some people, the Alderidges included, he would always be the kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

Bottom line? The combination of his first love returning, putting a spark back in Lexi’s eyes with lots of sex and compliments, and feeling like he’d finally belong when he married into one of the most respected families in Royal, overrode his gut instinct that marrying Lexi was a mistake.

Fortunately, he’d come to his senses before it was too late.

While he didn’t regret bailing on the wedding, he did regret hurting and embarrassing Lexi. He’d called her, tried to apologize, but Lexi wasn’t taking his calls. In a few days, he’d try again.

Brett wasn’t proud of himself and, at thirty-eight, he was ashamed he hadn’t ended the engagement sooner. But nothing could be changed now. He’d already contacted his lawyer to refund Lexi and the Alderidges any money they’d lost, and he hoped, in time, that Lexi would forgive him. The Royal Reporters would talk about the aborted wedding until something, or someone, more interesting came along to divert their attention.

He swung his car to the right, following the road to his residence, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of a dark ball cap and a glimpse of blond hair pulled back into a stubby tail.

Brett slowed his vehicle and watched as his foreman’s teenage daughter stormed up the road toward the ranch house. Stacy often ran the trails snaking over the ranch and she was a talented athlete, Brett admitted.

When she didn’t slow down, he realized Stacy wore earbuds because she had yet to hear the growly rumble of his new truck. He noticed the time on his dash, then lifted his wrist to confirm what he was seeing. Yep, it was eleven forty... What the hell was Stacy doing out of school?

Brett slowly approached her. Why aren’t you in school, Stace? he demanded, irritated with himself and with her for skipping school.

Brett watched as the runner used her index finger to push up the brim of her ball cap, turned—and instead of brown eyes, a deep blue, amused gaze slammed into his.

And, just like that, all the moisture left his mouth. Awareness, hot and dark, ran up and down his spine as he dragged his gaze off those stunning eyes framed by long, thick lashes, to drift over her high cheekbones then drop onto her wide, lush, sensual mouth.

It had been a long time, but Brett recognized her immediately. Sarabeth Edmond wore an aqua-and-black gym shirt, matching yoga pants, and expensive running shoes adorned her feet. The workout gear skimmed over her still slim, toned body. God, she was hot.

As in smokin’.

Hi there.

It was a standard greeting but her raspy voice, deeper than normal, sent shivers up his spine. He wanted to hear her murmuring his name as she wound those longs legs around his hips, as he slid inside her...

Brett sighed and frowned, annoyed at his reaction to this gorgeous woman. He’d all but left his fiancée at the alter two weeks ago; he had no right to be attracted to anyone, let alone Rusty Edmond’s ex-wife.

And why was she on his land, running up his drive?

Brett asked the question, conscious of his less-than-gracious delivery.

And it was obvious that Sarabeth heard the irritation in his voice because she arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. I’m renting your cottage, and the real estate agent told me the owner was away and I was welcome to ride any horse but the stallion. Naturally, I didn’t think running would be a problem.

Of course it wasn’t. He was just being a moron.

Brett rubbed a hand over his jaw. Holy hell, he’d forgotten that he had a new tenant. He did recall an email from his real estate agent telling him she’d rented his guest cottage for three months. But he honestly couldn’t remember whether she’d told him who his tenant was or, with all the drama, he’d forgotten.

Opening his door, he exited his vehicle, immediately noticing that Sarabeth was taller than he thought, maybe five-seven or five-eight. But he still had five or six inches on her and a whole lot of muscle.

Was she mistaken? If so, I’ll apologize.

Yeah, her tone was definitely frosty. Brett sighed and held out his hand. No, I should be apologizing. Welcome to Heritage Ranch. I’m Brett Harston.

Sarabeth. She placed her hand in his and electricity sizzled over his skin when their palms connected. Yep, he was definitely attracted to her.

Wonderful. He had the hots for the only other person whose return would be as much discussed by the Royal gossips as he was.

Brilliant.

And I’m sorry for shouting at you for not being in school. I thought you were Stacy, my foreman’s daughter.

Sarabeth’s smile hit her eyes, and Brett placed his hand on the hood of his truck to anchor himself. Holy shit, that smile! It was goddamn glorious...and every strand of DNA in his system vibrated with appreciation.

He wanted to know whether it tasted as good as it looked.

Please don’t apologize for mistaking me for a teenager. It’s been a long time since that happened. A very, very long time.

He didn’t believe that. Oh, he knew that Sarabeth had, maybe, ten years on him but she looked his age, probably even younger. Probably because of her slim build and fantastic smooth, olive-skinned complexion.

She had the type of face, and body, that aged well. Very well indeed.

Sarabeth pulled her hand from his and leaned her hip into his truck. So, did you have a great honeymoon? Where’s your bride?

Brett winced. And so the explanations started. Yeah, I’m afraid I bailed. I called it off the evening before the wedding, at the rehearsal dinner. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.

Her eyes widened and she winced. I only arrived in Royal last night so no, I hadn’t heard. She sent him a sympathetic smile. I’m sure the old gossips are in a flutter and are not sure what to discuss first, your botched wedding or my returning to Royal and what apple carts I intend on kicking over.

Brett jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and cocked his head to the side. And are you planning on kicking over some carts?

Those fantastic blue eyes held amusement but beyond that, he thought he saw a hint of fear.

Nope. I’m only here to try and repair my relationship with my son and, hopefully, to meet my grandbaby.

Right, Sarabeth’s son Ross had recently discovered he was a father and was head over heels in love with his baby’s mama, Charlotte, the executive chef at Sheen, another of Royal’s eateries. Good for him. Love and belonging were things that had always eluded him and even when he was handed it on a platter, he couldn’t take it.

Lexi didn’t love you, and you don’t love her. You were both looking for something that wasn’t really there.

Well, feel free to do something outrageous so that you can take the heat off me, Brett suggested, his tone gruff.

Like her outrageous smile, Sarabeth’s laugh made his stomach flip over. Ah, no. While I’m in Texas, I plan on flying under the radar and keeping my nose clean.

Brett nodded. I plan on doing the same, he said, shrugging, but I’ve always been a favorite topic of discussion.

Sarabeth didn’t drop her eyes from his, and he could see the curiosity in her expression. But, to her credit, she didn’t walk through the door he’d stupidly opened. He wondered if she remembered the stories about his mom, the stories about him. He doubted it. When she lived in Royal she probably had her hands full dealing with Rusty and two small kids.

Brett heard a familiar, excitable whinny and turned to see Bella, one of his favorite mares, standing at the wooden fence of the paddock, her beautiful eyes excited. Yeah, here was a female who’d missed the hell out of him.

Walking over to the fence, he ran his hand down Bella’s nose. Yeah, yeah, I missed you too. He laughed when she nuzzled his pockets looking for carrots before gently rubbing her cheek against his. His horses knew how to suck up. You’re such a flirt, and you know that carrots are an evening treat.

Brett leaned his forehead into Bella’s neck and closed his eyes. Animals were so much easier to deal with than people; they were straightforward and uncomplicated and didn’t play games. He didn’t like subterfuge or dishonesty and he was, generally, brutally straightforward.

Except that lately, he hadn’t been. Not with Lexi. God, he was embarrassed and ashamed and felt a little bit sick for the pain and stress he’d caused. He could, easily, cover the bills of the nonwedding but he couldn’t wipe away Lexi and the Alderidges’ humiliation by writing a quick check.

He remembered standing to the side at the dinner, apart and alone, thinking that he didn’t want to hurt Lexi, that he’d rather cut off his hand than do that. But, surrounded by their guests, he realized that what he felt for Lexi was both complex and disorienting, his feelings influenced by his youthful wish to be accepted, to belong, to be anything other than the boy who always stood on the outside of the cool kids looking in.

Along with owning and operating one of the most successful operations in the area, marrying Lexi and being Winston’s son-in-law would cement his place in Royal; he would finally, finally belong.

And that he’d just have to sell his soul to do it.

Biting the bullet, he’d pulled Lexi aside and told her he couldn’t marry her, that he didn’t love her and that she didn’t love him either, not the way two people getting married should. She’d cried and he’d walked away, leaving her alone and confused and shocked and, worst of all, blindsided.

And half of Royal witnessed the train wreck that was supposed to be their rehearsal dinner.

God, he was such a bastard.

He felt the brief touch of a hand on his biceps, heard a soft feminine sigh. Sucks to be you, right?

Brett opened his eyes to see Sarabeth standing next to him and managed a small smile at her comment. Her eyes radiated sympathy and, best of all, no judgment. Not that her opinion mattered overmuch; she couldn’t think any worse of him than he did of himself.

Why did you run? she gently asked.

Even if he was in the habit of explaining his actions to friends or strangers, which he wasn’t, he wasn’t sure if his explanation would make sense. How did he explain that he’d simply been struck by the unassailable truth that he and Lexi weren’t each other’s it?

And that he didn’t think he would be marriage material, now or in the future. He was too closed up, too self-reliant, too screwed up to be anyone’s husband, lover, partner...

Any woman’s anything.

That gentle hand patted his shoulder. You don’t have to answer me.

He knew that and he had no intention of doing so. Exposing his soft emotional underbelly wasn’t something he ever did, and especially not to a gorgeous stranger with shadows in her eyes.

"But can I say this? This will pass, trust me. It might pass like a kidney stone, with a bunch of pain, but it will pass. Everything always does." Sarabeth’s smile was soft and understanding, and Brett felt like he could rest within it.

She turned her back on him and walked toward the road. When she hit the road, she pulled her cap down and lifted two fingers to the brim in a goodbye salute.

Then she broke into a smooth run, her body moving with ease and grace.

Damn, the woman was intriguing.

---

Sarabeth kept up a wicked pace until she came to the cottage she was renting. Braking abruptly at the steps leading up to the porch, she slapped her hands on her thighs and bent over, sucking in some much-needed air.

She was partly winded from her hard run—she could, at forty-eight, still run a seven-minute mile—but a lot of her breathlessness could be attributed to Brett Harston and his mysterious, deep forest green eyes, sooty lashes, thick stubble and hard jaw. His hair, the little that wasn’t covered by a black Stetson, was a rich brown and his nose just a little crooked.

And his body... Lord, that body. Long legs, narrow hips, a broad, muscular chest and shoulders wide enough to make angels weep. He was a man in the prime of his life, fit and powerful.

Sarabeth straightened up, feeling a little woozy, off-balance. Had she straightened too fast? She sat down on the third step and stretched out her legs, still thinking about Brett’s flat stomach and very nice package under that soft denim.

Whoo-boy! It had been a long, long time since she’d given any thought to a man’s masculine package...

She’d met a lot of cowboys but Brett Harston was superfine. And ridiculously sexy. And the expression save a horse and ride a cowboy suddenly made a great deal of sense.

Not that she would be riding him, or any other Texas cowboy anytime soon.

Sarabeth leaned back on her elbows and tipped her head to the sun. She couldn’t believe she was back in Royal, Texas, after a nearly twenty-year absence. And, despite laying eyes on her luscious landlord—an unexpected