Colorado Cowboy Read online

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

  Copyright © 2019 by Sara Richardson

  Preview of A Cowboy for Christmas copyright © 2019 by Sara Richardson

  Unbroken copyright © 2019 by Jennifer M. Voorhees

  Preview of Justified copyright © 2019 by Jennifer M. Voorhees

  Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Forever

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

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  First Edition: April 2019

  Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-1227-6 (mass market), 978-1-5387-1226-9 (ebook)

  E3-20190219-DA-PC-ORI

  E3-20190109-DA-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  A Preview of A COWBOY FOR CHRISTMAS

  About the Author

  Also by Sara Richardson

  Acclaim for Sara Richardson

  Unbroken by Jay Crownover Dedication

  Prologue: Crew

  Chapter 1: Della

  Chapter 2: Crew

  Chapter 3: Della

  Chapter 4: Crew

  Chapter 5: Della

  Chapter 6: Crew

  Chapter 7: Della

  Chapter 8: Crew

  Chapter 9: Della

  Chapter 10: Crew

  Chapter 11: Della

  Chapter 12: Crew

  Chapter 13: Della

  Epilogue: Crew

  Author’s Note

  All the Places to Find Me

  A Preview of JUSTIFIED

  About the Author

  Looking for more cowboys? Forever brings the heat with these sexy studs.

  Newsletters

  To my anchors:

  Will, AJ, and Kaleb

  Acknowledgments

  “Thank you” never seems like enough to offer the dedicated team at Forever who works so tirelessly on my behalf: Amy Pierpont, Gabi Kelly, Siri Silleck, Estelle Hallick. Working with you all continues to make me a better writer.

  I also would not be able to do what I love without the fabulous team behind me at New Leaf Literary. Thank you Suzie Townsend and Cassandra Baim for your incredible support.

  Without my amazing community of family and friends, I’m afraid I would get permanently stuck in one of my imaginary worlds. Thank you for inviting me to experience life and love instead of simply writing about it. I am blessed.

  Chapter One

  Charity Stone really wasn’t in the mood to get arrested tonight.

  For some rodeo champions, showing up at the local watering hole after a big win meant parading through the crowd, slapping high fives—or swats on the butt—while you accepted congrats and free drinks from the fans.

  For Charity, however, showing up at the Tumble Inn after shaving two seconds off her best barrel racing time meant tipping her Stetson farther down on her forehead and moving swiftly enough that none of the rowdy spectators from earlier—or her other competitors, for that matter—could ask if she was interested in riding something else later. Thankfully, the last guy who’d asked her that hadn’t pressed charges, but tonight she might not be so lucky.

  The Tumble Inn happened to be a classier establishment than a lot of the bars she found herself in when she traveled the circuit. It was more of a sports bar and it wasn’t uncommon to see families there together, eating wings and nachos and Gil’s specialty burgers. Back in the day, the place had been an auto body shop, and it still had that homespun feel—the square brick structure, the concrete floors, the garage doors that had been upgraded with glass windows so they could open to the patio in the summer.

  On a normal night, Charity loved to hang out here, but tonight the place was packed. Everyone and their grandmas had turned out for the big Topaz Falls Rodeo Days. And she did mean that literally. Elbowing her way through the crowd, Charity waved at Gracie Sullivan and her grandmother, Evie, who were seated at a bar-top table near the old jukebox.

  “Ohmygawd!” The girl bounced off her stool and came running. “You were amazing tonight! Can you come over sometime and sign my saddle? I’m gonna be a barrel racer someday too!”

  “That’s what your mom told me.” Naomi Cortez, one of Charity’s good friends, had mentioned how terrified she was of her daughter learning how to race. Charity had reminded her there were much worse things a thirteen-year-old girl could be learning how to do. Trust her, she would know. Thus the reason she’d offered to help. “I told her I’d be happy to give you some pointers sometime.”

  “Really?” Gracie’s red ringlets and expressive green eyes made it impossible to believe she had recently become a teenager.

  “Really,” Charity confirmed. “In fact, we’re doing a youth clinic after the season winds down, and I’ll make sure to save a spot for you.” During the off-season, she and her posse—which included Gracie’s uncle, Levi Cortez, along with Ty Forrester and Mateo Torres—planned to do a few mentoring clinics for kids who were interested in competing.

  “Awesome!” Gracie threw her arms around Charity’s shoulders, trapping her in a spastic hug. At least the girl had some serious upper body strength. That would work to her advantage as a racer.

  “Ohmygawd, I can’t wait! I’m already growing out my hair so it’ll look just like yours does when you race, flowing behind you on the breeze.” She fluffed her curls—curls Charity would’ve given anything for at one point in her life. Back when she’d actually given a damn about how she looked. Nowadays she kept her blond hair long so she could braid it down her back and keep it out of her way.

  “Your hair is perfect the way it is,” Charity said with the same sternness she used on her horse. “Got that? Looks have nothing to do with barrel racing.” Having good gene
s had done her no favors in the sport, that was for sure. If she had a shiny penny for every time she’d been mistaken for the rodeo queen or a buckle bunny instead of an actual athlete, she’d be the ruler of her own ranch instead of working at the Cortezes’ place in between competitions. “If you want to be a champion someday, you focus here”—she placed her hand over her heart—“and here.” With her other hand she tapped her head. “That’s all you need. You race smart and you race fierce and nothing will stop—”

  “Excuse me.” A waitress balancing a small tray slipped in between Charity and Gracie. “That gentleman over there wanted to send you a drink.” The woman’s eyes shone with delight. “It’s a strawberry daiquiri.”

  A strawberry daiquiri? Charity let out a threadbare laugh and looked over to where the woman pointed. Ah, yes. The new guy on the scene. The bull rider who’d neglected to qualify for a score in tonight’s competition. She should’ve anticipated this. New guys never seemed to get the memo that she wasn’t interested in dating a cowboy. She wasn’t interested in dating period.

  “He must be into you!” Gracie hung on her shoulder. “Look at him! He’s so hot!”

  Hot if you liked a walking rubber stamp. Charity had met a hundred men just like him—the worn but expensive jeans, the black button-down western shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose the thorny tattoo on his forearm. Then there was that suggestive smirk on his face, the one that swore he could make all her dreams come true.

  Only she didn’t need a man to help her with that. She did just fine on her own, thank you very much.

  Charity turned back to the waitress. “Tell him I don’t drink alcohol with fruit in it.”

  “Are you sure?” Disappointment crowded out the woman’s smile. “It’s kind of sweet, really. You see it all the time in the movies, but I’ve never been asked to deliver a pickup drink before.”

  That was because it worked only in the movies. “I’m sure.” Charity smiled politely at the woman. “I don’t want the drink.” She had other things to do, like somehow convince Gracie that cowboys weren’t the best part about competing on the circuit.

  “Okay.” The waitress drew out the word with a pained grimace and then scurried away.

  “I bet he would’ve asked you on a date,” Gracie said through a dreamy sigh. “He probably would’ve made a picnic dinner and taken you up to the mountains.”

  Charity could all but see the stars shining in the girl’s eyes. What kind of romantic crap had she been watching?

  “Oh! He probably has a truck too. So you guys could drive up to Topaz Peak and put blankets in the back and stare up at the stars.” Gracie visibly swooned.

  Yeah. Sure. Stare up at the stars. That had to be right at the top of Don Juan Bull Rider’s agenda. “Listen, sweetie.” Charity put her arm around Gracie’s shoulders. “If you really want to focus on becoming the best racer you can be, you’ll have to put romance on the back burner for a while.” Preferably until she was at least twenty-five and able to make healthy, informed choices. “That kind of goal is going to take all you’ve got—”

  “You must be a martini kind of gal.”

  The deep, suave voice behind them immediately sent Charity into a whirl. Don Juan Bull Rider stood right behind her, holding out a murky-looking drink.

  “I bet a woman like you wants it dirty instead of sweet.” He dragged his gaze south and paused at each of the buttons on her plaid shirt as though he was imagining himself ripping them off.

  Was this jerk for real? Charity looked around to see if her friends were playing a prank on her, but Mateo, Ty, and Levi stood near the bar talking to Dev Jenkins, one of Topaz Falls’s finest. They didn’t seem to be watching. Gracie, on the other hand? Her eyes were glued to the cowboy and her cheeks had turned a spellbound shade of red.

  Charity’s face had to be red too. Red hot. Molten. Anger churned from the very pit of her stomach up into her throat, but Gracie stood right next to her, so she tempered it with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “Thanks, but I don’t drink.” Walk away. He obviously wasn’t going to, which meant she’d better before she lost her temper again.

  “Maybe she wants it.” The scumbag nodded toward Gracie, giving Charity’s stomach a hard lurch.

  “You mean the thirteen-year-old?”

  “She sure don’t look thirteen.” The man’s eyes had fixated on Gracie, weakening the feeble hold Charity had on her temper. Men had stared at her like that when she’d been thirteen too. Her mother’s revolving door of boyfriends who’d looked exactly like this sleazeball. And she might’ve been helpless to do anything about it back then, but she sure as hell wasn’t helpless anymore. “Gracie…” She gently directed the girl in the opposite direction. “Go sit with your grandma.”

  This suddenly seemed like the perfect night to get herself arrested.

  In his six years on the force, Officer Dev Jenkins had learned there was no such thing as an off-duty cop. He’d been trained to keep watch, to notice things when no one else did, and he did not like what he saw unfolding over by the jukebox.

  On a typical night, he enjoyed running into Charity Stone. He liked to see her laugh with her friends. Liked to see her long blond hair loose down around her shoulders. He liked to see her ride the way she had a few hours ago—fully in control, caught up in something she loved. But he did not like seeing her having to fend for herself when some jerk was obviously making her uncomfortable.

  “Do you know that guy?” Dev asked Ty, Mateo, and Levi.

  “What guy?” Ty set his beer on the bar and turned around.

  “The dude with Charity?” Mateo asked.

  “Yeah. That one.” Dev couldn’t look away. The man’s sneer at Charity triggered every protective instinct he had and then some.

  “He’s the new kid,” Levi said with a laugh. “Obviously. The only one stupid enough around here to hit on Charity.”

  “You think he hit on her?” Dev assessed the situation unfolding across the bar. If the arm waving was any indication, Charity had gotten riled about something, and the dumbass in question didn’t seem to be backing down. In fact, he’d moved in even closer and touched her arm.

  “Fifty bucks says she knocks him on his ass.” Levi pulled out his wallet and found some cash.

  “Hell no.” Mateo shoved the money aside. “I’m not betting against Calamity Jane. I’ve seen her do some serious damage.”

  “We should find someone else to bet against her,” Ty suggested. “Someone who doesn’t know her.”

  “Seriously?” Dev shot them all a look. “She’s fending off unwanted advances and all you yahoos can do is place bets?”

  “Charity wouldn’t want us to get involved.” Levi clapped him on the back. “Trust us. She can handle herself.”

  “I don’t doubt she can handle herself.” He’d seen enough to know she was a strong woman. “But why should she have to?” They’d likely witnessed her sticking up for herself countless times out on the road, but she wasn’t out on the road. She was home. In Topaz Falls. Seemed to him someone should have her back. He glanced over at her again. She’d officially invaded the guy’s personal space and had the collar of his shirt twisted up in her fist. Shit. He handed his beer to Mateo. “I’m gonna take care of this before I have to arrest her for disturbing the peace.”

  “Oh boy,” Mateo muttered. “This ought to be good.”

  “Try not to touch her,” Ty called to his back. “She has some freakishly good reflexes.”

  “Fifty bucks says he has to arrest her for assaulting a police officer,” Dev heard Levi say behind him.

  Shaking his head, Dev made his way through the crowd until he’d reached Charity, who now had the dumbass pinned against the wall.

  “You want to say that to me again?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  Dev didn’t give the man a chance to say anything. “Hey Charity…” He moved in next to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Not now, Dev.” She didn’t
look at him. Her eyes were focused, on fire. She tightened her forearm against the guy’s neck.

  “She’s insane,” the man whined, wriggling like a hog-tied calf trying to get free. “The woman is batshit crazy.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Charity threatened.

  Dev rested his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s take a walk.” Under his fingertips, he thought he felt her muscles go soft. This time she did turn to look at him, full on in the face.

  “He was hitting on Gracie Cortez,” she said, her jaw trembling. “He offered her a drink.” Dev wasn’t prepared for the trauma in her expression—her blue eyes had opened too wide, dilated with a look of fear, and her mouth strained against emotion, reaching for anger but faltering. He’d seen the same look on the faces of countless victims when he’d come to their rescue. He had to get her out of here. “He’s an asshole,” Dev confirmed, keeping his eyes trained on hers. “But he’s not worth the trouble.” Slowly, he moved his hand to her wrist and tugged it away from the guy’s neck. “Now let’s take a walk.”

  She didn’t fight him as he led her away, through the small crowd that had gathered, and out into the night air. Only when they’d cleared the sidewalk outside the doors did Charity wrench away from him. “What’d you do that for?” Her breath came fast and hard.

  “What’d you mean, what did I do that for?” he demanded. “You were about to lose it in there. I don’t want to have to make any arrests on my night off.” That and he couldn’t stand seeing the way that man had been staring at her with greedy eyes. Now that Dev had her outside, away from the scumbag, he’d definitely go in and give the cowboy a good scare.

  “I don’t need your help.” Defiance reinforced her glare. “I’m fine.”

  “I never said you weren’t.” But he’d seen fine and he’d seen traumatized, and he knew the difference.

  “You should be in there talking to that creep.” Charity leaned her back against the brick wall, folding her arms, curling her fingers around the exposed flesh under the sleeves of her shirt. “He’s the one who was soliciting a thirteen-year-old girl.”