Rough Cowboy
Rough Cowboy
By
Maggie Carpenter
Copyright © 2019 by Stormy Night Publications and Maggie Carpenter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Carpenter, Maggie
Rough Cowboy
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Shutterstock/Oleksandr Zamuruiev, Shutterstock/Creaturart Images, Shutterstock/Eduard Muzhevskyi, and Shutterstock/GUSAK OLENA
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
More Stormy Night Books by Maggie Carpenter
Maggie Carpenter Links
Dedication
This book is dedicated to those who make the effort and take the time to understand our noble equine friends, one very special cowboy who taught me how to speak horse, and Megan Newman, a gifted barefoot trimmer.
Prologue
Angrily kicking the dirt under his feet, Brad Hillman watched the pickup truck roll down his gravel driveway, stop, then turn onto the road and disappear. Andy Gilbert had been his assistant and barefoot trimmer until he’d met Betsy, a quintessential blonde, blue-eyed, busty beauty. Three quick months later he’d announced he’d be leaving. Betsy’s father had offered him a job working on his ranch in Montana.
“Dang fool,” Brad muttered, his eyes still on the cloud of dust Andy’s truck had left in its wake. “Givin’ up your life here, sayin’ goodbye to all your friends, leavin’ the business, a business you were gonna be takin’ over one day! And you’ve never met her dad. What the hell are you thinkin’?” he grunted, then shaking his head, he muttered, “I may be mad as hell, but I still wish you luck, buddy. You’re sure gonna need it.”
Turning on his heel, he marched toward his rambling ranch house. Catch, his blue heeler cattle dog, ran ahead of him, then sat waiting impatiently at the door.
“Every time! Why? You know you’ll just have to wait!”
The dog barked, then spun in excited circles.
“Seven years! How the hell do I replace a guy who’s been with me for seven years?” Brad declared as they walked inside. “I wish I could teach you how to trim a horse’s foot. You’re smart enough not to fall for some dang female battin’ her eyes at you. Speakin’ of females...” he mumbled, glancing at his watch as he walked through to the kitchen. “Typical. Already five minutes late. This is gonna be a complete waste of my time!”
He’d already interviewed several applicants hoping to replace Andy, but none had been up to scratch, then out of the blue he’d received a call from an important client who also happened to be a dear friend. Doug Haskell. Doug owned a high-profile racing stable, and he’d asked Brad to consider a young woman who specialized in barefoot trimming.
“I can’t speak for her work, but I’ve known her since she was a young girl. She’s always had a way with the horses, and she’s been working for a big-time farrier in Southern California,” Doug had said enthusiastically. “I think she’d be a real asset.”
A girl! Brad had rolled his eyes. “Who’s she workin’ for now?”
“No one. She got tired of the crazy traffic and smog, so she packed up and moved out here. She arrived a couple of weeks ago. I know you’ve been having trouble finding Andy’s replacement, and I really think she’s worth five minutes of your time. I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d at least meet her.”
Though he’d wanted to say no, Brad couldn’t, not to Doug.
Picking up the coffeepot, he poured himself a mug, splashed in some cream, then put it in the microwave. He hated warm coffee. It had to be steaming hot.
Catch barked.
“What?”
Barking again, the dog raced from the kitchen.
“I guess she’s here,” Brad mumbled as the microwave dinged.
Retrieving the mug and placing it on the kitchen island, he followed his dog through the living room and into the foyer. Catch was whining and staring at the door.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let some annoyin’ female invade this place. She’ll be in and outta here before she’s had time to shake your paw.”
* * *
Gruff, rough, and tough, but in my thirty years of breeding, training, and racing horses, Brad Hillman is the best damn shoer I’ve ever met.
Doug’s words rang through Megan’s head as she pulled to a sharp stop outside Brad’s front porch. Late was her middle name, and she’d promised herself she’d be on time. She’d even left fifteen minutes early, but she’d forgotten her gas tank was almost empty, and being stranded on the side of the road was not an option. She’d stopped and pumped just enough to make sure she’d be safe, but then she’d missed the turnoff to Brad Hillman’s street. With trees and brush on either side of the narrow country road, it was hard to spot, and she’d been speeding.
Jumping from her Jeep, she was hurrying up the porch steps when the door opened. A dog trotted forward to meet her. Normally she would have crouched down to pet him, but standing in front of her was the quintessential hunky cowboy.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Darkened by the shadow of his hat low on his forehead, disapproving eyes gazed down at her. He was square-jawed, full-lipped, looking like he should grace the banner of a Hot Cowboys page on Facebook, and she found herself completely tongue-tied.
“Uh... I’m really sorry,” she finally managed, trying not to stare at the muscles trying to burst through his plaid shirt. “I missed the turnoff. Hi, I’m Megan Newman, but of course you know that. Sorry,” she added hastily. “I’m really nervous.”
Her father had always told her if she ever was feeling awkward or anxious, it was better to say so than try to fake your way through it. “People can see through insincerity,” he’d said solemnly, “and that’s never attractive.”
But the sexy shoer didn’t seem impressed. His frown deepened. “Uh-huh. Follow me,” he said briskly, striding off the porch. “Ever worked with young horses? Colts? Stallions? Ornery mares?”
“The farrier I was with—oh—I forgot. I have a reference if you want to see it,
but it’s in my car.”
“Don’t need to. I’ll know soon enough if you’re up to the task. You were sayin’?”
“Dean, the farrier I was with, he works for many of the big jumper barns in Los Angeles. Not all of them of course, but a lot, and not just L.A., all over Southern California,” she panted, his long strides causing her to half-run, half-walk to keep up. “I’d get their feet ready and he’d make the shoe and do the nailing, but some of the barns had boarders who liked their horses barefoot, and I’d take care of them.”
“I’m gonna ask again. Have you ever worked with colts and studs, mares that are crazy when they’re in season? Difficult horses in general?”
“Not colts. There were a couple of stallions around, but difficult? Sure. Heaps. Misunderstood horses are everywhere.”
They’d reached an expansive round pen, and as they stopped at the gate, a dark bay mare with a splash of white on her forehead turned her head, pricked her ears, and studied them.
“Misunderstood?” he repeated, leaning against the fence and crossing his arms. “Whatta ya mean, misunderstood?”
For the first time she could see his eyes. Caramel, and warmer than she thought they’d be.
“Difficult horses are usually difficult because they haven’t been handled properly, and they’re not being difficult. They’re scared or defensive. My dad always said, a horse is only thorny until it meets someone it can trust.”
“Thorny? Interesting expression.”
“He has a lot of those. I guess the answer to your question is, yes, I’ve worked with difficult horses. I just don’t see them that way.”
“That mare,” he declared, shifting his gaze and pointing to the dark bay. “That’s Gypsy. I’m gonna leave you two alone and come back in five minutes. If she’s wearin’ that halter and she’s walkin’ next to you nice and quiet, we’ll take it from there.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Megan replied, unbuckling the halter and lead rope from the fence. “I guess I’ll—”
But he’d already turned and was striding back to the house, his dog trotting along beside him.
* * *
The dark-haired girl with the sparkling green eyes had taken him by surprise. Not only did her aqua shirt tied in a knot highlight her ample breasts and narrow waist, her pale blue jeans disappearing into cowboy boots had been applied with spray paint. Her voluptuous backside was delectably evident.
“You’ve got some ass on you, girl,” he grunted as he marched back to his house.
He found his attraction to her unnerving. Pretty horse owners in the area were plentiful, and though many made their interest known, he barely gave them a second look. He couldn’t. If his dark soul became known in the small community, the gossip would make life extremely unpleasant, but Megan’s comments had thrown him almost as much as her sexy appearance. It was rare to meet anyone who shared his views about horses, let alone a female.
Taking the porch steps two at a time, he moved swiftly to his office. Four tiny cameras covered every inch of the round pen. Brad was more than a sought-after shoer. He ran a sideline business rehabilitating troubled horses. Watching the owners interact with their animals believing they were unobserved offered a wealth of information.
Sitting behind his desk and turning on the monitors, he expected to see Megan walk slowly up to the mare with the halter in her hand, but she was standing in the center of the pen twirling the lead rope and coaxing Gypsy to move. Brad ran his hand across his face.
“I can’t believe what I’m seein’,” he muttered, watching the mare suddenly break into a perfectly calm canter.
As Megan abruptly stepped in Gypsy’s path, Brad held his breath, but the young woman confidently stood her ground and sent the mare in the opposite direction. After the mare had circled the pen, Megan dropped her arms, stood quietly and waited.
Gypsy slowed to a stop and stared at her.
Walking slowly forward, Megan ran her hand down the mare’s neck.
Brad watched, captivated.
It was the next move that mattered.
“Come on, Megan. Walk away. Walk away now!”
As if hearing him, she strode purposefully across the round pen toward the gate. Like a happy puppy, Gypsy followed.
Brad leaned back in his chair and looked over at his dog.
“Catch, if she can trim as good as she speaks horse, we’ve gotta problem.”
* * *
As Megan had approached the mare, she’d come to a sudden stop and let out a squeal of happiness. Gypsy was a mare she’d known in Southern California, but her name had been Bonny, and Megan absolutely adored her.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured, moving slowly forward and running her hand down the mare’s neck. “I’m so happy to see you. I’ve thought about you so much.”
Bonny licked her lips, then dropped her head against Megan’s chest.
“You remember me!” Megan exclaimed, a hot lump burning the back of her throat. “I tried so hard to find you, but no one knew where you’d gone.”
Softly wrapping her arms around the horse’s neck, she hugged her tightly. “I’m so relieved you’re okay, but how did you end up here? I hope someone’s been taking care of you. How are your feet? I’m going to check.”
Running her hand across the horse’s shoulder, she continued down her leg, but before she’d even reached the hoof, Bonny lifted it for her.
“Still the same lovely mare. Looks like you could use a trim. Not much though. Thank goodness no one put shoes on you.”
Dropping it back down, she was about to check Bonny’s teeth when she heard a bark. Turning around, she saw Brad’s dog running toward the pen.
“Shoot. Looks like my five minutes are up.”
The dark bay mare stayed at Megan’s side as she walked across to the gate, but Megan’s eyes were on Brad. Walking toward them, his arms swung from ridiculously wide shoulders.
“No luck?” he asked as he approached.
“You mean the halter? I don’t need it,” she said with a happy smile. “Watch.”
Bonny had remained at her side, and when Megan turned, Bonny turned with her, but Megan felt a growing unease. Looking back at him, Brad didn’t seem pleased or impressed. If anything, he appeared to be annoyed.
“What did I tell you to do?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.
“Put the halter on and walk her, but I didn’t need it, and there’s something you should—”
“I said I’d give you five minutes, and when I came back, if the halter was on her and you were walking calmly around the ring, we’d take it from there.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you upset? She is calm, but she doesn’t need a halter. If you’d let me explain—”
“Whether she does or she doesn’t isn’t the point,” he said, cutting her off. “I told you what I wanted to see.”
Megan’s pulse ticked up, but she knew her anxiety would transfer to Bonny. Moving her eyes away from the gorgeous, glowering cowboy to the sweet mare at her side, she took a deep breath and gazed into Bonny’s soft eyes.
“You’re such a beauty,” she murmured, then gently slipped the halter in place. “Do you want me to walk with her,” she asked, turning back to Brad, “or are we good?”
“We’re good. Take it off and come with me.”
“Brad?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d really like to work for you, but, uh—”
“What?”
“I don’t know if I just caught you on a bad day, or I’ve done something to offend you, but if you’re always this tense I don’t think we’d be a match,” then taking a breath, she added, “I do need to talk to you about this horse though.”
“What makes you think I’m tense?”
“You’re not exactly cracking jokes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be sarcastic, but I’m getting the impression you’re not really interested in me, and I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Megan,” he said, softening his v
oice. “I’m not tense, but I’m serious about what I do. First, you rolled up late. That doesn’t work for me, my schedule’s tight. Second, I thought you’d decided you’d done enough with Gypsy to impress me and you didn’t need to put the halter on. I guess I was wrong about that.”
“Oh, no problem,” she said, not sure if he was apologizing.
“Like I said, take that halter off and come with me to the barn.”
“It was lovely to see you, sweet girl,” she murmured, removing the halter, “and don’t worry, I’ll see you again soon, I promise.”
But as she opened the gate and buckled the leather strap around the fence, she watched Brad walking toward the barn. He looked like the stuff of a girl’s cowboy dreams, but gruff, rough, and tough was an understatement. He was more like a cowboy nightmare.
“He didn’t even say hello,” she mumbled under her breath. “Life’s too short. I can’t spend every day with a guy like that, I don’t care how good he is, but I have to find out if Bonny’s for sale. One thing’s for sure, I’m not going to lose track of her again.”
He’d almost reached the barn, and just as she was about to jog up to talk to him, he abruptly turned around and strode back to her.
“You’re hired!”
“Excuse me?” she muttered, not sure if she’d heard him correctly. “Did you say I’m hired?”
“That’s right.”
She paused, her mind racing. She didn’t want to work for such a gruff man, but she needed to learn who now owned Bonny, and find a way to buy her.
“Megan, did you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, I heard you,” she said hastily. “Thank you. I do have one question though. Don’t you want to see me work?”
“If you can trim, great, but I need help with my other business. You’re just what I’ve been lookin’ for. When can you start?”
“What other business?”
“Fixin’ troubled horses.”
“Uh—I’m not a trainer.”
“You are now!”
Chapter One
Three days later
Nervously driving her Jeep through the gates of Brad’s ranch and down the gravel driveway, Megan spotted him hosing his rig near the barn. When he’d made the offer to hire her, she’d been almost too stunned to speak. After she’d managed to mumble her acceptance, he’d abruptly told her he had to get back to work and she should return on Sunday morning.