Page 1 of Love Me, Cowboy

Chapter One

The day would come when Claire Campbell stopped being guilted into performing insane tasks by her mother, but that day would not be today. As the first ribbons of gold pierced the eastern Texas skyline, Claire stared at the various desserts stacked in the back seat of her Chevy Malibu, debating how to get them across the sprawling lawn of the Double H Ranch without making a mess.

The need to be in her classroom in just over thirty minutes paired with the fact that she was nearly twenty-five minutes from town left no option for multiple trips. A room full of nine-year-olds with no teacher would not be pretty. One trip it had to be.

The lack of light on the horizon added transporting her delicate cargo across damp grass in the dark to the list of tricks Claire would need to perform. This is what she got for never having grown a backbone. She’d only had twenty-eight years to do so. Maybe she could get a shot of moxie just from standing next to George.

Georgia Hightower, Claire’s six-foot-tall best friend, the third in the Camp Winnekoba trio, which also included Mary Catherine Holly, had more backbone than any woman Claire had ever met. And a few men of her acquaintance as well. Claire couldn’t wait to see both women that afternoon at the bridal shower. Too much time had passed since they’d been in the same room together.

Loading the two trays into her arms, Claire balanced them against her stomach and crept toward the screened-in porch along the left side of the house, where she’d been ordered to leave the delicacies for the party later in the day.

She’d never heard of a lingerie party as a bridal shower, but as the brouhaha was in honor of her best friend Mary Catherine’s wedding coming up in two weeks, she went along. Though who was Claire kidding? She always went along. It was her modus operandi.

Shuffling as fast as possible while watching her step and balancing the heavy trays, Claire reached a dark-colored pickup truck parked not far from the porch and hung a right to swing around the vehicle’s back end.

That’s when the first catastrophe hit.

Claire smacked hip-first into the dropped tailgate of the pickup truck, knocking the wind out of her and sending the top tray of cupcakes soaring into the air. Purple frosting passed before her eyes as she fought not to lose the bottom tray as well.

“Holy moly,” she said, though the words came out as more of a breathy whisper due to lack of oxygen. Claire closed her eyes and wheezed, hoping when she opened to the light of day again, the cupcakes would have landed upright with all desserts perfectly intact.

Opening one eye at a time, Claire assessed the situation. Not what she wanted to see. The cupcakes were scattered about, several frosted side down on the tailgate. There was no salvaging them now. The only thing she could do was carry the intact desserts to the porch, then return to clean up the mess as quickly as possible.

Though whoever had left the truck sitting in the yard like this deserved to find dried purple frosting covering his tailgate. The jerk.

Taking a deep breath to calm the rising panic, Claire took one step to the right, then moved forward only to step on the cover from the dropped cupcakes. The heavy clear plastic creaked in protest, the high-pitched sound piercing the silent dawn like a trapped coyote.

That’s when the next catastrophe hit.

As the plastic snapped beneath Claire’s boot, a man jerked upright in the bed of the truck saying, “What the...”

Claire screamed and flung her arms into the air. Strawberry pastries hit her full in the chest, then dropped into the dirt at her feet. Half a second later, a wayward tart landed on her left shoulder, filling side down. Of course.

Adrenaline and fear sent Claire’s heart racing out of her chest, while a slew of expletives danced on the tip of her tongue. Habit made her keep them there, though if she were about to die, be it by a stranger’s hand or utter humiliation, spewing a profanity or two was the least of her worries.

The man in the truck folded into a sitting position, moving slowly, as if a woman hadn’t screamed her fool head off at his sudden appearance. A black cowboy hat covered most of his face, while dark denim clung to his long legs, and his boots were caked in dirt. By the smell of them, the dark matter contained more than the Texas turf.

How had she missed that smell before now?

Broad shoulders rolled, but before the joints could make a full turn, the stranger halted the movement, jerking both shoulders forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

And then, as he pushed the hat back off his forehead, a beam of sun like a perfectly timed spotlight streaked out of the east, blanketing the cowboy in golden light. Claire’s galloping heart came to a full stop as Tyler Holly’s green eyes met her own.

Her best friend’s younger brother, Tyler was also the man who’d stolen Claire’s heart many years before. Not that he was aware of doing so. Nor would Claire ever sink to admitting the fact. She’d humiliated herself enough where this cowboy was concerned.

“I...” she stammered. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

A strong hand rubbed the reddish-brown stubble covering Tyler’s chin. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here either,” he said, pushing his way down to the tailgate.

Claire thanked her lucky stars there wasn’t a woman sharing the truck bed with him. Playing witness to the last chapter of a Tyler-slash-buckle-bunny sexcapade would be more than she could handle this morning.

Or any morning for that matter.

Hovering in a state of shock at stumbling across the lanky cowboy, Claire forgot all about the cupcake mess covering the tailgate. “Wait,” she said, holding her hands out to stop his progress. But it was too late. He looked at her expectantly, and she said, “You just sat in purple frosting.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve sat in worse.” Tyler reached out a hand in her direction, freezing Claire to the spot. One finger slicked across her shoulder, then carried cherry filling back to his mouth, where he licked it clean. “Odd way to bring a man breakfast.” One eyebrow shot up as the dawning sun hit his features, revealing the scar Claire had heard about but never seen.

Tyler had chosen bull riding as his profession. Something that served as a constant worry for his sister due to the fact their mother had died in a rodeo accident. Shortly before Claire returned to town, Tyler had taken a bad hit. His face had connected with the back of a bull’s head, splitting open his left cheek. It was a wonder his entire face hadn’t shattered.

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