A Match Made in Texas

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The Last Cowboy in Texas

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In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

To Gabby and Sienna, my most precious princesses

Acknowledgments

A special thanks goes to Randy Rogers, not only for helping me out with the law enforcement aspect of this book but also for being the kind of police officer who went above and beyond. I will miss seeing your squad car as you patrolled the neighborhood on Halloween, making sure all little ghosts and goblins were safe :o) Happy retirement, dear friend!

Chapter One

E
LVIS WAS ALIVE AND WELL.

Alive and well, and annoying the heck out of Brianne Cates.

It wasn’t his red silk scarf fluttering over the shoulder of his rhinestone western suit that annoyed her. Or the hand with its chunky gold and diamond rings draped over the side mirror. Or the sky-high black hair that defied the stiff west Texas wind. No, it was the fact that the man was going thirty miles an hour in a sixty-mile-an-hour zone, and he wasn’t willing to let Brianne pass.

Most folks who knew Bri said she had the patience of a saint, no doubt because she’d survived a childhood with four arrogant and rowdy brothers. But the truth was that Bri didn’t have patience as much as the ability to hide her impatience beneath a calm façade and innocent smile.

After spending the last thirty minutes playing a cat-and-mouse game with the big ol’ cherry red Cadillac, Bri wasn’t calm. And she sure wasn’t smiling. Gritting her teeth, she pushed down on the accelerator for what seemed like the hundredth time and eased into the other lane. But just as she caught a glimpse of one long rectangular sideburn, the Cadillac shot forward, forcing her to let up on the gas and pull back in her lane or end up wallpapered against the grille of an oncoming semi.

She wanted to blast the horn and flip the bird to the King. But if she had learned anything in the last few weeks, it was that everybody and their brother carried cell phones and one defiant act could go viral within hours.

Which explained what Bri was doing on the two-lane highway in the middle of west Texas. This was her punishment for one little act of defiance. Or maybe not a little one as much as a huge one. And while she was being honest, it hadn’t been her first act of defiance.

It was just the first act her family had found out about. They had been devastated when they’d discovered that their “sweet little Bri” wasn’t as sweet as they thought. And if there was something that Bri couldn’t endure, it was disappointing her family. Nor could she endure staying behind Elvis for one second longer. As soon as the oncoming lane was clear, she moved over and floored it.

If she had been in the massive SUV her brother Brant had insisted she drive for safety, she might’ve been able to pass the Caddie. But she wasn’t. She had borrowed her Granny Lou’s car in an attempt to ditch her ex-boyfriend, who had been stalking her for the past few months.

Both the boyfriend and the car had been bad choices.

The speedometer inched forward at a snail’s pace, giving the Caddie plenty of time to pull away. But Bri refused to give up. With pedal to the metal, she continued to accelerate down the wrong side of the highway.

It took a while for her to draw abreast of the Cadillac. And Elvis seemed as surprised as Bri that a Smart Car could hit ninety. He shot her a shocked look before his lip cocked up in a smile-sneer. He said something, but with her windows rolled up and the radio on, she couldn’t hear what it was. Probably “thank yew, thank yew very much for putting up with my crap for so long.”

She sent the man one of her most innocent smiles… while her foot remained smashed down on the accelerator. She probably would’ve continued driving next to him all the way to her turnoff if she hadn’t glanced up to see the car headed straight for her.

Bri slowed down with every intention of pulling back behind the Cadillac. Except Elvis wasn’t quite done screwing with her. He slowed down as well, blocking her from getting back into the right lane and forcing her to play chicken with the oncoming car. And not just any car, but a black-and-white with a row of flashing lights on top. Fortunately, it veered off to the shoulder of the road before they had a head-on collision. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much shoulder to the road.

In her side mirror, Bri watched in horror as the sheriff’s car sideswiped a couple of fence posts before coming to a dust-spitting stop. It didn’t stay stopped for long. In a spray of gravel and sagebrush, the patrol car whipped around and, with lights flashing and siren blaring, came hauling butt after them.

Or not them exactly.

Elvis quickly slowed and pulled over. Bri was the only one who kept going. And she wasn’t sure why. Part of it was that she wasn’t willing to cause her family any more embarrassment by getting a traffic ticket. The bigger part was the same thing that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. The screwed-up thing inside of her that seemed to feed on pure adrenaline and danger. And there was no doubt that being chased by the law was adrenaline pumping and dangerous. It didn’t help that about then a Miranda Lambert song came on the radio, and Miranda could make any good girl go bad.

Bri’s heart kicked into overdrive as the Smart Car inched back up to ninety. Of course, the roller skate–size vehicle was no match for the black-and-white cruiser—even if the cruiser had a crumpled hood and dragging front bumper. Within seconds, it pulled up behind her.

She glanced in her rearview mirror.

The man sitting behind the wheel looked like a typical Texas law officer. A tan Stetson was pulled low on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. The scowl on his face reminded Bri of her brothers’ whenever she brought home a new boyfriend. Maybe that was why she kept going. She’d had to deal with arrogant men all her life. She didn’t have to deal with this man. At least, she didn’t if she didn’t stop. She might not be able to outrun him, but at forty miles to the gallon she could outlast him.

Unfortunately, he turned out to be the type of man who didn’t care to follow. Whipping into the other lane, he pulled up next to her and motioned for her to pull over with one rather annoying jab of his finger. Most people driving a go-cart of a car that was already vibrating from the excessive speed would’ve accepted defeat and pulled over. But most people didn’t have controlling, dominating brothers like Bri’s. So instead of following his hand signal, she chose to ignore him.

Up ahead, a line of traffic had slowed for the flashing lights and siren, leaving the law officer no choice but to speed up and pull in front of her. It turned out to be a smart move. With the slow traffic on one side and a barbed wire fence on the other, he boxed Bri in, slowing down and forcing her to do the same. When they were finally stopped, he flung open the door and got out.

She expected to see a big-bellied country boy. Instead, a lean cowboy unfolded before her eyes. A lean cowboy with broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered down to a waist with not one ounce of fat on it. He wore a taupe sheriff’s shirt that desperately needed a hot iron and faded jeans that had been washed so many times they hugged his lean, muscular legs like preschoolers to their mamas. A black belt hung on slim hips. While most law enforcement officers had a wide array of gadgets attached to their belts, this man appeared to have only two: a radio and a gun.

He unhooked the safety on the holster of the gun as he strode toward her like a predator zeroing in on his kill. Some women might feel intimidated by such raw masculinity. To Bri, he was just another arrogant man she had to deal with—something she had become somewhat of an expert at. Latching on to the first idea that popped into her head, she threw open the door and jumped out.

“Oh, thank God you showed up!” She hurried toward him, prepared to do some major lying, when she tripped over a crack in the asphalt and ended up plastered against the man’s chest. She now understood how a bug felt when it hit a windshield. The man was an unmoving oak tree of hard muscles. Instead of catching her, he just stood there in the middle of the highway with his boots spread wide and his hands at his side.

Even in heels, Bri had to tip her head wa-a-a-y back to meet her reflection in the twin mirrors of his sunglasses. She didn’t exactly look like a scared woman. Her Granny Lou’s straw gardening hat, also part of Bri’s getaway disguise, sagged in loopty-loops around eyes that sparkled with excitement.

She lowered her gaze to the star on the pocket of his shirt and tried to work up a few tears. “It was the most terrifying experience of my life.” She sniffed. “One second, I was going a mere fifty-six miles an hour, and the next, I was careening out of control.” She smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt. “It was horrible, I tell you. Simply horrible.”

“It sounds like it.” His deep voice rumbled from his chest, the drawl thick enough to slice. Then, before she could do more than blink, she found herself facedown on the back of his squad car with her legs spread and her hands behind her back. “You have the right to remain silent—”

“Wait a minute!” She tried to wiggle free. “Didn’t you hear what I was trying to tell you? My car is defective. It must have the same thing wrong with it as those recalled cars had—it accelerated without warning. Which is why I was in the other lane. It was either that or crash right into the back of the car in front of me.”

He ignored her. “You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be supplied at no cost.”

With her cheek pressed against the trunk of the squad car, Bri felt cold metal slip around her wrist. Most women would be terrified. And Bri was scared. Unfortunately, fear was usually followed with a burst of adrenaline and crazy thoughts. This time was no different.

Was she actually getting arrested? Would she have to pose for a mug shot? Get fingerprinted? He stepped closer, the front of his thighs brushing the backs of hers, and another kind of excitement coursed through her veins—this one settling more in her panties than her stomach. The unexpected feeling snapped her out of the adrenaline-drugged haze.