Briar's Cowboys (2 page)

A few of the connected storefronts were empty. Still, it was obvious Daly was growing and thriving.

Soon, she left behind the town and its overwhelming nostalgia and turned down the road that led toward the Flying D and Last Chance ranches. A half hour later, anticipation sent butterflies into a flurry in her belly as she drove beneath an iron archway and onto private land. Her land. Here it was! The Last Chance. Her ranch!

Slowly, she navigated the pitted drive leading to the ranch house. Bare-branched, centuries-old trees canopied the path for a good fifteen minutes before thinning to finally reveal a sprawling spread that was one of the largest in all the region, weighing in at over fifty-thousand acres. Everything for as far as she could see in any direction was hers.

She stopped the truck and stared around her, momentarily overwhelmed by the realization that she owned all this. She’d had nothing all her life and now… She could barely comprehend it.

Her hand pressed over her mouth as she took in the gray and brown landscape, knowing that in spring it would teem with life. But this was February and steely clouds rolled in the distance. The land wouldn’t be in its full glory again for months. By then, she’d be on her way to her new life.

Unless you stay…

More than ever, she was gripped with the desire to reach out and hold this place with both hands and not let go. This was her heritage, and Daly was her home, her real home. Not Chicago. Daly.

Excitement bubbled inside her, but she reminded herself not to jump into her future without fully considering everything. She had to be careful and weigh all the pros and cons, variables and scenarios, before she decided not to sell.

As if to tempt her, late morning sunlight burst through a break in the clouds to illuminate the main house in the distance. It glinted off the shiny window panes and brightened the otherwise winter-dulled surroundings giving everything a fairytale sheen.

Still, even with the light, Briar knew much was amiss at the ranch. Once upon a time, ranch life would have been in full swing by mid-morning, with cowboys headed in various directions to complete items on never-ending lists of chores they’d begun before sunup. Horses would have been grazing in a nearby corral. Huge, round bales would have been stacked near the barn and at least a few expectant heifers would have been seen in the distance.

Not so today. The main house, surrounding buildings and land were as still as a ghost town. Briar half expected to see a tumbleweed roll past as she contemplated the sad sight. The corrals and yard were overgrown. The house, while in good repair, seemed sad and lonely, as if a gray haze lingered over it now that the sun had disappeared again.

If she stayed, she’d need to hire staff, but surely, she had livestock somewhere. As she looked around, there wasn’t a single sign of animals. No cattle, no horses, not even a barn cat.

Her father had been gone for almost a year, but Mr. Danell had said her cousin Robert, who owned the Flying D, had been taking care of her spread. Since Robert had run with her and Verity when they were younger, she knew him well—at least, as he’d been back then. Because of that, she trusted he’d seen to the best interests here.

She supposed it made sense that the ranch was deserted. The place couldn’t just go on in full-operation mode while they searched for her, and that meant, she had a huge parcel of land that needed to be revitalized. The Last Chance needed an infusion of life.

Putting the truck back in gear, she headed down the drive once more while mentally starting a list of things that would need to be done. As she pulled up to the house, she stared at the huge place. Three or four families could live here. Actually, back in her part of Chicago, eight.

She parked at the foot of the wide steps that led to an even wider wraparound porch bordered with thick, antebellum-style columns. They reached to the gabled roof above the second storey balcony that mirrored the porch. Dark, evenly spaced windows of the brick home overlooked the grounds. Peter Daly had lived a solitary existence here, the king of the Last Chance ranch. He must have been lonely in what was obviously a family home.

It was the life he’d chosen.
He knew about you
, her inner voice reasoned, but she couldn’t push aside her sympathy for the man.

Grabbing her purse, she withdrew the key to the front entrance and headed for the massive double doors. The lock turned smoothly, and in a moment, she faced an entryway larger than her apartment.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, already overwhelmed. Nerves bunched in her belly as she stepped forward, feeling very much like an intruder entering a home uninvited. Could she ever feel comfortable in this foreign space?

“My apartment will never look the same,” she murmured as she walked farther into the entry. The gallery ran the length of the house with a wide, gently curving staircase in the center. A cozy sitting area had been placed near the steps, and as she walked toward it and stopped nearby, she saw why. The center of the house was open all the way to the roof where a stained glass dome caught light and cast a rainbow to the floors below.

“Quite a view, huh? A low-power current runs through the lead to keep snow from accumulating on the dome—or so I’m told.”

Briar jumped and spun toward the voice. Her brows drew together at the lawyer standing there, dressed in jeans, a zipped Carhartt jacket and boots. He looked like…a cowboy…not the starched attorney she’d met.

“Mr. Danell? What…?”

“I was riding past, and I saw your truck here. The place is something, isn’t it? Not what you’d expect out here in cow-country.”

“No,” she answered, glancing upward once more. It definitely wasn’t what she’d expected, nor was the mouth-watering man standing in the doorway. He’d looked good in a suit, but in jeans that molded lovingly to his frame, he was gorgeous. “What do you mean, you were just riding past? You can’t see the house from the road.”

He tipped his head toward the north. “I work at your cousin’s place, the Flying D. My team and I keep an eye on things over here. The other three rode out to see to your herd, what there is of it, while I came to see to you. It needs to be moved closer to the house, what with the weather on its way.”

“I have cows?”

He nodded. “Three hundred head. Pretty slim for a place this size, but your father sold off a great deal of the stock the past few years.”

“Because he was sick?”

He shook his head. “Gambling debts,” he clarified. “Don’t worry, the estate paid off any outstanding debts and taxes while I was looking for you, but it’s gonna take some doing to get you up on your feet before the next tax bill’s due. It’s winter, and calving season is coming so you’ll need to put in for feed and medical supplies.”

Briar stared at him blankly. Though she’d grown up in Daly—on the Flying D ranch for that matter—she barely comprehended what he was saying. She’d done her share of chores at the ranch, but the administrative end had been out of her realm. This man however seemed to know all about it.

“I thought you were a lawyer, Mr. Danell.”

He smiled, displaying two mostly even rows on white teeth. One incisor was slightly turned. Her fingers curled as she had the out-of-line urge to touch it. With her finger, with her tongue… She shivered as arousal curled down her spine to gather in her womb.

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he regarded her in amusement. “I am a lawyer, but around here there’s not enough work to support me. First and foremost, I’m a cowboy, which is why I don’t migrate into Gillette for work.” He winked. “You can call me Jax. Only my grandma and telemarketers call me Jaxon. And my daddy is Mr. Danell.”

“Okay…Jax,” she replied, trying out his name for size and liking it. “I have to admit, I’m a…little bit out of my element here.”

“The place is ostentatious, isn’t it? This was the original Daly family home. Your daddy got the house. Your uncle—and now, your cousin Robert—got most of the land.”

“It’s hard to believe fifty-thousand acres isn’t most of the land,” she commented dryly.

“Isn’t it? I guess you don’t get a town named after you by being poor. The original Daly family owned everything. Speaking of the Daly name… Do you want to change your last name to your father’s? I can help you with the paperwork.”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well, if you decide to, let me know.” He blew out a breath. “I’d best be on my way or my team will be back here, thinking I’m being ungentlemanly. Too soon for that.” He tipped his hat and stepped onto the porch before she could react. He trotted down the steps then climbed onto the four-by-four recreational vehicle he’d left in the drive.

Briar crossed her arms over her middle as she watched him, a little shocked by his implication. Did he intend to be “ungentlemanly” at some future date? And did that mean he was interested in her? Maybe things hadn’t changed much in Daly after all.

Jax gave her a wicked grin as he revved the machine. He saluted her jauntily then gunned the four-by-four and headed west. She leaned against the doorframe and watched until he disappeared from sight.

Ungentlemanly
repeated in her thoughts. She wished he would be. A tryst with a smoking-hot cowboy would definitely be worth her while. Smiling at the thought of getting him naked, she shut the door and returned her attention to the house.

Six bedrooms, a library, family room, living room, kitchen, dining room, breakfast nook, gym, usable unfinished attic, and a five-stall garage later, her head was spinning. There was even a small apartment over the garage which she assumed was for a live-in servant or maybe the ranch’s foreman. That reminded her she hadn’t asked Jax if the ranch had any staff. She guessed not, though she’d spied outbuildings for crew housing from the second storey windows.

Briar sank to the edge of the couch in the entryway where she’d both started and ended her tour of the monstrosity she’d inherited. Visions of making this into a home monopolized her thoughts. She had a crappy life back in Chicago, her time spent working in a dive bar and living in a shabby one-room apartment. The Last Chance could be her new reality. Maybe it was
her
last chance.

Still, what did she know about ranching? Not a lot, but she could learn. There were plenty of cowboys in Daly who could teach her, and maybe a few who would want to hire on.

Shaking her head at the monumental task ahead of her, yet anxious to get to it, Briar headed for her truck and the things she’d brought with her. Unsure how long this would take, she’d packed all her meager belongings and brought them with her from Chicago. Why pay over-priced rent if she didn’t need to? Figuring bar jobs were a dime a dozen, she’d quit that too rather than limit her time away to a week.

Maybe she’d known all along that she’d stay here. Whether here or somewhere else in Daly, she’d known she was coming home.

Grabbing one of the bags of groceries she’d picked up in Gillette, she looked around and belonging settled on her shoulders. This was where she was supposed to be.

* * * *

Jax kept a sharp eye out for his crew and any stray cattle as he sped out to the pasture where most of the stock had been grazing. He and the guys had been methodically driving the herd closer to the house all week, and today, they’d finally make it to the closest pasture. If the storm expected this afternoon was anything like anticipated, it would be a good thing. He and the guys wouldn’t need to go as far to feed and care for the stock, several of which were heifers pregnant with their first calves. Though they weren’t yet due, storms tended to bring on births, and he didn’t want any problems.

It was bad enough his crew was living in one of the cabins on the outer edge of his boss’ land. Robert had stationed them there for the duration of the time they’d be taking care of the Last Chance. It was a wonderful opportunity for Jax who was looking to become a foreman. He hoped whoever bought the Last Chance would recognize the work he’d done and hire him. The Flying D, where he was currently employed, had a much-loved foreman who was still going strong.

But as to the housing situation, it was a half hour ride to get to the Last Chance’s main house and barns. In a storm, the crew would need to leave extra early and take a hell of a lot longer to get back to the cabin. Nice as the place was for a crew shack, it just wasn’t conveniently located. As a cowboy, he’d learned long ago that inconveniences and being uncomfortable just
were
. It was a fact of the ranching life. You got cold. You sweltered. You got wet and dirty. And this week, he’d get less sleep, too.

In part, little sleep would be due to the extra travel time, but mostly, it would be because of the woman taking up residence in the main house. Since the day Jax had met Briar, he’d ached to have her. As far as she remembered, they’d just met when he’d tracked her down to tell her about her inheritance, but in truth, he’d met her long ago. She’d been dating his friend, Adam, back then—a friend who hadn’t been interested in embarking on a ménage relationship.

Then Jax had tracked her down in Chicago. One look at her lush body in ripped jeans that had hugged her figure to perfection, a close-fitting turtleneck that had ended just above her waistband and showed glimpses of skin, and bared feet with red-painted toenails, and he’d been lost. He’d had a hell of a time keeping his cock from tenting his pants that day. He’d been hard for her more often than not since then—including this morning when he’d come upon her at the house. Thank goodness for the Carhartt jacket that came to the top of his thighs or the gig would have been up, along with his chances of getting the job he wanted.

“Your girl here?” Ram asked as Jax rode up to his three crewmembers and the two dogs that traveled with them. Ram Gibbs, a former rodeo bronc rider, was his second in command and his closest friend here on the range.

“Is she as hot as you remembered?” Cannon asked when Jax nodded. Cannon Moffett and his partner Hawk Quidell were finishing out a year working for the Flying D. They’d taken time off from their master degree programs at a university in the east to come out and experience ranch life. Come next month though, they’d head back home to resume their studies—something about tourism and hospitality or something. Jax hadn’t even known such courses were taught as master’s degrees.