One Hot Cowboy

One Hot COWBOY

ANNE MARSH

eKENSINGTON

Kensington Publishing Corp.

www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is

Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Copyright Page

Chapter One

B
lackhawk Ranch was running dry. Cabe

Dawson had lost one well already, and

now a second had slowed to a trickle.

There hadn’t been enough rain this winter

to fill the creek the ranch got its surface

water from, and the surviving wells fought

to bring the water up nine hundred feet and

into the baking, skin-drying heat of

California summer. Now, as he steered his

battered pickup over the dark dirt road,

time seemed to slow to a heated, sensual

shimmer with one driving urge pounding

through everyone and everything: find

water. Cattle needed it. Men wanted it.

Cabe Dawson would be damned if he

allowed a dry well to take what he’d built

here.

Making a living from the land meant

fighting every step of the way. Fortunately,

Cabe had never minded a good fight.

He’d planned for this day—already had

the solution. There was water underneath

the Jordan place, and he held the mortgage

on the neighboring ranch. All he had to do

was foreclose, and the land was his. He’d

drill. The cattle would drink. They could

all live happily fucking after.

Instead, he was waiting for Rose Jordan

to bring her sweet little ass home to

Lonesome so he could set things right. For

“Auntie” Dee Jordan’s sake—everyone in

Lonesome had always called her Auntie—

he wanted to hand her adopted daughter,

Rose, a check and preserve the fiction that

he was buying her out, not spring the news

about a reverse mortgage he was calling

due after the older woman’s death. He sure

as hell didn’t want to drag this through the

courts. He didn’t have six months or longer

to wait. He needed that water now, and

he’d get it, but he didn’t have to be a bully

about it.

Unless Rose left him with no other

option. Truth was, with her blend of

mischief and youthful rebellion, his fiery

young neighbor had always been good at

leading him on a merry chase.

His family owned this particular part of

California, and the ranch was feudal at

heart. As the head of the family, his word

was law. He had the money—and the land

—to back it up. Rose had time to dally

only because he’d decided to give it to her.

Soon,

however,

he’d

cut

off

her

shenanigans.

His cell buzzed, and he flipped on the

hands-free. “You track her down yet?” As

always, Seth cut right to the chase. His

youngest brother had never been patient.

Hell, he was more of a heat-guided

missile, constantly seeking out his next

adrenaline rush. That made him a star on

the rodeo circuit but piss-poor at waiting

for his childhood friend to make up her

mind to come back home.

The turnoff for the swimming hole

appeared out of the nighttime shadows.

Cabe guided the pickup carefully, the

crunch of gravel beneath his tires

threatening to drown out his brother’s

voice and his own response.

“You know Rose. She’s not picking up.”

Or answering her e-mail or the three

registered letters Cabe had had the lawyer

send her way. Cabe didn’t know why

Auntie Dee hadn’t told Rose about the

reverse mortgage. Maybe they didn’t talk

much. Maybe Auntie Dee was too proud to

admit she’d needed the money, or maybe

she hadn’t wanted to worry Rose.

Whatever the reason had been, the damage

was done. It was clear Rose didn’t know.

The way he saw it, he’d had a hand in the

whole mess, even if he’d had the best of

intentions originally, and so now he had an

obligation. He needed to fix this.

There was laughter in Seth’s voice now,

his earlier impatience forgotten. “Yeah.

She’ll get here when she gets here, Cabe.

Our Rose never was an early bird. Plus, if

she knows how badly you want her to

come, she’ll just take twice as long.”

That was certainly true. Rose had spent

most of her high school years tormenting

him. Teasing him. Worst part was, she’d

had no clue what she did to him. What he’d

wanted to do to
her
.

She’d seen him as an older brother.

A bossy, boring, play-by-the-rules, too-

strict older brother.

“This can’t wait any longer,” he

growled. The pickup emerged from a

tunnel of trees, and he killed the headlights,

just soaking up the peace of the night. The

pure quiet and the heat escaping slowly

from the ground. “We can’t wait anymore.

The ranch needs that well, Seth.”

“We’ve still got a couple left,” Seth

pointed out, laughter gone.

“We had four.” The prospect of even

one inch of the ranch becoming a dust bowl

had Cabe gritting his teeth. This place, this

land, was
his
family legacy. He’d damn

well hold on to it, keep it together. His

cowboys and their families depended on

him for a living, and he’d poured himself

into building the ranch one acre at a time.

His father had taken and taken, sucking

the cash from the ranch and giving nothing

back. After his wife had died in a car

accident, leaving Cabe and his two

brothers and their father to try and make

sense of it all, Dawson Senior had thrown

in the towel. He’d knocked back beers

with his cowboys, pointed his horse

around the ranch, and hadn’t given a fuck

what happened next. Maybe the heart

attack was one of those blessings in

disguise. Afterwards, Cabe had been in

charge.

He’d been the one to hold things

together.

He’d also been the one who stayed, the

one with the vision for the ranch. Seth and

Rory played backup when he asked, but his

brothers had their own lives off the ranch.

That was okay. He understood that not

everyone could find everything he needed

on fifty thousand acres and horseback. He

did. That was enough.

Rose Jordan was not undoing all that

work now.

Rose procrastinated, Cabe knew. She

left the important things undone, rushing in

at the last minute when someone rode her

ass. She was pure trouble. Growing up

next door to Blackhawk Ranch, she and his

brothers had raised hell from one end of

Lonesome to the other.

“She’ll turn up, Cabe,” Seth said again.

“She always did. Eventually.”

“She’d better.” He was bone tired from

a day that had begun before sunrise and

had only just ended. He was hot, and he

smelled like sweat and horse and probably

a dozen other things as well. Right now, a

swim sounded perfect, exactly what he

needed to cool down and think things

through.

“I’m going for a swim.” Signing off, he

tossed the cell onto the seat beside him.

The quiet surrounded him the second he got

out of the truck. After a long day wrangling

the ranch, he needed that. He needed to be

alone.

Except . . . he wasn’t alone. Tucked into

the edge of the road was a beat-up Honda

he couldn’t believe had made it down the

dirt track.

Christ, he was sick and tired of the

trespassers who thought ignoring the

Blackhawk’s signs and fences was a game.

High school kids had always enjoyed

sneaking onto the ranch for a swim. Never

mind that all they had to do was ask and

follow a few basic rules to keep

themselves safe. He’d have said yes.

Scrubbing a hand over his head, he

grabbed the Stetson from the passenger

seat and jammed it on. Somehow, maybe

dating back to Rose Jordan’s days here,

he’d gotten himself a reputation for being a

mean-ass, coldhearted bastard. Of course,

he also didn’t give a damn about what

folks said, which probably meant his fan

club wasn’t all that wrong.

Getting out of the truck, he carefully

closed the door behind him. No point in

advertising his presence until he had to.

Tonight’s trespassers were probably just

kids, but, damn it, it wasn’t safe to swim

out here unsupervised. He’d warned them

not to come at night and never to come

alone. He needed to know when there was

someone on his land. Too many things