Taboo Cowboy: A Secret Baby Ranch Western Romance Read online

  Taboo Cowboy

  A Secret Baby Ranch Western Romance

  Kc Crowne

  Copyright © 2020 by K.C. Crowne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

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  Also by K.C. Crowne

  Description

  1. Molly

  2. Silas

  3. Molly

  4. Silas

  5. Molly

  6. Silas

  7. Molly

  8. Silas

  9. Molly

  10. Silas

  11. Molly

  12. Silas

  13. Molly

  14. Silas

  15. Molly

  16. Silas

  17. Molly

  18. Silas

  19. Molly

  20. Silas

  21. Molly

  22. Silas

  Epilogue

  Cowboy’s Baby (Preview of Wyatt’s story)

  About the Author

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  Also by K.C. Crowne

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  Description

  Molly is too young. Too innocent.

  And she's pretending to be my son's girlfriend.

  It's a real shame how her sweet curves challenge this cowboy's code.

  When my son comes to visit the family ranch, he brings Molly along. A pretty little temptation my son tries to pass off as his girlfriend.

  But I know one thing's for certain: My son doesn't chase women.

  Molly's a tiny little thing... especially next to me.

  She's adorable. Big blue eyes. A sassy mouth.

  And blonde hair I want to wrap around my fist.

  I try to keep a tight rein on my untamed need.

  But I want to have her. Taste her. Mark her as mine.

  I have to be Molly's first. And her last.

  But can a gruff cowboy like me tame the queen of manicures and designer bags?

  One things for certain...

  When danger threatens Molly and our unborn baby...

  I vow to prove the love in my rugged heart.

  Molly

  “We haven’t passed a Starbucks in half an hour. Where is this place?” I teased, punching Christopher in the arm playfully.

  He chuckled, but it was half-hearted.

  Christopher was normally the most talkative and dramatic man I’d ever met and he could make any boring topic fascinating. It was truly an art and one of the reasons we’d bonded so well.

  Of course, his dark eyes and chiselled features had nothing to do with it, at least not after I picked up on his attraction to the same sex. Having a hot gay friend made life that much more fun, especially because I got to live through him vicariously. The man was a party animal with a strong appetite for living life on the edge.

  Christopher ran a hand through his thick, impeccably styled hair as he stared straight ahead, paying more attention to the lonely road than was necessary.

  College orientation marked the first day we’d met and it was a drag, until he came out of the blue and commented on my sweater, then proceeded to tell me all about the wool and how it was sheared and the ethical implications of it. Christopher filled it with snarky commentary that had me laughing coffee out of my nostrils. From then on, we’d been practically inseparable.

  “What you thinking hot stuff? You’re questionable quiet.”

  His pursed lips drooped into a frown. I knew it wasn’t directed at me, rather the thoughts in his head.

  “I don’t think you realize how big of a deal this is, Molly,” Christopher commented. “It’s been years since I’ve seen my father and bringing you home…well…”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. All the parents love me.”

  He side-eyed me. “You don’t know my dad. He’s worked on the ranch all his life, save for the years he was in the military, and he’s got a certain way of doing things.”

  “Let me guess – the John Wayne strong silent type.”

  “Oh, he’s strong alright. And silent, yeah, most definitely that. The kind of guy who when you come in bleeding tells you that if you ain’t got bone sticking out then to walk it off.”

  “So he wants you to be self-sufficient?”

  “Something like that. My father is a rancher, solider, cowboy – it’s like he got a ‘how to be a manly man’ checklist as a kid and ticked off all the boxes.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Well, sure. But it means he wasn’t exactly on board when I snuck into my aunt’s bathroom when I was a teenager and gave myself a makeover that made me look like I’d escaped from the circus.”

  “Wait, does that mean he knows about…you know? And isn’t cool with it?”

  He shook his head. “Not sure if he knows. But as tough as the old man is, he’s always been supportive. Still, not exactly something I’m looking forward to dropping on his lap.”

  Christopher’s frown seemed to drag down even further.

  “You’re going to give yourself premature wrinkles if you keep making that face,” I teased. I reached out for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. I know you and your dad have had differences, but you’re not alone this time. Like it or not, you’ve got me. I’m stuck on you like a horrible rash.”

  “Well thank you for that,” he replied, looking only somewhat relieved. “I don’t know what I’d do on this visit without you.”

  “I don’t either,” I continued teasing. “Probably frowning all the time, and getting your mean mug stuck on permanently.”

  That finally brought out a small chuckle from him. I let go of his hand and glanced out the window at the foreign scenery around me.

  I’d never been this far west before. A born and bred big apple gal, I’d always dreamt of leaving New York to visit Los Angeles or maybe San Francisco. Denver or ski country would be cool too. But in the middle of nowhere, Texas? I never imagined ending up there, but for Christopher I was willing to rough it in the country.

  The countryside was beautiful but it still seemed totally foreign to me. I was used to skyscrapers, not open air and blue skies that seemed to go on forever.

  I was pitifully hurt by not seeing a Starbucks in half an hour. It was hard for me to fathom a town without at least one or two spots where I could snag my usual triple shots of espresso. Th
ere were at least five in my neighbourhood, mixed in with a few hipster shops I loved to frequent.

  Suck it up buttercup, I silently scolded myself.

  I should have known what I was getting into when I volunteered to take a trip down memory lane with Christopher.

  However, that didn’t stop me from making mental notes of the sights before me. It’d been at least five minutes since I’d seen any sign of life, and at least ten minutes since we’d passed the last house. Mostly all I saw was raw, untouched land with lush green fields that stretched for miles and a random tumbleweed every once in a while. I felt like I was in some old Western movie, and silently cursed myself for leaving my leather cowgirl boots at home.

  I was wildly excited though.

  We were staying at Christopher’s family ranch, complete with horses and barns, the whole nine yards. It was hard to imagine that Christopher had once lived his life out there. He was as much a city dweller as me, having spent half his life in New York City before his mother passed away, hence the distinct lack of an accent. Of course, I wouldn’t mind it one bit if my best friend’s edgy charm came hand and hand with a sexy southern twang.

  We’d passed through Patterson –the nearest town- on our way in. It was a charming place – one of those tiny Texan towns with a main street lined with mom and pop stores, the kind of place where you imagined everyone knew one another’s names and women delivered babies in the comfort of their own homes, if there was such a thing.

  And the landscape was beautiful. There’d been some empty rolling plains on the way in, but Patterson was all green, oak trees hanging over the streets, little parks here and there. The way up to the ranch was dirt, thick forests on both sides. After spending so much time in New York, it felt like I was in a place pulled out of another time, another world.

  Christopher, on the other hand, was not a fan of his upbringing.

  He’d spent his teen years with his dad and had nothing but negative things to say about that time of his life. When I told him I’d never ridden a horse, he’d laughed and told me I wasn’t missing anything - that it wasn’t that special. To spare myself the judgement, I kept my desire to try my hand at horseback riding to myself after that.

  “Preparing to meet my pops?” Christopher asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “No, not at all. I don’t really need to prepare for that,” I explained with sureness in my voice. “Just taking in the scenery and thinking about how it’s so different than the city. It’s kinda’ nice. Soothing. Peaceful.”

  “Personally, I hate it. I can’t wait to get back to New York.”

  “Well, nothing comes close to New York.”

  As lovely as it was, I had a hard time imagining life out there, given I was so used to conveniences, and proximity to everything we had in New York. I couldn’t imagine giving it up for good. But we were only there for a week, so I could live with roughing it for that long.

  At least I’d hope so.

  When Christopher asked me to join him on the trip, I’d been a little unsure. I was in the middle of job hunting after my internship had come to an end. We had discussed starting our own boutique, though that was more of a pipe dream at this point. When he told me I’d be meeting his dad and the circumstances behind it, I knew I had to be there for him.

  I understood that having a father like his, when he was a city boy with an eye for fashion design, had to be hard. I couldn’t imagine Christopher on the back of a horse or wearing cowboy boots and a hat. That just wasn’t his aesthetic. Even if his dad had tried to force it upon him, it obviously didn’t click.

  Christopher’s phone buzzed in the cup holder, his hand shooting out to grab it. I watched for a moment as he fumbled with the thing, trying to swipe and put in his password while keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Shit,” he said. “Text from my dad.”

  “The man himself!” I took the phone from Christopher’s hand after he’d put in the password.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “No texting and driving. I’ll read it.”

  “You kidding? I can do both. Millennials are the masters of multi-tasking, Molly.”

  “That’s what every Millennial says until they wrap their car around a tree from checking their damn Instagram likes. Let me get it.”

  “Alright, fine. Just, uh, don’t go into the pictures. Classified business in there.”

  I laughed before pulling up the text from his dad.

  “Hi, Christopher. Wanted to see when you were getting in. Let me know.”

  It was written in straightforward language, no emojis to be seen.

  I was less concerned with the message, and more with the picture of his dad at the top of the screen. Angling the phone so Christopher couldn’t see the front, I expanded the picture.

  Holy shit!

  My best friend’s dad was hot!

  The kind of hotness that only an older man could project.

  The picture before me was a man standing in front of a barn, his arms crossed over a massive, beefy chest as he leaned against the door.

  Underneath the brim of his cowboy hat I could make out his rugged features – steely eyes, a wide jaw dusted with stubble, his mouth in a flat, serious line.

  I could tell he was tall, built solid as the truck he no doubt drove.

  Butterflies flew in my stomach as I regarded the picture.

  It was wrong, so wrong.

  My best friend’s dad.

  And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that he was much older than me.

  But that didn’t diminish my attraction. If anything, it made me wonder what an experienced, older man like that could teach a virgin like me.

  He looks like he’s got a lot to teach me.

  Cowboy, take me awayyyy, I couldn’t help but snicker silently at my witticism.

  “Molly, what’s it say?”

  “Um, nothing,” I said. “Just wondering when you’re getting in.”

  “Tell him not long. But make it sound like me, you know?”

  I fired back a quick text, and put the phone down to avoid suspicions from my best friend.

  “So,” Christopher said, “with my dad, just sit back and stay quiet. I can do most of the talking. He can be a little lacking in the tact department, and I don’t want you feeling bad if he phrases things in the wrong way or something.

  “I understand, but keep in mind I’m a big girl who can handle herself around difficult people. No need to worry. Besides how bad can he even be?”

  Christopher side-eyed me again and shook his head. “You really don’t understand, Molly. My dad is disappointed in me and I’m sure he’ll be looking for any opportunity to make that clear. My career was never good enough for him. He wanted me to work at the ranch like him and his brothers. He tried to talk me out of moving back to New York City, of pursuing fashion, of pretty much doing anything I love. And he doesn’t mince words. He’ll likely pass the same judgements on you because you’re from the city and some ‘pie in the sky’ fashion designer like me.” He sucked in a breath and said, “I don’t think you’ve met anyone like my father.”

  “Look Christopher, I get what you’re saying. And all that may be true, but at the end of the day he’s still a human like the rest of us.”

  Only super-hot.

  “A stubborn-ass cowboy human.”

  “Well, you know I have thick skin. I can handle myself; you can stay rest assured I’ve got my big girl panties on.”

  Though I wouldn’t mind taking them off around Mr. Silas.

  “Also—I know you can be a bit outspoken. You might want to tone it down a bit while you’re here.”

  My jaw dropped. “Outspoken? Me!!!?”

  “Yes, you,” he chuckled, running a hand over his baby smooth chin. “I know the reason your boss didn’t keep you on after the internship, remember?”

  “Well, he was a jerk. And he was wrong. The outfit he wanted to premier at Fashion Week was hideous. And who was right? Wh
at did the magazines have to say about it?”

  “They agreed with you, yes. It was a God awful ensemble.”

  “Exactly. I was merely being truthful, and Stephan couldn’t handle it."

  “And also why you need to work for yourself. You’re too hard-headed sometimes.”

  I wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Fine, I’ll give you that. You’re right. And it’s why we have to figure out how we’re going to open our own place one day.”

  “In a city like New York, one of us will have to win the lottery or find some Wall Street sugar daddy to fund the project.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe just know the right people and hustle.”

  Christopher and I had been talking for years about opening our own boutique. Christopher and Molly Designs. Or Molly and Christopher. We were still undecided. Our tastes meshed well together. We were both brutally honest but handled feedback well. I had no doubt that we’d work well together.

  But like he said, it was an issue of money.

  Lots of it.

  And, of course, having a name people recognized. But that would come in time, once we were able to establish ourselves. I had no doubt we’d go viral. I was confident in our exceptional abilities and in our designs.

  At this point, low clouds hung over us, blocking the remaining sunlight. It was beginning to get dark; we’d spent most of the day traveling. I knew I should be tired, but I was wide awake and curious about our destination and meeting the cowboy behind the photo. I couldn’t seem to get his striking soulful eyes out of my mind. The man was a knockout that much was true. However, I hoped that Christopher’s opinion of our soon to be host was mostly biased and partial - like so many of our judgements could be of our close relatives.