EXCLUSIVE: BROKEN COWBOY

CHAPTER ONE

CHASE

My farm was my little slice of paradise; my little haven, tucked away from the world. The nearby town of Fox Run was just down the road, but standing there on my back porch, you wouldn't be able to tell. On a clear day, all you'd see was nothing but land – my land – stretched out as far as the eye could see. Trees, tall and thick, surrounded the outskirts of the property, blocking the town from view, giving the illusion of perfect solitude.

Except for me and the animals, the place was completely solitary. Most of the time, anyway. The sound of a loud high-pitched voice sounded from the nearby field, shattering the silence.

“Shoo!” the voice called. “Get away from me! Go!”

A female's voice.

In my field.

When nothing but the cows was supposed to be out there.

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath as I walked back behind the house. Standing in the middle of the pasture was a small, young-looking woman. I don't think she could've been more than twenty-three or twenty-four. She stood just a few inches above five feet with long, honey blonde hair that hung in a loose ponytail down her back.

She had a stick in her hands and was brandishing it menacingly. It wasn't a very long or big stick, but I still didn't appreciate her waving it at my cows. Especially since all they were doing was staring at her with nothing but curiosity. They weren't harming or threatening her.

“Shoo, bull,” she said, waving the stick in the air. “Shoo!”

I stifled a laugh and simply watched the spectacle unfolding. The woman – whoever she was – wouldn't even go near the cows. Thankfully, all the bulls had already been put away. The cows stood around her, trying to graze on the grass, but there was this annoying little lady trespassing in their field, waving a stick all about, keeping them from eating.

A black cow moved behind her, making her jump and spin around so that she was facing me. Her eyes widened when she saw me standing there, trying hard not to laugh. Her face darkened, and anger flashed in her eyes. Her vibrant blue gaze was suddenly filled with heat.

“You're just going to stand there and laugh?” she yelled. “Help me!”

“You seem to be doing just fine on your own out there,” I said with a shrug. “Besides the cows are only doing their job.”

“Their job?” she asked, glaring at me with sweat beading on her forehead.

“Yeah, they're guard cows, don't ya know?” I said, struggling harder to keep from laughing. “They guard the property against trespassers, like you.”

“Bullshit,” she said.

She tried to sound tough but I heard the tremor in her voice. The woman's eyes widened and darted around, fear and uncertainty on her face. Suddenly, she didn't sound entirely sure of herself. I turned around, pretending to go back to the house.

“I'll just leave them to their job, then,” I called over my shoulder.

“No, wait!” she shouted. “Please, help me. I'm sorry for trespassing. I was only trying to take a shortcut into town.”

I stopped moving, knowing she was probably telling the truth. A little city slicker like her probably was trying to find her way into town. Though, the question was, how did she get out there in the middle of nowhere Texas anyway? Where had she come from? But, most of all, how had she ended up in my field?

With a sigh, I turned back and walked over to her, taking her arm and dragging her past the cows. She dropped the stick and stared wide-eyed like she was afraid they were going to attack. All the cows did, though, was stand there, chewing their cud and staring at her.

“First of all, princess, these aren't bulls. They're cows,” I said. “And if you think these are scary, you're lucky you didn't meet my bull. He's not nearly as friendly as these old girls.”

“Don't call me princess,” she spat, yanking her arm free as soon as we were a safe distance from the cattle. “And sorry I don't know the difference between friendly cows and angry ones.”

I shook my head. “You also need to watch out for the emus. They're mean bastards,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Ever been chased by an emu, princess?”

She gritted her teeth and came to a complete stop, narrowing her eyes at me. “Stop. Calling. Me. Princess.”

“Maybe stop trespassing on other people's property, and then you can tell me what to do,” I countered. “But, you're here uninvited, so it's not like you got a lot of leverage here. Princess.”

She didn't rise to the bait, but we stood there facing each other, the air between us thick with tension. This tiny little city girl had a scowl on her face that would probably send the hipsters running for cover, but not me. I was made of sterner stuff than most of those city boys.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her chin was pointed up, her face a mask of indignation. She was really going to fight me on this, even though she'd trespassed on my land, and with me towering over her by at least a foot.

The girl was feisty, even if she was a bit naïve. I had to stifle a laugh as she stood there, trying to look tough.

“Come on,” I said, motioning for her to follow me.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I'm giving you a ride to town,” I said. “But, on one condition – I don't catch you on my property again. You hear me?”

She grumbled, but I made out at least one word, “Fine.”

That was enough for me. I reached my hand out to her and said, “Chase Crawford.”

She shook my hand, “Abby Stewart.”

“Nice to meet you, Abby.”

We walked to my pickup truck, and I opened the door, wondering for a moment if a tiny little thing like she was would be able to get in on her own. She had to climb to get into the cab, but when I tried to help her, she refused my hand. She made it on her own and looked back at me, a picture of triumph. Independent woman. I was just thankful she didn't fall out and get hurt, trying to climb in on her own like that. That was the last thing I needed today.

I climbed in on the driver's side, started the truck, and pulled out of the drive. We drove for a bit, neither one of us saying a word. Abby sat there silently, sulking, just staring out the window.

“You live nearby?” I asked.

“Just down the road from you,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “You move into Cody William's old home?”

“I guess so,” she said softly. “Just a little blue house out in the middle of nowhere.”

I nodded. “That’d be the place.”

Cody was a good guy. Some might've even called him a friend of mine -- back in the day at least. No one had lived in his house since he took his own life three years before. I figured no one would live there again because of it. Either Abby didn’t know the house’s history, or she wasn’t bothered by things like that. I side-eyed her as I drove.

“What brings you out here?”

Her eyes moved over to me before she turned back to the window, quickly. Her face darkened again and creased with a scowl.

“None of your business,” she snapped.

“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Just trying to make small talk, Princess.”

“Please, stop calling me Princess,” she said, throwing her head back, the annoyance on her face crystal clear.

“Alright, city slicker,” I said. “That better?”

She shot me a look of pure hatred, which made me smile. For some reason, watching her get annoyed amused me to no end. Probably because she was the one who'd started it. Childish, sure, but also true.

“Where you from?” I asked.

I thought she might not answer, tell me once more that it's none of my business, but she sighed and when she spoke, her voice was soft.

“San Francisco. Happy? Yes, I'm a city girl,” she said.

I couldn't hide the smile. “You didn't have to tell me that, Abby,” I said. “I kinda already figured that out for myself.”

“Oh really? Just because I'm not wearing a ten-gallon hat and a belt buckle the size of my head, I'm obviously from a big city somewhere?” she muttered, shaking her head.

“No, nothing to do with the hat,” I said.

I motioned to my own head – pointing out the fact that I was sans cowboy hat. I preferred wearing a baseball cap if I wore anything at all.

“It's everything,” I pointed out. “It's the perfectly highlighted hair, the shoes not cut out for walking across fields of cow crap. And, oh yeah, the fact that you tried to go all kung-fu ninja on a couple of sweet, harmless Jerseys back there. That pretty much tells me a lot about you – including the fact that you've never set foot on a farm before.”

She huffed and turned away, facing the window again. Her reaction was the only answer I needed. I'd been right about her. Not that I was surprised. A city girl like her wasn't cut out for the country, which made me even more curious about what brought her out there in the first place. It wasn't like we had a lot of tech jobs in old Lynnwood, Texas.

Not that it was any of my business, she was right about that. But, I was still curious.

Town was a few miles away. Not the worst walk in the world, but long enough that most people would prefer to drive. I guess shortcuts through my property were the next best option; at least, until a pack of mad cows descended on you.

“Where did you need to go?” I asked her.

“Just the grocery store, please,” she said.

I pulled up outside Lynnwood General Store and parked my truck. Since we were there, I figured I could pick up some beer. Abby climbed down from the passenger side of the truck and hustled on to the entrance, not even bothering to wait for me. I followed on her heels, her curvy little ass swishing as she walked through the front door.

She was a pretty little thing, that was for sure. Feisty too. If she weren't my neighbor, I'd definitely be into hittin' that. Not wanting to overcomplicate my life though, I wouldn't want to do more than just fuck her for a night or two. If she were up for it, I'd definitely be up for some fun with the city girl. Might even be able to teach her a thing or two while I was at it.

“Are you going to follow me around?” she asked, glaring at me over her shoulder.

“It's not following you if we're headed in the same direction,” I said. “There's only one way in this damn place. It's not exactly a big store.”

“Tell me about it,” she groaned. “Do they even have quinoa here?”

“You're joking, right?” I asked.

She stared at me, face blank and unblinking. Finally, after a second, she smiled wide and started cackling.

“No, I'm not serious,” she said. “I prefer couscous anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Damn city slickers,” I muttered.

“Don't blame me if you don't know quinoa from couscous,” she said with a crooked, but adorable grin.

“Now you're just messing with me, aren't you?” I said. “Are those actual things you eat? Or, are they just made-up words to fuck with me?”

“You'll never know, will you?” she said with a wink. “Because I'm just some stupid city girl, after all. I couldn't possibly know something you don't.”

“I never said you were stupid,” I said. “Just not from around here.”

“I know what that means in Texan talk,” Abby said, throwing some coffee in her cart. “You obviously think you're better than me because I didn't grow up on a farm. But, trust me, Chase Crawford, you don't know shit about me.”

She stopped in the aisle and picked up some coffee creamer. So far, very little food had made it into her cart. Not that I was one to judge. Hell, I'd only planned on picking up beer while I was there. Breakfast of champions for me most days.

I left her to do her own thing and swung by the liquor aisle and picked up a twelve pack out of the cooler. The store was mostly empty since it was right before closing in the middle of the week. It wasn't a twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart or whatever they had in the cities these days, and they closed their doors at eight pm on the button.

It was summer at least, and not yet dark, but I couldn't imagine a girl like Abby walking home by herself once the sun went down. Sure, the town was safe enough, but if she didn't know her way around, she could get lost pretty easily in a place with few lights and no cell signal. The cows would be the last thing she'd have to worry about since there were miles and miles of fields with no houses in sight. No one to hear her calling for help if she fell or ran into someone's bull.

I hoped she understood the favor I'd done for her, but seeing her ass swishing toward the registers, I got the feeling she thought of herself as one tough cookie. She thought she was city tough – which was not even in the same league as country tough. Hell, they weren't even the same sport.