Chapter One
“You can’t be serious.” The words fell off Presley Dean’s lips in a drone tempo. She stared at her dad, Harris, across the bed of the loaded truck, hoping this was just another one of those mundane lectures. She knew the drill. Find a man. Get married. Have kids before her eggs dried up. Wa-wa-wah!
Loving him meant she had to tolerate his worry over her relationship status and his ever-present desire for her to settle down. If only he could respect the fact that she had other priorities. Most of the time, she’d listen, then shrug off the suggestion, but never had he offered to sign over the vet clinic, Dean’s Veterinary, and the land where she’d lived all her life if she tied the knot. This proposition had her at a cross between disbelief and ridiculous interest. Her dream was to own the clinic so she could put into place modern techniques and procedures, and eventually purchase new equipment to see this dream take shape. That would take money that she didn’t have and her father’s rule was “Never purchase something you can’t pay cash for.”
Although retired, Harris Dean wasn’t quite in agreement that he was ready to shift all authority, and responsibility, into his daughter’s hands. He had, however, allowed her to make subtle changes.
“You heard me right, Pres. Get married and I’ll hand over the clinic, all this land and the house over to you…where there’s plenty of room to raise my grandkids.”
“You don’t have grandkids.”
“Exactly,” he huffed.
“And what if I say no?”
“If you do I’m going to put this place up for sale, including the clinic and everything in it.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Even as the words fell off her tongue she knew he meant every word. Harris never said anything he didn’t mean.
“I would. If you won’t take some time to do the things young folks do to meet a companion then I’m going to have to force your hand. The last thing I want for you is to be old and lonely. It’s not a good quality of life, darlin’. Trust me. After your mom left I spent too much time waiting and hoping.”
“Dad, you can’t live vicariously through me. Why don’t you consider dating again? Mom has been gone for a long time. She left and you have every right to be happy.”
He gave a short shrug. “Learn from my mistakes. Live your life.”
She blinked. “If you haven’t noticed, I am living my life. I love this place. And your ultimatum is crazy considering I’m not dating, or have any man that I would even considering marrying.”
“That’s why I’m giving you six months. A beauty like you shouldn’t have a problem finding a diamond in the rough in two weeks, let alone six months.”
“You’re biased.” Realizing that she was gripping the side of the bed of the truck, she loosened her hold and stretched her fingers. Had her dad gone and lost his mind? “This proves you have no clue what the dating pool is like, especially here in Colton. Six months might as well be ten years. Around these parts, I’d have better luck finding a unicorn than a man.”
He laughed, which made the colt in the trailer snort loudly. “Honey, you’re not seeing the trees for the forest. You could have any man here that you’d like, but you choose to shoo away every available cowboy like he has the plague.”
“That’s funny,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I think you’re imagining this variety of cowboys I’m shooing away.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Name one then.”
“What about those Jericho boys? Good, hearty stock. Established. Loyal.”
She snorted. “Dad, you fail to mention that three-fifths of them are hitched, or close to snared.”
“That leaves two. What about Hugh? What are you waiting for? I remember when he used to come to the house.”
Resisting the urge to smack her forehead, she sighed. “Hugh and I dated in high school for a whole five minutes. That’s history. And Urban…well…” There wasn’t much she could say about the brother who never took anything seriously.
“Okay.” He swiped a hand down his smooth jawline. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, my girl. Buy yourself a fancy rod and go fishing.” He picked up his saddle, dropped it in the back, and swiped his hands down his jeans.
“You don’t mean this. You’ll go away for a few days and realize you’re not really wanting to place these stipulations on me.” At least she hoped, although Harris hadn’t changed his mind since 1989 when her mother packed up and left with a ranch hand.
“Don’t count on that, girl. You’ve left me no choice but to push you into finding someone to settle down with—someone who will show you an enjoyable time before you get my age when it’s too late.”
“I’m only thirty-three. I’m not dying tomorrow, pops.”
“You don’t know that.” He flushed under his harsh tone. “I’m only saying, we never know when our end will come. Learn to live a little, darlin’. I can’t bear to see you spending all your time fixing animals and taking no time to fix yourself. Before I kick the bucket, I want to see my only child happy. Why don’t you take in the rodeo tomorrow? Lots of testosterone wearing hats and worn boots.” He winked.
“I planned to attend, but not for hats, boots, or the cowboys. I plan on taking in the auction and see who’s making bids. Ranchers who are buying are needing a good vet, right?”
“Right, I s’pose. Don’t forget Sally’s funeral. Represent the family. Pay my respects.”
“You should be going too. She was your friend.”
He waved a hand through the air as if he could wipe away her remark. “I got to get this colt back home, then I have a date with a cabin and quiet. Try out that new rod I hope.”
She wasn’t sure if he referred to her trying out the “rod as in fishing for a man” or the new one he bought last week for this trip. It didn’t matter. She rounded the front of the truck and straightened his lopsided collar, then leaned closer, sniffing. “Dad, are you wearing cologne? You trying to smell good for the owner or do you have something sly going on?”
He grumbled something under his breath, patted her on the shoulder, and hurried to the driver’s side. She hid a smile with tight lips. If he was interested, or even seeing someone, she doubted he would tell her. Harris was loyal to a fault, although his wife left long ago. “Keep in mind what I said, girl.” He tipped his hat, climbed into the truck and stuck his head out through the open window. “Don’t be hard-headed. Love you. See you in a few days.”
Although angry at him for his ultimatum, she couldn’t let him leave without telling him she loved him too. They were all they each had in the world and she couldn’t have things wonky between them. As convoluted as his ideas were, she knew, without a doubt, that he had good intentions. He was a man with old fashioned beliefs and never apologized for his values. He was raised thinking a woman needed a man, and a man needed a woman, but Presley liked being single. Sure, there were moments she missed having someone to laugh with, having a man’s arms wrapped around her instead of the warmth that a battery-operated toy could offer. A man usually wanted his partner to be active in their relationship, and Presley just didn’t have the time or the desire. Truth be known, she’d rather spend her time with livestock and horses. Less chance of getting hurt. She owned the corner market on pain. Her mother made sure of that when she left without a backward glance.
Presley sighed at her dilemma.
Hell, if her dad had his way, she’d get hitched tomorrow.
No, he couldn’t hold her to something so ludicrous as finding a husband in six months.
Could he?
Yes, he could. And would.
But how does a woman search for a husband?
Still pondering her quandary, she headed down to the clinic and found Cheryl already sitting at the receptionist desk, the phone tucked between her ear and chin as she typed away at the keyboard…multitasking as usual. As a receptionist, she was spectacular. As an assistant, she was a bit rusty, but Presley was optimistic that her friend of thirty years would learn the skill. After all, she was attending the community college to earn a certificate in veterinarian assistance to make the position here at the clinic permanent. After the last assistant left, Cheryl had voiced her desire to take over the job and Presley liked the idea of having her best friend around. When she’d divorced her husband last year and needed an income, Presley had offered her some money, but Cheryl wanted to work.
It was nice having a support system around, especially on the days like today when Presley was agitated.
Stopping to grab her messages written on pink, heart-shaped sticky notes, she heard Cheryl say to the person on the phone, “Yes, Mrs. Dawson. I understand. I have you down for a one-thirty appointment Thursday. Yes. Sure thing. If anything changes…yes, yes…I’ll call.”
Presley poured coffee into her favorite mug that read “Vets do it best” and pointed toward her office door, leaving Cheryl to finish calming Mrs. Dawson who brought her pet in nearly every week. The retired school teacher never had any children so her dog was her baby and the twelve-year old Shorkie was suffering from arthritis. Normally, Dean Vet didn’t exam small animals, but recently Presley had opened her doors to new clients to keep them from traveling out of town for pet care.
Inside her office, she dropped into the worn chair behind her desk, getting poked by a broken spring. With a moan, she scribbled “buy a new chair” on a sticky note and stuck it to her computer screen, then clicked the power button. Pulling up her emails, she scrolled down the list, hitting delete as she went along. She didn’t need Viagra, weight loss supplements, nor did she want to join a dating site, although she was on a timeline now.
Cheryl stepped in, clearing her throat. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” Presley grumbled, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Well, at least it was for me.”
“Ah, that’s right. You had a date with that hockey player. Was it love at first sight?”
“Could have been if he liked having his meat cut up and reminded not to talk with his mouth full.”
Presley winced. “The mom thing got in the way again?”
“I’ve been mom, only mom, for so long. I don’t know how to find that inner goddess I keep reading about in Cosmopolitan.” She gave her long hair a saucy flip.
“Maybe it’s hidden underneath soccer games, lunch packing, and an ex who believes he can date his college students.”
“You should see the new flavor of the week. She wore her cheer outfit to practice last night and when Bailey scored a goal, she actually did the splits. I couldn’t do splits when I was nineteen. Anyway, I’m sure I have panties older than her.”
Presley gave her a sympathetic smile. “Cheer up. Your ex is her problem now.” Back to her emails, she groaned. “How is it possible that I get so much spam?” She swiveled her chair and picked up her pen, clicking it with restless energy. “Do I have any appointments scheduled this morning?”
“Yes. Weston Jericho is picking up Salamander, and then later, Georgia Banks is bringing in her poodle who is sick.”
Presley rubbed her temples, hoping the ache didn’t grow into a migraine, and then she stood. Exiting through the door that joined her office and the stables, the mare, Salamander, greeted her with a friendly snort and a paw to the dirt floor. “Hi there, sweet thing.” She nuzzled the girl behind the ear. “Your leg is all fine now.”
Cheryl followed her. “So, what’s eating you this morning? Those worry lines around your eyes could be mistaken for trenches.”
“Oh, just the usual. Lack of sleep, worried about getting the technician out here to fix the x-ray machine and my father is demanding I take a husband. That’s all.”
The other woman laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Presley spun around. “He thinks we live in medieval times. This time, though, he’s made an offer I can’t refuse. He’ll sign over the business and the land to me.”
Cheryl stayed quite for a good five seconds. “Seriously?”
“He says if I don’t he’s planning on selling. That can’t happen.” She grabbed the food bucket from underneath the work table and opened the lid to the feed, scooping enough for the horse who had her ears popped up.
“He’s made this a weekly argument, but he’s never used the land and business as leverage.”
“Right. I think he realizes that’s the only influence he has to use.” Presley reached for the hose from the hook and unwound it, stretching it across the space to the stall where the mare watched with bright, milky brown eyes. “You know how he is, Cheryl. I don’t think there’s any changing his mind.” Her head throbbed at the mere mention of losing everything she’d worked for—wished for. Growing up, while other kids were out with friends, dating, going to the movies and dances, Presley had been here with her father, watching him work with the animals, saving lives, delivering fur babies. She’d learned fifty percent of her knowledge before she even left for veterinary school. Even these days, while others were having fun, she worked, showing ranchers and farmers a new, scientific approach to breeding and caring for livestock. Some of the locals had taken on the modern way, and some dug their feet in like they were protecting themselves from a disaster.
“He will sell the place? Pres, that’s huge.”
“Tell me about it.” She opened the stall and rinsed out the trough, then filled it with fresh water and in the process, she sprayed herself soaking the front of her shirt and jeans. Hazards of the job.
“What are you going to do?”
Presley shrugged. “He’s given me six months. I have a little time.”
“I don’t know how you’re so calm over this. If I were in your shoes I’d be frantic.”
“Cheryl, you and I both know you were frantic marrying Raymond and you did it at your own free will.” Presley laughed, remembering how her friend had sobbed like a baby minutes before walking down the aisle.
“I should have followed my instincts. I knew the prick would end up screwing another woman.”
“You have three beautiful children. He did something right.”
“Yes, that he did.”
“Well, Dad thinks I’m going to grow old and never give him grandkids.”
“You’re going to hate me, but I can see his point, honey.”
Presley shot Cheryl a narrowed eye. “Don’t you start now.”
“Come on, you know we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember so I have to tell you the truth, just as you did when I found out Ray was cheating. There comes a point when a woman, you, needs to show affection for something more than things with fur and no thumbs.”
“But I can deal with animals. People, not so much.”
“Okay…don’t throw a pan at my head, but I wonder if you’d be so against marriage if your mom hadn’t left when you were little? My kids went through an ugly stage when their father left, and he’s still in their lives. I read a lot of “how to” articles and many said that abandonment issues can lead to fear of relationships.”
“Alright, Oprah. Thanks, but I don’t have abandonment issues. I just haven’t found someone interesting enough for a second date.” With her friend’s stare, she slumped her shoulders. “Okay, I admit that I don’t have a good image of marriage. It seems people think of it as a revolving door.”
“My parents have been married for thirty-six years. Good marriages do exist.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She shrugged.
“Why don’t you let me fix you up with my cousin, Bart? He’s a doctor too, a vet, so you’d have something in common. He divorced a few years back, but they never had any kids. He’s about as ambitious about dating as you are.”
Presley moaned. “You know how much I hate blind dating.”
“Interesting considering you’ve never gone on one. Fine. You just might have to join that dating site, the one that’s advertised on TV…country boys looking for a girl who likes to get dirty.”
Stomach turning, Presley wanted to go back home to bed.
*****
Urban Jericho parked his truck, turned off the engine, and slid out, grabbing the rope from the bed before strolling into the clinic. The place was empty. Usually Cheryl welcomed him with a friendly smile and an offer of candy, but she wasn’t sitting at the desk. “Hello?” No answer.
He grabbed one of the mints from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
Hearing voices from the back, he peeked into Presley’s office. It was empty too. The voices were coming from the stables and he made his way through the private door, ignoring the sign that read, “Employees only”. Seeing Presley and Cheryl, he started to call out, but at the mention of marriage, he stopped in his tracks.
“I’ll have to find a husband, Cheryl,” Presley said. “Someone who I can marry with no chance to fall in love with. Someone who’s in it for short term and then we’ll divorce.”
“You mean like a business deal?” Cheryl asked.
“Yes, exactly.”
“That should be easy. I can’t even find a man who’s interested in taking off his clothes.” Cheryl snorted.
“Maybe if you’d stop cutting his meat and instead blow on it a little, you’d get the response you want.” Presley bent her head back and laughed. He liked the melodic sound and the way several strands of hair had loosened from the messy bun and had fallen around her pale, freckled cheeks. Lowering his gaze, he could see the outline of her nipples through the wet T-shirt and how the material cupped her high, firm breasts. His cock twitched. The last thing he needed was a hard on for a woman he couldn’t stand. Not one bit. Maybe just a bit, proof in the way his zipper stretched.
“I haven’t had sex in so long I’m beginning to think my parts are growing together.” Presley sighed. “I’m a sad case. At least I would get something from marriage. He has to like sex. Lots of sex.”
“Then maybe you should look for a man with a big di—”
Presley’s gasp brought his gaze up from her tits and onto her wide-eyed, red-cheeked expression. “Urban?” His name came out of her mouth with a large dose of venom. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
He had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing, not humiliated one speck for getting caught listening and admiring. Presley Dean was on the prowl for a husband. Figures. He wasn’t the least bit surprised she wasn’t interested in marrying for love. The ice queen didn’t have a sliver of warmth in her body, although responsive, it was. He swallowed hard.
There was no love lost between he and Presley, ever since he’d snipped off her braid on the school bus back when they still took naps and sucked lollipops. She’d sworn to never forgive him and, true to her promise, she busted his balls every chance she got. Since she was the Second Chances Ranch vet he had no choice but to work with her on occasion. He’d managed to overlook her good looks and toned body. Pretty easy because he liked his women warm-blooded.
He didn’t have time for this and stepped into the stables, whistling, paying no attention to Presley’s death stare. Her face turned three shades whiter and her mouth was slightly parted. His gaze naturally fell to her firm, perky breasts for one last glance.
“What are you doing here?” Groomed brows popped up over dazzling hazel eyes.
“I’m here to pick up my horse,” he said, still smiling.
“Hi there, Urban,” the cute receptionist said with a wide smile.
“Hi, Cheryl.” He tipped his hat. “How’s that new mare doing?”
“We love her. Thank you for letting me take her off your hands.”
As if impatient with chatter, Presley cleared her throat obnoxiously. “I expected Weston.” Her color was returning, but the slanted expression told him she wasn’t pleased to see him. Good to see she still hated him.
“He’s busy. And so am I. I’ll pull my trailer around, load Salamander up and be on my way.” The faster he got out of the stables the better. Nothing enticing about being in the black widow’s web.
“I’ll leave you two to settle up business while I get back to my own.” Cheryl started for the door. “Good to see you again, Urban. Tell your brothers I said hello.”
“Sure thing, darlin’.”
Presley gave him an eye roll. She took off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby workbench, and swiped her hands together. “Salamander’s leg has healed. She’ll be back to riding without any problems.” She unlocked the stall and patted the mare, scratching her behind the ear. Urban hated the fact that he felt a twitch behind his zipper again. What the hell? Why did he feel envious of the attention she gave his horse? Whatever it was, he needed to snap back to reality.
“Great.” His voice was a bit husky and he shifted in his worn boots.
She turned, nailing him with dazzling eyes that looked amazingly bright against the backdrop of her porcelain-white skin and red hair—not red, but a golden copper with strands of lighter strawberry that caught the sunlight flowing in through the row of windows along one wall. She always wore the thick mass in braids or a bun, and he was curious how long it was and how soft it would feel against his hands. The dark skinny jeans fit her curves nicely—curves that could make a man happy, but not him. Never. Ever.
Their gazes met for a long, awkward second before her irises grew dark. Would her head spin too? He laughed at the thought which only made her face red again.
“I thought you said you’re busy?” she snapped.
“I am.” He rubbed his whiskered jaw.
“Then how about you put that rope hooked on your shoulder to good use? I bet this pretty girl is ready to get out of here and back home. Aren’t you, girl?” There Presley was, snuggling the mare again, flashing a whopper of a smile that was a cattle prod to his groin.
Before she had to reprimand him again and he allowed his dick to take control, he slid the rope and bit from his shoulder and just as Presley had suggested, he put it to use. “I’ll back the trailer up to the gate if you would unlock it for me.”
“Sure thing,” she said in a thick Texas twang.
Following her out of the stables, his gaze fell to the nice sway of her hips. A pendulum that hypnotized him. Stepping out into the fresh air, he inhaled sharply and forced his head back into the lead position. Whatever was happening to him he needed to wash any ideas out of his brain. Not only did he not like Presley, and she didn’t like him, but long ago she’d been Hugh’s girl, although he seemed to have moved on. One thing the brothers didn’t do was share women. It was a pact they’d made in their teen years when one pretty senior wanted to see which brother was better and had caused a rift between the Jerichos. And as far as Urban knew, that old agreement was still intact.
Loading his horse, he closed the door to the trailer as Presley fiddled with the stubborn gate that didn’t want to close. “Here, let me help with that,” he offered.
“No, thank you. I’ve got this.” Yet, she didn’t because now she was using her weight as leverage, which probably wasn’t more than one-ten soaking wet. Tendrils of hair were stuck to her cheeks and her teeth were gritted. She looked kind of cute.
“Whatever.” He held up his hands in defeat. As far as he was concerned, she was cutting her nose off to spite her face, but if she had something to prove, fine. He’d allow her to fight with the rusted gate while he entertained himself with the show.
He stood there. He should have turned tail and took off while the gettin’ was good, but he was mesmerized by her struggle with the door and how her breasts bounced. She wasn’t much taller than five three so he had a nice view from up higher.
Suddenly, the gate gave way and she lost her balance, flailing backward with a groan. She landed against him and he easily wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her.
Sure, up until now he’d known she had curves, but there was an enormous difference between looking and feeling, and although he kept his fingers pressed in the slender dip of her waist, the flair of her hip within inches of his zipper couldn’t be ignored. And the fact that her firm, rounded bottom was firmly pressed against his buckle didn’t help his situation. His dick stretched to full capacity.
Her breath came out in a hiss as she pushed away from him, pivoting on her boot to nail him again with an exasperated wide-eyed glare. Yeah, unfortunately she’d felt his body harden. Shit! He wasn’t a man who was usually at a loss for words, but standing there, zipper stretched and his mind whirling, he couldn’t manage anything but a shuffle of his boots, a tip his hat, and hurrying to the driver’s side of his truck. As he drove away, he watched her reflection in his side mirror. She was still staring, probably as flabbergasted as he was about the turn of events.