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Choose Me for Always, Cowboy (Cavanagh Cowboys Romance 5)

By Valerie Comer

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Chapter 1

How could the atmosphere glow so brightly when not a speck of blue sky could be seen?

Noah Cavanagh narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses and squinted out the windshield at the blowing snow. This spring storm had come up out of nowhere, not entirely unheard of in Montana, but still.

He’d have been home in another hour… if he could call his brother’s house home, which he sort-of-halfway could. Now? He eased his farrier truck to a crawl, unable to see more than a few feet. The brilliance would begin fading soon as dusk fell, and then even this level of visibility would vanish.

He clenched his hands around the steering wheel. Face it. He wasn’t going to make it home tonight, but he and the dogs couldn’t stay in the truck, either, even if he could spot a pullout. The heater might be blasting warm air now, but he had less than half a tank of diesel, and that wasn’t enough to run the engine all night.

Noah needed a place to hole up until morning. Maybe for a couple of days, honestly. Which of his clients lived out this way? Exactly how far down the highway was he? The last few signposts had been plastered with blowing snow.

Had he passed Cardinal Creek Ranch? He didn’t think so. That would be a good spot. Not only was it nearby — no more than five or ten miles — but the elderly owners would welcome him in. Better yet, he could be of real help to the Byrds during the blizzard. With Mr. Byrd’s bad heart, he definitely shouldn’t be out trying to shovel this mess. There was no way his wife could help.

If Noah hadn’t been focusing intensely on spotting the gap in the fence line that would reveal the Cardinal Creek lane, he might not have noticed the white sports car angled off the road. If the tail lights were on, snow had covered them, but judging by that puff of exhaust, someone sat in the driver’s seat, revving the engine. Not that they’d be able to simply back out of the snowbank. Too steep.

Noah had chains. He could pull that ride back on the road, but it would almost certainly slide off again within a few miles. No, whoever was in that car wasn’t going far tonight, any more than he was. He slowed to a stop, peering through the blowing snow. His tires slid just a little before grabbing hold.

The change woke the pups in the backseat, and Barney poked his nose against Noah’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Barn. I gotta help whoever this is. Back in a minute.”

Deidre opened one eye but didn’t stir. Barney would likely settle back in a second.

Noah shoved the door open, the full force of the howling snow stabbing him with a thousand little knives. He yanked his woolen hat tighter over his ears and hunched the hood of his parka up. Definitely not cowboy hat weather, but the boots stayed on. Though maybe he should have tossed them in the backseat and pulled on felt-lined muck boots instead. Too late now.

The BMW’s rear tires spun, and the vehicle slid sideways a few inches. He thumped on the trunk a couple of times to catch the driver’s attention. Spinning out was only consolidating the tracks into smooth ice.

The door pushed open, and a woman erupted, her hand over her heart. “Oh! You scared me!”

Noah tried to tip his cowboy hat, but it was in the truck, so he settled for tugging on the brim of his parka hood instead. “You all right, ma’am?” King of the dumb questions, Noah.

“Not exactly.” Her mittened hands settled on her hips. She wore one of those slim-fitting down parkas — white, like the car and the entire world — with a white beanie and dark jeans. Her fuzzy mittens were… the fact that he couldn’t tell the color for sure reminded him that night was falling, taking the temperature with it.

He thumbed toward his truck. “Let me give you a ride somewhere out of the weather. You can deal with your car tomorrow.” More like next week, but he wasn’t going to tell her that if she hadn’t already figured it out.

“But I… but I can’t just leave it!”

“Ma’am, this blizzard has barely gotten started. The temperature has already dropped something like thirty degrees in the past couple of hours. I could maybe get your car out, but you’ll just slide off again, and then you’ll freeze to death.”

“I’m a good driver.”

Uh huh. That was why she was in a ditch now. Although, to be fair, the conditions were among the worst he’d ever seen, and he’d been driving his mobile horseshoeing truck around western Montana for the past decade.

“Come on. Friends of mine live nearby. We can be warm while we wait for the storm to pass.”

“You said you could pull out the car?”

“I changed my mind.” It pained him to say that, but it was still true. He wouldn’t be doing her any service that way. “Do you have anything you’d like to bring along? Purse? Laptop?”

She looked around.

Noah didn’t need to turn to know what she saw. Pretty much nothing other than his truck and whiteness that was fading into gray. “Please. I don’t want to hear about your death on the morning news.”

“Aren’t you Mr. Sunshine?”

“Usually.” Not that she had any reason to believe him, of course. “Can I carry something to my truck for you? We need to get going, because if I miss their driveway in the dark, I can’t guarantee where we might land up.”

She hesitated a second longer before coming to a decision. “Fine. How much room do you have?”

Why? Was she moving house in that little car? But before he could ask, she popped the trunk, revealing a carry-on and a larger wheeled suitcase, both in a vibrant palm-tree motif. Whatever.

He carried them to the truck and opened the door. “Stay,” he told the dogs. He stuffed his emergency gear and duffel onto the floor and pushed the larger suitcase onto the seat. Didn’t leave a lot of room for the six-month-old pups, but they’d be okay for a bit.

“Were you going somewhere?” He turned toward her, but his words choked off as she held out a huge, puffy garment bag, clearly containing a wedding gown. This was getting weirder by the minute.

Her eyebrows rose as though she dared him to verbalize his question.

Did he have room for it? He laid it overtop the luggage as best he could before opening the front door for her. She clambered in with a purse and a messenger bag, then he shut both doors and rounded the truck.

When he climbed inside, she was stretching her hands toward the heater vent, rubbing them together. “You don’t know how good this feels.”

“Buckle up.” The words came out short, but seriously. In these conditions, every bit of protection was needed. He snapped his own into place and waited for her before guiding the stick into Drive.

She darted a glance his direction. “I can explain.”

Sure. His brothers called him the bleeding heart. He’d never live down picking up a runaway bride.

*

Taryn Bellamy’s heart rate might never return to normal. The same might be true of her life, honestly. She’d tossed normal into the dumpster as she drove past the turnoff to the church and kept right on going. There would be no retrieval of all she’d thrown away.

That was good. Right? She’d agonized over this decision since Friday afternoon, and the opportunity had come. She’d grabbed it and run.

She glanced toward her rescuer. His face was drawn and tight, his hands clenched on the wheel as the truck barely inched along.

“Yes, I ran away from my own wedding.”

The words hung in the air. The guy’s eyes didn’t so much as flick in her direction.

“I know road conditions are horrible, and maybe it was stupid, but I’m not sorry.”

“Save it.”

Alrighty then. He didn’t care about her drama, and why should he? She could zip her mouth shut. Probably for no more than five minutes, honestly, but she’d do her best.

Taryn crossed her arms and leaned back into the leather seat. She’d missed when he turned the seat heat on, but the warmth felt amazing.

“Nice dogs.” That was neutral, right?

“Can you watch for a driveway, please?”

Oh. Everything isn’t about you, Taryn.

“Sure. It’s close here?”

“If we haven’t passed it.”

His clipped tone registered. The guy was nervous, and it wasn’t about her at all, though she was sure her presence and circumstances weren’t helping any.

“There.” He turned the wheel slightly, and the truck began to angle toward… oh, yes, she could make out a gap in the zigzag log fence, even in the gathering darkness.

Taryn held her breath, waiting for the truck to slide into the ditch like her car had done. Waited for the minimal forward movement to come to a complete stop. Waited for the tires to spin.

But this cowboy must be a better driver than she was or, probably, this truck had four-wheel-drive. At any rate, he navigated the driveway slowly but surely until he pulled to a stop in front of a long, low log bungalow. It might be a fraction of the size of her father’s house, but nothing had ever looked so welcoming.

Except there were no lit windows, no smoke coming from the chimney, and no sign anyone had cleared snow off the steps. Anxiety ratcheted up again as her rescuer muttered something.

He jumped out of the truck and called, “stay,” before slamming the truck door.

The nerve.

Oh, wait. The dogs.

Taryn turned slightly. Her luggage and enormous dress blocked the two animals from clear view, but one had its nose pressed against the side window while the other looked toward her with bright eyes and a happy grin, tongue lolling from its mouth.

Mom had a Chihuahua she treated better than her daughter, and Taryn was totally not a dog person. The creature in the backseat clearly didn’t know that or didn’t care.

Her rescuer stomped up the steps of the log house and pounded on the door. No one opened it. Then he rummaged around under the welcome mat, pulled out a key, and unlocked the door before disappearing inside. Lights came on.

Taryn blinked. Seriously? People left their keys outside and other people just randomly went in?

More to the point, what did she know of the guy who’d picked her up?

He had a bigger-than-average truck with a logo on the side she hadn’t managed to read. He had two dogs. He was maybe thirty years old, tops, and looked lean, even inside a thick parka. Dark hair curled out from beneath a dark gray beanie.

What did an honest guy look like? How would she know? She’d thought Michael was upright, and her trust had proved to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life. And, as far as she knew, Michael didn’t go around breaking into people’s houses. Maybe it wasn’t breaking in if they left a key in such an obvious place.

The guy returned and opened the door to let the dogs out. He looked over at Taryn. “Grab what you need overnight.”

“Wait. There’s no one home?”

“Correct.”

“Shouldn’t we…?”

“No. This is the best place.”

Taryn was at his mercy, which wasn’t particularly comforting. She didn’t even know his name, but if she asked, he’d ask hers. Running incognito wasn’t going to last long, either way. The odds this guy knew her dad or Michael were slim. Right? But not zero.

He watched her, eyebrows raised. “Coming?” He lifted the duffel he’d shoved to the floor earlier.

“Um, yes.” Taryn jumped out, slung her purse and messenger bag to her shoulder, and grabbed her carry-on from beneath the voluminous gown. What had she packed in the larger suitcase? Swimsuits, shorts, tank tops, frilly nightgowns… nothing she was going to want or need while stranded in a March blizzard. Buh-bye, Hawaii. Maybe someday.

The wind carried less force here amid the trees than it had on the open highway, but the temperature must have plummeted another ten degrees. And the snow! How many inches? Nearly to her knees.

The guy whistled for the dogs, and they vaulted out of the darkness. As soon as he opened the door, they bounded in. Taryn plowed through the snow, up the steps, and into the house. She set down her bags as the guy closed them in, shutting out the darkness and the cold.

Except it wasn’t all that toasty inside, either. Taryn shivered.

“I’ll start a fire. Want to see what there is for food?”

She crossed her arms. “This isn’t our house.” Unless there was something he hadn’t told her.

“Fine. I’ll do everything.” He stomped back outside, and the door slammed behind him.

“That’s not what I meant!” she shouted at the solid planks.

He didn’t return the jab. Probably hadn’t heard it, which was just as well.

Something nudged her knee. One of those darn dogs. Could this night get any worse?

Well, yeah. She could be Mrs. Michael Lutsenko by now. Even a few weeks in Hawaii wouldn’t be enough to offset an entire life where Dad and Michael remained in control.

No. Whoever this guy was, he had to be the better option. So, he’d broken into someone’s house and now was starting a fire and raiding their cupboards.

It could be worse.

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