Cathy Mcdavid - Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish

The return of the cowboy

Nine years ago Ethan Powell gave up his rodeo career, his Arizona ranch, his family—and most important, his high school sweetheart—to join the Marines. He’s returned an injured hero, determined to let nothing keep him from going back to a job he loves—breaking horses. Getting back in the saddle is something he needs to do, to prove to himself he can.

Breaking horses and breaking her heart again? No way! Caitlin Carmichael isn’t ready to pick up where she and Ethan left off, no matter how devastating his kisses are. She isn’t the same carefree risk taker she used to be. This time the two-feet-solidly-on-the-ground nurse is proceeding with caution. So what is it about Ethan and his daredevil ways that’s making her long to have him as her Christmas cowboy—for now and every Christmas to come?

He kept coming, straight for her.

Before she could object, he hauled her into his arms and swung her in a wide circle.

“Put me down before you hurt yourself. More. Again.”

“I did it!”

“Ethan, please!”

He released her. Except the moment her feet touched the ground, he lowered his mouth to hers, stopping a fraction of an inch shy of kissing her.

“I’ve wanted to do this for the past three days.”

Three days? Was that all?

She’d been waiting the past eight years, eleven months and twenty-one days to kiss him.

Dear Reader,

If asked, I would admit that reunion stories are one of my favorite kinds to read—which made Her Cowboy’s Christmas Wish one of my favorite kind to write. From the moment I began this book I knew Ethan Powell would be an interesting guy. How could a former rodeo bronc rider trying for a comeback after a long stint in the marines not be interesting? Only when he first appeared on the pages of Last Chance Cowboy did I realize Ethan returned from the Middle East minus the lower half of his left leg.

I wondered how his family and friends might look at him and if they’d treat him differently. I was really curious how his old high school sweetheart would react when she first saw him. While imagining that scene, Caitlin Carmichael came to life for me. She is strong, yet scared to death and not at all the person she was when she and Ethan dated those many years ago. Then again, neither is he.

Helping these two people rekindle their love, resolve their differences and find their meant-to-be happily-ever-after has been pure pleasure for me. I hope reading their story is for you, too.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I always enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me at www.cathymcdavid.com.

Cathy McDavid

Her Cowboy’s Christmas Wish

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy makes her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains where hawks fly overhead, javelina traipse across her front yard and mountain lions occasionally come calling. She embraced the country life at an early age, acquiring her first horse in eighth grade. Dozens of horses followed through the years, along with mules, an obscenely fat donkey, chickens, ducks, goats and a pot-bellied pig who had her own swimming pool. Nowadays, two spoiled dogs and two spoiled-er cats round out the McDavid pets. Cathy loves contemporary and historical ranch stories and often incorporates her own experiences into her books.

When not writing, Cathy and her family and friends spend as much time as they can at her cabin in the small town of Young. Of course, she takes her laptop with her on the chance inspiration strikes.

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To my own darling Caitlin.

You were truly the most beautiful baby ever born. I’m not exactly sure when you grew up into this incredible, lovely and supersmart young woman, but it happened. And I couldn’t be any prouder. Love you forever, Mom.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

The big buckskin reared—at least he tried to rear. His thick, rangy body was too confined by the narrow chute, so he achieved little height. Frustrated, he pawed the ground, then backed up and banged into the panel with such force the reverberation carried down the metal railing like an electrical current.

“He’s an ornery one,” the cowboy sitting astride the fence said. “And smarter than he looks.”

Ethan Powell considered the man’s assessment of the horse he was about to ride, and decided he agreed. The buckskin was ornery and smart, and would enjoy nothing better than stomping Ethan into the ground.

Exactly the kind of saddle bronc he preferred. The kind he’d hoped to draw when he’d competed professionally. Nowadays his rodeo riding was restricted to this small, local arena and for “personal enjoyment” only. No sanctioned rodeo, or unsanctioned rodeo for that matter, would allow him to enter.

He understood. He just didn’t like it, and was determined to change the Duvall Rodeo Arena’s policies, if not the entire Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association. Before he could do that, however, he had to prove he still had what it took to go up against men who were, for the most part, younger than him and, without exception, physically whole.

“You gonna stand there all night, Powell?” the cowboy asked.

In the chute beside Ethan, the buckskin lifted his head and stared straight ahead, every muscle in his body bunched tight with anticipation.

Just like Ethan.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Shielding his eyes from the bright floodlights that lit the arena, he climbed the fence and straddled it alongside the wrangler. Then he took another few seconds to study the bronc up close.

“Good luck,” the cowboy said.

Ethan would need more than luck if he expected to ride this bad boy for eight seconds.

He’d been on plenty of unbroken and green broke horses in the last year. There was, however, a world of difference between those animals and one bred and trained to give a man the ride of his life.

Drawing a deep breath, he braced a hand on either side of the chute and lowered himself onto the buckskin’s back inch by inch. Twice he paused, waiting for the big horse to settle. Once in the saddle, he took hold of the reins and slipped his feet into the stirrups, careful to keep his toes pointed forward.

The buckskin, eager to give his rider a preview of what was to come, twisted sideways. Ethan’s left ankle was momentarily pinned between the horse’s broad body and the chute. It might have hurt if he had any feeling in his lower leg.

He didn’t and probably never would, unless medical science developed a prosthetic device with artificial nerve endings that could transmit sensation to the wearer.

When his ankle was freed and the buckskin was once again in position, Ethan slid the reins back and forth through his gloved hands until the grip felt right.

The moment the horse committed, he nodded to the wrangler manning the gate and said, “Go,” hoping like heck he wasn’t making a huge mistake.