Marie Ferrarella - Her Forever Cowboy

Added to that, his parents liked her, and his grandmother, a very wealthy woman, was crazy about her. She’d referred to her as her grandson’s saving grace and wholeheartedly looked forward to their wedding.

Secretly missing the comforting security of a home life, Alisha had accepted Pierce’s proposal despite the uneasiness she experienced when she’d actually uttered the word yes. Her uneasiness refused to completely go away even as the weeks went by.

She should have gone with her gut. Alisha upbraided herself after the engagement ring—a family heirloom—had left her finger. It was her gut that had told her to turn Pierce down; her gut that told her that a so-called fairy-tale wedding and marriage were not in the cards for her, not with this self-centered Adonis. But loneliness was a powerful persuader, and she really had liked his family. In a moment of weakness, she’d agreed.

And now she was paying for it, Alisha thought ruefully.

The worst part was that this was not the first time she’d caught Pierce being unfaithful. But in each case, it had been after the fact, certainly not during the act, the way it had been this last time. And those other times, he’d made apologetic noises that she’d accepted. This time, there hadn’t even been the pretense of regret or remorse. If there was any regret about the incident, it was that he had gotten caught, nothing beyond that.

Well, her engagement—and Pierce—were now part of her past, and she wanted no reminders, no chance encounters to haunt her and make her uncomfortable, even inwardly. It didn’t matter how good a poker face she could maintain, she didn’t want to be reminded of her near-terminal mistake.

Moving away was not a problem. But finding a destination was. Where could she go? As if some unseen force was taking matters in hand, Alisha became aware of the fact that she was pondering her fate standing next to the physicians’ bulletin board, the one where almost anything could be found by those who had the patience to carefully scan the different missives tacked onto that board. There were courtside tickets to the next basketball game being offered for sale—or more accurately, resale—slightly used furniture in reasonable shape could be gotten for a song and so on. All in all, it was like a visual bazaar without the noise.

For a fleeting moment, looking at the bulletin board, it occurred to Alisha that she could have offered her engagement ring up for sale, but she decided that throwing it at Pierce was infinitely more satisfying than any money she could have gotten for it.

Besides, it had belonged to his grandmother, and she had liked the woman.

That was when she spotted it. A letter tacked on the upper left corner of the bulletin board. It was almost obscured by an ad for a European cruise of a lifetime. Moving the ad aside, she saw that the neatly typed letter was addressed to “Any budding, selfless physician reading this letter who might be willing to put in long hours for very little financial reward, reaping instead endless emotional satisfaction that he or she was making a difference in some good people’s lives.” There was more written after that, an entire long paragraph, describing the conditions in the area as well as summarizing the basic requirements. It was signed by a Dr. Daniel Davenport.

Alisha stared at the letter for a minute or so before she finally took it down to read more carefully.

Was this Dr. Daniel Davenport for real, sending something like this here? Alisha wondered. The recently graduated physicians at this teaching hospital were all aiming at practices that would have them working a minimum of hours for a maximum financial return. This letter sounded as if it was an appeal for a saint, or at the very least, for a doctor who was willing to travel to a third-world country on a regular basis.

Well, you wanted to get away. This certainly qualifies as getting away, a voice in her head pointed out.

Alisha stared at the address at the top of the letter. This Dr. Davenport lived somewhere called “Forever, Texas.”

Alisha frowned. Okay, not a third-world country, but she still hadn’t heard of the place. But then, she hadn’t heard of a great many places, and this Forever certainly sounded as if it was far away enough to qualify as getting away.

Alisha stared at the letter, weighing her options. The one thing she knew was that she did not want to remain here a second longer than she had to.

After a moment’s internal debate, rather than tack the letter back up on the bulletin board, she carefully folded it and put the letter in the pocket of her white lab coat.

Forever, Alisha mused. It had an interesting ring to it.

Chapter One

“Pinch me, brother.”

Brett Murphy, one-third owner of Murphy’s and the older brother of the other two-thirds owners, Finn and Liam, paused wiping down the long, sleek counter of Forever’s only saloon as he saw Dr. Dan Davenport, walking by the establishment’s tinted bay window.

It was not the town’s only physician who had caught Brett’s attention but the tall, willowy young woman who was walking beside Dan. The tall, willowy young woman who was not Dan’s wife, Tina, or Holly Rodriguez, his new nurse.

“Why?” Liam asked, only half listening to him.

Though the saloon wasn’t actually open yet, and certainly not ready to go into full swing for a number of hours, Liam was doing a preliminary instrument check—for the second time. He and his budding band were playing here tonight, and Brett had raised him never to leave anything to chance or take anything for granted. Liam had his eye on someday leaving the saloon behind him and going professional.

Though he was seldom mesmerized by anything, Dan’s companion had managed to completely captivate him, even at this distance.

Now, that is one gorgeous woman, Brett couldn’t help thinking.

“Because, little brother,” he said aloud, “I think I’ve just seen the woman of my dreams.”

That managed to get Liam’s attention. His guitar temporarily forgotten, Liam looked up at his oldest brother then turned to see what Brett was talking about.

At that point, the young woman who had so completely caught Brett’s fancy had disappeared from view. Her presence was replaced by another female who was passing by. Mildred Haggerty.

Liam’s jaw slackened and dropped as he turned back to look at his brother.

“Mrs. Haggerty is the woman of your dreams?” he asked incredulously. “Have you had your eyes checked lately? Better yet, have you had your head checked lately?” Liam asked.

Mildred Haggerty was as tall as she was wide, had an overbearing personality with an unabashed drive to dominate everyone she came in contact with. A woman of some independent means, in her lifetime, she had buried three husbands. Rumor had it that they had all died willingly in order to permanently get away from the source of their misery, Mildred.

Brett looked at Liam as if the latter was the one who had lost his mind. But before Brett could remark on it, the front door began to creak, announcing that someone was disregarding the hours that were posted outside and coming into Murphy’s. In general, Brett was rather flexible about adhering to the hours carved into the sign, enforcing them when the whim hit him. He was not above welcoming the lone, stray customer before hours.

Thinking that Mrs. Haggerty was the one entering—possibly trolling for husband number four—Liam took it upon himself to loudly announce, “We’re not really open for business yet.”

“How about pleasure?” Dr. Dan Davenport asked as he held the door open for the reason he had come to Murphy’s in the first place. The young woman accompanying him walked into the saloon, squinting slightly as her eyes became accustomed to the darkened interior. “Are you open for pleasure?” Dan asked, a broad grin on his lips.