Heidi Hormel - The Convenient Cowboy

This time attorney and father Spencer MacCormack gets tangled up with Olympia James, a footloose cowgirl from the wrong side of the trailer park. Next I mixed in a marriage of convenience, an unexpected pregnancy and a javelina (an Arizona-style pig), making The Convenient Cowboy just as much fun to write as my first book. Most of my story ideas start with a scene that I see clearly in my head. For this book, it was Spence’s quickie wedding in Las Vegas (or Lost Wages, as my uncle called it). His bride took longer to see, then there she was. A young woman who’d vowed that she was going to be a rodeo star and no babies or husband were going to stand in her way. Boy, did that give them a few “challenges.” But no matter what I threw at them, they just couldn’t stay out of each other’s arms. With the MacCormack brothers’ stories told, my brain (and my fingers) have been itching to write about the other two Leigh siblings...or maybe there’s another cowgirl out there who will show up in my imagination. If you want to know more about my inspirations and musings or drop me a note, check out my website and blog at heidihormel.net, where you also can sign up for my newsletter; or connect with me at facebook.com/authorheidihormel , twitter.com/heidihormel or pinterest.com/hhormel . Yee-haw, Heidi Hormel

Title Page The Convenient Cowboy Heidi Hormel www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author With stints as an innkeeper, radio talk show host and craft store manager, HEIDI HORMEL settled into her true calling as a writer. She spent years as a reporter (covering the story of the rampaging elephants Debbie and Tina) and as a PR flunky (staying calm in the face of Cookiegate) before settling into penning romances with a wink and a wiggle. A small-town girl from a place that’s been called the Snack Food Capital of the World, Heidi has trotted over a good portion of the globe, from Volcano National Park in Hawaii to Loch Ness in Scotland to the depths of Death Valley. She has also spent large chunks of time in Arizona, where she fell in love with the desert and fry bread, and in Great Britain, where she developed an unnatural obsession with jacket potatoes and toasties. Heidi is on the web at heidihormel.net as well as socially out there at facebook.com/authorheidihormel , twitter.com/heidihormel and p interest.com/hhormel .

Dedication For the unflagging support of my writing friends. It has taken a village with virtual and in-person hand-holding to get another story out of my brain and onto the page. My sincerest thanks (until you’re better paid).

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 Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Thank you. Thank you very much,” announced the standard-issue Elvis minister at the Little Chapel of the Strip in Vegas.

Not exactly how Olympia had pictured her wedding, but then she’d never planned to get married at all. So the $29.99 ceremony would do just fine.

“Thanks,” her new husband, Spencer MacCormack, said as he shook Elvis’s beringed hand. He used his aw-shucks-ma’am smile, which hid his sharky lawyer brain.

Olympia shook the minister’s hand, too, ignoring his raised eyebrows. He was clearly wondering why they hadn’t kissed. Simple answer. The marriage had been contracted, signed, sealed and delivered. No lovin’. No touchin’. No squeezin’. She’d get the cash she needed for her sister. Being a husband would get Spence full custody of his son. When they each had what they wanted, they’d go on their merry ways, just like they’d done after that night in Phoenix.

“Do you want to eat before we head back?” Spence asked as he opened the door into the desert heat, waving for her to go first. Another one of those cowboy gestures that was as fake as a three-dollar bill. She knew that Spence had grown up in suburban Phoenix—on a golf course—and had never ridden a horse and never wanted to. Even without the Stetson and drawl, his all-American good looks—the disordered blond hair, the dusty-blue eyes and the barely there dimple—probably got him what he wanted in the courtroom and in the bedroom. She blamed falling into bed with him three months ago on his looks. But that was ancient history. Over. Done.

“I just want to get back to Tucson,” Olympia said. The knots in her stomach stayed firmly tied, as they had for months, ever since her youngest sister had announced that—in a stroke of James-family bad luck—her four-year college scholarship had dried up, and she’d have to drop out of school before she’d even started. When Spence had approached Olympia with the “marriage” proposal out of the blue, she’d hoped that she’d finally been cut a break.

“If traffic is good, we should be home by four,” Spence said as the oversize, fuel-guzzling, dual-pipe pickup with the king cab roared to life. “If you need me to stop for a pee-pee break, just holler.”

“Really? I’m not two.”

“Sorry. Old habit from when I hauled my son around as a toddler.” He pulled out of the parking lot.

Nausea added to her misery. When they’d been getting hitched, she’d been able to forget that Spence had a seven-year-old son who would not be living with them or even visiting. Thank the Lord. The former in-laws had his custody all tied up in court, and Spence could see his son at only neutral locations. He’d talked about that when they’d met at her friend’s wedding. She’d felt bad for him. Even though they’d connected and he’d charmed her with a smile she’d found attractive at the time, she’d never imagined that they’d be involved beyond that one night. That was the kind of curveball life always threw at her, so here she and Spence were—married, with a one-hundred-page prenup contract. The document outlined a lot of how they would carry on before and after the marriage and stipulated he’d reside at her house. She’d been the one to explain that the ranch would help show he had a stable home life—no pun intended. But the overly legal agreement didn’t get into the nitty-gritty of the everyday. Like, who cooked? Not her. Who cleaned the toilet? Not her.

The number one unwritten ground rule, though, had to be that she and Spence would not repeat what had happened in Phoenix after the wedding of Jessie, her friend, to Payson, Spence’s brother. Olympia had no room in her life for romance or wannabe cowboys. She swallowed hard, bile creeping up the back of her throat, then picked up her purse and rooted for the TUMS, which had become a staple of her diet the past three weeks.

They had hours before they’d get to the foothills of the Catalina Mountains outside Tucson. She’d inherited a small ranch there from her deadbeat father. Her daddy—though she usually thought of him as The Sperm Donor—hadn’t paid child support or done any of the other things a father should do. Then three years ago, he’d died and left her the ranch. Of course, the taxes hadn’t been paid, the house hadn’t been lived in for years and the barn, which could house only six horses, had needed major repairs. By stretching her finances beyond the breaking point, she’d made it livable...just. The ranch wasn’t the only thing she’d inherited. According to Mama, Olympia looked more like her daddy with her dark hair and slanted eyes. The only thing James about her was her breasts—large and high—and her short pinkie fingers.

Get it over with, cowgirl , Olympia told herself. “We need to clear up the house rules. You know, like I don’t do laundry, cook meals, make beds—”

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