Cathy Mcdavid - The Comeback Cowboy

When their gazes connected, his eyes lit, then turned dark and smoldering. The small thrill became a rushing river of awareness. All at once, Adele knew why Ty had called her to meet him and what he wanted. She didn’t hesitate going to him.

Dropping the reins, he came forward. Luckily, Hamm was placid by nature outside the arena because another horse might have spooked when Adele flung herself into Ty’s open arms.

“I’ve been waiting a week for this,” he said as his mouth came down on hers.

Only a week? It felt to Adele as if she’d been waiting forever. For this kiss. This moment. This man.

Dear Reader,

While researching rodeos and calf roping for my previous book, Dusty: Wild Cowboy, I spent a fair amount of time at local arenas watching amateur ropers practice and compete. At each visit to the arena, I was surprised at the number of young women participating. Roping is a tough and rugged sport, requiring strength and agility as well as considerable skill.

I couldn’t help but admire these women who frequently competed against men twice their size. As a writer, my imagination soared. I easily envisioned one of these spunky and determined cowgirls as the heroine of my next book. It was soon after that the idea for The Comeback Cowboy was born. In the story, I match Adele Donnelly, an accomplished amateur woman roper, with Ty Boudeau, a professional roper and contender for the next World Championship title.

I just love the notion of an amateur woman teaching a professional man “the ropes,” so to speak. I hope you do, too.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers. Visit my website at www.cathymcdavid.com for updates on my next series and to drop me a line.

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

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, she, 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.

To Libby and Connie. I always knew you would make great critique partners. What I didn’t know was how much your friendship would enrich my life.

Thank you for making the last ten years not just a journey but an adventure. I love you both.

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

Welcome to Seven Cedars Ranch, Home of Cowboy College.

He sat immobile, staring at the large sign with its horse-head logo, his jaw tightly clenched.

Up until the moment he drove through the main gate, he’d been able to deny how really low he’d sunk in the last six months and how really far he’d have to climb to get back on top.

No more. The time to man up had officially arrived.

He reached for the door handle on his pickup—only to have it abruptly wrenched open. Startled, he turned to look into the face of a kid no older than eighteen or nineteen.

“Welcome, Mr. Boudeau. We’ve been expecting you.” The kid waited, a gosh-I-can’t-believe-it’s-you grin plastered across his freckled face.

“The name’s Ty.” He removed the keys from the ignition and climbed out.

“A real pleasure to meet you, Ty.” They shook hands. “Folks ’round here call me Stick.” The kid stepped back, and Ty could immediately see how he’d earned the nickname. Stick could get lost standing behind a flagpole. “Right this way. Adele’s waiting for you.”

Ty hesitated, the doubts he’d successfully kept at bay during the four-hour drive across Wyoming gaining ground. He needed help, that was a fact. But from a woman? One who made a living instructing amateurs at a glorified dude ranch. For a professional tie-down and team roper like himself, the idea was ludicrous. Certainly not “genius,” as his younger sister had professed.

And yet he’d come.

“Okay to leave the truck parked here?” His Ford F350 dually and horse trailer blocked all six of the available spaces in front of the rustic two-story lodge.

“No problem.”

Being a minor celebrity, even an undeserving one, had its privileges, he supposed.

Grabbing his wallet, Ty followed Stick up a stone-lined walkway, across a sprawling porch and through the front entrance of the lodge. With each thunk of his boots on the hardwood floor, his gut clenched tighter. This place was his last-ditch effort. If it, and Adele Donnelly, couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong, then he might as well kiss his roping career goodbye.

“Here’s the main lobby and that way is the business center,” Stick informed him as they crossed the spacious room with its vaulted ceilings and pine beams. Ten-foot-high windows looked out onto rolling green grounds dotted with thick stands of trees. “The front desk is where you check in and out, get the weekly schedules, sign up for classes.” He shot Ty a guilty look over his shoulder. “Not that you need any.”

“You never know.” He definitely needed something.

“There’s a lounge with a TV over there for guests.” Stick pointed. “It’s got satellite.”

“Oh, good. Can’t miss my daily dose of CNN.”

His attempt at sarcasm went right over Stick’s head, who didn’t stop talking long enough to take a breath.

“The dining hall’s that way. Breakfast is served from five-thirty to seven, lunch from eleven-thirty to one and dinner from six to seven-thirty. Social hour starts at five. ’Course, if you’re hungry, Cook’s always got a pot of stew or chili on the stove.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Ty didn’t anticipate doing much socializing during his four-week stay. He was here to rope. Though competent in other rodeo events, steer wrestling and team roping mostly, tie-down roping was what he excelled at. Make that had excelled at. Everything had changed last December.

Stick escorted him to a long counter resembling a hotel registration desk, only on a much simpler scale. “You in there, Adele?” he called.

Ty caught a glimpse of a desk with a phone and computer through the open door behind the counter.

When no one answered, Stick tapped the bell on the counter. It promptly dinged. “Huh.” He pushed his cowboy hat back, revealing a shock of red hair, and scratched his forehead. “Guess she’s not here.”