The Cowboy's Homecoming. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
Kailey laughed. “News flash, Duggan. You’re on Brandt land. I’m already home. Maybe I should walk you back, huh?”
She was so quick, a little feisty, and he liked that about her. A lot. “If you want to kill my reputation with a single blow, sure. Big bad rodeo star needs an escort home in the dark.”
Not that he couldn’t find a few things to do in the dark with her.
He had to stop thinking that way.
“I guess we’ll just part ways here, then,” she replied, pushing herself to her feet.
“I guess.” He’d taken maybe half a dozen steps when she called out to him.
“Hey, Rylan.”
He turned and faced her, and the image of her standing in the twilight among the waving grass did something crazy to his pulse.
“I’m glad we cleared the air.” Kailey turned and started walking away, her hips swinging a little with each step.
He was glad she was happy about it, because to his mind things had just become a whole lot more complicated.
The Cowboy’s Homecoming
Donna Alward
A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mom and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna has always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for Mills & Boon.
In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the West. Donna’s debut romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded a Booksellers’ Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.
With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!
Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.donnaalward.com, or follow @DonnaAlward on Twitter.
Contents
Crooked Valley Ranch had changed since Rylan had last been here.
He drove slowly up the driveway, the Ford 4x4 and hybrid camper he towed behind moving easily over the gravel lane, not a pothole to be seen. Duke must have had it leveled this spring, he mused.
Ry touched the brakes and stared at the house. A fresh coat of white paint was on the front porch and flowers bloomed in a profusion of color in front of crisscross lattice skirting. The barns could use a new coat of paint as well, but there was an air of neatness and organization that had been missing before, too. It looked as if his sister hadn’t been kidding. Crooked Valley Ranch was on its way up.
“I’ll be damned,” he breathed, a smile touching his lips. He never would have thought his dyed-in-the-wool military brother, Duke, would turn out to be a rancher. But if outward appearances meant anything, Duke was doing a damned good job revitalizing their granddad’s spread.
Rylan scowled a little, chafing against the demand-presented-as-a-request he’d received from Lacey. Duke was staying on at Crooked Valley. Hell, he was married and had a baby on the way—a family to support. Lacey had taken over the administration aspect of the operation, and she and the ranch manager, Quinn Solomon, were planning a June wedding. Joe Duggan’s will required all three of his grandchildren to take their place at the ranch before the year was up or else the place would be sold. Lacey had totally guilted him into coming “home,” as she’d put it.
“It’s not forever,” she’d assured him. “Just use this as your home base. That’s all we ask. We’ve never asked anything else of you, Rylan. Please help us keep it in the family. Once everything’s settled, Duke and I will find a way to buy out your third.”
Roots. He tried to avoid them whenever he could. Still, it kind of stung that Lacey had just dismissed him as having no interest in the ranch. Not that he wanted his part of it, but that they hadn’t expected it of him. No one ever expected anything of him, did they? He should have been used to it by now.
He pulled into a big vacant spot next to the horse barn and cut the engine, which also cut out the comforting sounds of the music he’d had blaring on the radio during the drive from Wyoming.
Truth was, he’d known since February that this day was coming.
His arrival must have made some noise, because a little girl came rushing out