Barefoot Blue Jean Night

Barefoot Blue Jean Night
Debbi Rawlins

Destination: Sundance Dude Ranch – Blackfoot Falls, Montana Activities: Horseback riding, rodeos, guided hikes…and lots of cowboy action!The moment she sees the ad for Sundance Dude Ranch – featuring the rugged McAllister brothers – travel blogger Jamie Daniels can’t resist booking. After all, a week of fresh air and scenery will do her good…especially if that scenery includes Cole McAllister’s very fine backside!Cole’s not thrilled about playing host to hordes of ogling women. But when he’s persuaded into showing Jamie the ropes, his reluctance is conspicuously absent. In fact, there’s nothing he’d like more than giving Jamie a cowboy experience she won’t ever forget…

Can’t get enough cowboys?

Popular Mills & Boon

Blaze

author Debbie Rawlins takes readers on a great ride with her new miniseries

MADE IN MONTANA

The little town of Blackfoot Falls hasn’t seen

this much action since … well, ever.

Stay up till dawn with

Barefoot Blue Jean Night

(October 2012)

Own the Night

(December 2012)

On a Snowy Christmas Night

(January 2013)

And remember, the sexiest cowboys

are Made in Montana!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Blackfoot Falls, Montana, home of the Sundance ranch and the rough-and-tumble McAllister clan. This is the first book in my MADE IN MONTANA series, which brings me back to the romantic world of the cowboy and the beauty of the American West.

I’ve always loved movies and books set in the West. Once in a while, Hollywood makes a Western and I’m first in line for a ticket. And I love making up my own stories, especially since I get to customize the heroes.

In Barefoot Blue Jean Night, you’ll meet Cole McAllister, the eldest of three brothers—and definitely the strong silent type. To tell you the truth, I had trouble sharing him. I wanted to keep him for myself. But hopefully heroine Jamie Daniels and you all will appreciate him as much as I do.

Happy reading!

Debbi Rawlins

About the Author

DEBBI RAWLINS lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until a few years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college, she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.

Barefoot Blue Jean Night

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

This is for Laura Barth.

Thank you for your support, encouragement and hard work.

You rock!

1

“EASE UP, BOY.” Pulling on the reins of his horse, Cole McAllister squinted across a thousand acres of McAllister land at the late June sun sinking toward the soaring Rockies. He never wore a watch, didn’t need to. The sun’s position in the blue Montana sky told him he had just enough time to ride home and grab a shower before his sister arrived. The party would have already started, but he didn’t care about missing any of the festivities. A quiet family dinner would have been his choice to celebrate Rachel’s return after finishing graduate school.

He was excited to have his only sister back, equally pleased not to have to come up with more tuition money. The family ranch was officially operating on fumes. No one knew how desperately they needed cash but him. Both his brothers had some idea of the trouble they faced, Jesse more than Trace. After Jesse’s two tours in Afghanistan, Cole got the feeling he didn’t miss much.

Trace was still young, only twenty-six and most concerned with how soon he could trade in his pickup for a newer model. It wasn’t that Cole had tried to hide anything—though the boys had agreed not to burden their mother or Rachel—but each month the economy just kept sliding further downhill, sinking them deeper into the hole.

Beef consumption was down, fuel and grain prices up. Any number of reasons accounted for their predicament, and they weren’t alone. Most of the other ranches around Blackfoot Falls were in debt and disrepair, yet Cole still felt responsible. For six generations the Sundance had been passed from eldest son to eldest son and despite droughts and land disputes, recessions and wars, the McAllisters had survived on wits and grit. Cole would be damned if he’d be the first to go begging.

Bad enough that when some of the smaller ranches had started to buckle, men Cole had known his whole life had lost their jobs and come to him. Oh, he’d had work for them, but no means to pay them. That he had to turn them away about broke him in two. But it was all he could do to keep from laying off his own hands—some of them had hired on with his dad and were building fences and rounding up cattle before he was born.

They’d been there eleven years ago to console the family the day Cole’s father had lost his final battle with cancer. They were the same men who’d loved and respected the formidable but fair Gavin McAllister as if he were their own kin, and they suffered his loss in the same way.

That hadn’t stopped a single one of them from stepping in to give Cole a leg up in managing the three-thousand-acre cattle ranch. He’d turned twenty-one the week before, too young to fill his father’s impressive boots. But it wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have changed anything. He’d been proud to pick up the reins, scared spitless but willing and honored. Who knew he’d bring the family to this?

He exhaled slowly, took a final long look at the land, dotted by the last vestiges of wildflowers—field daisies and pink columbine barely able to hang on this late in summer and only because of the altitude. The thought that they’d have to sell even a square foot of McAllister land twisted his gut in raw disgust that even his horse seemed to feel. Tango reared up. Cole tugged on the reins and leaned over to soothingly stroke the gelding’s neck.

“Hey, buddy. Rachel’s coming home today. You’ll be happy to see her.” He wheeled Tango around and since the horse had been watered and rested, Cole nudged him into a gallop. He took off, at one with the stiff, warm breeze.

They wove through the aspens until they broke out into the open meadow and raced across the tall thick grass, the sun fierce on Cole’s back. He didn’t slow them down until he saw a pair of veteran hands working along the fenceline, and he waved for them to return to the ranch so they could enjoy the barbecue. The crazy old fools would work till sundown if he didn’t stop them. That’s what made the situation so damn hard. Everyone from Chester, the bunkhouse cook, to the last hired wrangler took pride in the Sundance as if it were his own. If it came down to layoffs …

Cole could barely think in that direction. There would be no choice at that point. He’d have to auction off some of the land. Hell, what was he thinking? There’d be no auction. Wallace Gunderson would be the first one muddying up the McAllister porch, pen and checkbook in hand. Not only was he the sole person with that kind of money around here, but the old man had lusted after the hilly creek-fed McAllister spread for as long as Cole could remember.

Even when Cole’s father was alive, Gunderson had put a sizeable offer on the table for the north pasture that butted up to his land. That was one of two times Cole had seen his father lose his temper. He’d nearly thrown the man and his son out of the McAllister kitchen. Of course, it was no secret to anyone who lived within a hundred miles that the McAllisters and the Gundersons hadn’t gotten along for over four generations. Cole wasn’t sure if anyone recalled what had started the feud. Didn’t matter. If and when the time came to sell, he’d sooner rob a bank than deed so much as a square inch to Wallace. Cole’s dislike for the man had nothing to do with the family history. He simply couldn’t abide the bastard’s mistreatment of his animals.

The bunkhouse and barn came into view, made hazy by the plumes of gray smoke drifting up from the rows of barbecue pits. Chester had started early this morning, baking corn bread and preparing the chicken and ribs for this evening’s bash. As Cole rode toward the stables, he saw the groups of picnic tables set up closer to the main house. A couple had been placed near the bunkhouse kitchen. White lights had been strung up around the pine trees and along the corral fence, and a rainbow of balloons bobbed from the posts.

He didn’t see his brother’s Jeep so Cole knew Jesse hadn’t returned from the airport with Rachel yet. Some of the neighbors were already here. He recognized the two black-and-red trucks parked along the gravel driveway, and noticed that the Richardson brood and Ida and Henry Pickens were climbing out of their pickups on the other side of the barn. He didn’t know how many people his mother had invited, over fifty he’d reckon. And that wasn’t counting the hands—most of them had been as much a part of Rachel’s life as Cole and his brothers.

If Cole hadn’t stepped in, there would have been a much larger crowd. The shocked expression on his mother’s face when he’d given her a budget remained vivid in his mind. What had stung even more was the sad, resigned nod that told him she suspected they were in trouble. Still, she hadn’t asked for details, hadn’t given him so much as a glance of disapproval or a hint of disappointment. Being the gracious lady she’d always been, she’d simply smiled and said how happy she would be to have Rachel home again, and that was all that mattered.

His sister would be a whole different story. She’d take one look at the barn that needed painting, the corral fence that should’ve been replaced by now and all the other areas he’d been forced to ignore, and she’d have questions, demand answers. He wouldn’t blame her one bit. Didn’t mean he’d welcome the inquisition.

SHORTLY AFTER TEN, the last of the guests started to leave. Cole normally would be getting into the sack by now since he routinely awoke at five every day, but throughout the evening he’d caught Rachel’s questioning looks enough to know that she wouldn’t wait until morning to give him the third degree.