A Cowboy In Paradise

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

1 (#u7ba46647-e161-5285-a264-fb6e88c7a96e)

JIMI CALLOWAY COULDN’T comprehend a destination wedding in Hawaii that wasn’t on a beach. The wedding was inland. On a ranch! No beach in sight. Her words echoed in her ears. Please just take care of the arrangements. Tell me when I have to be at the airport, she’d told Jose, her assistant, when the invitation had arrived a couple of months ago. Now she wished she’d not been so damn preoccupied with the finishing touches to her first commissioned gown for the Oscars and paid more attention to the finer details of this event.

Jimi sweated under the hot Hawaiian sun. Raising her face to the sky, she closed her eyes and absorbed the sun’s energy. It was a whole lot better than dreary, gray and cold New York City. She got bumped from behind and nearly toppled off her Christian Louboutins.

“Oh, pardon me,” Jimi said, and scampered not to sprawl into the dirt.

“My apologies.” A heavyset man in a straw hat and tropical flowered shirt steadied her by grabbing hold of her elbow.

Jimi gently pulled from his grasp. “It’s okay. No problem,” she said, smiling at him.

She glanced down at her Chanel dress. It had held up pretty well until now, after the twelve-hour flight and the bus ride from the airport to this Hawaiian ranch. She swept her hand over the fabric—covered in dust and travel wrinkled—finally giving up when her sweaty palms smudged the dirt. Shit, her hair would be 1980s huge in this humidity. Trying to blow the damp tendrils out of her eyes, she watched the luxury coach drive away, stranding her in the boonies of the Big Island. She’d had enough of the farm life growing up on a commune. Jimi shivered—a time she didn’t particularly want to remember.

And to top it all off, her suitcase was lost. Panic began to set in. How would she face the day without the suitcase that housed her full armor of makeup, clothing and essentials? A habit she’d started years ago, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone without makeup. Why hadn’t Diana chosen the Four Seasons to have her wedding instead of here? Jimi swung her gaze back to the lady ranch hand who had delivered the upsetting news about her suitcase. Out of habit, she eyed the young woman all decked out in cowgirl clothes. The cowgirl looked at Jimi with clear gray eyes and confidence. Jimi bet she didn’t have a worry in the world. She seemed so amazingly comfortable that Jimi almost envied her. The woman shifted her feet and spurs jangled in the dust. Jimi glanced down at the impressively tooled creations.

“Wow, I love your cowboy boots.”

“Thank you.”

They were great boots, with turquoise leather inlay and stitching. Jimi looked up and met the young woman’s eyes, doing her best to not let aggravation over her lost bag ruin the day.

“I’m really sorry about your suitcase.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just thrown a little off-kilter by all this,” Jimi admitted.

“I understand, but I’m sure it will arrive soon. My name is Larson and I’ll definitely keep an eye out for your bag.”

Jimi nodded, trying not to let her disappointment show. She’d been looking forward to unwinding in Hawaii after the wedding. It was a treasured bit of time between moments of chaos. She so needed to decompress. Vacation time that had been almost impossible to carve out of her busy schedule, but she managed and had lived for these precious weeks in Hawaii. Twenty-one days of sleeping in, relaxing in a cabana by the pool or beach, spa treatments and hopefully a bit of man time.

She’d been without a man’s touch for far too long and desperately needed some attention from the male species. She’d been so busy and the promise to design Diana’s dress was fit it in between the other orders. It was a beautiful creation.

Diana’s dress! It was lost over the Pacific. In her suitcase. How would she ever explain this to her friend?

“Aloha, folks! Welcome to Broken Creek Guest Ranch!”

Jimi spun around, startled by the loud voice, which resonated in her chest like a loud bass drum. Deep, masculine and surprisingly seductive, it held a mild twang that completely caught her attention. Lost bags, Diana’s dress and wrong destination momentarily forgotten, Jimi sucked in a breath as she pinned her eyes on the owner of said voice. Struck dumb, she hadn’t expected to see such a hot cowboy. But of course there would be cowboys, right alongside cows, horses, flies and shit—a crazy mix next to the tropical foliage, beautiful blue skies and gorgeous flowers.

Hello, Hawaiian Hottie!

Jimi couldn’t stop staring at the man standing on the front porch of the rustic-looking building. His head almost brushed the overhang he was so tall. She’d never been so drawn at first glance to a man before; he oozed a dangerous sexuality that reached across the dusty ground and lit her like a sparkler. He. Was. Gorgeous. It was like he snagged her with a lasso and yanked it tight. Jimi caught her breath and placed her hand over her heart as it tripped into double time.

This Hawaiian cowboy was large, muscled and tanned. He had it all going on. She smiled when she noticed the collar of his Western-style shirt. The pattern on the fabric was a ring of deep red hibiscus flowers. Only here could he get away with that. Her mind tumbled over itself as she considered ways she might be able to get this devilishly sexy cowboy on his own. Had a silver lining just appeared on the clouds of doom?

Jimi crossed her arms and hugged herself to keep from trembling, unable to drag her gaze away from him. She wasn’t opposed to a holiday fling—preferably at a five-star hotel with butlers, vintage wine and gourmet dining and not on a ranch. Finally being able to afford the finer things, she’d become accustomed to them. Something told her this smoking-hot cowboy would transplant well and be a sweet distraction. As long as he showered.

She nodded to herself. She’d be able to make do for a short time without her bag. Seeing this delectable male specimen made her realize how travel weary she must look. The urge to step behind the cowgirl to hide herself made her shuffle backward without looking away from him.

His gaze swung through the crowd as he continued with his welcome. Then his attention fell on her. Jimi’s feet froze and she was rooted to the spot—as if the dirt reached up and grabbed her ankles. Good Lord, he was too gorgeous for words. All Jimi’s thoughts fled when a big, wide smile curved on his tanned face. He was clean shaven, but his dark hair was long, ruffling over his shoulders. Her belly fluttered—something she’d not experienced in...oh, ever. Unable to see his eyes, shadowed by the brim of his hat, made him all that much more enigmatic. She wanted him. Bad.

Her blood rushed and her arousal for him nearly made her swoon. She held her breath, enjoying the rare sensation as desire swept through her. The sun came out from behind a cloud, and Jimi raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare so she could see him.

He seemed to be looking directly at her and she smiled. Did he smile at her? His gaze lingered a little bit and then moved on. The break in their connection was surprisingly disappointing.

“There’s some grub waiting for you in the dining room, and once y’all fill your bellies the luggage will be in the change rooms.”

He pointed and she turned to the beautiful log building with paned windows and a wide front porch. Rocking chairs sat at the ready and there were even hitching posts and water troughs. Just like in classic Western movies. “There you can get on your riding gear while your horses are saddled and then we’ll make our way—”

“Um, excuse me.” Jimi raised her hand and waggled her fingers. “Did you say horses?” she blurted.

The cowboy placed a booted foot on the mounting block. Yes, she’d ridden and knew the lingo. She’d been a fairly decent rider, having grown up with horses on the commune, but fashion and makeup were her escape from that into a new and exciting world. Far from her impoverished growing up. His smile widened and he pushed his hat back on his forehead with his thumb. He leaned over and rested his forearm on his knee. She watched every move he made. Utterly mesmerized. His jeans tightened nicely over his thighs and hips. A flash of silver at his waist drew her attention to the monstrosity of a belt buckle and her gaze drifted lower until she realized she was gaping at his—

“You got that right, ma’am.”

Jimi pulled her gaze away from his tempting bulge to his face and felt a flush grow on her cheeks. Had he caught her staring at his very manly package? She nearly groaned at the possibility and glanced around feeling uncomfortable that everyone was now staring at her like she’d grown a second head. She braced herself, expecting laughter to explode around her. Seemed it didn’t matter how old you were—the insecurities from childhood could rush back at the most inopportune moment.

Squaring her shoulders, Jimi turned back to the cowboy. “I’m sorry, but I’m here for the McCain Scott wedding?”

“You’re in the right place.”

Her heart sank. “But this is for a destination wedding.” Jimi waved her hand, indicating the miles of meadows beyond the very neat and tidy buildings. “There’s n-no beach.” She felt her cheeks flush hotter at the scattered laughter behind her. She wished the ground would break open and swallow her up.

“We have a beach on the property, ma’am. It’s just a long way away from here.” Not only was his drawl sexy and deep, she heard a compassion in his voice that made her feel a tiny bit better.

“S-so, no beach wedding?” she said, and immediately wished she’d not asked the inane question which, of course, she already knew the answer to.

He shook his head and smiled again at her. He was totally charming and sincere, giving no hint he was making fun of her. Jimi relaxed somewhat at his calm tone. “Not right now, no.”

She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to ask any more dumb questions. God, she’d really made a mess of things. If only she’d handled the arrangements herself, not passing them off. All she knew was the wedding was in Hawaii, with most arrangements made by the bride and groom. Guests provided their details, booked their own flights and hotel for after the wedding, with the suggestion of staying at the Four Seasons.

“In about an hour we’ll ride up to the camp. Your luggage will be in the tents when you get there.” He stood and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meal and we’ll gather at the barn across the yard.”