Cowboy to the Rescue

Cowboy to the Rescue
Trish Milburn

Trouble In Texas… Ryan Teague was always a bit of a loner. Before his traumatic tour in Iraq, keeping to himself was a choice; now, well, it's a necessity. Ryan feels he's too damaged, too scarred to be around the people he loves most. And a relationship? Out of the question. What woman wants a broken man?All that changes when Ryan meets the new ranch chef. Gorgeous, funny, and a helluva cook, Brooke Vincent charms everyone at Vista Hills, especially Ryan. He recognizes something else in Brooke, too–behind that warm, easy-going demeanor, Brooke is hiding some scars of her own. Suddenly, all Ryan can think about is making sure no one hurts her again.Brooke and Ryan help each other begin to heal. But just as their trust grows into something more, Brooke’s past threatens to ruin it all…

Brooke nearly jumped when Ryan placed his plate in the sink.

“Thanks again for breakfast.”

He was so close, she’d swear his breath caressed her cheek, a manly scent of the outdoors and honest work. It was headier than any cologne.

“You’re welcome.”

Brooke fought the crazy urge to turn slightly, to see just how close he was, what he might do. Before she had time to act on that thought, he was out the back door.

She closed her eyes, gripped the edge of the sink and exhaled. Then, unable to resist, she walked into the family dining room and watched as he headed back toward his slice of the ranch, doing more for a worn pair of jeans than any high-dollar model could ever dream of doing.

Brooke sighed, she was in trouble, and she wasn’t sure she minded it one bit.

Dear Reader,

I believe it’s impossible for a writer to not have her own experiences color her stories. I know that each one of mine is influenced by the things I’ve done, seen and heard. Cowboy to the Rescue is no different. It takes place in a fictional town, but Blue Falls sprang from my imagination while I was traveling through the Texas Hill Country. Its beauty is very different from that of the verdant South where I have lived all my life, but I think the difference is what attracts me. In the place of green rolling hills, the Hill Country has fields of wildflowers, cactus plants, views that go on for miles and a rich ranching and German heritage. How could I not be inspired by that?

Brooke, the heroine of Cowboy to the Rescue, has one sibling, a sister, and two nieces. I have the same. And like Brooke, I live several states away from them, so I can write those feelings of missing them with some authenticity. My sister and I share a lifelong love of books, and we can often be found instant-messaging each other with the question, “So, what are you reading?” When this book hits store shelves, I know what her answer better be.

I hope you enjoy Ryan and Brooke’s story. I loved writing this book, a story of two broken souls who finally heal when they find each other. When I write a book that can make me tear up, I know I’m doing something right.

Trish Milburn

Cowboy to the Rescue

Trish Milburn

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

To Mary. I love you, sis. (P.S. I found it. LOL!)

Chapter One

Brooke Vincent wiped her sweaty palms on her khaki slacks, hoping the woman sitting across from her didn’t notice. She needed this job, but didn’t want to appear as desperate as she actually was.

“You seem like a nice girl, but your résumé is a little thin,” Merline Teague said as she sat back in her office chair.

Understatement of the year.

“I know,” Brooke said. “I guess I’ve been one of those free spirits, trying to experience lots of different things.” Brooke winced at the lie, at how it might make her seem like a bad bet to hire. Of all the untraceable things she’d put on her résumé, the only one that held any truth was the summer backpacking trip through Europe. It’d been an unexpected and fantastic gift from her mother before Brooke had gone to college, the first thing to really expose her to the wide and varied world outside of West Virginia.

“Well, there is something to be said for seeing a bit of the world and finding yourself while you’re still young,” Mrs. Teague said.

Brooke tried not to get her hopes up too high at the older woman’s seeming understanding.

“Do you feel like your wandering days are over, at least for a while?” Mrs. Teague asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” A little surge of hope swelled in Brooke, but she did her best to hide it.

The proprieter of the Vista Hills Guest Ranch rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and clasped her hands over her chest. “Being a cook for a guest ranch seems tame next to touring the Yorkshire moors and walking in the Brontë sisters’ footsteps.”

Brooke hurried to assure Mrs. Teague she wouldn’t be disappointed in life in rural Texas. “Not really. Every place has its own personality,” Brooke said. “Here, there seems to be a real connection to the land, a unique identity like you’ve stepped out of one world and into another.”

When she noticed the surprised expression on her potential employer’s face, Brooke nearly kicked herself. She sounded like a splashy tourist brochure. If she truly wanted to leave her old life behind and start over, she had to stop acting like a polished city dweller who was very good at reading people and telling them what they wanted to hear.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t really want to start over. Sometimes you just didn’t have a choice.

She forced a laugh she was far from actually feeling. “Sorry. Guess I’ve been reading too many travel magazines. I just really enjoy cooking and believe I could do a good job for you.” At least that much was true.

Mrs. Teague didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she sat staring at Brooke as if she was dissecting every word Brooke had spoken, every facial expression and eye movement. It proved remarkably difficult not to fidget.

“I tell you what,” Mrs. Teague finally said. “I’ll give you a tryout. The guests are on their own tonight, so you can cook for the family. If it goes well, we’ll talk again after dinner.”

Brooke schooled her expression, cloaking an excitement she would have never imagined a year ago. “What would you like?”

Mrs. Teague smiled. “Surprise us.”

Her mind jumped to all the elegant menus at the Davenport, the hotel where she’d been the convention manager, a parade of high-end entrées and decadent desserts. But this wasn’t a four-star hotel in Washington, D.C. A guest ranch in the Hill Country of Texas required a bit different fare from Maine lobster and hazelnut soufflé.

“Okay. You won’t be disappointed, Mrs. Teague. I promise.”

Please let me fulfill that promise.

“Well, come on.” Mrs. Teague stood and motioned for her to follow. “Let me show you the kitchen and dining areas. You can look through the supplies, see if you need to go into town for anything.”

When they reached the kitchen, it was bigger and more modern than she expected. It occupied the back half of a great room that also included the family’s comfortable-looking living area. A large dark-wood island stood in the center of the kitchen with copper-bottomed pots hanging from an iron rack overhead. Cobalt-blue and terra-cotta tiles covered the floor and backsplashes, and marble countertops gleamed. Her hands itched to put the stainless steel appliances to work creating something scrumptious. Amongst the appreciation was a pang for the kitchen she’d left behind, that entire life.

She shook off those negative thoughts and made herself focus on the tour.

Mrs. Teague pointed toward the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. “When it’s just family, we eat in here. But when guests are here for meals, we use the dining area we added to the back of the house.” She motioned for Brooke to follow her through a set of glass double doors on the back side of the kitchen.

The room she stepped into had the same feel as the other parts of the house she’d seen: homey, Western, welcoming. Several wooden tables were scattered around the room. Punched-tin napkin holders sat alongside salt and pepper shakers in the shapes of cowboy hats and boots. A long wooden sideboard with leather-covered front drawers and forged-iron drawer pulls occupied one wall. A mammoth antler chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling.

“We have ten guest cabins, so we’re set up here to feed up to forty people,” Mrs. Teague said. “Though it’s not often that many. Sometimes it’s mainly couples, so the number might be half that. Then you have late sleepers who skip breakfast, and the tourists who want to try out the restaurants in town. But we ask the guests to give us a meal count each day for the next day so we know how many to cook for.”

Brooke continued to scan the facilities. “It’s a lovely room.” More intimate than the hotel ballrooms she was used to.

“Thanks. We didn’t want it to feel impersonal like a lot of places that serve large numbers all at once.” With that, Mrs. Teague led the way back into the kitchen.

“That’s about it,” she said after she’d pointed out a few more highlights. “Any questions?”

Brooke shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s shoot for six o’clock.” She patted Brooke’s hand where it sat palm down on the large, cool surface of the island.