A Cowboy to Remember (The Canadays of Montana Book 1) Read online

  A Cowboy to Remember

  A Canadays of Montana romance

  Barbara Ankrum

  A Cowboy to Remember

  Copyright © 2014 Barbara Ankrum

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-940296-73-9

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases

  Dedication

  Special Thanks

  Dear Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  The Canadays of Montana Series

  NEW! The Cowgirl’s Christmas Wish

  An Exclusive Excerpt from Choose Me, Cowboy

  A Book Girl’s Guide to Marietta

  Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases

  About the Author

  Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases

  For the latest news from Tule Publishing authors, sign up for our newsletter here or check out our website at TulePublishing.com

  Dedication

  To David, for holding my hand and helping to plot our many years together. You’re my happily ever after.

  Beth Kendrick, plotting sister extraordinaire – for understanding about getting back on the horse and for all the laughter.

  Sarah Sullivan, sister, reader, friend. Despite your toughest year ever, you still had my back. I’ve got yours, too.

  Special Thanks

  To the wonderful Jane Porter and everyone at Tule Publishing for taking a chance on me. I am eternally grateful and proud to be part of this amazing gathering of talents.

  Dear Reader

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve always been a sucker for old movies. Particularly romances from the ‘50’s with cornball endings. Case in point? The three hanky ‘An Affair To Remember’ with Cary Grant and Debra Kerr. But who didn’t swoon over Cary Grant, the smooth-talking, sigh-worthy hero who couldn’t forget the woman he’d fallen for?

  So when Tule approached me (thank you, Jane!) to write one of the Fair stories, the first thing that popped into my mind was that movie. What would happen, if I told that story in a backwards way, where two old friends reunite because of a long ago promise and then have their affair? But something stands in the way of their happily ever after. And bonus: there’s a county fair involved? I’m in!

  Jake and Olivia’s story is about best friends with a history of laughter, angst and unrequited love. Olivia is a divorced, ex-Olympic equestrian hopeful with broken dreams behind her when she slinks back home to Marietta after twelve years away. She’s determined to keep her distance from men. Jake, who’s been piloting Army rescue helicopters in the Middle East for years, is ready to chase his own dreams, which all begin with Olivia. Set against the backdrop of small town, Marietta, Montana, where everyone knows your business, fun and trouble ensue.

  So welcome to their world. I adored writing this book and fell head over heels (in a ‘50’s movie kind of way) in love with Jake and Olivia. I hope you will, too.

  Barbara Ankrum

  Chapter One

  On the night of her thirtieth birthday, at the Big Marietta Fair, Olivia Canaday took a pull on her long neck beer, leaned on the porcelain sink in the restroom—where she was hiding from what had, officially, turned into the worst blind date in history—and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  What, in the name of all that is holy, are you doing here? Haven’t the last seven years taught you anything?

  She sighed and took another swig.

  A rhetorical question, of course. She’d learned plenty in the last seven years, she thought, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, not the least of which being that her cowardice was legend and the dating pool teemed with slimy bottom feeders and narcissists.

  Not that she was bitter.

  She mentally added a new entry under the heading, Note to Self, which read: Never allow wicked stepsisters to trick you into another blind, pity date again. Ever.

  Kate and Eve—the traitors—and their respective dates had conveniently lost Olivia in the fair crowds after Peter Moreno, the former high school classmate they’d set her up with, lost track of his ‘shut-the hell-up’ button. He’d been talking non-stop about himself, and his booming law practice, for the last two hours. He’d even brought along the photograph taken of him outside the Marietta Courthouse that had appeared in the latest edition of The Copper Mountain Courier, which, he’d pointed out, was taken from his ‘more photogenic’ left side. He had generously reenacted the pose for her with a cheesy wink.

  She shuddered, remembering it.

  Outside the restroom door, the sounds of the midway, couples laughing and genuine happiness, rushed on by her like a river. The scent of corn dogs, barbeque, and cotton candy reminded her of all the other, long ago nights she’d spent at this fair, being part of something. Tonight, she’d caught glimpses of friends she hadn’t seen since high school, now married up, with children, and moving on with their lives, while hers seemed stuck on hold.

  She rubbed her temples, trying to remember some Confucius wisdom she’d heard about moving forward, but it eluded her. Something about studying the past to define the future. But, at the moment, her possibilities felt as small and confined as the mistakes she’d left behind.

  But whose fault was that?

  Yours, a small voice retorted.

  If left to her own devices tonight, she’d be tucked into her favorite reading chair, in her childhood bedroom, with a tub of Chunky Monkey and a good romance novel. All to take her mind off the fact she was thirty, divorced, and, yes, living in her childhood bedroom. But, her sisters hadn’t allowed it. They’d dragged her to the fair for a ‘date’ so she wouldn’t spend her birthday alone. But, hands down, she would take alone over the rejoining ‘party of one’, who’d never even asked her if she wanted a churro.

  She scooped her hair away from her face, then leaned closer to inspect a new crinkle near her eye. Under the flickering florescent lights, she looked older, and a little tipsy, which made sense since she had just exceeded her two beer limit with a third one.

  She brushed a finger across her unglossed lips and blinked at her reflection. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been seriously kissed by someone she really wanted to kiss her. Even though she’d sworn off men and marriage, and anything to do with relationships, a fluttering curl of want settled down low in her belly at the thought of such intimacy, reminding her some little part of the person she used to be still had a pulse.

  Sadly, only one memorable, toe-curling smooch came to mind when she allowed herself to think of such things and her ex-husband of five years had nothing to do with it. No, the one she had in mind was the kiss that always came to her in the middle of a sleepless night, or as she watched the dark water of a river slide across a deep, trout-filled po
ol or, honestly, whenever she thought of kissing at all.

  She had no trouble admitting Jake Lassen was the one that got away. But in truth, she’d intentionally let him off the line and released him. He’d been her best friend in high school, but even that was understating the teenage angst of their relationship, a strange mix of confidences, friendship, and unrequited longing.

  Timing had always been their issue. Either she’d secretly wanted him when he was dating someone else or it had been the other way around. But through it all, they’d been friends. Friends, like no other friend she’d ever had.

  THE KISS had only happened only once, the night of their graduation after-party, in the wee hours of the morning down by the river.

  She and Jake had walked downstream, where he wanted to show her a secret fishing spot, and it had happened. A mutual collision of hunger, so unexpected and thorough, that just thinking of it now sent a hot wave of longing through her. That day, they’d lost control for a minute, tumbling on the beach in a tangle of lust, unrequited love and confusion.

  In a way, their kiss had unalterably changed things between them. She blamed herself for not letting it go any farther, because she hadn’t wanted to risk their friendship that way. It had become too important to her to lose because Jake had been her rock. Her compass. So, she’d taken the blame, as well—rightly or not—for his sudden decision to join the U.S. Army a few weeks later, because for the next month, she’d pretended the kiss hadn’t happened. But whatever the real story, she’d squandered her chance to make things right with him.

  She’d never seen him again after that summer.

  Her life went in one direction, his in another. Oh, they’d stayed in touch for a few years, with him in the Middle East and her on the east coast, but then they’d lost touch.

  And the pinky swear promise they’d made to meet up again on her thirtieth birthday at the Big Marietta Fair, to be each other’s fallback person, was just—silly. Jake had joined the army and, as far as she knew, hadn’t been back to Marietta since he’d buried his parents two years ago after that terrible accident. She’d been gone nearly twelve years. He was probably still somewhere in Afghanistan, being brave and she...?

  She was hiding in a bathroom.

  Oh, why the hell was she thinking about kissing and Jake now anyway? All she wanted to do was escape this evening, go home, and soak in a long, hot bath. With bubbles.

  Olivia took another desperate gulp of beer as she scoped out the windows at the back of the rest room.

  Wait.

  She could actually climb out one of those windows and escape without Peter seeing her. It wouldn’t be hard, except for the dress, but who’d be looking? Then she’d find her sisters and make them drive her home.

  A pair of teenagers pushed into the restroom, giggling about some boy who was not only flirting with the blonde one, he was already, apparently, going steady with another girl.

  The shorter one, a dark-haired girl—who reminded Olivia of herself at that age—was swooning at the thought of such attention.

  “If Jarrod Stephenson likes you,” Mini-Her told the taller one, “senior year is going to rock for you. You know Jarrod can do no wrong.”

  Except maybe cheat on his current squeeze. But hey...

  As the blonde one expounded on her good fortune, Olivia washed her hands, contemplating whether asking the girls for a boost up to the window would be too much.

  Mini-Her scrunched her nose at her reflection, clearly not pleased with what she saw. She pulled her hair back away from her face, then let it fall across her cheek like a curtain.

  “If Jarrod Stephenson liked me,” she sighed, as if auditioning for the part of a Disney princess, “I’d do anything for him.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes and, for reasons that had everything to do with the third beer, said,

  “You say that now, but in ten years you’ll realize that girl”—she gestured at Mini-Her’s reflection in the mirror—“is perfect, exactly as she is. Don’t try to make her into something she’s not for any boy. She’ll just wind up losing herself and her dreams and everything she could have been, and I guarantee you, he’s not worth it.” She punctuated her questionable piece of wisdom with an unladylike beer burp. “’Scuse me.”

  For a moment, the two girls stared at her in horrified silence. Before she’d spoken, Olivia had apparently been absolutely invisible to them. A thirty-year old, invisible—

  “Wow, lady. Ever heard of privacy? C’mon, Amanda. Just ignore her.” The blonde grabbed Amanda’s arm and steered her toward the door in a pubescent huff.

  But Amanda/Mini-Her cast a confused, eerie look of recognition back at Olivia before she disappeared out the door.

  Olivia glanced in the mirror.

  Lady?

  Pfhhtttt!

  She took her last gulp of beer, checked the windows again, and dismissed the coward’s way out. There was only one thing to do. She had to put on her big girl panties and ditch Peter like a mature adult.

  Past the crowd milling beneath the colorful strung up lights, she caught sight of him waiting beneath the big wheel. He had apparently buttonholed another victim to hold captive to his autobiography.

  The stranger, whose back was to her as she approached, was a few inches taller than Peter; lean, but powerfully-built, his too long, dark hair tickling the collar of an old, denim jacket.

  A quick scan downward revealed a perfectly sculpted ass encased in a pair of threadbare, but oh-so-sexy jeans and scuffed, worn-down-at-the-heels cowboy boots peeking out from underneath.

  A charge of heat traveled up through her as if she’d accidentally stepped on an exposed electrical wire. She blamed it on the beer, or the fact that the only backsides she’d been noticing lately had belonged to horses.

  Beside him sat a large buff-colored dog who reminded her of a Siamese cat, with its soft grey ears, nose and tail. The dog stared adoringly up at its owner, clearly ready to follow him to the ends of the earth.

  With his back still to her, the cowboy touched the brim of his hat to Peter, then took off, walking away with the dog at his heels. She frowned at a niggle of something familiar about him, but by the time she reached Peter, the stranger had disappeared from sight.

  “C’mon,” Peter said, reaching for her hand before she could say what she’d come to say. “I got the tickets. We’ll be the last ones on.”

  “Peter, wait—”

  The bearded carny, an apparent refugee from Duck Dynasty-land, had the last seat waiting for them with the lap bar held open. “Hurry up, you two lovebirds. Wheel’s about to go.”

  Lovebirds?

  As. If.

  Olivia shot him the evil eye as Peter bum-rushed her into the seat. The lap bar slapped shut with a disquieting clunk. Beside her, Peter was smiling, watching her as the Ferris wheel began to spin. Olivia white knuckled the bar and focused on the fairgrounds, secretly hoping to spot her sisters heading to her rescue.

  “That was weird, running into him,” Peter said, almost to himself.

  “Who?” Was that Kate and her date walking over by the Zipper?

  “I almost didn’t recognize him after all these years,” Peter said with a small laugh. “It’s this fair. Brings people out of the woodwork. You know, I think you used to know him.”

  That got her attention. “Wait. What?”

  “Jake Lassen. From high school. We played football together. I was talking to him just before you walked up.”

  Olivia felt her face drain of color. Oh, no. No!

  She jerked a look back at the crowd, searching for him. That couldn’t have been Jake. That guy had been a good four inches taller than the boy she remembered and built like a... heaven help me... like a soldier.

  As they reached the apex of the wheel’s spin, she spotted him, making his way out of the fair entrance, Jake and his dog. Heading toward—she bit her lip—‘Orca’, the Caribbean blue, ’57 Chevy pickup with shiny chrome wheels and oak railings that had once belonged to hi
s father.

  How perfect to have missed him by inches, the only person she’d longed to see on the day she left her both her twenties, and the mess she’d made of her life behind her.

  The breeze tugged at her as they spun. Above them, a pair of teenagers laughed and rocked their chair, drawing the carny’s wrath.

  Stop this thing! Stop it right now!

  “Yeah,” Peter continued, “he said he was supposed to meet some chick here, but I guess she stood him up. So, he just took off.”

  Dread settled over her. “What did you tell him, Peter? Did you mention me?”

  Peter shrugged. “Well, yeah, sure. I mentioned I was waiting for you.”

  “By name? You said you were waiting for me by name?”

  He gave her another wink. “Your name is Olivia, isn’t it?”

  She slid her eyes shut. When had a thirtieth birthday gone any more wrong than this one? Jake had come. He’d kept the promise and she had screwed everything up.

  The damned wheel just kept spinning and spinning. Orca pulled out of the parking lot, its red tail lights glowing as it disappeared across the railroad tracks.

  As Party of One chatted up his end of the conversation about how his prom queen had dated Jake Lassen once, Olivia secretly texted Eve:

  Olivia: Get your Aaron Burr ass over to the Ferris wheel, now! Need a ride.

  Eve: Uh, who’s Aaron Burr?

  Olivia: U R on thin ice here.

  A momentary pause stretched across the airwaves.

  Eve: B right there.

  Over the din of music, conversation, and clinking-glasses at Grey’s Saloon, Jake ordered a whiskey shot from his seat at the long, polished bar. The bartender, whose nametag read, Brady, obliged and Jake scooped the glass off the bar, stared at it for a moment, then downed it in one searing gulp.

  He inhaled deeply before sliding the glass toward the bartender again.

  “You got it,” said Brady. He poured another. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Here for the Big Marietta Fair?”