Her Forever Cowboy

“I thought we’d have a drink, celebrating our new relationship,” he told her in his best Southern-gentleman drawl.

“Our relationship?” Alisha echoed incredulously.

“Landlord and tenant,” Brett replied, indicating first himself, then her. “Why? What did you think I was referring to?”

Still sitting on the stool, she squared her shoulders. “I didn’t have a clue,” she lied. “That’s why I asked.”

“You want something light and fruity—or something hard?” he asked her.

The words seemed disconnected as they came out of the blue like that. Confused, she could only ask, “What?” as she stared at him.

“To drink,” Brett prompted. “Light and fruity—” he gestured toward the small array of bottles filled with colorful mixed drinks “—or hard?” he concluded, waving a hand toward the bottles that contained alcohol his customers downed straight.

“What did you just have?” she asked, nodding at his empty shot glass.

“Wild Turkey, 101 proof,” he told her.

She pushed her glass to one side and said, “I’ll have the same.”

Brett looked at her uncertainly. “Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s rather strong and you might get more than you bargained for.”

Her eyes locked with Brett’s. “I think I already have.”

Her Forever Cowboy

Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author, MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com.

To

Pat Teal,

who, 33 years ago,

said to me,

“Have you thought about writing a romance?”

Rest in peace, Pat.

I miss you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

No one looking at her would have suspected that her heart had just been broken, or even bruised. She made sure of that.

Dr. Alisha Cordell prided herself on being self-contained. She wasn’t the type to let people in on her private hurt. Nor would she allow herself to shed tears. At least, not publicly.

Publicly, if she included the half-naked hospital administrator closeted with her fiancé as being part of the general public, the only display of emotion anyone had witnessed was when she’d thrown her three-carat diamond engagement ring at Dr. Pierce Belkin—a neurosurgeon who was much in demand, not always by his patients—and the aforementioned hospital administrator.

A flash of fury had accompanied the flying ring as well as a single seething word that wasn’t part of her usual vocabulary.

It hadn’t even been the sight of the ruggedly handsome Mayflower descendant making love to the vapid, overly endowed blonde that had made Alisha throw her ring at him. It was Pierce’s complete lack of contrition coupled with the snide remark—“Oh, grow up, Alisha. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean I’m going to be your slave”—that made her lose her composure and had her throwing the ring and then telling Pierce to take up residence in a much hotter location.

The story was already making the rounds by the time she’d taken the elevator from the fifth floor down to the first. Not that she cared about the gossip. She’d never been the kind to pay any attention to whispers. But what convinced Alisha that she needed a change of scenery was the fact that although the hospital was far from a small place, there was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn’t be able to avoid running into Pierce or any of what she had come to realize were his numerous conquests.

Good at shutting out things that irritated her, Alisha still knew that she would be able to hold her head high for only so long before the situation would become intolerable to her.

There was no way around it. She needed to find somewhere else to be. Preferably somewhere far away.

As a rule, Alisha didn’t make friends easily. Dedicated, driven, she’d ignored socializing to focus on becoming the best all-around general surgeon she could be. In part—a large part—to honor her father.

A giant of a man, Dr. William Cordell had been a family-practice physician. Alisha was his only child, and she had adored him. A nature enthusiast, he would go camping whenever he could get away. His wife hadn’t shared his interest in the great outdoors, but Alisha had, and he had taken her with him, teaching her all the fundamentals of survival.

Cancer had abruptly ended her father’s life when she was just fourteen. She’d never been close to her mother, and the two had drifted even further apart after that. Alisha closed herself off emotionally and worked on achieving her goal to the exclusion of almost everything else. It kept her father’s memory alive for her.

The people she’d been thrown in with at college studied hard but partied harder. She remained on the outside fringes of that world. Looking back, she realized that the only reason Pierce had pursued her with such vigor was because she was the only female who had ever said no to him. He viewed her as a challenge as well as a budding gifted surgeon. In time, he thought of her as a worthy extension of himself, a professional asset.

Added to that, his parents liked her, and his grandmother, a very wealthy woman, was crazy about her. She’d referred to her as her grandson’s saving grace and wholeheartedly looked forward to their wedding.

Secretly missing the comforting security of a home life, Alisha had accepted Pierce’s proposal despite the uneasiness she experienced when she’d actually uttered the word yes. Her uneasiness refused to completely go away even as the weeks went by.

She should have gone with her gut. Alisha upbraided herself after the engagement ring—a family heirloom—had left her finger. It was her gut that had told her to turn Pierce down; her gut that told her that a so-called fairy-tale wedding and marriage were not in the cards for her, not with this self-centered Adonis. But loneliness was a powerful persuader, and she really had liked his family. In a moment of weakness, she’d agreed.

And now she was paying for it, Alisha thought ruefully.

The worst part was that this was not the first time she’d caught Pierce being unfaithful. But in each case, it had been after the fact, certainly not during the act, the way it had been this last time. And those other times, he’d made apologetic noises that she’d accepted. This time, there hadn’t even been the pretense of regret or remorse. If there was any regret about the incident, it was that he had gotten caught, nothing beyond that.

Well, her engagement—and Pierce—were now part of her past, and she wanted no reminders, no chance encounters to haunt her and make her uncomfortable, even inwardly. It didn’t matter how good a poker face she could maintain, she didn’t want to be reminded of her near-terminal mistake.

Moving away was not a problem. But finding a destination was. Where could she go? As if some unseen force was taking matters in hand, Alisha became aware of the fact that she was pondering her fate standing next to the physicians’ bulletin board, the one where almost anything could be found by those who had the patience to carefully scan the different missives tacked onto that board. There were courtside tickets to the next basketball game being offered for sale—or more accurately, resale—slightly used furniture in reasonable shape could be gotten for a song and so on. All in all, it was like a visual bazaar without the noise.

For a fleeting moment, looking at the bulletin board, it occurred to Alisha that she could have offered her engagement ring up for sale, but she decided that throwing it at Pierce was infinitely more satisfying than any money she could have gotten for it.

Besides, it had belonged to his grandmother, and she had liked the woman.

That was when she spotted it. A letter tacked on the upper left corner of the bulletin board. It was almost obscured by an ad for a European cruise of a lifetime. Moving the ad aside, she saw that the neatly typed letter was addressed to “Any budding, selfless physician reading this letter who might be willing to put in long hours for very little financial reward, reaping instead endless emotional satisfaction that he or she was making a difference in some good people’s lives.” There was more written after that, an entire long paragraph, describing the conditions in the area as well as summarizing the basic requirements. It was signed by a Dr. Daniel Davenport.

Alisha stared at the letter for a minute or so before she finally took it down to read more carefully.

Was this Dr. Daniel Davenport for real, sending something like this here? Alisha wondered. The recently graduated physicians at this teaching hospital were all aiming at practices that would have them working a minimum of hours for a maximum financial return. This letter sounded as if it was an appeal for a saint, or at the very least, for a doctor who was willing to travel to a third-world country on a regular basis.

Well, you wanted to get away. This certainly qualifies as getting away, a voice in her head pointed out.

Alisha stared at the address at the top of the letter. This Dr. Davenport lived somewhere called “Forever, Texas.”

Alisha frowned. Okay, not a third-world country, but she still hadn’t heard of the place. But then, she hadn’t heard of a great many places, and this Forever certainly sounded as if it was far away enough to qualify as getting away.

Alisha stared at the letter, weighing her options. The one thing she knew was that she did not want to remain here a second longer than she had to.

After a moment’s internal debate, rather than tack the letter back up on the bulletin board, she carefully folded it and put the letter in the pocket of her white lab coat.

Forever, Alisha mused. It had an interesting ring to it.

Chapter One

“Pinch me, brother.”

Brett Murphy, one-third owner of Murphy’s and the older brother of the other two-thirds owners, Finn and Liam, paused wiping down the long, sleek counter of Forever’s only saloon as he saw Dr. Dan Davenport, walking by the establishment’s tinted bay window.

It was not the town’s only physician who had caught Brett’s attention but the tall, willowy young woman who was walking beside Dan. The tall, willowy young woman who was not Dan’s wife, Tina, or Holly Rodriguez, his new nurse.

“Why?” Liam asked, only half listening to him.

Though the saloon wasn’t actually open yet, and certainly not ready to go into full swing for a number of hours, Liam was doing a preliminary instrument check—for the second time. He and his budding band were playing here tonight, and Brett had raised him never to leave anything to chance or take anything for granted. Liam had his eye on someday leaving the saloon behind him and going professional.

Though he was seldom mesmerized by anything, Dan’s companion had managed to completely captivate him, even at this distance.

Now, that is one gorgeous woman, Brett couldn’t help thinking.

“Because, little brother,” he said aloud, “I think I’ve just seen the woman of my dreams.”

That managed to get Liam’s attention. His guitar temporarily forgotten, Liam looked up at his oldest brother then turned to see what Brett was talking about.

At that point, the young woman who had so completely caught Brett’s fancy had disappeared from view. Her presence was replaced by another female who was passing by. Mildred Haggerty.

Liam’s jaw slackened and dropped as he turned back to look at his brother.

“Mrs. Haggerty is the woman of your dreams?” he asked incredulously. “Have you had your eyes checked lately? Better yet, have you had your head checked lately?” Liam asked.

Mildred Haggerty was as tall as she was wide, had an overbearing personality with an unabashed drive to dominate everyone she came in contact with. A woman of some independent means, in her lifetime, she had buried three husbands. Rumor had it that they had all died willingly in order to permanently get away from the source of their misery, Mildred.

Brett looked at Liam as if the latter was the one who had lost his mind. But before Brett could remark on it, the front door began to creak, announcing that someone was disregarding the hours that were posted outside and coming into Murphy’s. In general, Brett was rather flexible about adhering to the hours carved into the sign, enforcing them when the whim hit him. He was not above welcoming the lone, stray customer before hours.

Thinking that Mrs. Haggerty was the one entering—possibly trolling for husband number four—Liam took it upon himself to loudly announce, “We’re not really open for business yet.”

“How about pleasure?” Dr. Dan Davenport asked as he held the door open for the reason he had come to Murphy’s in the first place. The young woman accompanying him walked into the saloon, squinting slightly as her eyes became accustomed to the darkened interior. “Are you open for pleasure?” Dan asked, a broad grin on his lips.

All in all, the physician looked like a man who had just caught hold of a lifeline, one he hadn’t really expected to materialize, Brett thought.

His green eyes slowly traveled over the length of the woman who’d been ushered in by the town’s only doctor. Brett took in her long, straight blond hair, her fair complexion and her almost hypnotically blue eyes.

If possible, the woman looked even better close-up than she did at a distance.

“Pleasure it is,” Brett acknowledged, wondering who this woman was and, more important, if she was staying in town for an extended visit. Was she a friend of the doctor’s, or perhaps a friend of Dan’s wife, Tina, neither of whom were actual natives of the town?

Dan inclined his head, picking up Brett’s answer. “Then it’s my sincere pleasure to introduce you two to the lady who answered my ad—and my prayers.” For his part, Dan resembled a little boy who had woken up on Christmas morning to discover that everything he had asked for was right there, beneath the Christmas tree.

“You advertised for an angel?” Brett asked, putting his own interpretation to Dan’s introduction.

Alisha Cordell had always had sharp eyes that missed very little. She narrowed them now as she looked at the man behind the bar.

This dark-haired, green-eyed bartender fancied himself a charmer, a smooth talker, she thought with an accompanying degree of contempt. The contempt rose to the surface as a matter of course. After Pierce, she’d had more than her fill of good-looking men who felt they were God’s gift to women. Her conclusion had been that the better-looking they were, the worse they were.

“Dr. Davenport advertised for a doctor,” she informed the would-be Romeo massaging the counter in no uncertain terms.

The look she gave the man just stopped short of being contemptuous. If this two-bit cowboy thought she would instantly become smitten with him because he was clearly handsome and capable of spouting trite compliments, he was going to be very sorely disappointed, Alisha silently predicted. She hoped the rest of the men in town weren’t like this.

And if she was going to be staying in this dusty little burg, even for a little while, this cowboy—and anyone else who might share the same stereotypical mind-set—needed to be put in his—and their—place, as well as on notice that she wasn’t here to indulge their fantasies. The only reason she was here and would even entertain the idea of remaining here was to help Dr. Davenport heal their wounds and take care of their ills.

Nothing else.

Brett detected the flicker of fire in her eyes, and his grin widened. “Well, I think I’m getting feverish, so I just might wind up being your very first patient,” he told what was hopefully Forever’s newest resident.

Alisha took a certain amount of pleasure shooting the sexy bartender down.

“I’m just here to observe for the first few days, so I’m afraid that Dr. Davenport would be the one who’ll have to treat your fever,” she informed him crisply.

Dan cleared his throat and launched into introductions. “Brett and Liam Murphy,” he said, waving a hand at first one, then the other of the brothers as he said their names for Alisha’s benefit, “I’d like you both to meet Dr. Alisha Cordell. Dr. Cordell,” he went on, reciprocating the introduction, “Brett and Liam. They’re two-thirds of the owners of Murphy’s, Forever’s only saloon.”

Brett inclined his head. “Pleased to have you in Forever,” he told her. His voice became only a tad more serious as he said to her, “The doc here could really use the help.”

“I’m sure,” Alisha replied, sounding exceedingly formal.

She hadn’t wanted to be impolite to the doctor, but she’d tried to tell him that this tour of the town and its residents was really unnecessary. She’d come here to practice medicine, to answer the call for a physician, not concern herself with socializing. After the fiasco with Pierce, she’d had more than enough of socializing to last her for a very long time.

Possibly forever. The irony of that thought was not lost on her.

But since she was here, Alisha thought with resignation, she might as well pretend she was taking the scenery—and its people—in.

Alisha scanned the saloon slowly. The place had an exceedingly rustic look to it, as if the building had been here for at least the past seven or eight decades, if not longer.

Was this the extent of the diversion that the town had to offer? she wondered in disbelief.

“And this is where people come for a night out?” she asked, not bothering to hide the incredulous note in her voice.

“Dr. Cordell is from New York,” Dan felt obligated to tell the two men. It wasn’t an apology so much as an explanation for the obvious disbelief in the young woman’s voice.

He’d come from New York himself, although at this point, it felt as if that had been a hundred years ago instead of just four. At the time, it hadn’t even been a sense of altruism that had brought him here. Guilt had been the emotion that was responsible for bringing him to Forever.

Guilt and a sense of obligation.

He felt he owed it to Warren. Warren had been his younger brother, and a more quietly dedicated human being hadn’t ever walked the face of the earth. He’d been the one to fatefully convince Warren to come out on one last night on the town before Warren left for the godforsaken dot on the map where he intended to set up a practice. Forever hadn’t had a doctor for thirty years and was in desperate need of one within its borders.

A car accident that night had claimed Warren’s life while leaving him with nothing more than an outward scratch. Internally, though, was another matter. For weeks afterward, he had been all but hemorrhaging guilt. But even so, he’d initially planned to stay in Forever only until a suitable replacement for his late brother could be located.

He hadn’t counted on falling in love—with the town and with Tina Blayne, a single mother and the sheriff’s sister-in-law.

Life truly happened while you were making other plans, Dan thought now. And while he didn’t expect this young woman who had responded to his letter to feel the same way about the town, he had to admit that he was secretly hoping that she would in time.

“New York, eh? Don’t worry,” Brett assured Dan, even though his eyes never left the woman. “We won’t hold that against her.”

Alisha raised her chin, as if she had just been challenged. Of late, she knew she had gotten extremely touchy, but knowing didn’t seem to help her rein in that feeling.

“Why should you?” she asked.

Brett didn’t take offense at her tone. Rather, he just rolled with it, asking, “Short on senses of humor back in New York, are they?”

Alisha never missed a beat. “Not when something’s funny,” she said.

“Feisty,” Brett pronounced, this time directing the comment toward the senior doctor. The grin on the bartender’s face seemed to grow only sexier as he observed with approval. “She might just survive out here, then.”

Dan made a quick judgment call, seeing the need to usher the young woman out before barbs began being exchanged. “Let me bring you over to Miss Joan’s,” Dan suggested.

Alisha glanced over at him, trying to hide her uneasiness. “That’s not a brothel, is it?”

Brett was the first to succumb, laughing at the idea of the vivacious septuagenarian and diner owner who was part of all their lives for longer than anyone could remember running a house of ill repute. Liam quickly followed, and Dan held out for almost a minute, biting his tongue and trying to think of other things.

But the very image of the redheaded Miss Joan as a madam proved to be too much for him, as well, and he laughed until his sides ached, all the while trying to apologize to a less-than-entertained Alisha.

“I take it the answer’s no,” Alisha surmised, doing her best to maintain her dignity amid this joke she felt was at her expense.

It was Brett who answered her because Dan appeared to still be struggling for control. “Miss Joan runs the local diner. She dispenses hot food and sage advice, depending on what you need most. She’s been here for as long as anyone can remember. Longer, probably. The diner’s also the place where everyone goes to socialize when they’re not—”

“Here, drinking,” Alisha said, reaching the only conclusion that she could, given the facts as she perceived them.

Brett corrected her. “When they’re not here socializing.” His manner remained easygoing, but he wasn’t about to allow misinformation to make the rounds. Murphy’s wasn’t only his livelihood, a way that had allowed him to raise his brothers while keeping an eye on them; it was also his heritage. The saloon had been passed on to him after his uncle had died. Before that, his late father had run the establishment. To Brett, Murphy’s was almost as much of a living entity as his brothers were.

“Don’t they come here to get drunk?” Alisha pressed, recalling some of the parties that had gone on after hours while she was attending medical school. Nobody drank for the taste or to just pass away an hour; they drank to get drunk and even more uninhibited than they already were.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brett saw that his brother was taking offense at the image the young doctor was painting. He wanted to set this woman straight before something regrettable might be said. Liam was soft-spoken and he meant well, but a lasting relationship between his brain and his tongue hadn’t quite been reached yet.

“Not nearly as much as you would think,” Brett told her, keeping his smile firmly in place. “I’m not sure exactly how it is in New York, but out here, we do look out for each other—and that includes knowing when to cut a customer off.”

“Except for Nathan McLane,” Liam interjected. The youngest Murphy brother was nothing if not painfully honest—to a fault, Brett sometimes thought.