Her Stubborn Cowboy

In July 2016, the MILLS & BOON® AMERICAN ROMANCE® series will become the MILLS & BOON® WESTERN ROMANCE series. Same great stories, new name!

FAMILY MATTERS

Mackenzie Vaughn is determined to learn to run the Montana ranch she’s inherited—even if it means relying on Chet Granger. Years ago, the serious (and seriously handsome) cowboy broke up her relationship with his younger brother, and Mack doesn’t want to remember that heartache.

Chet knows gorgeous, spunky Mack is off-limits. His brother would never forgive him, and Chet always puts family first…until he can no longer ignore his feelings. If Chet gives in to his heart, he’ll lose his brother and the ranch they share—if he doesn’t, he could lose Mackenzie forever.

“Looks like you got a good start on the day.”

When Chet turned, he nearly collided with Mack. She sucked in a breath and looked up at him, blue eyes widened in surprise. Her lips parted, and he found his gaze moving down toward her mouth as if closing that distance would be the most natural thing in the world.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “So what brought you back here?”

“You know why. I inherited the ranch.”

“It’s more than that, though,” he said. “Most people would have sold it and taken the money.”

“Well, the timing was right. I hated my job and I missed air and rain and land and—” She blushed. “You always thought I was a city slicker, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He shot her a grin.

“And I am. But even people in the city miss a connection with something real—”

He was real, and what he’d felt for her had been real, too, but she’d never recognized it.

Was this his second chance?

Dear Reader,

When my son went into the first grade, he wanted to know how to find a friend. I told him to stand still, be quiet and look around himself. There’d be the noisy kids, the funny kids, the in-your-face kids. But if he wanted a really good friend, he needed to wait until he saw the quiet kid by the wall. That’s the winner. Bonus points if the kid was carrying a book.

My husband and I found each other the same way. He was quiet, the kind of guy who stood back and looked around. He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t a flirt. He was strong, honest and stubborn as all get-out. And he could take my breath away like no other! The guys on the periphery—the Chet Grangers of the world—are worth a second look. They’re the ones who have more to offer, and that depth of character is priceless.

It isn’t easy being a bookish type, but we don’t have to do it alone. Finding fellow readers and other wallflowers makes all the difference…even for writers.

If you’d like to connect with me, you can find me on Facebook under Patricia Johns Romance, or you could come by my blog at patriciajohnsromance.com. I love to hear from readers, and you’re guaranteed a reply. I’m another one along the wall—the observer, the mildly uncomfortable one. And if you’re interested in bonus points, I’m pretty much always working on a book!

Patricia Johns

PATRICIA JOHNS writes from northern Alberta, where she lives with her husband and son. The winters are long, cold and perfectly suited to novel writing. She has a BA in English lit, and you can find her books in Mills & Boon Love Inspired and Mills & Boon American Romance lines.

To my husband, who inspires the romantic in me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Chet Granger wanted her land, and Mackenzie Vaughn knew it. He’d offered to buy it from her grandmother multiple times over the years, and now that her grandmother had passed away, leaving the ranch to Mackenzie, she was waiting for the inevitable offer.

And she would refuse. That was a given. The last person in this county she intended to sell this land to was Chet Granger. They had a bit of a history together, and if anyone was going to benefit from this land, it wouldn’t be him. Business wasn’t supposed to be personal, but this time it was.

As a small white goat passed her, Mackenzie patted its rump and wiped the back of her hand over her moist forehead. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through pools of warm sunlight. The peeling red barn loomed behind, its shadow stretching out like a sleepy cat. Since arriving two hours earlier, she’d already managed to get what was left of her grandmother’s herd back into the barn. Then she’d noticed the goat waddling off toward the fence, wide belly swinging back and forth with each step.

“Come on now,” she urged. “Let’s go, goat.”

It had to have a name; she just didn’t know it. The other three goats were already inside the barn, but this one paid no mind to peer pressure.

This ranch had been a godsend when she was an angry teen caught in the middle of her parents’ acrid divorce. While her parents battled over who got what, she’d come back to her grandmother’s ranch—the one place she could count on not to change. It was here that she’d fallen in love for the first time, with Andy Granger. Chet was Andy’s older brother and had always been the more serious of the two. In fact, she’d had a bit of a crush on him at first, before Andy made his move and she realized that Chet hadn’t been interested in the least. He’d been concerned with the future of his family’s ranch more than with having much fun...so much so that he’d convinced Andy that Mack wasn’t worth his time. At least, that was Andy’s story. In spite of it all, a small part of her envied the Granger boys. When push came to shove, they chose each other, and the Granger family stood strong. Still, they stood strong against her, and that was one slight she wouldn’t forget.

“Come on,” Mackenzie coaxed, patting the goat’s rump again. “I have some nice fresh hay waiting for you.”

The goat didn’t seem the least bit interested in her offering, and it turned away again, trotting heavily along the fence line. Farther down the fence, a man sauntered up and leaned against the rail, gray eyes fixed on her in mild amusement. Mackenzie startled. He was tall, slim but well muscled. He rested his forearms over the top rail, big hands loosely holding a pair of work gloves. A cowboy hat sat on his head, pushed back so that the sun hit his face, illuminating the sandpaper of his stubble. He raised the gloves in a hello. He’d always been good-looking, but he’d lost his lean boyishness and hardened into a man since she’d last seen him. Chet Granger. The years had been good to him.

“Long time,” he called.

It certainly had been a long time, and in the few hours she’d been back, she’d been doing her best to avoid him. She’d known that wasn’t going to work for long, considering their ranches were side by side, their respective barns and houses no more than an acre apart. There had been a time when people liked the idea of being within shouting distance of a neighbor. This would have been a whole lot easier if they didn’t share such a difficult history.

The goat trotted up to Chet and poked a nose through the fence.

“Hey there, Butter Cream.” The rancher eased between the rails of the fence and came over to her side, hopping twice to get his boot through. His shirt was rolled up to reveal strong forearms, tanned skin with a vein bulging as he scratched the goat’s ears. The animal tipped her head back and forth, lashes fluttering in enjoyment. Chet looked up at Mackenzie, those disconcertingly light eyes pinned on her. “Trying to get her back inside?”

He didn’t wait for the answer but strode off in the direction of her barn without a backward look, and the goat followed him with the quiet loyalty of a dog.

“Butter Cream,” she muttered to herself. That would be good to remember for the next time she had to plead with this particular critter.

Mackenzie had been in town all of a day, and she already knew that she was in over her head. Why she’d thought she’d be able to run a ranch on her own, she had no idea. When her grandmother had died, leaving her the ranch, she’d thought this was the answer to that sense of empty boredom inside her—and maybe it was—but she wasn’t entirely sure it was worth it, especially not if Chet was part of the package.

“So how come you didn’t stop by when you arrived?” Chet glanced over his shoulder at her as he pulled open the rolling door.

“I had things to do,” she said, annoyed at his casual comfort with her property. And it was hers now—all four hundred acres of it.

He laughed softly. “You have no idea how to run this place.”

He was right about that, but she’d never been one to back away from a challenge, and this one had been dumped in her lap with the subtlety of a truckload of bricks.

The goat nuzzled Chet’s leg once more and he bent to scratch her head again. “By the way, Butter Cream is due to kid in a week or two. So pretty soon, you’ll have baby goats and a pretty steady supply of goat milk. She’s a good producer.”

Mackenzie studied the creature, attempting to hide her surprise.

“As in more than one?” she asked.

“Definitely more than one.”

“I don’t need goat milk,” she said, before she could think better of it.

“Then sell it.” Chet gave the goat’s rump a solid pat, and she waddled through the door toward her stall without a bleat of protest. He made it seem so easy, and she suspected that she’d never have that kind of luck with Butter Cream.

“Do you want her?” she asked. “She seems to like you.”

“No, thanks.” He pulled shut the goat’s stall door and shot her a grin. “Do you have any idea how much trouble baby goats are? They’re like herding cats. They’re your problem.”

Great. She pulled a hand through her long blond hair. “You’re right, by the way.”

“About the goats, or about you not knowing what you’re doing?” His grin became teasing.

Mackenzie eyed him coolly. “Both, I’m sure.” She sucked in a breath. “The lawyer said that you’d been helping my grandmother out with running the place. He said I should talk to you if I had any questions.”

“Good advice.” Chet crossed his arms over his chest.

“So?” she said. “What’s the first step?”

“Your grandmother—rest her soul—sold off most of her cattle at auction a couple of years ago. That was her version of retirement. No ranch hands, no employees and just a handful of cows she could care for on her own. But you can’t keep this place going on fifteen head. You’ll need a good herd and some ranch hands who know what they’re doing, and you’ll have to be careful with that. If they think you don’t know squat about running this place, they’ll take advantage.”

Ranch hands were the least of her worries right now. Was he going to try to scare her off running this place on her own? No one had been more shocked than she’d been when she inherited this place. If anyone was going to get it, it should have been her father, and that fact had been rubbing at her conscience ever since the lawyer had called. She was the least qualified member of the family to inherit the biggest responsibility, and this was already affecting her relationship with her dad. She scuffed a boot in the dirt, her mind sifting through Chet’s words. She had no idea how she’d get this ranch rolling again, and right now she felt most thoroughly beaten. “In the meantime, what do I do?”

“Chores in the morning, chores at night. In between that, you fix everything that keeps breaking.” He glanced through the barn. “Looks like you got the cows in all right.”

The cows had taken care of themselves, trotting inside without a word from her when she opened the back barn door.

“I understand you’ve been paid for your time out of the estate,” Mackenzie said.

He nodded, silent.

“And you know how to run this place better than I do,” she went on. “I’m not sure what you’d want to be paid, but—”

“I don’t want to be paid.” He let the words hang in the air, then turned and walked back toward the fence. His boots clunked against the dry ground, and he lifted his hat and resettled it on his head without once looking back. She knew what he was after. He wanted to buy this place and send her packing. Still, he’d had a point about being taken advantage of by employees, something she hadn’t even thought of. She needed help.

“Chet!” she called.

He paused and finally looked back at her. “Yeah?”

She’d make him say it. She’d make him offer to buy the place, turn him down flat and get that out of the way. “So what do you want, then?”

“To be asked.” There wasn’t a hint of humor in his expression.

She blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected. “Fine. I’m asking.”

“The whole thing.” He crossed his arms, meeting her gaze evenly.

Mackenzie muttered an oath under her breath and closed the distance between them. Was his plan to prove to her how little she knew about managing a ranch? If it was, then she’d just have to prove him wrong—learn everything she could from this frustrating man in spite of his reticence.

“Chet Granger,” she said with a resigned sigh, “would you be so kind as to help me with the running of this place until I can figure out what to do with it?”

“What do you mean, what you’re going to do with it?” he asked.

There it was. She’d piqued his interest. Maybe her father would want to buy her out, although besides being deeply hurt that his own mother had cut him out of the will, he hadn’t shown a lot of interest in this place.

“Obviously, I can run it or sell it. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.”

“But you want to run it?” he clarified.

She nodded. “That was the plan.”

She had a lot of regrets that needed plowing over. She wanted a fresh start, and a ranch didn’t land in a girl’s lap every day. This seemed like the kind of thing she should take advantage of. She was hoping that her father could forgive this eventually—but if she were honest with herself, the philanderer had a little karma due.

“All right.” He fixed her with a direct stare. “But I put my ranch first. I help you out after I’m done with my own land.”

“Fair enough.” She held out her hand and he took it in his strong, rough grasp.

“I’ll come by after my chores are done in the morning.” He released her fingers, tipped his hat and then bent down to ease his body between the fence rails once more. Once he was on his side of the property, he added, “And I’m not doing the work for you. I’m teaching you how to do it yourself. But I’ll help you out for a bit while you build up the stamina. It’s harder than it looks.”

“Do you really think I’m searching for a man to take care of little ole me?” she asked wryly.

“Just being clear.”

“I’m not looking to get free labor out of you, Chet,” she said. “And I’ll pay you for your time. I won’t have it any other way.”

If she’d had anyone else to ask, she would have, but Mackenzie didn’t know anyone around here but the Grangers. When Andy broke up with her, he’d told her enough to make it clear that Chet had been at the core of it. She’d always sensed that Chet had never thought she was anything more than a city slicker, and he’d never approved of her wasting Andy’s time when he should have been thinking about more serious things like animal husbandry and crops.

Andy hadn’t cared about the ranch the way Chet had, and that had always chafed between the brothers, but she’d never thought that Chet would go so far as to break them up. That was a low blow—lower than she’d thought Chet was capable of. But then, her father had proven himself even lower, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Chet gave her a nod. “Good to see you again, Mack,” he said. “You look good.”

Then he turned toward his own property and walked across the field with that slow, rolling gait of his. She heaved a sigh. She needed to figure out how to run this ranch on her own or sell it to anyone but a Granger. And being beholden to Chet wasn’t even an option.

* * *

CHET’S SIDE KITCHEN window overlooked the field that separated his property from Mackenzie’s, and he stopped in front of the sink, casting his gaze over there in spite of himself. He pulled his eyes away and slammed a kitchen cupboard just to hear the satisfying bang.

Mackenzie Vaughn was back.

He hadn’t been sure if she would actually come and take possession of the ranch or sell it without setting foot on it again. Of course, he’d hoped for another chance to see her, but he’d never understood Mack very well. She’d been pretty and tomboyish with long blond hair and even longer legs. She hadn’t changed much in the past decade, apparently.

He’d thought the years had washed away the memory of her, especially when Chet took over the running of his family’s ranch. He’d been busy, focused on upgrading old machinery, so life had moved on...

Until he saw her again this afternoon, trying to sweet-talk a goat into cooperating, and it was as if those past ten years had just evaporated. Suddenly he was nineteen years old again, staring at the girl who made his stomach flip, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. She had been Andy’s girlfriend, and there were lines he’d never cross. Except she wasn’t Andy’s girlfriend anymore.

The rumble of an engine came up the drive, and Chet ambled through the kitchen toward the front window. A brand-new blue pickup crunched to a stop on the gravel, and when the door opened, he blinked in surprise to see his brother. He hadn’t spoken to Andy in the year or more since their father’s death, and the sight of his younger brother made his throat tighten. After the funeral, they’d had a massive fight over the inheritance and things had been said—the kind of things that couldn’t be taken back. So what was Andy doing on his doorstep? Was this a friendly visit, or was he here to pick up where they’d left off?

Chet pulled open the front door and gave his brother a cautious nod. Andy, shorter than Chet by several inches, slammed shut the truck door. He was tall and well built—the family resemblance between the two men was unmistakable, except that Andy’s hair was auburn in a testament to their redheaded mother. He shuffled his boots in the gravel.

“Hi,” Andy said.

“What’s going on?” Chet asked. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“Ida kicked me out.” Andy slapped his hat against his leg. “I was hoping I could stay here with you for a few days until I get things sorted.”

“What do you mean, kicked you out? The wedding is in two months, I thought.” In fact, Chet wasn’t even sure if he was invited. Ida had sent him the invitation, and he suspected she was trying to be diplomatic. That didn’t mean Andy wanted Chet anywhere near the event.

“We broke up.” Andy gave a weak shrug.

“What did you do?” Chet demanded.

“Can I stay here?” Andy asked, ignoring the question.

“Well, you’re here,” Chet said gruffly, which was as close to a yes as Andy was going to get. Andy grabbed a suitcase from the truck’s flatbed and Chet stepped back and let his brother through the door. “So what happened?”

“I asked if we could postpone the wedding a bit. It’s in two months, coming up so fast, and—” Andy’s face looked older now, more lined and haggard. “You were smart to stay single.”

Chet wasn’t so much smart as unlucky in love. He’d dated a few women over the years, but in a place the size of Hope, he’d known most folk all his life. A few new people moved in every few years, but most of them were older or with young families. You didn’t get a lot of available women putting up their shingles in a place like this.

Andy strolled toward the kitchen, and Chet followed. This was their family house—they’d both grown up in it—and treating it like a shared home was a hard habit to break. Chet had inherited the house, the barns and one hundred and seventy-five acres. His brother had inherited the other two hundred and twenty-five acres—mostly pasture—and their shares combined to make the Grangers’ four-hundred-acre total. Their father’s intention had been for the brothers to run the ranch together, except that Andy had never been interested.

“So it’s over, I guess,” Andy went on, opening the fridge and peering inside. “You don’t have much, do you?”

Over. His brother had been dating Ida for four years, and it was simply done? This was the first woman Andy had brought home whom the whole family really liked. He turned his attention to the fridge.

“What do you want?” Chet asked. “How about sausage and eggs?”

Andy shrugged his assent and headed to the battered old table, where he sank into a chair. Chet set to work in the kitchen. He grabbed the eggs and sausages from the fridge and moved around getting what he needed. Andy scrubbed a hand through his reddish hair, leaving it standing upright.

“So just like that?” Chet asked. “You sure this isn’t a fight? Cold feet?”

“She’s not the right woman.”

“You thought she was when you proposed,” Chet said. That had been before their father died and while everyone was still talking to each other. Andy had used their mother’s engagement ring. Made sense—Andy had always been close to Mom. Chet had been out on the land with their father, and Andy had seen a lot more of their mother before she passed away, something Chet had always felt a little envious of. Had he known their time would be limited...

“A lot changed in the last year,” Andy muttered.

A lot had changed, but truth be told, Chet had been slightly jealous of his brother’s good fortune. He’d fallen in love and was getting married. What better way to get over the death of a parent than by starting your own family?

“Speaking of that year,” Chet said. “I haven’t heard a peep from you.” He hauled an iron skillet onto a burner and turned it on.

“Well...peep.”

Chet rolled his eyes. He’d have to take what he could get. He’d missed his brother, gone over their fight over and over in his head, looking for some fresh insight into why they fought and how to fix it and always coming up empty.

“Dad should never have split the land up like that. It wasn’t fair,” Andy said. “Not that you’d notice.”

“You got more land than I did,” Chet retorted. “You got all the pasture. It’s worth a good chunk of change, so don’t go acting the victim like Dad didn’t remember you.”

The pasture was in Andy’s name, but Chet had been using it just as their father had used that land before him. Chet had always looked at the ranch as theirs—his and Andy’s—but it was no secret that Chet was the one to run the place and do the actual work. Andy was more of a silent partner, and Chet liked that setup just fine.

“I meant to talk to you about that,” Andy said, squinting. “I’m going to sell it.”

“What?!” Chet slammed a spatula on the counter and stared at his brother in disbelief. “You can’t do that!”

“Totally can,” Andy replied. “It’s in my name, and like you said, it’s worth a small fortune to the right people.”