True Blue Cowboy

He Never Expected To See Her Again!

When Mack Cash’s mysterious one-night stand shows up at the dude ranch where he works, he is stunned. And just as he suspected during their night together, Beth Richards is no buckle bunny, despite the getup she was wearing. Instead, she’s just the kind of woman he’s looking for—sexy, sure, but also down-home and whip-smart.

Mack’s obvious attraction is just the boost Beth was looking for after a hurtful divorce. She loves the way he looks at her—and sees her. Except for one thing. He wants a family, and Beth can only disappoint him. She’s already failed at love once and she can’t go through it again. That’s why she has to let Mack go….

“You don’t have to be so crude,” she said.

“I call it like I see it. You dolled yourself up then set your sights on me. After you got what you wanted, you walked away without a backward glance.”

Miffed, Beth planted her hands on her hips. “And I see it like this… You approached me in the bar, and unlike my husband I at least waited for my divorce to become final before I took a walk on the wild side.” She narrowed her eyes. “And the reason I dolled myself up was because men like you never give women like me a second glance.”

“What are you talking about?”

She spread her arms wide. “When it comes to passion and desire I’m no man’s fantasy.”

“You don’t think very highly of yourself.” She would have fled, if her only escape route hadn’t been blocked by a broad-shouldered cowboy. “I think we should—”

“Pretend that night never happened,” she said.

Forgetting her evening with Mack was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn’t dare tell him that unless she cared to keep torturing herself.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll act as if we’ve never met before.”

Dear Reader,

Like the other Cash brothers, Mack attracts his fair share of female attention, and being the lead singer of the Cowboy Rebels makes him a favorite with the buckle bunnies. But Mack’s getting tired of the single life and he’s ready to find the right woman—that is, after one more fling with a woman who won’t share her last name.

The fun begins when the mystery woman turns up as a guest at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch where Mack’s a wrangler, except she’s not a buckle bunny anymore—she’s exactly the kind of woman Mack’s looking to settle down with. He’s willing to give Beth a second chance, but she’s not on board with his plans for a committed relationship. The happy-ever-after Mack envisions for them might be hijacked by Beth’s insecurities and her belief that she can’t give Mack the family he’s always wanted. I hope you enjoy watching Mack and Beth struggle to find their way as a couple, and when you reach the end of the book you’ll be a believer like Beth that the true meaning of family is more than biology—the meaning of family is all in the heart.

If you missed any of the previous Cash Brothers books, they’re still available for purchase online: The Cowboy Next Door (July 2013), Twins Under the Christmas Tree (October 2013), Her Secret Cowboy (February 2014) and The Cowboy’s Destiny (May 2014). To keep up-to-date on my books, contests and writing news, please visit my website, www.marinthomas.com, where you’ll find links to all my social media hangouts.

Happy Ever After…The Cowboy Way!

Marin

True Blue Cowboy

Marin Thomas

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MARIN THOMAS grew up in Janesville, Wisconsin. She left the Midwest to attend college in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a B.A. in radio-TV. Following graduation she married her college sweetheart in a five-minute ceremony at the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Over the years she and her family have lived in seven different states, but they’ve now come full circle and returned to Arizona, where the rugged desert and breathtaking sunsets provide plenty of inspiration for Marin’s cowboy books.

This book is dedicated to The Cash Brothers Cowgirl Posse…Denise, Susan, Nancy, Renee, Teresa, Sabrina, Gaby, Linda and Kim… Thank you for your help in spreading the word about The Cash Brothers series—you ladies rock! But most of all…thank you for your friendship.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Two could play the cheating game.

Except it wasn’t really cheating, because Beth Richards and her husband, Brad, were officially divorced. Earlier in the afternoon they’d met at the lawyer’s office to sign the papers. Afterward, Beth had gone on a shopping spree.

She adjusted her brand-new Victoria’s Secret push-up bra and fluffed the fake brown hair extensions that made her look twenty-one instead of thirty-one. She studied herself in the ladies’-room mirror and decided her lips could use a second coat of Ravish Me Red, then cursed her trembling fingers when she rummaged for the tube of gloss in the rhinestone-studded clutch.

You’ve come this far, don’t you dare chicken out.

She swiped fresh color across her lips and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles in her retro Western shirt. She looked nothing like a financial consultant for a top-rated investment firm and everything like the girls in the bar hoping to snag a cowboy.

Maybe if you’d dressed sexier for Brad, he wouldn’t have strayed.

And if Brad had remained faithful, he never would have gotten Beth’s boss pregnant and then decided that he did want to be a father after all.

Beth shushed the voice in her head and recalled her therapist’s words. Your husband’s infidelity is his problem. You didn’t cause it.

But her sterility was Beth’s problem and in the end, the reason her husband had filed for divorce. Sadly, had he not contacted a lawyer first, who knows how many months would have passed by before Beth discovered Brad was cheating on her? At least she understood the real reason behind the extra customer accounts she’d been asked to manage—Sara had hoped to keep Beth at the office on weekends while she snuck around with Brad.

Beth should have known something like this would happen after the way she’d caught Sara ogling Brad at the July Fourth company picnic nine months ago. Instead, she’d believed her sports-anchor husband’s claim that sexy women were a dime a dozen but when it came to marriage, he wanted a down-to-earth woman like her. When Brad had proposed to Beth, she’d told him that she couldn’t have children, and he swore he didn’t care.

The schmuck had done an admirable job hiding his true feelings the past five years, but the truth had come out during the divorce negotiations. Brad admitted he’d only married her to secure his job at the station when he’d heard rumors that the executives weren’t happy with his playboy image and might not renew his contract.

After Brad established himself as a settled man with his viewing audience, he’d decided having a family would move his career up the ladder. He was a user and she hated that she’d been taken in by his handsome face and playboy charm. Most of all, she despised him for doing a number on her self-confidence. But tonight she intended to recover it.

I can do this.

Never in her wildest dreams had she believed she was capable of walking into a bar and picking up a stranger. But after Brad’s betrayal, she desperately needed to prove to herself that she was still desirable.

The bathroom door opened and a pair of young women wearing stocking caps waltzed in. The chatty Cathies reminded Beth that Christmas was in twenty days, and this year she would not be attending Channel 3’s toy drive with Brad. The thought made her sad. Even though she wasn’t able to have children of her own, she’d looked forward to handing out gifts at the station. This year she’d sit home alone and watch reruns of A Christmas Story. She had considered spending the holiday with her parents in California, but she hadn’t gotten up the courage yet to tell them about the divorce.

“Nice belt,” the brunette said.

“Thank you.” Beth had paid almost four hundred dollars for her outfit—way-too-tight Cruel Girl jeans and a Roar shirt with enough sequins to light up Times Square. Add a rhinestone belt, purse and jewelry to her ensemble and she was pure sex in cowboy boots. Squaring her shoulders she left the ladies’ room, wincing when the wall of loud music hit her.

While getting her hair done at the beauty salon she’d overheard the stylists mention the Number 10 Saloon on the west end of Yuma. According to them, the Cowboy Rebels played on Saturday nights and their music was worth the ten-dollar cover charge. Beth had never heard of the band—she preferred classic rock. But what the heck, she’d already had a TV sportscaster in her bed—why not a swaggering cowboy?

She weaved through the tables and returned to her stool at the bar. “Thanks for saving my seat,” she shouted at the man next to her. He wasn’t much to look at. According to Brad, she wasn’t all that special in the looks department, either. She shoved her ex to the back of her mind and watched the patrons in the mirror mounted to the wall behind the bartender. This was her first foray into a country-and-western bar and she was pleasantly surprised by the decor. Used to eating in high-end dining establishments and frequenting upscale hotel lounges, she’d expected a dark, dingy saloon that smelled like spilled beer and men who needed a bath.

To her surprise the interior of the club could have been any frontier bar from the Old West, except that the furnishings were brand new and the place had been decorated for Christmas. A lighted tree stood next to the red-velvet curtains that framed the stage, and giant bows hung on the oil paintings of scantily clad women adorning the walls.

The food menu had been printed on the backs of Wanted posters, and battery-operated lanterns served as the centerpieces on the tables. Wide wooden planks covered the floor and wood beams crisscrossed the ceiling.

The band ended one song and began another. Beth listened to the lead singer belt out “Drink Up and Be Somebody,” which reminded her... She tapped an acrylic fingernail on the bar and a third glass of Bordeaux magically appeared. She sipped the wine and focused on the lead singer who’d introduced himself as Mack Cash. As he moved across the stage, his brown eyes and shaggy brown hair screamed T-R-O-U-B-L-E. The kind of trouble she was looking for tonight.

He wore a tight black T-shirt that showcased his muscular chest, and his jeans rode low on his hips, accentuating a trim waist and a flat belly. And the faded denim was torn, frayed and ripped in all the places that made a woman’s mouth water.

Oh, yeah, she’d found her man.

Before the night was through, she was leaving the bar with Mack.

A group of women moved closer to the stage, their big breasts bobbing and bouncing for the band’s viewing pleasure. Beth’s push-up bra helped her figure, but her girlfriends couldn’t compete with what was on display.

“Care to dance?”

The question came from behind Beth, and she spun on the stool. Average height, pleasant face, receding hairline, brand-new cowboy hat in hand, a bucking-horse belt buckle, freshly pressed jeans and a Western pearl-snap shirt. The weekend cowboy had tried hard to pull off the look, but he didn’t stand a chance in a bar full of real ones.

An invisible string tugged Beth’s head sideways, her gaze colliding with Mack’s. She stopped breathing when he smiled at her. “I’m sorry,” she told weekend cowboy. “I’m with him.” She nodded to the band. Now if only she knew how to execute her plan.

You need a clever pickup line.

How about... Hey, cowboy, wanna share my saddle?

Ugh.

I’ll be your Miss Kitty if you’ll be my Matt Dillon.

Cheesy.

The Cowboy Rebels ended their music set and Mack announced that the band was taking a break. He set aside his guitar, stepped off the stage and headed straight for Beth.

Her pulse sped up as she anticipated a night of revenge sex—even if it did come after her divorce.

Mack stopped next to her and she felt the warmth in his eyes clear down to her toes. The cowboy probably flirted with hundreds of women each weekend, yet he made her believe she had his undivided attention. He leaned against the bar, the movement sending a whiff of musk cologne and warm male past her nose.

Oh, boy. She’d bitten off more than she could chew.

“I haven’t seen you here before. First time?”

She nodded then silently cursed her dry throat. “Yes. And you?” Oh, God. She didn’t just ask that, did she? Get a grip on yourself and stop acting like an idiot.

“My band’s been playing at the bar for a few years.” He nodded to her wineglass. “Mind if I join you for a drink?”

“Please.” The guy next to Beth had vacated his seat without being asked. Mack slid onto the stool, his knees bumping her thigh. The bartender set a beer in front of him. He nodded to her wineglass. “Can I buy you another?”

Three glasses of wine was her limit. “I’m good, thanks.”

His stare grew intense and she resisted squirming. Even when she’d dated hotshot Brad, he hadn’t made her feel this off balanced.

“I’m Mack Cash.”

“Beth.”

“Beth what?”

“Just Beth.”

“An Arizona cowboy walks into a bar and takes a seat next to an attractive woman named Just Beth.” Mack kept a straight face. He’d noticed Beth the moment she’d entered the bar and had been hoping she wouldn’t hook up with another cowboy before he had the chance to speak with her.

“The cowboy gives Just Beth a quick glance then casually looks at his watch.” Mack nodded to his timepiece. “She asks...” He waited to see if she’d help his story along and when she didn’t, he said, “‘Is your date running late?’” Mack shook his head. “‘No’, the cowboy replies. ‘I just got this state-of-the-art watch and I was testing it.’”

Beth’s eyes twinkled and her posture relaxed. The muscle in her thigh was no longer as hard as a rock and she’d quit tapping her fingernail against the wineglass.

“Intrigued, Just Beth says, ‘What’s so special about your state-of-the-art watch?’ The cowboy explains, ‘It uses alpha waves to talk to me telepathically.’”

She laughed.

“So this Just Beth points at the cowboy’s watch and says, ‘What’s it telling you now?’”

Mack leaned closer to Beth and whispered. “‘It says you’re not wearing any panties.’”

She faked a surprised gasp. “How did Just Beth respond to that?”

“She said the cowboy’s watch must be broken ’cause she’s wearing panties.”

“And what did the cowboy say?” Beth asked.

“He points to his watch and says, ‘Damn thing’s an hour fast.’”

Beth’s mouth formed a perfect O then she snapped it shut and giggled.

Mack glanced at her bare ring finger. “So tell me, Just Beth, do you have a cowboy waiting for you at home?”

“Not anymore.”

“If I were to suggest we get to know each other better after the band finishes tonight...”

“I’d say yes.”

Score! Mack leaned in close, inhaling her sexy scent. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He returned to the stage and the band played a set of rodeo songs and he pushed Beth to the back of his mind, focusing on entertaining the crowd. He never wanted to disappoint his fans.

During the week he made decent money cowboying at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch, but it was the income he earned playing music that padded his savings account. His married brothers suggested he use the money to build a house and find a good woman to settle down with. In the span of a little over three years, four of his brothers and his younger sister had tied the knot. Mack and Porter were the only single siblings left in the family.

A part of Mack admitted that he wasn’t getting as much satisfaction out of the singles scene but old habits died hard, and he was only willing to give up the nightlife when the right woman came along. He looked over at the bar.

Just Beth’s stool was empty.

There went another shot at finding the right woman.

* * *

THE LAST PATRONS walked out the door of the Number 10 Saloon and drove off, leaving only a few scattered pickups in the parking lot. Beth sat on the tailgate of one of the trucks, rocking her legs as if she was on a playground swing.

She hadn’t been this excited or terrified in longer than she could remember. But she’d never done anything like this before. Maybe she should have indulged in a fourth glass of wine while she’d waited for Mack.

Too late now.

The saloon door opened and the Cowboy Rebels walked outside, carrying their instruments. The group exchanged words then broke apart and each member went to their vehicle. Mack’s truck sat in the shadows at the back of the lot, and it wasn’t until he got within ten feet of the pickup that he saw her and applied the brakes. A slow smile spread across his face.

“How’d you know this was my ride?” His husky voice poured over her like honey and she shivered.

“The sign on the door.”

He rubbed a finger alongside his nose as if embarrassed and nodded to the magnetic sheet displaying a cowboy on a bucking horse and the band’s name and website URL printed across the background. “Had those made up a few months ago.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Beth wondered if she’d read the signals wrong and Mack had only been teasing about sneaking away together after the bar closed. She hopped off the tailgate. “I...umm...”

Mack moved closer until only a whisper of air squeezed between their bodies. His fingers toyed with one of her hair extensions—could he tell it was fake? He tilted his head to the side to avoid bumping her face with the brim of his hat. Then he kissed her.

Sweet mercy.

The intensity of his kiss curled her toes—pure unadulterated hot, ferocious need. His mouth moved over hers with purpose, and his tongue left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. She pressed herself against him and buried her hands in his hair, knocking his hat off. Her body had a will of its own and she rubbed the heel of her cowboy boot against the back of his calf.

When he ended the kiss, Beth gasped for air. If things went no further between them than a hot, lusty kiss in the parking lot, she’d go home a satisfied woman. Even so, tonight was about moving on with her life.

“The El Rancho Motel is a few miles from here.” The lodge was located near the neighborhood where she and Brad had bought their house.

Mack tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and the gentle gesture tweaked her heart. “You want to follow me in your car or take my truck?”

“I’ll follow.” There was no reason to give him the impression that she wanted more than a one-night stand. If all went as planned, she’d be gone before he woke in the morning.

He bent over and grabbed his hat off the ground.

She nodded to the white Lexus and he grasped her hand and walked her to the car, then waited for her to sit in the driver’s seat. “Are you sure?” His mouth hovered so close to hers, she could feel his breath.

“Very sure.” She brushed her lips over his and he groaned.

“Drive safe.” He shut the door.

Never in Beth’s thirty-one years had she envisioned herself going to a motel with a complete stranger.

Mack isn’t really a stranger. He was a popular local musician, and her gut insisted she had nothing to worry about.

Then again her gut had gotten it wrong with Brad.

Chapter One

“Damned tractor broke down again.” Mack’s brother Conway entered the bunkhouse and removed a bottled water from the fridge.

“Thought you finished harvesting the pecans last week,” Porter said.

“I’ve got a few acres left.” Conway nodded to Mack, juggling fruit. “What’s he up to?”

“Merle Haggard is getting ready to run off and join the circus.”

“Real funny.” Mack caught the pieces of fruit and glared at his brothers. If he wasn’t tied in knots over Just Beth he might challenge Porter to a scuffle after being called by his proper name.

Grandma Ada had insisted that their mother name all her sons after country-and-western legends because she loved their music. Mack didn’t buy the story. No matter what any of his siblings thought, he believed his mother had been dropped on her head as a baby, leaving her judgment permanently impaired. He and his brother Willie Nelson had taken nicknames after they’d entered kindergarten, and the teasing led to playground fights and weekly trips to the principal’s office.

“Can you guys be serious for a minute?” Mack asked.

“Sure,” his brothers answered in unison.

Porter Wagoner was still single like Mack, and Conway Twitty, who everyone had believed would remain single the longest, had been the second Cash brother to marry. He was already the father of six-year-old twins with another set on the way early next month. Maybe Mack should talk to his eldest brother, who always gave sound advice. “Never mind. I’ll stop by Johnny’s before I head out of town.”

“Johnny and Shannon are in Payson at a rodeo,” Conway said. “They took little Addy up there to show her off to Shannon’s friends.”

Fine. “You guys ever have a one-night stand with a woman you could swear isn’t a one-night-stand woman?”

The brothers exchanged puzzled glances then Porter spoke. “What are you talking about?”

Mack set the apples and orange in a bowl and paced in front of the TV. “I met this woman at the Number 10 Saloon last month before Christmas when the band was playing a gig there.”

“And you went back to her place after the bar closed,” Porter said.

“Am I telling this story or are you?” Mack asked.

Porter held up his hands. “Sorry.”

“So we make eye contact and—” Mack pointed his finger when Porter opened his mouth “—the sparks are there. We go to a motel—”

“Which one?” Conway asked.

“Does it matter?” Mack scowled. “We’re at the motel and while we’re becoming acquainted and...stuff, I get this feeling that she’s not really who she is. You know what I mean?”

“No,” his brothers echoed.

Frustrated, Mack shoved his fingers through his hair. “She dressed like a buckle bunny, but she drank red wine.” And she drove a Lexus.

“I’ve never dated a girl who liked wine,” Porter said.

Conway scrunched his brow. “Come to think of it, neither have I. The girls I dated drank beer.”

“Did you search for her on Google?” Porter asked.

“I’m not a stalker,” Mack said.

“What’s her name?” Porter asked. “Maybe I know her.”

“Beth.”

“Beth what?”

“Just Beth.”

Porter and Conway exchanged glances. “Did you get her number?” Conway asked.

Mack’s face burned and Porter hooted. “She wouldn’t give you her number, would she?”

“No.”

“There are hundreds of women who’d fall all over themselves to date a musician,” Conway said. “Why are you preoccupied with a one-night stand?”