Loving A Cowboy

Would he stop?
The silent question hung in the air while Libby watched him approach, her gaze riveted in his direction like a nail caught in a magnetic field.

Her foot was shaking like it was ready for takeoff. She felt like running. She knew she couldn’t. Not this time.

“Imagine finding you at the Cattleman’s Club after all these years.”

That low, sexy male voice could still vibrate her heart. Libby struggled to hide any reaction as she looked up into the familiar stone-chiseled face and stormy gray eyes shadowed by a black Stetson.

“Congratulations,” she managed to get out as Chance, dressed in a white shirt and black jeans, pulled out the empty chair across from her and filled it without waiting for an invitation. “You looked great out there today,” she added, reaching for the easy compliment and hoping against hope they could keep it friendly.

Hearts of Wyoming series

Book 1: Loving a Cowboy

Book 2: The Maverick Meets His Match

(coming soon)

Book 3: The Wrangler’s Heart (coming 2016)

Dedicated to my daughter. I couldn’t be prouder.

Author’s Note

It’s been a labor of love bringing Chance and Libby together—that Chance is a stubborn one, and Libby, as you will see, isn’t having an easy time asserting her independence. They both have something to prove, and now, they finally have a second chance to prove it. Look for the next book in the
Hearts of Wyoming
series, which will be Ty and Mandy’s story, in
Maverick Meets His Match,
when Mandy has to make some tough choices to gain control of her late grandfather’s rodeo stock company after Ty, her grandfather’s protégé, takes over. Sparks fly, but it isn’t clear whether it will be a fire of passion or an inferno that consumes them.

If you love Chance and Libby’s story (or even if you don’t), please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. I read every one of them, and they help me plan new books for the series. If you’re not on my mailing list yet, you can sign up on www.annecarrole.com so you can keep informed when new books are coming out as well as get some tidbits on wranglers, ranches, and rodeos.

Thanks for your support of the
Hearts of Wyoming
series. Enjoy the ride!

Hugs, Anne.

Chapter 1

Libby Brennan had never been good at waiting. Yet she’d come to the Cattleman’s Club, the best honky-tonk in Cheyenne, to do just that—wait. The place was jumping, packed, and noisy. She’d been lucky to find a table

“What makes you think he’s forgiven you for what you did, Libby? Few men would.” Older brothers sometimes have an unnerving ability to undermine a younger sister’s resolve.

Determined to stay positive, Libby mentally squared her shoulders and met the doubt-filled stare of the brother, sitting across from her.

“I’m not here to ask for forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it. But I want to tell him, in person, before some notary assaults him. I owe him that—and a lot more.”

“What makes you so sure he’s going to show up?”

“Where better to celebrate hitting a million dollars in rodeo winnings?”

Doug shook his head and glared at her with the blue eyes they’d both inherited from their late mother.

She looked away, ignoring him, and scanned the room for what seemed like the twentieth time, hoping she’d spot Chance Cochran but dreading the meeting.

The atmosphere in the honky-tonk was upbeat, given the place was packed with well-heeled patrons who had come to Cheyenne for the annual rodeo, the city’s biggest event. The candles flickering on the polished black ceramic tables, which rimmed the dance floor, combined with the dim overhead lighting to keep the large space from feeling cavernous. She’d been lucky to get a table, as late arrivals now had to make do standing at the long, winding bar that snaked down the side. Through the mist of smoke that hung in the air, the room had become a hazy forest of cowboy and cowgirl hats.

When she finally saw a familiar tall figure weaving through the mob of rodeo fans squeezed into the nightclub, her heart thudded in double time to the beat of the country song blasting from the sound system that was giving the band a break.

“He’s here,” she announced, her mouth suddenly dry. “Leave.”

Doug rose, but he stood there like his cowboy boots were glued to the floor.

“Go!”

Reluctantly, Doug picked up the beer that had been sitting before him. “If you need me, I’ll be at the bar—if I can get near it.” He nodded toward the swarm of people trying to get drinks.

“Good luck,” he said. “You’re going to need it.” He ambled away, looking back over his shoulder several times.

Libby took a deep breath and turned her attention back to the lean, handsome figure who was walking closer and closer to where she was sitting. She caught the moment he spotted her, the moment his eyes rounded, his lips parted, and a frown appeared on his formerly smiling face.

Chance almost stopped breathing. The one person in the world he did not want to see was sitting a mere twenty feet away. He knew it had been a mistake to take on the Frontier Days Rodeo in Cheyenne. But hell, he’d been avoiding it for five long years, and this year he couldn’t risk his standing. He’d taken time away to enter the Stampede and he’d won big, but it wasn’t a sanctioned rodeo, so the hundred thousand he’d pocketed wouldn’t count toward his ranking for the big daddy of them all, the National Finals Rodeo. At least he’d finally cracked the million-dollar career earnings mark. Foolishly, he’d taken it as a good omen. The woman staring at him said he’d taken it wrong.

He continued walking toward her, barely acknowledging the congratulatory slaps on the back, and watched as her beautiful face flushed and her foot started shaking as it always had when she’d get nervous.

She used to get nervous a lot when they’d been together—mainly because of her father.

A flood of memories swamped him as he wove through the crowd, but he continued, never faltering. She’d been so caring, so sweet, so vulnerable, and all his. But, as it turned out, that had been an illusion.

He couldn’t fathom what she’d say to him, but he knew what he’d like to ask her.

How could she have walked away and not looked back? How could she have signed those papers and never spoken to him again? Not a call, not a text, not an e-mail—nothing. How could she act that way and sit there waiting for him like they were old friends?

Would he stop? The silent question hung in the air while Libby watched him approach, her gaze riveted in his direction like a nail caught in a magnetic field.

Her foot was shaking like it was ready for takeoff. She felt like running. She knew she couldn’t. Not this time.

“Imagine finding you at the Cattleman’s Club after all these years.”

That low, sexy male voice could still vibrate her heart. Libby struggled to hide any reaction as she looked up into the familiar stone-chiseled face and stormy gray eyes shadowed by a black Stetson.

“Congratulations,” she managed to get out as Chance, dressed in a white shirt and black jeans, pulled out the empty chair across from her and filled it without waiting for an invitation. “You looked great out there today,” she added, reaching for the easy compliment and hoping against hope they could keep it friendly.

Her pulse picked up, perspiration dampened her neck, and her heart actually fluttered at the sight of him sitting across from her. What had she gotten herself into?

“Didn’t think you followed rodeo, Libby. Things must have changed.” His rugged features may have been schooled into a bland expression, but there was a challenge in his voice.

“People do change, Chance.” Her being here, facing him, should have been proof of that.

“Do they?”

He angled his body toward her, bringing along a musky whiff of aftershave. The same aftershave she’d bought years ago to remind her of him. She tried not to breathe too deep lest the scent launch her traitorous heart into full-out palpitations.

“
You’ve
changed, Chance. You’re a million-dollar cowboy now.” She’d never have imagined it, though she should have. Chance had more grit and determination than anyone she knew. He’d had to.

“So you think money changes a man?” His gaze traveled down her silky pink camisole, stopping at the waistband of her denim jeans and causing a little shimmer to go through her. How could that still be after so much time?

“Question is, whether the change would be for good or bad,” he added, meeting her eyes again.

She’d wondered many times if and how success had changed him. She’d prayed it hadn’t, but what she’d read about him over the last few years hadn’t filled her with much hope. Partying, women, and lots of rodeo wins.

A waitress clad in a glittery white top and black tap pants was aiming for their table.

“Beer or something harder?” Chance drawled, leaning so close she could feel his warm breath laced with a faint scent of liquor.

“Beer,” she said, though she could have used something stronger. But she’d need her wits about her tonight. Revisiting old wounds would take all the courage she could summon, but liquid courage would only complicate an already difficult situation. She’d waited a long time for him to come back to Cheyenne. And for the courage to see him again.

He focused on the flirty waitress who bent needlessly low to hear his order. Libby grabbed the moment to study him.

Chance’s face had lost any trace of boyishness. He looked all man, from the hard line of his jaw to the fullness of his lips to the high cheekbones that spoke of some native heritage. The sleeves of his pearl-button shirt were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms, while his jeans molded to the lines and angles of his frame. His body was still lean—but solid, carved from muscle rather than bone.

And looking at him was making her body thrum.

As soon as the waitress sashayed away, his attention switched to her, those gray eyes intense. He didn’t speak though, just stared. Waiting. She shifted in her chair and wrapped one leg around the other in a donut knot to keep that shaking foot in line. The din of voices and music filled the room. As she recalled, he could have a saint’s patience when it suited and a sinner’s impulsiveness when it didn’t. Was he still angry after all these years? Or was that another emotion she’d glimpsed in his eyes before his expression hardened?

“It must have felt good to win today. Here,” she said finally.

Eight seconds had seemed an eternity as she watched him ride, her heart beating frantically while his horse dipped and turned and bucked, twisting in the air, trying to dislodge him. And Chance had been picture perfect, spurring and riding with his one arm raised, showing the arena how it was done. She’d never been as relieved as when that buzzer sounded and Chance had jumped off, making it look easy to dismount a whirling animal.

“Sometimes you get lucky.” He gave her a considered glance. “Sometimes you don’t.”

“It was more than luck. You gave every person in the stands a lesson in saddle bronc riding.”

“So you
do
follow rodeo now?” There was a smirk on his lips, and not a good-natured one. He must remember her railing against the rodeo circuit. He hadn’t realized she’d been scared for him, for his safety.

“Yes,” she said. But she didn’t really follow rodeo—she followed him.

He quirked an eyebrow, as if surprised by her admission, and tilted back the brim of his black hat, revealing a thick wave of dark hair. “So what are my chances?” He stared at her for a long second. “At the rodeo,” he added unnecessarily.

“You’re right up there with them all—Muncy, the Wright brothers.”

“For the moment. Rodeo is funny. Seems to run hot or cold but never even.” He leaned back, giving her some breathing room, and stretched his long legs to encompass her chair.