Falling for a Real Cowboy, page 1
Falling for a Real Cowboy
Vargas Ranch Book 1
Karen Baney
Copyright © 2023 Karen Baney
Falling for a Real Cowboy (Vargas Ranch Book 1)
By Karen Baney
Cover Design by Karen Baney
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at the address below.
Publisher:
Desert Life Media, LLC
Gilbert, AZ 85295
www.karenbaney.com
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN-978-1-960217-06-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise For Falling for a Real Cowboy
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
Epilogue
Honeymoon With a Real Cowboy
Dear Reader
About the Author
Books By This Author
Praise For Falling for a Real Cowboy
“Deliciously romantic! After reading Falling for a Real Cowboy, I wanted to book a casita on Vargas Ranch for a month. The Arizona setting came to life, and I had all the feels while watching River and Dalton fall in love. A terrific start to a memorable series.”
–Jill Kemerer, Publishers Weekly Bestselling Author
With regard to the works of man, by the word of your lips I have avoided the ways of the violent. My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped.
–Psalms 17:4-5
1
__________
“Look, River, I’m not suggesting we would fire you. You’re still one of our most popular authors.”
River Sloane’s shoulders dropped, and her heart squeezed tight as she waited for the “but” she knew was coming. She heard it in her publisher’s tone on the phone call. The muscles in her neck tightened. She wished she had let the call go to voicemail.
“But Frenemy Journalists is performing far below expectations. Dueling Doctors is doing better than it, but still not great. We need another big hit from you.”
Or else. She could hear the insinuation. River’s face heated as her anxiety rose. She desperately needed to write another bestseller, and fast. She held back a sigh as Kendra Browning, her publisher, pressed forward.
“Cowboy romances are the rage.”
River drummed her fingers against the smooth wood finish on her writing desk, staring out the one lone window as the skies darkened. For half a second, she debated how to respond.
“No. I don’t do country, cowboys, or small towns. That doesn’t fit with my brand,” she argued. “City life is what my readers expect.”
“Cowboy, country, and small towns are all part of our brand. Anything remotely related to cowboys flies off the shelves. It’s that or Amish romance.”
River held up a finger to her mouth and pantomimed gagging. Thankfully, it wasn’t a video call. Amish was by far the worst option in her mind. At least she had read some of the cowboy romance coming out of her publisher and kinda liked them.
“So, which will it be? Cowboy or Amish?”
“What about vacation romance?” she suggested as her throat constricted and her cheeks flushed. She couldn’t lose her contract. It would take too long to establish herself with a new publisher. Although she could become an independent author. She had an enormous fan base. Except for one major problem—she still owed her publisher three more novels.
“If it’s a vacation romance on a guest ranch with cowboys, then I’m all for it.”
River frowned as the bile crawled up her throat. None of it sounded good to her. She knew nothing about cowboys or ranches. At least she had spent a few summers on her grandparents’ farm and knew a little about animals.
“In fact, Angela has already booked you a six-week stay at a guest ranch…”
Kendra’s voice was muffled as she asked the name of the place.
“Vargas Guest Ranch & Resort in Wickenburg, Arizona. Angela has you flying out from Columbus tomorrow at seven.”
“What?” River bit her lip. Surely, Kendra joked.
“We’ve already arranged for you to learn from the cowboys what ranch life is really like. Since it’s off-peak season for them, they agreed to show you the ropes.” Kendra snorted before she giggled. “Ha. Ropes.”
River did not find Kendra’s accidental pun amusing at all. A ranch in the middle of nowhere in Arizona. In June. If it was hot in Ohio, how hot would it be in Arizona? Maybe she ought to reconsider the Amish subgenre. Then she could stay in Ohio and drive to a working Amish farm.
“Go. Have fun. Get a massage. Then put on some cowboy boots and jeans and learn all you can. When you’ve got something to share, our editors will be ready to read it. I’m hoping you’ll get something to me by the end of July.”
Six weeks. River swallowed a sip of her iced tea as Kendra disconnected the call. Six weeks didn’t seem long enough to become inspired to write something she had almost no interest in.
As she padded to her bedroom, she shook her head and muttered, “Cowboy romance.”
Digging her luggage out of the closet, she stared at her wardrobe. What did they consider ranch attire? Not her leggings or sweat pants. Probably not her dress slacks and silky tops she wore to book signings.
With a few taps on her phone, River pulled up the ten-day forecast for Wickenburg. Hot, hotter, and sizzling. Was she going to the surface of the sun? She had never been to a place warmer than ninety degrees. She finger combed her long blond hair before flipping it over her shoulder. Grabbing four sundresses, she dropped them in her large suitcase. Then she gathered every pair of shorts she owned. A half hour later, she had two pairs of sandals, tennis shoes, and tons of clothes stuffed into the enormous suitcase. She really hated checking her bags, but no way around it with a six-week trip.
An email notification chimed on her phone from Kendra’s assistant with her travel itinerary. River scanned the departure times as she flopped onto her recliner. Six weeks. In some place called Wickenburg, clear across the country from Columbus, Ohio. She groaned.
If she wanted to keep her job, she had better find the motivation to make this assignment work. Except writing was as much art as mechanics. When she wasn’t inspired and ideas weren’t flowing, staring at her laptop screen, even on location, would not produce a story from her dejected heart.
Lord, help me find my muse again. I love writing. I love telling stories about couples falling in love who grow deeper with You. But cowboys? I just don’t think I can do it.
When River’s phone played the Doctor Who theme song, she rubbed circles on her temples. Then she answered it on the third ring.
“Hey Mom.”
“I sensed something is wrong and thought I should call.”
River was used to her mom’s uncanny ability to know when she needed to talk. Though River attributed it to God intervening, her mom would probably claim it was because she had read some crystals. River knew better. She knew God loved her and even if her parents weren’t Christians, she still listened to her mother’s wisdom and tuned out the weird.
Expelling a loud breath, River told her mom all about her dilemma.
“Ooo. I wish I could go. I’d love to spend a month on a dude ranch. Ray! River is going to Arizona to a dude ranch!”
River punched the speaker button while she ordered Chinese takeout from an app. Who knew when she would get authentic lo mein again? Seriously, she could live off chicken or beef lo mein. It was practically a food group.
“Your father is jealous, too. Anyway, honey, I think the idea of a cowboy romance is wonderful. Write something steamy and you’ll have a big hit. Maybe your biggest hit yet. And your name—River Sloane—it even sounds western!”
Not this again. River refused to compromise her integrity by writing the smutty stuff her mom read, even though she wasn’t thrilled about writing a cowboy romance. River liked clean romance. Lots of kissing, but no heat. It fit with her style and that of her publisher. And she could include Christian themes, which had always felt like a calling from God.
Her doorbell rang, giving her a reason to end the conversation. She gave her parents her love. They promised to check on her place while she was gone.
After retrieving the bag of food from her porch, she breathed deeply of the garlic and ginger aroma. Her stomach growled
When River read the “about us” page, sure enough, it was family owned and operated. The pictures of the couples’ casitas oozed western with its distressed painted walls and wood log beams on the ceiling. A rustic wood desk stood in front of a window with a lovely view of a craggy mountain. Worst case, she would end up on a relaxing vacation right before they fired her. If she didn’t find her muse.
Perhaps she ought to come up with a backup plan. She could always fall back on her marketing degree and graphic design experience. River had maintained a relationship with a few clients over the years and occasionally picked up some freelance work. It might pay the bills.
After she finished her lo mein, she cringed as she tossed the extra in the trash. It would have made a tasty lunch during a busy writing day. She took the trash bag out to the dumpster. Then she packed the last of her things before turning in for the night.
The moment River stepped out of the airport in Phoenix, Arizona, the heat blasted her face like an oven set to five hundred degrees. Her skin felt like it would char any second and she wasn’t even in the sun. Sweat dotted her forehead by the time she walked across the parking garage to the ride share pickup area. Thankfully, Kendra’s assistant had reserved the ride share for her.
River greeted the young man who barely looked old enough to have a license, much less meet the twenty-one-year-old age requirement. Maybe he was one of those guys that looked sixteen but was really thirty.
“Headed to Wickenburg?” Max asked.
“Yes, the Vargas Guest Ranch & Resort.”
With a grunt, Max hefted her luggage into the trunk of his Corolla, the weight causing a loud thud as it hit the bottom. Thank goodness it was a hardshell case. Then he held open the back door as she scooted in. Once she buckled up, he pulled out. The overpowering fake new car air freshener made her eyes burn.
Glancing at the clock on his dash, she made sure her watch and phone switched to the correct time zone. Eleven in the morning or two her time. No wonder her stomach growled. She should have bought something for lunch at the airport. Oh well.
River watched as they drove through the city on the surface streets. Many stuccoed buildings were painted in varying bland shades of tan. Instead of green grass in the easement, tan gravel and tiny bushes lined the streets. Boring.
Eventually, they left the city behind. Small bushes, dirt, and tall green cacti covered the expansive land on both sides of the two-lane highway. In the distance, brown mountains lent variation to the horizon against a brilliant blue sky.
After more than an hour driving outside of the metro area, Max asked her where the place was again. She told him as they entered the Wickenburg city limits.
“That’s another thirty minutes beyond Wickenburg. I can’t go that far. I have another fare at one.”
“You have to. My company paid for you to take me to the ranch.”
“No can do, lady. I’ll drop you here at the grocery store. I’m sure someone from the ranch can come pick you up.”
As he stopped the car in the parking lot of the store, River’s throat constricted. The town of Wickenburg didn’t look like much. She doubted she could book another ride share or taxi. When Max held the door open, the hot air rolled over her in a wave, like she had stuck her face under a hand dryer in a gas station bathroom. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. He left the car door wide open and rounded to the trunk to retrieve her luggage.
“Get out,” he commanded.
She was pretty sure she could take the young rail of a man.
“Now, lady.”
River huffed and exited the vehicle. The tires barked as Max pealed out. She frowned at his brake lights. Just as soon as she found a way to the ranch, she would leave him a nasty review. Ugh. No, she wouldn’t. She didn’t have a vengeful bone in her body.
Shoppers hurried into the grocery story. As the sun seared her exposed arms, River understood their haste. The heat felt oppressive. She dragged her luggage to a spot in the shade. It wasn’t any cooler.
Now, what was she going to do?
Dalton Vargas ran a hand through his short, dark hair before jamming the Stetson back on his head. The meeting with the Independent Rustic Lodging Association went well. Or it would have, had it not been for Howard. Most of the Maricopa County chapter liked his idea of a joint website to promote all the members’ accommodations. He advised centralizing the reservations, which would improve the online experience for guests. By pooling their resources, they could hire someone to build a nicer website than most of the owners could afford on their own.
Despite their excitement, Howard Pollard didn’t like the idea. He owned a small working ranch and a guest ranch on the northern side of Wickenburg. He had countered every one of Dalton’s points, winning over a few members. Howard always found some reason to oppose anything Dalton suggested. The man’s intense distrust towards him was a mystery, as he did not know what caused it.
He pushed the start button on his shiny new Ford F-350 super duty, immediately followed by the AC. The engine hummed to life with a manly sound that made him want to drive for hours. He snorted. He had an almost two-hour drive ahead of him back to the ranch. Good thing he loved driving his new truck.
Dalton turned on the sound system and played his favorite country playlist. The music improved his mood by the time he made it out of the metro area. The saguaro cacti stood like guards over the scrub brush. Distant mountains rose from the desert and cut sharply into the blue sky. He would never tire of the scenic desert drive.
The next worry on his internal list gnawed at him. Since Vargas Ranch straddled the border of Maricopa and Yavapai Counties, he held membership in both chapters. The Yavapai County chapter might be more reluctant to take part in his joint website idea. They didn’t have deep pockets. Dalton planned to cover whatever cost the two chapters couldn’t. He had already budgeted for the entire project out of the Vargas Ranch funds. Both the cattle ranch and resort were doing well. They had had an excellent spring season this year after several slim ones.
Papi told him a few weeks ago how proud Dalton’s management of the ranch made him. It was good to hear, even if he spent many evenings butting heads with his old man over his plans to improve and expand the ranch. Papi and Padre, Dalton’s grandfather, didn’t always like his “newfangled” ideas.
Dalton growled. Why had they sent him to Arizona State University for an MBA if they expected him not to use it? Maybe one day they would let him manage the place as he saw fit.
From the time he was old enough to walk, they had groomed Dalton to take over the ranch. At thirty-four, he handled all the operations for the ranch and resort. Things ran well as long as they agreed with his ideas.
However, this morning at breakfast, Papi told him and his four brothers he planned to take the summer off. Then in September, Papi wanted to help Mami in the garden and with beautification of the resort grounds. Dalton snorted. At fifty-six, Papi was effectively retiring early to become the landscaper. His father had always loved planting things.
Just like him, Papi had been groomed to run the place. Papi had taken over when Dalton’s grandfather had turned fifty. Grandfather had had a heart attack, thrusting Papi into managing the ranch by himself in his early thirties, while raising five sons.
At least Dalton didn’t have to worry about supporting a wife and kids. Janessa, his ex-fiancée, had done a number on him. So much that he decided marriage wasn’t for him. He was married to the ranch. If other women were like Janessa, he had missed nothing by staying single.
