Learning To Love (Contemporary Cowboy Romance) (Carson Hill Ranch series:Book 1) Read Online Free

if they’d answered an ad for a bride from a dating site instead of falling for the Craigslist ad for waitresses and bar dancers, speculating quietly about husbands and children, clothes, and a home of their own.
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                  Casey turned off the ignition on the pickup truck and slid out to untie the heavy bundles tied down along the sides of the truck bed. He hefted them onto his shoulder and went into the local store, pushing the door open with the toe of one weathered boot.
                  “Morning, Casey,” Samuel Peterson called out from on top of a ladder leaned against the high shelves that kept all of his stock off the ground and away from the dust that constantly seeped under the door. “What can I do for you today?”
                  “I brought some more hides from the last round of slaughter,” he answered cheerfully, lowering the two bundles to the floor in front of the counter. “We can take credit to trade for a few things, or cash, whichever’s easier for you.”
                  “Of course, let me just grab these things and I’ll get my book.” He returned to his work and left Casey to wander among the shelves while waiting for the store owner to finish his business. Sam operated one of the last bastions of the Old West, something that looked very much like the great-great-grandchild of the old mercantiles. He sold a little bit of everything, both farm tools and makeup, but also operated a great online business in trading. Sam would take the hides of the Carsons’ hands, and find a buyer in the leather market, while keeping a little commission for his time.
                  Casey’s eyes gravitated toward the small rack of irritatingly feminine shoes, some gleaming in different colors and with ludicrous high heels, and he shook his head, wondering how much of that useless stuff Peterson ever managed to sell. Any woman who arrived in these parts would need sturdy boots and clothes that could take the punishment of everyday life, a life that would mean tanning hides, growing vegetables, and feeding the crew of kids that every farm needed. Living out here was a daily effort to survive—economically, that is, not life or death like in the olden days—even for a family as well-off as the Carsons.
                  The shoes made him think of his mother for some reason, and the talk his dad had had with him almost a month ago. Casey didn’t remember much about his mother, other than that she always smelled nice and had soft hands. The memory of her couldn’t be right, he thought. Because no woman could have made a home for her family out here and kept her hands so soft. Those hands would have been bandaged because of the nearly daily wounds of the hired help and the six boys who ran wild on the farm, cooked four meals a day for nearly thirty hard-working men, and washed the clothes of an entire army of ranchers who would have been hell-bent on rolling in any patch of dirt they could find when working the cattle.
                  But somehow, that’s what he remembered about her. Even more than her face or her voice, he remembered a sweet lilac smell and a soft touch to her hands. Somehow, it was hard to reconcile the same woman who had fancy dishes and floral-printed sofas put in at the ranch house to being the same kind of woman who would have helped his father build up the Carson property into what it is today.
                  “Let’s take a look, Casey,” Samuel said behind him, jarring him from his usually forgotten thoughts. Casey turned and untied the hides, laying each one out on the weathered countertop as Samuel slid his laptop over to the counter. Samuel measured each one as Casey unrolled them, recording the different thicknesses and measurements in a spreadsheet in his computer. He offered a more than fair price for the hides, holding out a rubber-banded ledger book for Casey to sign