Once Upon a Cowboy Read Online Free Page A

Then her dimples winked at him. "Just do it!" he barked, slamming his hat down on his head.
    He stomped up the porch steps, his inappropriate parts once again in an uproar. Hell's bells and little fishes! That woman was yanking his chain something fierce. And worst of all?
    She didn't even know it.

 
     
     
    Chapter 2

     
    Cami waited in the middle of the deserted yard, watching Gabby strike out for the barn and Holt disappear into the ranch house. This was the moment of truth. Here she stood in the midst of a hostile environment, able to count on one person and one person alone. Herself. In a short while she'd be faced with a set of near impossible tasks, a challenge she could not and would not refuse. A challenge she'd face dead on, never once flinching no matter how rough it got, just like the gunslingers of the Old West.
    She stretched out her arms and laughed aloud. Lordy, she loved being a cowboy!
    Several minutes later Holt Winston returned to the porch, a roll of papers crumpled in his hand. She simply stood and stared, overcome with admiration. Admiration, and something more. Something she had no business feeling toward her employer. He appealed in a way no other man ever had. There was a strength about him that drew her. A permanency that reflected the landscape surrounding them. And it didn't hurt that he was sexier than hell.
    Holt shoved his Stetson to the back of his head, revealing dark brown hair shot with streaks of sun-ripened gold. Without the shadow cast by his brim, she could also see his face more clearly, and she liked what she saw.
    His features contained none of the smooth, boyish charm of so many of her male friends. The weathered crags and valleys of Holt's face revealed a man who'd lived hard and on his own terms, who'd known his fair share of sun, dust, and wind. A starburst of tiny lines emphasized his unwavering gaze, and deep creases bracketed a firm mouth and square chin. From the high jutting cheekbones and uncompromising blackness of his eyes, not to mention the hint of copper tinting his skin tones, she suspected Mexican or Indian blood had found its way into his ancestry.
    He'd changed his torn shirt, she noticed with some relief, the heavy denim free of distressing blood specks. His fleece-lined vest blew open in the breeze, revealing a pair of work gloves tucked into a wide black belt. His leather chaps rode low on his hips, clinging to long, lean legs and emphasizing the fluid grace of his movements.
    Here before her stood an honest-to-goodness cowboy. He was tall, spare, and muscular. And absolutely perfect. She gave herself an entire minute to drink him in, aware that a big part of the attraction related to his occupation. She'd always had a soft spot for a cowboy. This one fell into the category of super-sized cowboy. How she envied the life he'd led, the life she'd always dreamed of leading.
    "Don't just stand there. Haul your citified tail over to the corral and let's see what you can do," the honest-to-goodness cowboy groused. "Or, like as not, can't do," he added beneath his breath.
    "Yessir, boss," she said, trotting after him. This was it. Her big chance. Boy howdy, it didn't get any better than this!
    Gabby exited the barn, weighted down by a saddle and blanket, and leading a large dun mare. He gave the horse a light swat on the rump and it trotted into the corral. With the ease of long practice, he swung the saddle onto the upper rail of the fence and climbed up next to it.
    "All set," he called.
    Holt nodded, slapping the resumé and references against his thigh. "Says here you're quite impressive with a rope," he addressed Cami. Snagging a length of thick braided manila off a post by the corral, he tossed it to her. "Try impressin' me."
    The rope uncoiled, half the length slithering in the dirt. Not a problem, she decided, gathering up the excess. She'd impress him. Sure she would. Besides, how hard could it be?
    Holding the bulk of the rope in her left hand, she swung