The Cowboy and the Girl Next Door: (A Clean, Enemies to Lovers Romance) Wyle Away Ranch Book 1 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Untitled

  Copyright

  Also by Janette Rallison

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Sneak Peek

  Untitled

  ©️2021 by Janette Rallison

  Cover Design ©️ 2021 by Joshua Oram

  Cover photo ©️ Roaming Wild Photography

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations and or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Janette Rallison

  Adult Romantic Comedies

  My Fair Lacey & A Perfect Fit

  How I Met Your Brother

  Masquerade

  A Longtime (and at One Point Illegal) Crush

  What the Doctor Ordered (under pen name Sierra St. James)

  YA Fiction

  Son of War, Daughter of Chaos

  The Girl Who Heard Demons

  Just One Wish

  My Double Life

  Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Free Throws

  Playing The Field

  The Wrong Side of Magic

  My Fair Godmother

  My Unfair Godmother

  My Fairly Dangerous Godmother

  All’s Fair in Love, War, and High School

  Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards

  Revenge of the Cheerleaders

  Fame, Glory, and Other Things on my To Do List

  It’s a Mall World After All

  How to Take The Ex Out of Ex-boyfriend

  Slayers (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Slayers: Friends and Traitors (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Slayers: Playing With Fire (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Slayers: The Dragon Lords (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Slayers: The Making of a Mentor: A Tor.Com Original (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Erasing Time (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Echo in Time (under pen name CJ Hill)

  If you like audio books, try:

  Just One Wish audio book

  My Fairly Dangerous Godmother audio book

  How I Met Your Brother audio book

  Erasing Time audio book (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Echo in Time audio book (under pen name CJ Hill)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Sneak Peek

  Untitled

  Dedication

  To Melinda Carroll, Torsha Baker, Elsa Nickle, Jamie Hixon, and Kelly Oram. This book wouldn’t exist without all of you—mostly because when I suggested abandoning our writing projects and writing a romance series about hot cowboys, I was joking. But the next thing I knew, Melinda was booking a place in Bisbee so we could research and write.

  This has been so much fun!

  Granted, my agent may never forgive you all for derailing my other writing projects, but I loved every minute of it!

  Also, this book is dedicated to all the real ranchers out there (and the folks that helped me with oh so many ranching details.) You guys have a hard and often thankless job. You are amazing for doing it!

  And one more thanks to James at the Marana Stockyard. Every time he drawled, “Yes, mam.” I was like, This is why women love cowboy stories!

  Chapter One

  Death never came at convenient times. Landon Wyle had already spread himself thin taking care of his own cattle, and now that his neighbor, Cal Benton, had passed away, Landon would most likely have to help out with his cattle as well. Landon owed him that much. The man had been a surrogate grandfather to him for as long as he could remember.

  Landon drove his pickup truck to the front of Cal’s house. No, Landon realized with a pinch of pain; he had to stop thinking of it as Cal’s place. This house and the Coyote Glen Ranch belonged to the Bentons now. That would take some getting used to.

  Landon sat in the truck for a moment, going over what he needed to say to Jeff Benton, Cal’s son. A few years ago, two of the Wyles’s wells had gone dry, effectively cutting their water by a third. Some ill-thought-out state regulations made it illegal to drill new wells, so Cal had given them access to his front two wells. In exchange, the Wyles had baled his alfalfa for him all year.

  Hopefully, the Bentons would consent to some sort of an agreement regarding the wells. The Wyles needed that water.

  It felt almost wrong to talk business to people who were grieving, but matters needed to be settled. Landon pulled himself from his truck and strode toward the door.

  Cal’s dog, a black and white border collie named Missy, trotted up to greet him. The dog was all tail wags and bounce. Probably glad to see a familiar face. Landon petted her and gave her an extra few moments of scratching behind the ears. The poor thing must have no idea where Cal had gone or why he hadn’t come back. She used to follow him around like a shadow.

  Missy accompanied Landon across the porch to the doorstep. He wondered if Cal’s family was letting the dog inside at all. Some folks thought dogs belonged outside. Landon gave her one more scratch before knocking.

  After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing a woman with long strawberry blond hair and pale green eyes. A pair of black jeans and an emerald green top hugged her curves. Kate Benton had turned into a beautiful woman. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised. When he’d last seen her at her grandmother’s funeral six years ago, she’d been a pretty sixteen-year-old girl—the sort that gave off the impression of a fawn, doe-eyed and innocent.

  “Kitty?” The nickname hardly seemed to fit her anymore. “Well, you’ve grown up.”

&
nbsp; “So they tell me.” Her expression was reserved. Too distant. She either didn’t recognize him or she was still holding a grudge from the last time she’d stayed with her grandparents.

  He held out a hand to shake hers. “In case you don’t remember me, I’m Landon from the Wyle Away ranch.”

  She gave him her hand with a wry smile. “I know who you are. You haven’t changed that much.”

  So, the grudge then. Good thing his business would be with her father and not her.

  Missy circled Kitty’s legs, asking for attention. She patted the dog but kept her gaze on Landon. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wyle?”

  He was Mr. Wyle now. Apparently spending summers as neighbors while she stayed on her grandparent’s ranch wasn’t enough to put them on a first-name basis.

  “Call me Landon.” He couldn’t help but add, “I’m sure it’s nicer than some of the names you’ve called me.”

  The phrase earned him a real smile. “If you only knew.”

  “I can imagine.”

  She didn’t invite him in, just politely regarded him. But then, he’d never told her why he was standing on her doorstep. “I came to offer my condolences and see if there’s anything my family can do for yours.”

  Her gaze flicked to his ring finger. Probably wondering if he was volunteering a wife’s help. “Your family?”

  “My brothers, I mean.” He wasn’t married. Too busy for that. “Preston is a senior in high school. Dillon lives nearby.” Dillon worked as a bank manager in Bisbee—something Landon only forgave him for because he came home on the weekends to do the Wyle Away’s books. “And Jaxon and his daughter live with me at the ranch.”

  Kitty’s eyebrows lifted. “Jaxon is married?”

  Did he detect disappointment in her question or only surprise? She’d had a thing for Jaxon back when she was fifteen.

  “No,” Landon said slowly, unsure of how much of Jaxon’s past to reveal. “He’s single. Things didn’t work out with his daughter’s mother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Landon had completely forgotten his rehearsed speech. He found himself staring at Kitty and thinking about those long-ago summers when she’d stayed here.

  “It’s nice of you to offer your help.” She opened the door further. “Why don’t you come in.”

  Well, that was some progress. He took off his hat and stepped into the home that was as familiar as his own. Changes were already present. None of Cal’s boots littered the entryway. The usual clutter of spare gloves and miscellaneous paperwork on the coffee table had been cleared off.

  He followed Kitty into the living room and sat down. Missy positioned herself by his feet and then nudged his hand with her nose, a request for petting. Kitty sat on the couch across from him, tucking her bare gold-painted toes beneath her. The paint matched her manicured fingernails.

  Cal had said Kitty went to school to be an interior designer. She looked the part of someone who was used to spending time with sophisticated things. She probably dined in fancy restaurants with men who wore Italian suits and had names like Gregory and Vincent—so very different from the girl who’d tromped around Coyote Glen in overalls and stained T-shirts, belting out country songs.

  Kitty turned her green eyes on him. “My parents are at the funeral home making some last-minute arrangements. They’ve already talked to the foreman, but I’m sure they’d appreciate your help selling Grandpa’s cattle and equipment, that sort of thing.”

  Her words were another painful reminder that Cal was really, truly gone. “Your family doesn’t want to continue running cattle?” He’d been afraid this would happen. Kitty’s father left Arizona when he went to college and had never come back for more than a short visit. That abandonment was something Cal never quite reconciled himself to, a thorn in his side that he’d talked to Landon about more than once.

  Kitty shrugged apologetically. “My parents like Seattle too much to move.”

  “And you?”

  “I was never cut out to shoot pigeons, let alone the rest of it. I’m sure you remember that much about me.”

  Oh, the pigeon incident. Back when she was eleven and he was fifteen, Landon was at her grandparents’ house, returning some tools, and he’d seen her head into the barn. She’d been holding a pellet rifle by the barrel like it was a walking stick, which was enough to make him wonder what other safety rules she was ignoring.

  He found himself following her into the barn to see what she was up to.

  As he stepped through the door, he heard a loud thunk. Kitty had propped an extension ladder up against one wall. The ladder hadn’t been adjusted high enough to reach the rafters, and she scowled at the deficiency.

  The pellet rifle lay on the floor next to the door. He picked it up and checked to make sure the safety was on.

  Kitty saw him and brightened. “Good, you’re here. I need someone to hold this while I climb.”

  “Climb where?” There was nothing for her to do at the top of the barn except break her neck.

  Kitty lifted the sides of the ladder to make it longer. “Grandpa told me to shoot the pigeons in the barn, but that’s cruel, so I’m clearing away their nests. That way, they’ll leave and Grandpa won’t know I didn’t shoot them.”

  Still holding the pellet rifle, Landon ambled over to Kitty and put his hand on the ladder rung, not to steady it, but to keep her from going up. “Pigeons don’t need nests to roost, they just need two inches of space to stand on. To get rid of them, you’ve got to kill them. And speaking of death, don’t even think of climbing that ladder.”

  As though proving his point, half a dozen pigeons—scared off by the noise of the ladder—landed on the rafters. They strutted about, heads bobbing.

  “I’ll be careful,” Kitty said.

  She wasn’t getting the message. “Pigeons are nothing but flying rats who eat other animals’ feed and poop on the hay. Do you want the horses to get sick?”

  She surveyed the barn, thinking. “Okay, I’ll hammer long nails through some boards so the spiky parts stick out and then put those on the rafters. That way the birds won’t have anywhere to stand.”

  “Yeah. Except for the only thing more dangerous than you climbing up to the rafters is you climbing up while holding nail-studded boards. So no, don’t do that either.”

  She huffed in exasperation. “You think I’m old enough to use a gun but not old enough to use a ladder?”

  “Good point. You’re not old enough to use either.” He wasn’t going to bother trying to reason with her anymore. He sauntered back toward the barn door, taking the gun with him.

  She put a hand on her hip. “Are you going to tell on me?”

  “Nope.” When he’d walked far enough that she was out of his way, he turned off the pellet rifle’s safety, aimed at the nearest pigeon, and fired. The gun clacked and the bird toppled off the rafter without a flutter of protest.

  Kitty gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Your job.” He aimed at another pigeon and fired. Two for two.

  “Stop it!” she cried.

  He aimed at another rafter and shot a bird perched there. “I’ve got to take care of this before you do something stupid and hurt yourself.”

  “Stop it!” she yelled again, this time coming toward him. “Give me my gun.”

  He took a few steps to his right to get a better view of the next pigeon. “It’s not your gun. It’s Cal’s, and he wants the birds gone. Go on back to the house.” Only a few more birds were scattered around the barn. Wouldn’t take him long.

  Instead of being sensible, she marched up to him, hand out. “Give me the gun.”

  He held it away from her. If she grabbed the barrel, she could end up making him shoot one of the horses—or worse, her.

  “Go on home,” he said. “This isn’t a game.”

  She stood there glaring at him, lips pursed, breaths coming too fast. Most likely when he raised the pellet rifle again, she’d try to yank it away from
him. He sent her a firm stare to dissuade her from that notion. “Guns aren’t toys. If you grab this, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

  She clenched her hands, angry tears coming to her eyes. “You’re heartless. That’s what you are. Heartless.” She spun on her heel, ran from the barn, and pointedly ignored him for the rest of the summer. But she hadn’t broken her neck, so he’d considered it a win.

  Landon had forgotten about the pigeon incident until now. But Kitty hadn’t. Apparently, it was one more grudge she was holding against him.

  He tapped his thumb against the hat in his lap. Certainly Kitty must have some fond memories of the time she spent at Coyote Glen. She’d come every summer from the time she was eight until she was fifteen. “Ranching isn’t just about keeping birds out of the barn. If I recall, you liked horseback riding and taking care of the calves.”

  She ran her fingers along the edge of the couch, a simple motion that managed to distract Landon. “I wish I could keep one of the horses, but my apartment complex wouldn’t approve. I’ll have a hard enough time taking Missy.”

  When the dog heard her name, she deserted her post by Landon and trotted expectantly to Kitty.

  “You’re taking Cal’s dog?”

  Kitty scratched Missy’s head. “I can’t put her in a shelter.”

  “She’s a ranch dog. She’s not going to be happy cooped up in an apartment.”

  “I’ll find some way to give her enough exercise.”

  Kitty was decided, then. She’d rather hole up in some cramped apartment than live on thirty-eight thousand acres under a wide blue sky. A shame, really. “Do you know when your parents plan on selling Coyote Glen? My family would be obliged if you gave us a chance to make an offer before putting the place on the market.” Landon’s mind was already estimating how much money they’d need for a down payment on the place.

  The Wyle Away was a profitable ranch, but their money was tied up in cattle, land, equipment, and the house. Coming up with a large amount of cash would take some time. Cal had always said he’d sell Coyote Glen to the Wyles if none of his family took an interest in it, but they hadn’t worked out the details. Cal had been just sixty-eight years old, too young for a heart attack.

  “My parents haven’t made any final decisions,” Kitty said. “But my Uncle Roger is a developer, and he’s been saying for years that my father should turn the ranch into a golf course and retirement community.”