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The Cowboy's Christmas Gift
DONNA ALWARD
A CHRISTMAS AFFAIR?Returning to Crooked Valley is more terrifying than the battlefield to ex-soldier Duke Duggan. Still, Duke has an important reason to be back–to take control of his late grandfather's ranch. But being thrown headfirst into his old life makes Duke feel like a fish out of water. That is, until he sees Carrie Coulter again. Twenty years may have passed but the chemistry between them is stronger than ever.When Duke threatens to sell the ranch, Carrie, the foreman, realizes she could lose her livelihood. But no decisions will be made until after the holidays. Until then, they have time to explore the feelings that draw them to each other. Together, can they come up with a way to keep the ranch…and the burning love between them?
A CHRISTMAS AFFAIR?
Returning to Crooked Valley is more terrifying than the battlefield to ex-soldier Duke Duggan. Still, Duke has an important reason to be back—to take control of his late grandfather’s ranch. But being thrown headfirst into his old life makes Duke feel like a fish out of water. That is, until he sees Carrie Coulter again. Twenty years may have passed but the chemistry between them is stronger than ever.
When Duke threatens to sell the ranch, Carrie, the foreman, realizes she could lose her livelihood. But no decisions will be made until after the holidays. Until then, they have time to explore the feelings that draw them to each other. Together, can they come up with a way to keep the ranch…and the burning love between them?
The past twenty-four hours had felt very strange, and yet very right.
At times it had almost seemed as though they were a real couple, decorating their place for Christmas.
Except for the constant reminder that their relationship was transient. That she shouldn’t get used to spending time with him when he could be gone again before she knew it.
Saying goodbye to Duke was going to be torture.
As the afternoon waned and the light dimmed slightly, Duke went inside and flicked the switch to the outdoor plug, making the lights come alive.
It was beautiful.
Duke came back outside and jogged down the steps, coming to stand beside her. “So what do you think?” he asked. “We did good, huh?”
Her breath made clouds in the air, and Duke tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.
He kissed her, slow and soft, making her melt against him. The man knew how to kiss—she’d give him that.
“Whew,” she said when the kiss broke off. “I’m not sure the fun’s quite over, you keep kissing me like that.”
His eyes warmed. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_f3a9ab3f-130d-50c4-aa70-ec2ddbd945ee),
Welcome to a brand-new trilogy—and just in time for the holidays!
In the Crooked Valley Ranch series, you meet the Duggan siblings: Duke, Lacey and Rylan. None of them are ranchers, so it’s a bit of a shock when they inherit the family spread from their grandfather. Each of them must take their place at the ranch or it goes up for sale.
Which doesn’t really matter much to any of them…in the beginning. In The Cowboy’s Christmas Gift, Duke Duggan returns to the ranch to figure out what to do next with his life. A career soldier, he’s at loose ends now that he’s lost his hearing in one ear. At first he just wants to get his bearings. Look at his options. It all sounds great until two things complicate his “no commitments” plans. First of all, he kind of likes the ranch and the open spaces and freedom. And then there’s Carrie Coulter, the cattle foreman. Smart, feisty and loyal, she keeps Duke on his toes. Duke’s torn between his freedom, wanting to reunite his family for Christmas, and knowing that selling the ranch might have devastating consequences for those who count on it for their livelihoods. That’s a lot of responsibility for one guy to shoulder.
Good thing Duke loves a challenge.
I hope you have a wonderful family holiday and enjoy the warmth of the season—as well as a good book or two!
Best wishes,
Donna
The Cowboy’s Christmas Gift
Donna Alward
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_a6ad7ce5-f6be-572d-98ff-d07e23a62415)
A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mom and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna has always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for Harlequin.
In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the West. Donna’s debut romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded a Booksellers’ Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.
With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!
Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.donnaalward.com (http://www.donnaalward.com), or follow @DonnaAlward (https://twitter.com/DonnaAlward) on Twitter.
To Kate Hardy, with many thanks for all the help and words of wisdom!
Contents
Cover (#uc8f39f99-bca6-5f47-8445-edba22d31da2)
Back Cover Text (#ucf7fb8ce-df75-5d91-aafa-db50e6b72d8a)
Introduction (#ua8fa7570-5165-511b-91cd-b40a6d2e2ca6)
Dear Reader (#udadb66d5-88e1-57e1-afff-52ff7ac66557)
Title Page (#u26484187-0e6a-5df5-9da8-46de4d4bc76f)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ua225c19c-1a0a-5280-ba84-3034ef700e53)
Dedication (#u2c0aeceb-43d8-5a7f-90a7-fdc7fb5a043c)
Chapter One (#u36b77d22-7aac-54aa-a885-117d3a770e0e)
Chapter Two (#u510904b8-ac10-5594-9e41-e236cd76c89f)
Chapter Three (#u8a22e16e-edb0-5247-b0e6-fbe7645fc79b)
Chapter Four (#uf5a0b95e-fde2-587c-8aab-25c27685fdf7)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_6df34030-0ff8-5662-8322-f38ea69a7e9f)
Duke Duggan turned the slightly battered half-ton up the dirt drive to Crooked Valley Ranch. Whorls of dust swirled behind him, clouding the frosty road as he made his way to the ranch house he remembered from childhood. It hadn’t changed a bit. The white siding and dark green window trim was definitely dated, but the wraparound porch he’d always loved still skirted the house, making it welcoming and cozy-looking.
Or it would look cozy if not for the brown grass and nearly naked trees. November was a pretty bleak month—past the glorious splendor of fall colors but before the blanket of pure white snow that would soon fall in the small ranching town of Gibson, Montana.
Nerves twisted in his stomach. This homecoming hadn’t been in his plans. The letter from his grandfather, sent via the old man’s lawyer, was tucked securely in the breast pocket of his denim jacket.
Duke had still been in the hospital overseas when his grandfather had died, and he wished he’d been here to go to the funeral. Despite the tensions between them, Joe had still been family, and Duke had spent a good part of his early childhood at Crooked Valley Ranch. Those had been the years when his dad had still been alive, and as time passed, it felt to Duke as if the memories were slipping further and further away. He worried that sooner or later they’d disappear altogether.
That time hadn’t come yet, though. He clearly remembered the rolling hills in the shadow of the mountains, waving grass, horses and cows dotting the verdant pastures, and a bedroom decorated with rodeo wallpaper—his dad’s old room. His dad had taught him how to ride a horse before he rode a bike, and it was something he’d always enjoyed during the times he’d spent at his grandparents’ place.
Duke also remembered arguments between his mother and his grandparents, Joe and Eileen—particularly after his dad had died. Mom had never loved the ranch, and her mother-in-law and father-in-law had known it. Something Duke did remember clearly was his mother repeating that she only stayed at Crooked Valley because Evan had wished it while he was deployed.
Sgt. Evan Duggan—Duke’s father and hero.
Duke had only been eight when his dad was killed in Iraq. Twenty-two years ago now. With no further reason to keep her promise, Mom had moved them away from Crooked Valley and the small town of Gibson to Helena, where she took a government job and supported them all. Duke, along with his sister, Lacey, and brother, Rylan, only saw their grandparents occasionally after that. A week in the summer, and maybe once or twice during the year on holidays. Once they were teenagers and more concerned with friends and part-time jobs, they saw the Duggans even less.
Duke had liked the time he spent there in the summer. He’d been able to ride every day, hang out with the hands, most of who had known his dad as a kid, too. They’d shared stories with him that helped Duke feel closer to his father—a man Duke really couldn’t remember all that well beyond a shock of red hair, a big smile and a uniform.
He’d liked it here, sure. What kid wouldn’t enjoy the freedom of the great outdoors? But that was a far cry from wanting to be a rancher himself. Especially when he wasn’t consulted and part ownership was just thrown in his lap, piled on top of his other worries. He didn’t want the ranch to fall into a stranger’s hands, but that didn’t mean he and his siblings were equipped to step in. No sirree. He knew how to be a soldier. He’d been damned good at it. He didn’t know anything about ranching.
One-third of this tired-looking ranch was his—if he wanted it. Trouble was, Duke didn’t really know what he wanted—other than a good dose of peace and quiet. Maybe the odd chance to blow off a little steam once in a while. Time to figure out what was next for him, because he’d only been home for two weeks and he had no idea what he was going to do for the rest of his life. He was out of the army and, without it, he wasn’t sure who he was at all.
Duke slowed the truck as he reached the sprawling yard that contained the house, several outbuildings in need of paint and shrubs that looked as if they hadn’t seen a trimmer all summer. He frowned. It didn’t look like the prosperous, well-tended ranch he remembered. Maybe he’d be better off going back to Helena and bunking in with Ricky Spencer. Spence had given Duke a place to sleep and an offer of a job at his auto repair shop after Duke had left the army behind.
Except working with Spence would just be a Band-Aid solution. He sighed. This probably would be, too. But maybe, once he’d been here for a few months, he’d have a better idea about the future. Like what he wanted to do about it. He was a soldier, period. Except he wasn’t, unless he wanted to be a desk jockey. Without a doubt he knew he’d go crazy doing that. With his hearing loss being permanent, his options were more limited than they used to be.
He felt like a puppet, at the mercy of whoever was pulling the strings.
Duke parked the truck next to the biggest barn, the one where he remembered disappearing to each day in the summer to spend time with the horses. He got out and stretched his arms over his head. The weak autumn sun felt good, though it did little to warm him. The air was clear and fresh, though. He let out a big breath, a cloud forming in front of his face. What did feel right since returning home was the big Montana sky, the sun, the smell of the air. There was nothing like it in the world—and he’d seen a lot of places.
Birds chirped in the skeleton branches of the scrub brush, but Duke had a problem telling where the tweets and burbles were coming from. Losing half his hearing had been a blow, but at least he could still hear out of his left ear, and he still had all his fingers and toes. That was what he kept telling himself anyway. The gash on his arm had healed to a pink scar and so had the bruises. But the hearing loss was permanent. He was damned lucky he hadn’t been killed by the IED and he knew it. That didn’t mean there weren’t adjustments that he had to make. Or that he deeply resented having to make them.
“Hey! I said, can I help you!”
Startled, he spun to his right to see a man, much smaller than himself, marching toward him from the back of the barn. He squinted and realized it was no man at all—it was a woman, in jeans, dirty boots, a denim jacket similar to his own and a battered brown hat on her head. The words she’d hurled at him echoed in his head. I said, can I help you! Clearly they’d been spoken more than once and he hadn’t heard. He clenched his teeth, annoyed at his disability once more.
“Jeez, I called out three times. What are you, deaf?”
He raised a surprised eyebrow as the words hit their mark. “Wow. That was rude.”
She huffed out a sigh as she came close enough he could see her face. “Bad morning. Sorry.”
He looked closer. “I’ll be damned. Carrie? Carrie Coulter?”
Blue eyes looked up into his. “That’s right. And you are?”
It only took a half second after the words were out of her mouth for who he was to register. “Oh, my God. Duke Duggan?”
He hadn’t seen Carrie since what, third grade? Back then she’d had a space between her front teeth and freckles, and sandy blond hair that she always wore in a perky ponytail with pieces sticking out at her temples. Once he’d called her Freckle Face and she’d kicked him in the shin so hard he’d had the bruise for two solid weeks.
She still had the same pieces of hair sticking out and curling by her hat brim and the same freckles, too, only they were a little bit lighter now and the space was gone from her teeth as she gaped up at him, mouth open. Huh. Carrie Coulter had turned out quite attractive when all was said and done, even dressed in dirty jeans and a bulky jacket that didn’t do her figure any favors.
“Well,” she finally said softly. “I think hell just froze over. Didn’t think you’d ever make it back here.”
“Why not?”
He watched her lips as she answered. They were very fine lips, full and pink without even a touch of gloss or lipstick. “Your grandfather always wanted you kids to come back and you never did.” Her eyes took on an accusing look. “I think it broke his heart.”
“His heart broke when my dad died,” Duke stated dispassionately. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked my time here as a kid, but after Desert Storm...” He frowned down at her. “It was always about my dad. Wanting us to take over the place since my dad never would.”
Duke had heard it so many times as a kid, how his father had failed the family. It was no wonder that Duke had rebelled against the idea of joining the ranch, instead determined to honor his father by following in his footsteps and joining the army. But it hadn’t only been about rebellion. Duke had wanted to be a soldier and he didn’t regret that move in the least. Not even considering his injuries. He’d served his country and done it proudly. It was all he’d ever really wanted to do.
“You didn’t hear how much he talked about you,” she replied, a little tartly, he noticed. Clearly Carrie had been devoted to the old man.
“You knew him better than I did.”
“My point exactly. What are you doing here, Dustin?”
She was mad. That had to be the only reason she reverted to his real name. He’d been Duke for so long that he was surprised anyone would even remember that his birth certificate said Dustin. It felt as though she was addressing a stranger.
He made a point of hooking his thumb in a careless gesture, motioning toward the back of the truck where two duffels sat side by side. “I’m here. As one-third owner of Crooked Valley Ranch.” To prove it, he took the letter out of his breast pocket and handed it to her, ignoring the slight feeling of panic he got just saying the words.
She opened it, walked away a few steps as she read the words. Words that had caused several reactions within him when he’d opened the envelope. Anger, grief and, strangely enough, fear. After all the places he’d been, things he’d seen, danger he’d been in, it was the idea of taking over Crooked Valley that made him most afraid.
He could tell she said something because he heard the muffled sound of her voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He turned and took a few steps through the crackly grass until he was facing her again. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
She held up the letter. “I had no idea. When Joe died, I asked Quinn what we were supposed to do and he said keep working until we heard differently from the lawyers. When did you get this?”
