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Cowboys & Angels
Vicki Lewis Thompson
There’s an angel watching over cowboy Trey Wheeler. After a nasty accident during a snowstorm last spring, a mystery woman saved Trey’s life …and disappeared. Since then, he’s been looking for his sexy saviour. Now the Last Chance Ranch crowd has taken over the Serenity Ski Resort for a Christmas wedding and Trey realizes there’s something familiar about the exquisite ski instructor…Elle Masterson has no halo – just the love of her footloose-and-fancy-free lifestyle. And when she finds out the sinfully hot cowboy she rescued is staying at the resort, she’s happy to indulge in a little holiday hanky-panky. Just as long as she can still take off for Argentina in the New Year.But after three days of heaven between the sheets, will this down-to-earth cowboy be able to let his guardian angel go?
Is there anything sexier than a hot cowboy? How about four of them!
New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson is back in the Blaze
lineup for 2013, and this year she’s offering her readers even more …
Sons of Chance
Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!
Saddle up with
I CROSS MY HEART (June)
WILD AT HEART (July)
THE HEART WON’T LIE (August)
And the first full-length Sons of Chance Christmas story
COWBOYS & ANGELS (December)
Take a chance … on a Chance!
Cowboys & Angels
Vicki Lewis Thompson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’s love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website, www.vickilewisthompson.com.
With gratitude to Dana Hopkins for her steady hand on the editorial reins and her most excellent tweets.
Contents
Prologue (#u1e8fde0b-2c85-5786-9a07-895c72cf186e)
Chapter 1 (#uf2daefbb-7117-5f10-a7dd-003a16fafcd9)
Chapter 2 (#uae6555d5-e4bd-5efb-89ce-435bf3d2894f)
Chapter 3 (#u76c8e7a4-2a46-5c24-ab18-64cbf6574961)
Chapter 4 (#udfd6217c-7d28-5ec4-b6c7-7664cae810bc)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
December 24, 1989
Last Chance Ranch
A WHITE CHRISTMAS was all well and good, but somebody had to shovel the snow off the front porch, and Archie Chance had appointed himself caretaker of that chore. His wife, Nelsie, had tried to talk him out of it, but he was the logical guy for the job. Everyone else was busy wrapping presents and cooking food.
In the ninth decade of his life, Archie could still wield a mean shovel, whether he was mucking out a stall or clearing a path through the snow. He rather enjoyed both jobs.
After bundling up in a sheepskin jacket, earmuffs and his Stetson, Archie took a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket and opened the massive oak door. Yeah, it was cold out this morning, but he’d endured worse. Frigid winters were a fact of life in Jackson Hole.
The snow shovel was kept handy by the door all winter. Archie picked it up, scooped up a load of snow and was about to throw it over the porch railing when the ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, called out to him. The tall cowboy made deep ruts in the snow as he plowed his way from the barn up to the house.
Archie emptied the shovel and leaned on it as he watched Emmett approach. “Nelsie called down to the barn, didn’t she?” The phone connection to the barn was a recent addition, and right now Archie didn’t care for it.
“She might’ve.”
Archie blew out a breath, which created a substantial cloud in the air. “Look, I’ll be fine out here. My back hasn’t bothered me in quite a while.”
“And Nelsie wants to keep it that way.” Snow crunched under the tall cowboy’s boots as he mounted the steps. “Especially seeing as how it’s Christmas tomorrow. She doesn’t want you putting your back out right before the big day. Can’t say I blame her.”
Archie considered his options. He was Emmett’s boss, so he could refuse to turn over the shovel. But Emmett had interrupted his own chores in the barn to come up here and help, so sending him back down would mean more wasted time.
Archie also realized that if he insisted on shoveling and happened to reinjure his back, he’d look like a stubborn jackass. Nelsie would be ticked off, and making her mad wouldn’t help the celebration of Christmas any.
“Much as I hate to admit it, you make a good point, Emmett.” With a sigh of resignation, Archie relinquished the shovel.
“I’d be obliged if you’d hang around and keep me company,” Emmett said. “Conversation makes the job go faster.”
“Be glad to.” Archie laughed. “Nothing wrong with my jawbone.” As he brushed the snow off the porch railing and leaned against it, he thought about the kindness inherent in Emmett’s invitation, as if he knew Archie had come outside partly to enjoy the crisp winter air. Emmett was less than half Archie’s age, but he understood people better than most anybody Archie knew.
“I hope you don’t fault Nelsie for calling me,” Emmett said as he tossed snow over the railing. “She just cares about you, is all.”
“I know that. She’s a good woman, and I’m a lucky man to have someone like her fussing over me. It’s just...”
“You don’t want to be fussed over.” Emmett dumped more snow into the yard.
“You got that right. And I like to think I can do everything the same as I always did. She knows I’m touchy that way, and she doesn’t nag me. Not much, anyway.”
“You said it yourself, Archie. She’s a good woman, and you’re a lucky man.”
Archie heard the note of longing in Emmett’s voice. Emmett’s wife, Jeri, had decided ranch life didn’t suit her and had divorced Emmett a couple of years ago. She’d taken their young daughter, Emily, back to California with her.
Although Emmett could have fought that, he hadn’t. Instead, he made do with sporadic visits from Emily. Archie thought it was a shame the marriage hadn’t worked out. Emmett would have made a good family man.
Archie didn’t get too many opportunities to talk privately with Emmett, so he decided to make use of this one. “You can tell me to mind my own business, but I can’t help wondering. Have you ever thought of remarrying?”
“Nope.” Emmett kept shoveling.
“Sorry if that was too personal.”
“It wasn’t.” Emmett propped the shovel on the porch floor and leaned on it while he looked over at Archie. “I didn’t mean to sound like it was. I just don’t have any interest in marrying again.”
“Why not?”
Emmett paused, as if considering his answer. “Mostly it’s about Emily. All my spare cash goes to my daughter, and any woman I hooked up with would rightly conclude she came second to Emily. Not many would accept that, and if they wanted to have children, what then? I wouldn’t start a new family when I still have Emily to think of.”
“The right woman would understand.”
Emmett smiled. “Maybe. But if that’s so, I haven’t found her yet.”
“Well, I hope you keep looking.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Archie, but I’m not looking. The kind of woman who would be happy with a cowpoke in my situation is a rare breed. I seriously doubt I’ll ever marry again.”
1
Present day
CRAMMED INTO THE small backseat of Watkins’s king cab, Trey Wheeler thought about the wedding he would soon be a part of. He’d worked as a horse trainer at the Last Chance Ranch for a few months, so he didn’t know the groom, Emmett Sterling, all that well. But Trey could tell the ranch foreman was majorly stressed about his upcoming nuptials.
His fiancée, Pam Mulholland, ran a B and B down the road from the Last Chance. She seemed like a nice lady, but when it came to this wedding, she wasn’t making things easy on Emmett. Even a newcomer like Trey could see that.
Pam was wealthy and Emmett was not. Although Emmett was crazy about Pam, he’d allowed their financial differences to keep him from proposing until the previous summer, when a shyster had blown into town and shown interest in Pam. Emmett had thought it prudent to take her off the market before he ended up losing her forever.
But Pam, who’d been previously married to a cheating bastard, wanted the wedding of the century this time, and she’d reserved the entire Serenity Ski Lodge in Jackson Hole for a Christmas-themed celebration. Trey was thrilled because Pam had hired him to play guitar for the ceremony along with Watkins, a seasoned ranch hand and the husband of Mary Lou Simms, the ranch’s cook. Trey had caught a ride up to the Serenity resort with Watkins and Mary Lou, who were as eager for several days of celebrating as everyone else. Everyone, that was, except the groom.
Trey edged his guitar case aside and leaned toward the front seat as they navigated the snowy road leading to the resort. “Do you think there’s a chance Emmett will bail and ruin everything?”
“No,” Mary Lou said. She’d tamed her flyaway gray hair under a furry hat. “I’ve known Emmett Sterling for a lot of years, and he’s considerate. He might not like this operation, but it’s what Pam wants, and he loves her.”
“That’s a fact,” Watkins agreed. “And the Chance family has gone to some trouble to hire temporary help so we could all get up here and stay a couple of days after the wedding. Emmett wouldn’t mess with that kind of generosity.”
“I hope not.” Trey looked out at the snowy landscape. “I know how much everybody’s looking forward to this, including me.”
Watkins grinned as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “You gonna try skiing, cowboy?”
“You know, I might. I mean, thanks to Pam, it’s free, so why not?”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Watkins said. “At least the bunny slope, right, Lou-Lou?”
“At least. I used to be pretty good, but I haven’t skied in years. I hope it’s like riding a bike and it’ll all come back to me once I suit up.”
Watkins sent her a fond glance. “I can’t wait to see you all decked out. I’ll bet you’ll look great in goggles.”
Mary Lou laughed. “No, I won’t, you old flatterer, but I appreciate the thought.”
Trey got a kick out of those two. They were both in their fifties, and Watkins had been after Mary Lou for years. She’d resisted the idea of tying the knot until about eighteen months ago, but now that they were married, they both seemed deliriously happy. It was very cute.
The truck approached a curve, and Trey sucked in a breath, as he always did when he came to this part of the road.
“You okay back there?” Watkins glanced in the rearview mirror again.
“Yeah. This is where I had my accident last spring. It always gets to me a little bit.”
“I’m sure it does.” Mary Lou looked back at him, her gaze sympathetic. “You could’ve died.”
“I would’ve died, if that woman hadn’t come along.” His angel. For the millionth time, he asked himself why she’d come to his rescue and then left before he could thank her.
He’d been heartbroken after getting a Dear John letter from Cassie, who’d moved back east to attend law school and had fallen for someone there. In the predawn hours, he’d lost control of his Jeep on this curve. Pure misery had kept him from fastening his seat belt, so when the Jeep flipped, he’d been thrown into a snowdrift.
As cold as it had been that morning, he could easily have died from exposure. But his angel had shown up, pulled him out of the snow, taken him to the hospital and left. In his dazed state, he only remembered a halo of blond hair, blue eyes and a soft voice. He also thought she’d come to his hospital room once to check on him, but he’d been really out of it and might have dreamed that.
After he’d recovered, he’d tried unsuccessfully to find out her name. His search had yielded nothing. If she’d given it to the hospital personnel, it had disappeared somehow. Nobody could help him.
Without a name, his chances of finding her dropped considerably. He couldn’t even describe her very well, other than her blond hair and blue eyes. Lots of women in the Jackson Hole area had blond hair and blue eyes. She also might have been a tourist, which meant she could live anywhere. People from all over the world visited Jackson Hole.
He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize her if he saw her on the street. But her voice haunted his dreams, and he thought he might know the sound of it if he heard it again. More than once he’d stopped a blonde walking down the sidewalk in Jackson and asked her something lame, like directions to the nearest burger joint, so he could listen to her voice. None of them had sounded like his angel.
He’d begun to think she might have been an honest-to-God angel instead of a real woman. He didn’t really believe in such things, but that would explain her sudden appearance at his hour of need and why she’d vanished into thin air after rescuing him. Still, he kept looking and listening, hoping that he’d meet her again so he could express his gratitude.
