Chapter One
Once upon a time, Beau Stephens thought being in the center of a group of beautiful women would be a fantasy come true. Their attention would be on him. Women to his right, women to his left, women everywhere he cast his gaze. Smiling and craving him. Like his own personal harem.
Those were the foolish thoughts of a man who’d grown up in a town with few women. For decades, Stone Ridge, Texas, was a cattle town filled with a majority of men and not many eligible women. About six months ago, however, his dream came true. In a way. These days, it all felt like a bit of a nightmare.
With his father in semiretirement, playing vintner on his two-acre vineyard, Beau found himself the head of Stephens Construction. He couldn’t complain. It was a good income for a single man and though he wasn’t one to flash his money with fancy cars or heavily tooled boots, belts, and buckles, Beau had the resources to do it now should he choose.
Back when his father invested in a parcel of land along Lupine Lake and built a couple of cabins for rental income, he’d never imagined what a gold mine it would be. But with the influx of single ladies moving here after the Mr. Cowboy reality show broadcasted, Beau and his crew couldn’t build the cabins fast enough. At this point, he could buy himself a luxury truck with all the bells and whistles if he wanted. Instead, he still drove his old and dusty green pickup, which still ran. He’d saved and three years ago bought several acres of land where he built his home.
Eventually he planned to raise thoroughbred horses, but he was still saving money for the first six-figure horse he’d purchase from Mr. Truehart. Still, Beau couldn’t do it all and dealing with these rentals was taking too much of his precious time. He was going to campaign heavily for his father to invest in a property manager. With ten new renters, and more coming every few months, it was time. The cabins were nothing special, built to specifications, but each one was solid. Beau took pride in his workmanship.
They were meant to be starter homes, one large room with a bathroom and little kitchenette. Each had an A-frame with a small wraparound porch and steps leading up to the front door. In a city, this would be the equivalent of a studio apartment. Now, he stood in front of one of the cabins while his renter, Valerie, complained.
His thoughts turned to a gorgeous one-year-old paint mare he’d wanted to purchase at the last Truehart auction, but the price had gone too high. Some of his friends called him a part-time cowboy, but they wouldn’t say that once he had a prize-winning horse collection.
“Are you even listening to me?”
The soft feminine voice came to him, disturbing his thoughts. “Yep. I’m listening, darlin’. You were saying the water heater isn’t working.”
“I know you checked it once but this morning…” Blah blah blah blah.
The children of this paint would have been exceptional. Beau always fancied himself a cowboy even if he hadn’t grown up like his cattle-ranching brother-in-law and best friend, Lincoln Carver. Point being, Beau was a cowboy at heart. Always had been, always would be. He had three passions in life: women, building showcase homes, and horses. Not necessarily in that order.
“So? What do you say about that?” The feminine voice once more pulled him from his thoughts.
“Huh?” Valerie went hand on hip. “Don’t you ‘huh’ me, Beau Stephens! Just because we made out that one time and you’re a good kisser doesn’t mean I’m going to give you any excuses. My cabin might only be a rental but as such I am entitled to running water—”
“You have running water.”
This was so annoying. City people should not move to the country. This was Exhibit A.
“Hot running water.” She crossed her arms, in that single move pushing up her bosom so it threatened to fall out of her small tee.
She gave him a smirk when his eyes followed to the lush bare skin. He was only human, and as previously stated, women were in his top three.
Beau cleared his throat. “I put that water heater in myself. It’s brand new. Checked it last week. But, as I’ve told you, we have a well. Not only that but every water heater made is going to run out of hot water if you use too much. You just need to give it at least twenty minutes to heat up again.”
“Beau, I’m glad you’re here,” Sarah said, running out of her cabin next door wearing nothing but a loosely tied bathrobe. “I was just going to call you.”
“I’m talkin’ to him right now,” Valerie said. “Get in line.”
“But something is wrong with the Wi-Fi.”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it,” Valerie said. “We don’t have any out here. Didn’t you read the brochure?”
Sarah smiled. “Oh yes. A cowboy paradise, with cabins situated in an idyllic lakeside community.”
“I didn’t write that,” Beau protested.
Beulah Hayes had created those pamphlets, which sold the lakeside community just to get more women to move to Stone Ridge.
“I was promised my own cowboy.” Sarah reached to ruffle his hair. “Are we still going out Friday night?”
“Yeah, sure, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
She’d asked him out on their first meeting, and he’d agreed, but at the moment she was showing her city ways and he had second thoughts. Granted, he’d never been around this many young women in his life, so he didn’t know what to do half the time but smile. Still, there were plenty of cowboys around. He just happened to be front and center at the lakeside community where most of the women who’d moved here had rented his cabins.
“Oh, so you’re going out with Sarah?” Valerie said. “What about us?”
“Us? We had one date. And last week you were hanging out with Andy. The week before that it was Jeremy. The week before that—”
“You’re keeping track?” Valerie said. “The truth is, I can’t make up my mind. There are so many of you. I have options.”
“In the meantime, I’ll be keeping him warm.” Sarah linked her arm through Beau’s.
“Shouldn’t you get dressed?” Valerie scowled and pointed at Sarah’s bathrobe.
“I will as soon as Beau leaves.”
Beau swallowed. It didn’t look like she had anything on under there and his imagination went a little wild. If he had a weakness, it was women. He loved everything about them. Soft mouths headed the top of a long list, and he could see numbers two and three on his list poking through Sarah’s bathrobe. Clearly, she was cold.
He shook her off and tipped his hat to both ladies. “Got to get going. Lots to do.”
Hopping in his truck, he grabbed the satellite phone and dialed his father.
“Hello, son!”
“You have to hire a property manager. Now.”
“What for? That’s just a waste of money. This is a Stephens Construction project. We can handle it.”
Beau sighed at his frugal father. He meant Beau could handle it. His mother was busy running her gourmet peach jam business and his sister, Sadie, was raising a son, with another child on the way. And of course, his dad fancied himself a wine maker these days.
Beau rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “You’ve got me all over the place and if you and Mom are serious about me settling down and finding a wife, I need time for my personal life. And my ranch.”
“Alrighty then, just call me next time there’s a complaint of any kind and I’ll go out there and see what’s what.”
Beau wasn’t sure he meant it. Every other time he’d made some last-minute lame excuse and sent Beau anyway.
“They’re still adjusting to no Wi-Fi. You’re going to hear a lot of complaints, none of which are about the cabins we built. Just people getting used to life in the country.”
“Sounds about right. Your work was solid. There’s no better carpenter in all of Texas.”
Exactly. Beau prided himself in his work and didn’t see that changing anytime soon. The cabins were built with every modern convenience available, and the rent was reasonable. Until he’d saved up enough to buy his land, he used to live in one of these cabins situated a bit closer to the lake, as did his sister, Sadie, before she got married.
He hung up with his father, satisfied for the moment he wasn’t alone in this venture. The January afternoon was crisp and clear, one of the few chilly days in Texas. He didn’t mind calling it a day a little earlier than normal. Turning on the road toward downtown, he headed to the Shady Grind looking for a cold beer, and the company of good friends.
Lucy Lorenzo pulled another draft beer and set it down in front of Jeremy Pine.
She made a face. “You might want to try something else for a change.”
“Why would I?” Jeremy took a gulp and set it down with a big “ahh.” “Nothin’ like a nice cold beer after a long hard day.”
“Because it wouldn’t kill you, that’s why.” She gave the bar a wipe between customers.
What was the point of learning how to make every popular cocktail known to man when all these cowboys ever wanted was a cold beer. On tap, in a bottle, domestic, or IPA. Always a beer. Boring. Any minute now a new group of them would all waltz in, en masse, done from their day of ranching. They’d be looking to unwind with a beer, the game on the flat screen, or a round of pool.
There were already some women waiting in anticipation for when they strolled in with their tight jeans and tipped hats. These ladies loved a cowboy and Stone Ridge happened to be full of them. Lucy, on the other hand, had lived here all her life and was sick of cowboys. Just one more month before she’d be out of this small town and living in the big city of Seattle. She’d saved her money for months and would find a job and eventually get an apartment of her own.
She’d have a brand-new beginning, which was exactly what she needed. At first, she’d stay with her old high school classmate, Dottie, who’d moved there a few years ago for a high-tech job. Not a cowboy in sight, she reported. Plenty of bars, too, where someone like Lucy could drown in the tips from the techie high rollers. Lucy would go from there and choose what to do with the rest of her life.
She was good at so many things it was hard to pick one. She wanted to get married eventually and have kids, too, but she wasn’t going to meet anyone but a cowboy in Stone Ridge. Facts were, she’d known many of the men here her entire life. Chased by many, she’d dated quite a few. None of them were the right man. Time to move on.
The decibel noise level shifted when a group of cowboys entered to a chorus of greetings. In the middle of that group, towering above everyone else, was the man who headlined the reason Lucy wanted to leave town.
Beau Stephens.
It was never easy to see him, but particularly tonight, his golden hair curling slightly at the ends. He needed a haircut again. The strays spilled out of his hat, which he kept readjusting. Beau never cared much what he looked like and his was an effortless kind of handsome, like it had been tied up in knots in his DNA and would never leave him.
This afternoon he had beard stubble and scruff. With Beau, you knew the scruffy look wasn’t intentional. Throw in the smolder, which he wielded like a lasso, and the women fell at his feet. She’d been on the other end of his smoldering once. Only once and it was still a sharp memory.
She flashed back to the last time she’d given her best friend Sadie’s big brother a haircut. It had been in her kitchen nearly three years ago, because the next day was Sadie’s wedding to Lincoln. Beau had forgotten to get a haircut. Again. It was either run out an hour to Kerrville and try to get a last-minute appointment or let Lucy do it. He chose Lucy naturally, as he’d done over the years when in a pinch.
Haircuts were one of her many random skills, which came in handy with her friends, besides assuming bartender duties at a party. No matter what happened among their friends, someone would almost always say: I bet Lucy knows how to do that, and if not, she’ll figure it out. Ask Lucy.
She was the Jane of many trades, master of none. She’d had Beau straddling a chair, a towel draped around him to catch the errant hairs. With him, there was an intimacy surrounding cutting his hair, the air between them crackling with energy. Her, throbbing with stupid longing. She could bop him in the head to make him turn his head the way she wanted him to, like Sadie might have done.
But Lucy grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. Those deep hazel-green eyes met hers, a hint of mischief in them.
“Stop movin’ or I’ll get this wrong,” she’d said when he’d squirmed again. “Do you want me to cut your hair crooked? It’s like you’re allergic to scissors.”
“Or maybe I’m allergic to a beautiful woman holding something sharp that close to my neck.”
By then she was smart enough not to let the “beautiful woman” affect her. Beau tossed the words around far too easily. He loved women, maybe a little too much. Words like darlin’, beautiful, and sweetheart were throwaway words to him.
“Paranoid? What have you done now? Have you got some jealous woman ready to key your truck again?”
Beau was notorious for disappointing women, and he didn’t restrict himself to the few eligible ones in town. With construction work that occasionally took him out of Stone Ridge, word was Beau dated…a lot. More than Lucy preferred to think about.
“There goes Beau Stephens,” Beulah Hayes was fond of saying. “His poor mama. That boy will never settle down. Uh-huh. Bless his heart.”
Beulah was almost always right, and Lucy was screwed six ways to Sunday. She didn’t have a thing for cowboys.
Just Beau.
She pulled drafts for the crop of cowboys gathered around the bar, except for some of the ranch hands who wanted to try a bottled IPA.
“If any one of you ever wants a real drink, you just let me know.” She crossed her arms.
Beau straddled a stool and slapped the bar. “I’m going to make your day. Give me a cocktail.”
“Care you to be specific? You name it, I can make it.”
Lenny, their resident old-timer, joined them, squeezing between Beau and Jeremy. “This little lady can make anything you ask. I ordered a mojito last week because I saw it on that spy show I watch. I thought, why not? YOLO. She even put a little umbrella in it. It was like having a sweet soda with a punch.”
“That’s a good way to describe a cocktail.” Lucy gave him a smile. “Mine have a heck of a punch. More like a wallop.”
“I’ve been walloped a time or two and you should know.” There was Beau’s easy smile.
“How about Sex on the Beach?”
Lenny clapped Beau’s shoulder. “Son, now that ain’t no way to talk to a lady.”
Lucy snorted and bent to reach the Peach Schnapps. “That’s fine. It’s a cocktail.”
“What will you kids think of next?” Lenny strolled off, laughing hard enough to hack up a lung.
Beau leaned in closer. “Are you sure you have all the ingredients? I wouldn’t want you to skimp on the sex.”
“Why, I wouldn’t dream of it, Beau Stephens.” Lucy batted her eyelashes and put the back of her hand to her forehead like she’d swoon. “How’s that for an imitation of all the women who fall for your terrible lines?”
“Not bad, Lorenzo. Not bad.”
Beau often called her by her last name. Sometimes he called her by the nickname “Larry.” Once she’d asked him why he did that and he’d answered, “because you’re such a pal and one of the guys.” Lucy never imagined being tall, athletic, and good at a little bit of everything would make her one of the guys but there it was.
“Good thing I’m making you this drink tonight. You never know, it might be your last chance at a Lucy Lorenzo cocktail.”
“Why? Are you quitting this job?”
Lucy set the vodka bottle down. “Are you kidding me? Did you already forget? I’m moving! Remember?”
“You were serious about that?”
“Yes! I told you at your nephew’s birthday party. Don’t you remember? Sadie’s throwing me a big going-away party next month. You already said you’d come!”
He scratched his temple. “Of course, I will. Well, where you moving to?”
“Dottie’s going to let me stay with her in Seattle until I get settled.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He wrinkled his brow. “It rains there all the time and you hate the rain.”
“I’ll get used to it.” She added vodka, then the ice and shook all the ingredients together.
“Well, if you insist, I’ll help you move.”
“No need, I’m fine. I’ve rented a U-Haul.”
“That’s a waste of money when I can do it.”
“In all your spare time? You’re going to drive me all the way to Washington? I don’t think so.” She poured, then set the chilled glass in front of Beau.
“Try this. You’re going to love it.”
“It’s sex on the beach. How bad can it be?” He grinned, took a sip, and fought against a grimace.
She’d known him long enough to tell he wanted to gag. “Too sweet for you?”
“No, no.” He cleared his throat. “I…kind of like it.”
Lucy smirked, opened a bottle of his favorite IPA, and set it down. “On the house. Hey, at least you tried.”
“Thanks, Larry. You’re a pal.”
Yeah, and that was the problem.